The Spades’ workshop was yet another wide open hall with a strange mix of eastern and gothic architecture from Earth. It had no windows and was barely lit well enough to see, though most of that light came from a row of six huge furnaces in the back, burning white hot. Unlike the training hall from earlier, the workshop was filled almost completely by random items, weapons, armor, and tools, as well as many strange workstations, and even ritual circles.

Amelia struggled with the straps on her new armor. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t fit properly, being rather tight around the chest region. According to everyone else, tightening the straps would activate the resizing enchantment and fit it perfectly. That didn’t seem to be working though, for whatever reason.

“Ugh, I hate this armor already. I don’t even need it,” Amelia thought. She had never needed armor before, though she had never really fought anything head on. “I’m the Healer and a follower of Pain, this is just excessive.”

She breathed out deeply and pulled at the straps on either side of her waist again. Still, nothing happened to resize the armor. Amelia glanced around self-consciously. The other four had already fitted themselves with the help of the elf Smith and were testing their range of motion.

Ty received a new set of full plate armor, both thicker and heavier than his previous one. It was forged with a titan-steel alloy giving it a slight golden hue and an edge to the already very imperious style it had. It practically screamed “imperial knight,” which was fitting, considering how assuredly Ty had chosen it from a dozen others. He had also gotten a new tower shield and a short mace for his off hand.

Like before, Camila’s armor was full plate as well, though not nearly as thick. Her sword was upgraded to a thick, arm-and-a-half long bastard sword. However, she also asked for another stupidly oversized blunt-edge weapon that she could barely lift, receiving a minifridge sized maul hammer in response.

“That woman is a moron,” Amelia thought. With a sigh, she tugged at her straps again and wheezed. “Why is this happening?”

Amelia clenched her jaw silently, determined not to let her frustrations show, no matter how hard that was proving to be. Even Christopher hadn’t had as much trouble with his armor, and the man was in a wheelchair. She eventually zoned out after a moment while listening to the professor talk with the robed, grey haired elf about the enchantments on his armor.

“And what other enchantments does this set have?” the professor asked, adjusting the fit of his helmet.

“Ah well,” Chthollus began, clearing his throat. “In addition to the standard durability, absorption, and repairing, your armor also has a unipolar mana channeling resistance field enchantment. You should find it more difficult to channel mana inwards than outwards through the armor.”

Christopher flexed his gauntleted hand and summoned a fist-sized dodecahedron of miasma above it with no visible effort.

Amelia especially liked Christopher’s magic, it was noticeably different from most other Mages. Very few Mages she had met ever bothered to create complex shapes like dodecahedrons from raw miasma. It was sort of charming, in a way.

After a second, the miasma streamed back into Christopher’s outstretched palm, though noticeably slower. “I see,” he said, “the formation is rather mundane and easily circumvented, but it should defend against simple intrusion.”

“Indeed,” the Smith replied.

Amelia turned her attention back to her armor. It was only a simple chest plate forged from mithril-steel, which made it lightweight yet still durable, but she just couldn’t get it on. She still had her arms and legs to deal with after.

“Wow, what are you doing here, silly girl?”

“Please, no.” Amelia whirled around and offered Allen a withering glare. She discretely used Constriction to stem the blood flow to her cheeks.

The psycho’s new set of armor was also forged in mithril-steel and had a similar build to Camila’s, but it was much more intimidating. The matte grey finish and sinister black hood added to the psycho effect, as well as the fact that the armor itself was virtually silent.

Amelia met Allen’s eyes; they were all that was visible behind the slit of the featureless mask on his helmet. She swallowed and repressed a certain amount of fear that existed at the bottom of her stomach, forcing herself to meet the Assassin’s gaze without flinching. Her current predicament wasn’t making it any easier for her.

“Um, what do you want?” she asked.

Amelia watched as Allen cracked a smile through his mask. Even as his eyes brightened, there was still the same unsettling hollowness in his gaze which would have made her shudder a few days earlier.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry,” he began, reaching out for Amelia’s back.

“What is he doing?” She hesitated for a moment before resolving to stand her ground. Her face remained inscrutable as she watched Allen pull up on her armor near the shoulder. The tightness around her chest quickly loosened while Allen pulled at some strap she couldn’t see. Masking her surprise behind impassivity, Amelia pulled the straps around her waist again and the chest plate seemed to suction up against her body. It was tight, but much, much more comfortable than before.

“There’s another two straps behind the shoulders,” Allen explained in a casual tone. “I guess this was made for someone a few sizes smaller, like Camila maybe.”

“Um, what?” Amelia’s mind blanked out as she stepped away from Allen. After a moment, she remembered to thank him. “Oh, thanks,” she said a bit dimly.

“Smaller? She’s way shorter than me though!” Camila challenged, raising her voice for no reason. She was probably drunk again. Typical.

“I wasn’t talking about height,” Allen countered, grinning from his eyes again.

Irritatingly, the other three chuckled softly to themselves. Amelia rolled her eyes and spun around. “Men,” she groaned internally.

However, when she looked up, a cold fear gripped her from nowhere. It was a primal feeling that took over her mind, freezing her in place as she stared back at a figure garbed in black. Two circular lenses stared back at her, peering into her very soul. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t even hear herself cry out in muted terror. The ferocity and sheer power wafting off the figure made that ice woman and even Eleanora seem like mere children by comparison.

“Hey Doc, what are you doing here?”

Allen’s voice suddenly cut in, scattering Amelia’s thoughts and allowing her to look away. She planted her eyes on the ground and struggled with her breathing as crazy, psychotic Allen stepped around her.

“What the hell is the presence around that thing?” Amelia thought, her mind still turning in on itself “...Why am I even here in this den of demons? I shouldn’t be here… What is he? He’s… It’s a monster! DEATH ITSELF, A MONSTER!”

Just as she was about to break down, a hand landed on her shoulder with a comfortable steadiness. She glanced up reluctantly. It was Allen. “This is Doc, but you probably know him as the Black Healer. He’s got a rather oppressive Soul aura, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Hi,” said the monster with a friendly wave and a casual tone.

“Good morning Doc,” Chthollus said, returning a smile.

Amelia tried to look back at him, but almost threw up when her eyes met those lenses again. Instead, she turned around to find Christopher and Camila in similar states of shock. Ty, on the other hand, looked like he had just come face to face with his archnemesis. Fortunately for everybody, it didn’t seem like the Defender was willing to make a scene.

“The Black Healer is real?” Amelia tried to think of where she had heard of such a name from her elders. “I’ve only heard stories from masters Eleanora and Thulshoa. They say the Black Healer is an evil lich that could heal with the Death aspect and resurrect people after they’d been soul-killed.” She shivered at the thought and kept her eyes on the ground. The feeling of the “Doc” was still there, but it was manageable if she didn’t meet his eyes.

“Well, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Doc continued, “I’m here on behalf of this one, she’s here to see you Jerr.” The Black Healer stepped to the side to reveal that elf named Shoam with a dark haired girl standing next to him. She was about the same age as Amelia, on the outside that is, and her eyes were similarly glued to the floor. She was practically hiding behind Shoam, as if the elf could protect her from Doc’s presence.

“Nora?” Allen said, letting go of Amelia’s shoulder and cocking his head to the side. “Shouldn’t you be with the other recruits?”

“Hah, she’s the only one who passed,” Shoam said.

Amelia was having difficulty understanding the conversation, but then again, she hardly cared. Her attention drifted over the girl, Nora, and she quickly noticed the subtle hint of admiration in the way she looked back at Allen.

“Really? Save yourself, girl. Whatever you see in that psycho is an illusion.” However, not even before she could finish that thought, an image flitted through her mind unbidden. She saw Allen walk out of his room, tears streaming down his face with an otherwise lackadaisical expression. “An illusion,” she thought again.

“Huh, well I don’t know what I had expected,” Allen said, “What do you want?” he asked, turning his attention to the girl.

Nora shifted in place. “I… need a mentor,” she said.

“Oh, I recommended Clara,” Allen replied. “Level eleven-hundred Monk, Spy, shadow and smoke magic, you’ll like her.”

“Well, actually… I want you to be my mentor, master White Wraith.”

“Again with that title, I’ve never heard of it…” Amelia thought.

“…What?” Allen’s voice seemed to have a twinge of irritation to it, but it was mostly surprise that came through.

Shoam chuckled to himself and twirled a knife around his fingers absently. “She can come with us to level in Wan’s Gauntlet. You can decide if you want her then,” he said.

Allen sighed in defeat. That was apparently all Nora needed for approval.

“I’ve also come to heal your Mage,” Doc said, setting his inscrutable gaze on Christopher. The professor shuffled in his seat, but he didn’t say anything. “Meredith put me up to it, she has trouble with very old and partially recovered injuries,” the Black Healer supplied.

He walked over and placed a hand on Christopher’s shoulder, causing a shudder to run down the professor’s spine. Coils of death miasma twirled around their victim while everyone watched quietly. Amelia’s face twitched while she watched the Black Healer work. Despite the fact that she couldn’t perceive much of anything without actually touching Christopher, she could still see enough to guess what was being done.

“He’s… actually healing with Death aspect?” Amelia thought to herself, dumbfounded. She could vaguely see Christopher’s vitality return to the lower half of his body, but then something caught her attention as she looked closer. “No wait… he’s also using Life aspect! How is that even possible? Those aspects are polar opposites.” She shook her head and looked away, her thoughts whirling.

It took only a few seconds before Doc withdrew his hand. Christopher looked dazed, but he was still in perfect health. The professor was most likely just as confused as Amelia herself was. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly before nodding curtly to Doc.

“Well,” Shoam began, interrupting the silence. “Let’s get going then.”