Lyra went stiff, her eyes firmly fixed at the entrance. She didn’t shiver or shake, but a terror was plainly painted on her face. Kir noticed the footsteps but maintained in a sense of childish panic and hope that they would disappear if he refused pay attention to them. The mindset of an individual gingerly walking the halls as a bloodbath was drawn below was a matter both acquaintances were unready to approach.

Though as fate would have it, they didn’t have much of a choice. Fate is as it is wont to be. With the hairs standing up on the back of Kir’s neck, an almost instinctual reaction to danger, a voice sighed out.

“I see you invited a friend, tch tch tch, I don’t think I gave you permission for that”. The voice itself was unflappably calm, even soothing, though it did little to sedate Kir’s nerves.

Not wanting to invoke any unwanted violence Kir slowly stood from his knees and turned around with a smile.

“Sorry for letting myself in uninvited, you see this young woman's father is missing her dearly and I thought I might just let her know” Kir was shockingly able to get the sentence out without a stutter, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking, as if praying to a silent god.

The man now standing peacefully in the entrance way matched Kir's smile, throwing his hands up as if such intent was a given. There are many different forms of intimidating figures. There were ones like Mi, who held themselves as if they could crush your skull with one hand. There were also people like Sirani, holding an understanding that a word would send a gang of ruffians to your doorstep. This was something Kir had yet to encountered in his limited experience. This man seemed by all accounts, perfectly amiable. He wore a well tailored four piece suit, with a tasteful scarf tucked into his beige vest. His eyes, though squinted in smile, portrayed no discernable mal intent. It might have been the white gloves splattered in gore but given the situation it was a little difficult to tell. The man's hair, though shaved at the sides, was meticulously combed back into a smooth backwards swoop.

Yet despite all this glamour that his visage held, all of Kir’s admittedly poorly honed instincts told him to abandon Lyra and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

“Quite a gentleman! I’m glad you were able to deliver such heartfelt news”

Kir smiled brighter, rubbing the back of his head, seeming as if to takie his attention away, though his eyes remained trained on the mans physique. He felt the moment he let his guard down he would be overpowered almost instantaneously

“Ah it was nothing,” Kir responded bashfully.

The man let out a contrived laugh, covering his mouth with his hand as if such an act was improper.

“Such modesty, but where are my manners? I am called Duke, and you are?”

The man put his hand out as if to shake.

“I was just leaving, it was very nice to meet you!”

“Nonsense!” Duke responded, shifting his hand slightly. At the movement, apparently a somatic gesture, a strong force began to press down on Kir’s body, though with some assistance from his Telekinesis he was able to withstand it without crumpling to the ground.

“Stay a while” this apparent spellcaster maintained his nonchanlance despite Kir’s resistance to the spell.

The two remained locked in place for a few moments, Lyra watching in stunned silence as one of these men essentially began to shake randomly making unbecoming grunts. Duke's spell wasn’t the same as Kir’s Telekinesis though it had a similar enough effect.

“I really should be going” Kir grunted out, taking a pained step forward. Though after finishing the step he had to retreat with haste as a bolt of roiling sickly green energy shot into the floor not an inch in front of his foot. Duke's face took a jarring shift as it contorted into utter disgust.

“Now, don’t make me a bad host”. The instigator already had another of his bolts prepared in his hand.

Kir let out a smile and splayed out his hands forward in defeat. But as his hands reached forward he released the resistance against Duke’s first spell and pushed to the left with it in an attempt to slam him into the wall. Though it didn’t have its intended effect the man stumbled slightly, sending the prepared bolt careening off into the floor. Duke’s facade of cordiality dropped almost instantaneously as he prepared two more bolts to fire.

It took a moment for Kir to pin the green bolt spell but the acrid burning betrayed Duke’s identity. A Warlock, an otherwise ungifted individual who by sheer chance were offered a pact with a higher power in order to gain esoteric knowledge of demonic magic. Where Wizards took time and study to hone their knowledge, Warlocks were more likely to enact blood rituals for a new, albeit highly specialized spell. While a far more expedited process to learn new spells compared to Wizards, Warlocks were permanently beholden to their patrons.Though this information helped Kir incredibly little, only telling him that he wasn’t going to run out of the blasts any time soon. An attempt at a war of attrition would only end in a quick defeat

Kir hastily concocted a mage armour spell, immediately proving fruitful as both of the blasts rocketed in his direction. One barely glanced off his arm doing little damage, though the other slammed directly into his shoulder, sending Kir to cry out in pain. This staple of the Warlock was known for allowing the caster to utterly overwhelm a combatant with pressure, but it seemed Duke or his patron chose to modify the spell to maximise pain over combat practicality.

The armour still holding, Kir took his chance to blind the man as he did to the intruders in Luther’s shop, though it seemed to have little effect as Duke predicted the outcome of the spell and ignored it with ease. The blinding light flashing violently only to dim, finding the target unaffected. At the very least it forced the man to drop the spells in order to shield his eyes.

“Such creative spell usage! I tip my hat to you mage!” The Warlock feigned a tip of the hat leading into the formation of a new spell, different from the ones prior, and one that had to be avoided. The comment of course entirely nonsense as a Warlock would have no understanding of how their own spell truly worked.

Duke's hand shifted quickly, as if crafting the spell off the cuff, a more viscous green energy forming between his hands. Kir hurried to duck behind the desk opposite the room to Lyra, trying to channel more energy into his armour. Duke unleashed a smile as the energy between his hands solidified and went to throw it out like a performing Ringmaster. From his hands shot a spray of green liquid, covering the width of the room, as if to tell Kir that moving to defend Lyra was pointless. The large majority landed on the floor, slowly eating through the wood. Though some landed right near Lyra, the highest concentration was aimed at Kir, seeping through the weakened section of the mage armour. Kir winced at the pain, wondering why this apparently sadistic man prioritized spells that inflicted pain.

In a somewhat desperate attempt, Kir began to huck the pens from the desk in Duke’s direction, keeping the point faced forward and hastened by the Telekinesis spell. One seemed to actually nick his arm, causing what seemed like an animalistic growl to come from Duke. Kir looked to Lyra, worried that she might take the brunt of the next acid attack, only to find something that renewed his hope of potential escape. He had a back up escape plan but leaving Lyra wasn't really an option

Kir certainly wasn’t a capable actor, but at the moment, it was the crux of his hastily constructed plan.

“Who are you anyway? I thought Sable Crowley was supposed to be the one running the show”

Duke chuckled slightly, as if magnanimously allowing his prey some final words.

“The boss would not stoop so low as to find himself in such an… uncivilized location”

Kir struggled on to maintain the conversation, muttering through the pain as the acid ate through his skin and nerves.

“So you’re like his second in command then? You wouldn’t be willing to share what he's getting up to would you?” Kir remained hidden behind the desk, occasionally shifting his weight and moving it, keeping Duke's attention near him.

“You could call me that, and as such a man I feel it unbecoming to dispense such information freely.” He seemed honoured to wear such a title, though the feeling died quickly as Duke began to grow bored with the conversation, preparing a spell to end such banal banter.

The spell he chose took a moment to prepare, but such casting time wasn’t a consideration as he barely considered the child before him a threat. Kir, relishing in this time, grabbed the final pen and aimed it at Lyra, taking a second to get the shot as precise as possible. The projectile rocketed forward, grazing the metal chain and snapping one of the links. In Duke's grandiose display of power, showering the room in acid, he unwittingly landed some on the chains holding Lyra, giving Kir time to improvise until it began to eat through the metal. Much to Kir’s chagrin however, Duke did indeed see this attempt at a covert act.

“Such insolence!” He yelled, finishing the spell's preparations.

Lyra didn’t waste the chance, bowling over the distracted Warlock and running through the doorway.

“42 Morthon Drive, Gallows District, now!” Kir shouted seeing Lyra waver, understanding that she was leaving Kir to Duke's wrath, a wrath she had recently become aquainted with. Though at Kir's urging she continued her escape, a small smile appearing on Kir's lips.

Duke considered chasing after Lyra but at the moment, his rage inclined him back to Kir. A perfectly prepared spell at the ready. A spell that he released the moment he saw this meddlesome child reach into a canvas bag. Kir, focused elsewhere, was unable to see the spell coming his direction. Taking the brunt of it as he began to channel mana into an item in his bag. He didn’t relish leaving an enemy with the address of a vulnerable friend, but if he wasn’t able to survive his escape, a hope in her survival would at least be enough.

The dancing whirlwind of acid and cutting winds released by Duke took a hard turn around the desk covering Kir, as if following the scent of the enemy, mutilating Kir as his entire physique glowed a brilliant blue and vanished into nothing. His will imparted on Luther’s scroll didn’t give him time to input a destination, but his instinct told him he was headed exactly where he wanted to go.