There was a solemn air as Mason appeared before Mowrytal and Geralt, but his first thought was of the free time they must have trapped in his soulscape. They had manifested what appeared to be a courtroom, but in an ancient style that brought to mind fantasies of the greeks or romans. The two of them were seated at a high stone table, and Mason was left a dias to kneel at before them.

Since he needed their help, he participated. As he knelt, a strange look flashed across Geralt’s face. It had been subtle, no more than a twitch of the lips, but for all the showmanship of the tall obelisks and heady atmosphere, Mason thought the man looked almost playful.

“It is good that you kneel, Human,” Geralt boomed from his platform. “You stand accused of reckless misuse of the ancient powers of Mardun. Of wanton violence upon the soul of an enemy. Of a foolish disregard for your own safety and that of those who rely upon your liveliness. What say you?”

Was Mowrytal laughing silently? They were high up and far enough away that it was hard to tell, but his shoulders definitely looked like they were shaking.

“I plead guilty on all accounts, and ask only the mercy of the court!”

Geralt’s face scrunched up in puzzlement, “You have nothing to say in your defense?”

“Sorry?”

In a cloud of smoke, the whole charade vanished. Again, they were in the stark white room, decorated only with a twisted wooden door, several fonts of energy, and a few other details which Mason’s poorly trained soul-skills did not allow him to be aware of. Geralt looked disappointed, but Mowrytal still looked on the verge of raucous laughter.

“You have grown a great deal stronger, Mason,” Mowry said kindly. “But you’re very lucky for Faynel. You would not have survived without her.”

“I know. I didn’t realize the staff had nearly that power over me. I don’t think I saw any of the signs in the past, other than the glamour.” He wondered as he said that whether it was true. Hadn’t there been some signs before? A tendency to take things further when he fought with his staff? A part of him assured himself that this was the first time he had lost his cool. Another part of him found that very unlikely.

“You ruined my entire effect, boy,” Geralt growled with characteristic grumpiness. “But it is good that you recognize your fault.”

“We have concerns to raise with you,” interjected Mowrytal.

“Well I need your help so I’ll gladly address your concerns. What’s wrong?”

“You did the one thing we hoped you would not discover how to do. You destroyed that Corrosi’s soul. We need to know that you will not turn that power on us.”

Mason’s mouth fell wide at the suggestion, “What? You think I’d do that to one of you guys? I mean, I get that our relationship is fairly strained in the best case, but I’m not going to dismantle your souls after you’ve agreed to work alongside me. I didn’t even know I was doing that to the Corrosi at the time!”

“Then can you guarantee you won’t lose control and do it to us in that state?”

He had a point.

“A soul is a source of great power. If we can properly distill its strength, the soul of the Corrosi you captured might be very useful. But as it stands, it is poisoning you. Your body is not suited for the soul arts, not yet,” Geralt explained.

“I’m not entirely sure what to make of that considering you two are here, but let me just say clearly that I will protect you two no differently than I would Faynel-” The two souls looked at each other at the mention of the girl. “-or Leornal, or any one of the people who have helped me. And I’m here because of the soul issue. I just gained a ton of benefits from The Trials, but I still feel exhausted. What’s going on?”

“As I said, you are being poisoned. The soul of the Corrosi is shattered and blocking the flow of your mana because you don’t know how to process its energy. It’s time you begin learning true soul arts, Mason. We’re going to teach you.”

~~

Mason remained in the soulscape with Mowry and Geralt for another hour, learning the basics of soul runes and soul manipulation. In essence, working with the soul wasn’t that different from working with mana, but that was only true in the same way that learning to sculpt clay would help you learn to blow glass. There were shared fundamentals, but the technique was very different.

It took all three of them working in tandem to clear the soul debris from where it blocked his essential passages, and even when they felt satisfied with their progress, he was not operating at his peak. The soul energy sat stagnant within him until he could figure out how to digest or remove it.

When his attention returned to the real world, he saw Faynel watching him through screwed up brows. Her eyes darted all around his body, and periodically she would send probes of mana through their connection. Considering the little he knew about the mana binding, he wondered if what she were doing were actually rude or indecent, but he liked the sensation of her mana touching his, so he kept his mouth shut.

“What just happened?” she asked without breaking her observation.

“Soul Arts, I think. Mowrytal and Geralt are helping me figure out what to do with the remnants of the Corrosi. I apparently did a real number on its soul, but I couldn’t really do anything with it. So it’s just in there somewhere, fucking everything up.” He sighed and stood, pulling his hand out from Faynel’s, and looked around their small cellar again.

“It’s hard to know what to make of you, Mason,” Faynel replied as she also got to her feet.

“Well, I don’t blame you. I don’t know what to make of myself. But I’m ready to move on. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to get back to my prime, but sitting here in this cellar isn’t going to help.”

“Then take these.” she handed him a small mana crystal and a pinkish potion. “I didn’t want to give you either until I knew you were back to normal, but I think they’ll help restore you.”

Mason didn’t hesitate. He pulled the mana from the stone and into himself, pocketing the remnants, and then immediately tossed his head back to pour the potion down. The room shook as he drank it, and he almost spilled it as he coughed in shock.

“What the hell?”

Faynel was already up the short flight of steps to the cellar door, peering through the cracks in the entrance. “I don’t think the city has been fully vacated yet. It sounds like fighting and-” she pulled back coughing as dust flew around her. “I think it’s close too.”

“Great. Do we join in, or continue hiding?”

Her stare was fixed on the cellar door as she thought, “We join. If there are Marrans up there we can provide support, and maybe we can move with a band as we escape the city.”

“You trust me to fight?”

If looks could kill- “I trust you to have my back, Mason.”

Moments later, they threw open the cellar door together and immediately launched themselves into defensive positions. The air was choked with dust from their broken surroundings, but even through that veil it was as if they had stepped into a completely different world.

Whatever damage the city had suffered before, the hours they were down in the cellar had clearly been devastating ones. Tracks of destruction lay about as if a nightmarish monster had raked the city with claws. The buildings that remained standing were few and far between, and none were without their share of damage. The city walls still stood, but only in fragments, and the two survivors looked ready to book it straight for them as they surveyed the chaos.

Beyond a stretch of ground pockmarked by burns and pits of acid stood a partial and unsupported wall, and around that two groups clashed. There were several Marrans that Mason didn’t recognize and Faynel didn’t immediately address, but a larger group of Corrosi had fallen upon them and seemed to be battering them back.

The two exchanged a look, and began moving in that direction, but the ground shook and they pivoted as one.

A single Corrosi, but taller than any that they had yet faced stood before him. Four of his six limbs were armed- two with shields, two with clubs, and the remaining two were gloved and would have appeared magical even without Mana Sight.

He bellowed, and goblins began popping up from under and around nearby debris as the two began to take cautious steps back, glancing desperately around to prevent any surprises and possibly sight out an escape route.

“Weaklings. Hidden in the ground. I Corrosi Challenger. Minions will kill.”

The Corrosi bellowed once more, and the goblins swarmed, charging recklessly with their improvised weapons raised high. The Corrosi made a noise that sounded like laughter while Mason and Faynel set to their defense.

Sword drawn, Mason coated it with mana almost effortlessly. He switched on Focus, put his mind to his footwork, and began to dance. The goblins were uncoordinated, but he and Faynel were- if not talented- practiced. They side-stepped, kicked, and slashed repeatedly at the goblins to a rather great effect.

One goblin leapt an impressive distance with his club upraised while Mason fended off one that swung clumsily at him from the other side with a too-heavy sword. Faynel caught the flying goblin with her sword, and used her momentum to twist and fling the goblins body at another that was approaching.

By then, Mason had dealt with the clumsy goblin before him, and as he watched more begin to pile up and charge, he released a force blast to topple them before they even got close. With her uncanny speed, Faynel interposed herself between him and the goblins and began executing them rapidly before they could stand.

Seeing that his goblin band was falling at a rapid rate, the Corrosi realized he couldn’t afford to stand idly by. He roared again and rushed forward, drumming out with both of his clubs with a tenacious consistency. Despite being faster than his size would have suggested, he wasn’t fast enough. Mason dodged back to gain some distance, while the dauntless Faynel ducked around to the side.

She tried to go straight for a critical strike at the Corrosi’s unarmored side, but one of his shields lashed out and blocked the blow with enough force to stagger her. This didn’t seem to cost the Corrosi anything in attention, and it actually swiped horizontally with its other shield at Mason even while it tried to pummel him from above with the clubs.

Instinct kicked in, and Mason blocked the shield swipe with his own Force Shield cast by his spare hand, and managed to turn and spin under the clubs. Closer to the Corrosi than he would have liked, he decided to press the offense, cutting in and low at monstrosity’s legs. Faynel managed to move around behind while Mason pressured from the front, and both of them scored glancing blows before having to dodge back from the Corrosi’s renewed strikes.

There was a certain satisfaction to seeing the Corrosi bleed, but he was far from down. Mason moved back in to draw its attention, but moved around the far edges of its reach, waiting and watching for an opportunity to strike. He panted heavily, and felt his limbs moving more stiffly than he would like, but any awareness of his exhaustion was disregarded for the sake of the fight.

As Mason held the Corrosi’s attention, Faynel ran around behind it and began reaching for the weapons of the fallen goblins. She picked up a particularly nasty looking knife, and then flung it, activating her Force rune as she did and turning the knife into a brutal projectile. It moved faster than the Corrosi could block, and lodged deeply into the shoulder blade of one of the club wielding arms.

Though the Corrosi didn’t shout about the damage it had taken, Mason’s rather improved perception noticed a shift in the pattern of its attacks. That gave him the opening he had been looking for. He stepped in and slashed with his sword, cutting through the flesh between two of the Corrosi’s arms, and then immediately threw himself backward as one of its clubs came crashing down on where he was standing.

Before Mason had even regained his footing, the Corrosi’s unarmed hands began to glow. This was a move Mason knew, and was waiting for. The two hands came together and between them a green orb grew, but rather than lobbing the orb at either of the fighters, the Corrosi raised it high into the air.

The orb erupted, and as it bulged and bursted great globs of magically enhanced acid began to fly randomly all about. Faynel didn’t hesitate- she sprinted far away and behind a wall, and meanwhile Mason tried to predict and sidestep whatever strikes he could. His dodging was barely enough, and he grimaced as the small traces of acid that had splashed off of the larger globs ate away at his skin. It hurt, but it wouldn’t hold him back.

After that dangerous but largely ineffective attack, Mason charged right back into the fray, not letting the Challenger charge another attack or figure out a new way to hold its weapons in his damaged arms. Even as he reached the Corrosi, Faynel threw a Force-enhanced club at its back which made it stumble so Mason could land a deep stab off to the side of its chest.

Retribution came in the form of a shield bash to the chest, and Mason was flung breathlessly several feet away. He rolled painfully over broken stone but thankfully avoided any of the pits of acid. He staggered to his feet just in time to watch Faynel ripping the Corrosi’s back to shreds with her sword.

Unafraid of overkill, Mason joined in the fight again and began to stab at any part of his enemy that was exposed. Shields and clubs flew in response but repeatedly missed their mark. Neither Mason nor Faynel knew how many strikes it took to finally down the Corrosi, and they didn’t have time to count either.

As he fell, they shared one look, and then dashed back to where they had seen Marrans engaged in combat. Though the Corrosi still looked like they had the upper hand, both sides looked to have sustained injuries, and the Darkest Night were nothing if not opportunistic. They threw themselves into battle, announcing themselves with devastating sneak attacks.

Shadow Stalk proved its worth as it let Mason slip amongst the ranks and land attacks on two separate Corrosi, while still slipping away. It didn’t make him invisible, but in the chaos of battle when nobody knew to be watching for him, it would have taken some keen detection skills for him to be spotted immediately.

Since the two attacked from the opposite side of the battlefield, several of the Corrosi looked unsure which direction to attack next. Their indecision gave the Marrans a chance to push in, and the fight devolved from line-warfare to a mess. Mason and Faynel continued to dart around, emphasizing unexpected attacks and defensive maneuvering to keep the Corrosi on their toes.

In short order, the battle turned. Valree stepped forward from among the ranks of the Marrans and suddenly looked ten feet tall. All eyes were on her, which meant Faynel and Mason had a great many opportunities for stealth attacks, but those paled compared to Valree’s next several moves.

The great warrior took a Corrosi’s head clean off its shoulders with her battleaxe, and when the ranks behind her began to actually show fear, she stepped forward. If Torysen’s bounding strike allowed her to clear a distance as if she had never moved at all, Valree’s strike allowed her to clear the same distance in a manner reminiscent of a freight train.

Her steps blurred, and nothing could stop her. She gave every appearance of being somehow larger than the Corrosi she charged at, and as she came close to each one they were flung to the side by the force of her movement and crashed to the ground. Her band immediately set upon the survivors, many of whom recovered and retaliated, but at that point Valree set her battleaxe to swinging and she cleaved her way back to where she had started.

Faynel and Mason regrouped closer to the destroyed wall they had sighted earlier, and observed the carnage in a mixture of awe and horror. That mixture purified, at least for Mason, into simple terror when Valree turned to face him with no discernible change in demeanor from the way she looked at the Corrosi.