What the fuck?! He had no idea why Alabaster was on the other side of the chamber. Shane looked at the ropes again and realized with a guilty horror that most of the ropes were burned away. Shane ran over to where Alabaster was. The vampire was on his knees and slouching forward. Shane was sure he would keel over if his head leaned anymore forward.

Alabaster's arms were outstretched, and the vampire's defensive glowing shield was already fading. Oh my god, his hands! They were gone. Actually, burnt away, to be more accurate, down to the bone even. Alabaster was panting—beads of sweat lined the man's neck and forehead.

"Alabaster! I was going to save her! My plan backfired, and I ran out of time! I just needed—"

Alabaster cut Shane's rapid-fire excuses short.

"That was some incredible magic…Shane," talking was a struggle for the vampire whose face was somehow even paler than before.

He's not bleeding, but those burns covering his arms and body…Can I even heal those? I should try—Shane bit his lip. Conventional healing spells wouldn't work on him. Damnit! What else?

"Do conventional healing potions help you recover?" Shane asked, almost pleading with the tall man on his knees.

Alabaster chuckled for a moment.

"Why yes, Shane," it sounded like he was going to continue, but a torrent of blood spewed from his lips.

The vampire gagged and spat up the blood until it was merely dripping down his chin. He weakly looked up at Shane, revealing a mostly burnt femur bone sticking out of his stomach. Is that bone one of Mage's?!

It was worse than Shane thought. All he had left was a single minor HP potion. It wouldn't nearly be enough to fix the worst of his burns AND mend his torn insides.

"Shit! Shit!!" Shane yelled in frustration, not wanting to accept a quickly realized and painful truth about Alabaster's future.

His friend wasn't going to make it out of here alive.

The woman behind Alabaster stirred. Shane had forgotten all about her. That didn't stop his immediate gut reaction, making him feel like she was the reason his friend was dying. He wanted to yell at her, blame her, and make her feel terrible for not being careful enough and getting caught.

No, that's wrong. Alabaster's injury is not this woman's fault. I'm the reason for his wounds. With the truth of the matter staring him in the face, Shane felt his soul shrivel and a wave of demoralization wash over him. He sank to his knees, nearly mimicking Alabaster's current pose. Smoke was still drifting out of the many still-smoldering parts of the vampire's body.

Shane began to smother the parts of his friend's body that were causing the tendrils of smoke to ascend. Alabaster shoved Shane's hand away with a wrist-less forearm.

"Don't…blame yourself, Shane," Alabaster coughed up more blood but continued talking as the blood continued seeping out between his fangs. "That was a magnificent spell, and we were able to save the woman behind me. My death is a small price to pay to see both."

Shane could only shake his head "no" in response. Shane wanted to apologize further but didn't have the courage to let Alabaster hear his breaking voice. Tears began welling in his eyes as his chest began heaving—his heavy heart clamped with despair. The emotions were so strong that his sadness-nullifying pants could only delay the onset of his grief.

A small smile crept its way up Alabaster's sweaty cheek.

"Listen here. What happened to me is the result of my weakness. Nothing less—" more coughing and spitting of blood, "nothing…more. If I find out you're not practicing new magic…in my absence, I'll haunt you until you finally conquer this world."

Alabaster's eyes began to roll into the back of his skull, and he limply swayed on his knees. Shane's breath caught, thinking this was it. Seconds later, his friend wrapped a burnt arm around his neck to keep himself steady. When Alabaster next spoke, he did so with wheezing gasps.

"I… don't have…much time left, Shane. So…listen. Please, find my master, Segari Durne. She…should prove…a better companion…than I. When you find…her…tell her…that I—"

Alabaster's head fell to the stone floor with a wet smack, with his body limply falling forward seconds later. His arm slid off a stunned Shane's neck.

"What just happened?" Shane heard himself say as he stared at Alabaster's corpse in a stupor.

The woman who had been behind Alabaster was now standing and wiping blood off of one arm. The arm feathers that were softly layered before were now sharp and rigid—blades soaked in Alabaster's blood.

"God, he would just not shut UP! Man, NPCs like him that just go on and on are so boring. So predictable."

Shane lamely looked up at the woman who had just decapitated his friend. His face felt as slack as his mind, while his emotions were slowly playing catch up with the situation. When they did catch up would be when everything changed.

She stood there looking at Shane, a thin avian hybrid woman covered in dark green feathers from her head down to the talons she stood on. Her face was a mix of a human's and a magpie, with light brown human eyes and a prominently sharp beak. The dark green of her feathers extended to what he was only partially sure was spiked hair—reminiscent of designs from lauded action anime.

His tears were already drying when a fit of slow, rolling anger simmered like the lava he had frozen over with ice.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked her, adding major emphasis to the word "wrong."

She looked at him casually, like two old friends sharing glances about how bored they both were.

"Jeeze, are you that upset I killed that weakling NPC a few seconds before he was going to kick the bucket? Come on, Shane. You can't get so riled up about the small things in this world."

"His name is Alabaster!" roared Shane as he quickly stood and attempted a powerful haymaker to the bird's cheek.

He hit nothing but air and heard her voice immediately coming from several feet behind him.

"You're nearly level nine now, and that's the best you can do? If it weren't so sad, I'd spare you a chuckle," her already high-pitched voice rose higher in a near squawk-like sound whenever she pronounced words with an "S."

Shane thought about asking her another question and trying to hit her again simultaneously but thought better of it. The mix of dark, angry emotions he felt helped him discard any stray thoughts. He turned and looked at her, trying to sense her feelings and the rarity of her gear.

Nothing, zero, zilch. Shane couldn't sense a single piece of loot on her. He thought maybe her burgundy tank top, which hid a mostly flat chest, and her gray skirt might explain her speed. Unfortunately for him, they were just clothes. On top of that, the only emotion he was sure she had was a playful humor he gleaned from her expression.

"I see you just tried to scope me out! Not a bad call, Shane. I would have done the same, and I did! At least, before the system tried corrupting me."

"You're a Cain, aren't you," Shane asked. The words came out as more of a statement than a question.

I'm really starting to hate myself, Shane thought with a combination of spite, stress, and grief.