With an outward burst of wind, Logan appeared within a clearing of yet another forest. His ability to cross distances of 45 miles at a time allowed the Spellthief the luxury of expedient travel. That did, however, mean that the backup had not arrived ahead of him.

Either go now or wait. The former would mean that fewer of the aggressors could flee, and even more importantly the Sunsilt Bolts could get collected. If Logan was to wait, it could all fall between his fingers.

“Logan”, a voice rang in the Spellthief’s head.

“Quayvan?” Logan replied mentally.

“Our attack has been postponed, an alert wave was sent to several locations. We can’t have Thermodan flee. Are you at the silver mine?”

“Looking right at it. What about my backup?”

“There’s no time. Clear that place as best you can. We’ll pay extra, just cause disarray!”

“Better be quite the raise.”

“It will be. Fuck. We got more incoming!”

“Quayvan? Quayvan?”

Only silence replied.

There were too many critical members at play, so Logan decided it would be best to go ahead. If Thermodan was still here, Logan could possibly save other captives if they had other locations currently uncovered.

Running ahead, Logan saw the entrance to the mine. Cut somewhat into the face of a hill, it went underground with flaming sconces lighting the corridors and chambers below. Hopping side-to-side to avoid rocky stalactites and stalagmites, Logan saw the walls had been smoothed out a bit by hand.

It wasn’t long before visions of danger were seen ahead in the form of several shadows that became highly detailed as they charged down Logan.

“Identify.”

“Necro-mane - Demon / Lupine. Level 10: 180/180 HP, - MP.

A breed of wolf infused with necrotic energies, often employed by demon-kin to guard treasures. One bite can send almost anyone into a feverish state and if not treated quickly can kill in a couple of hours.

Standing around 3' tall at their back, and 6' on their hind legs, these wolves aren't overly large for the danger they pose, but with demon blood flowing through their veins, they are a dangerous foe.

Skills: Blend, Climb, Critical Bite, Curse Spit, Cursed Maw, Hundred Scent, Spellforce Sight, —.

Reduction: Damage 5.

Resistance: Damage 25%, Earth 50%, Fire 50%, Holy -50%, Ice 25%, Lightning -25%, Shadow 100%, Water 25%, Wind 25%.”

“Fuck, the things that Marta—” Logan began to think as the necro-manes jumped at him.

Reversing a dagger in his hand, Logan dropped it and landed a solid palm strike to the chin of the closest foe, closing its mouth as a whip of wind went around the blow. Logan’s increased Strength could easily part the air if it was at full power.

Gripping the wolf’s neck, Logan chanted, “Lightning Grasp”, shocking it all over before quickly tossing it to the side.

The wolf tumbled around on the rocky floor as its back hit the wall, though it meagerly stood as it saw Logan land a deft kick into its allies’ faces.

Logan kicked off another wolf as he made distance between them, making sure to close their mouths when possible.

A quartet of lupine choralists surrounded Logan, their spits of pain would sing the outro of this adventure.

“Skin of Ice”, Logan chanted.

A sheen of blue coated Logan’s skin before fading into his normal colour, it wouldn’t negate the damage, but it would make it harder to curse him. The next spell to cast was, “Haste”, increasing his speed as he began to dodge more daunting lunges.

The necro-manes were quick, but still behind Logan’s momentum, it was only hard due to being a four versus one.

Drawing up his frozen lord edge and Bowen dagger, Logan let out a flurry of slashes. It was easy to bring down the first foe as it was already damaged. Doing a frontflip kick into one wolf at his hind, Logan jabbed sideways at the others, twisting the blades and his body as he twirled two wolves away onto their sides.

Spinning like a top on the ground, Logan smashed his heel into the face of the rear wolf that was quick to recover. Continuing the spin, Logan dove both his blades into the side of the necro-mane and pulled the daggers back towards himself, gouging the monster’s skin and pouring its blood onto the floor.

Rolling to the side to avoid the other wolves, Logan rolled until he reached the wall to leap up off of it to dodge, flip over a lunging wolf, and land with his dual daggers into the other. Pulling them out, Logan stabbed a few more times to fell the third wolf.

Hopping forward, Logan turned and threw both blades at the last wolf, grazing its face and impaling its throat. The attack hampered its attack and was stopped totally when Logan quickly drew and threw more daggers at the necro-mane, pushing it to the floor with impactful pierces.

Logan let out a few quick breaths, awaiting experience, but none came so he had to move fast. Retrieving his daggers he continued his sprint into the underground.

“This is where they kept their demons”, Logan thought to himself.

The reports mentioned the AV Club making use of demon-kin for their own wishes. Marta had dealt with the necro-manes before but were unrelated to the AV. Wriske dealt with the chabras on this very mission. What else could they have at their disposal? High-level magic, that was to be sure.

Thinking about the ahead adversaries, Logan spotted a whipping tongue coming his way. Sliding forward to halt his momentum somewhat, he bent sideways to dodge the medium-range attack.

Two chabras flanked by three necro-manes. It was a mess of tongues and maws, coupled with spit and slashes.

Flipping over another wolf, Logan placed a hand on the back of its neck and chanted, “Lightning Grasp”, shocking it to the core as Backstab text floated up.

Smacking the side of a chabras, Logan attempted to do the same but was annoyed when a shimmering barrier met his touch at the spark of his spell, protecting the beast from his magic.

“Damnit. They have protection against magic?”

Quickly dragging up a dagger to block a blow from a wolf, Logan went sliding backwards from the force.

“What is protecting them?”

Shifting to a dual-wielding stance, Logan continued to batter back bites and claws. A sideways jump into a double Backstab brought down a necro-mane to the floor.

Halting a bite from the same chabras, Logan slapped its side and chanted, “Lightning Grasp”, however, the sparks just wrapped around its strange barrier.

“It’s protected more than once.”

Jumping backwards and then off the wall to make some distance and split up the foes, Logan drew up several daggers to throw at the three enemies. Keeping two in his hip holsters, Logan backpedalled from the encroaching threat.

With his wider vision due to his vaskt eyes, Logan spied approaching silhouettes further down the corridor. He didn’t want to fight more than this, so with a dodging jump and wave of his arm, he chanted, “Gaia Wall”, erupting a wall of stone to the ceiling to block off the passage.

It wouldn’t last long though, as battering attacks caused the stone to crumble quite quickly.

“I need more room!” Logan thought as he chanted, “Air Blast”, shooting jets of air from his palm to propel him around.

Flipping over another necro-mane, he stabbed its back, propelled the other way, and slashed across its side as he slid with it to the floor. Halting at the wall, Logan blasted under a jumping foe and jabbed its stomach enough times to bring it to the floor too.

The wall eventually came crumbling down as more chabras and necro-manes came pouring out.

Blasting his way towards the exit, Logan saw the chabras were faster on their feet than the necro-manes, having them separate a bit as they chased down the Spellthief.

Twisting his hands in a circle in front of himself, Logan chanted, “Gaia Wall”, thrice. Three walls came crashing out from the underground, spiralling in several directions. They each caught a handful of enemies in their grip and pinned them to the floor, wall, and ceiling.

Crashing his feet on the floor, picking up mud at his heels, Logan kicked at the ground to move towards the trapped foes. Swiping out over and over, he dealt with the constrained chabras, and slid under and over his spirals to continue doing the same.

More foes came crashing through the rock as they bashed their heads into them. An open palm and cries of, “Force”, pushed out waves of grey to make the wolves falter to the floor.

The overwhelming numbers started to become unmanageable as a necro-mane was finally able to land a massive bite on Logan’s shoulder. Blood dashed upwards as the Spellthief’s veins turned black.

Wincing in pain but seeing other monsters come his way, Logan mentally commanded, “Dimensional Jaunt”, warping to his centre to leave the wolf on his shoulder to fall and collide with the others.

Throwing out a hand and pulling back, Logan chanted, “Necromantic Second Skystrike”, tendrils of black and red forming in the air and darting through the body of a chabras to drain their life for Logan.

Waving a hand over the floor he intoned, “Necromantic Second Wall”, with clawed hands he created a plane of long talons whipping around.

The demons saw no fault with this and charged him down, Logan answering this with a timely movement of his hands downwards and a reply of, “Gaia Wall”, crushing stone into darkness, burying the last four foes into the black death that sucked them to the bone in deathly imprisonment, though Logan had to stab the necro-manes as they were immune to the effect.

Logan’s wounds healed over quickly, but he deftly picked out a vial and crashed it into his shoulder, the glass cutting him and the fluids setting off a purple flame across his wound. The black veins quickly dissipated as Logan yelled out in pain, falling to a knee with sweat hitting the floor.

Whatever pain this dealt, it was better than being cursed. He certainly did not want to end up like Marta or Wriske, the former more so.

Running to the corpses, Logan picked out the blades he could still use. Sadly many had taken too much damage from cursed spit and chewing of indulging demons. He had spares though, so as he continued his run he refilled his hip holsters.

“Loose!” a man called out from down the hall.

The sound of crossbow fire filled the underground as Logan dipped, ducked, dodged, and dived around. With a thin cut across his cheek, and the tearing of his cloth, Logan was able to keep the damage to a minimum as he tried to peer ahead.

Overpowering lights blocked vision beyond that blinding sight. Bolts glistened in the white obstruction, Logan barely seeing them a dozen feet from his location. Whoever was attacking him had set up amazingly well.

Picking out a dagger, Logan tossed it down the hall as he spun around some more bolts. The wounds stung, leading him to believe they were of silver make, but that was to be expected.

As the dagger reflected off the ceiling near the light, Logan could barely see it amongst the spotlights that were hampering his teleportation powers. But focusing on his dagger, he was able to mark it for his target.

“Dimensional Jaunt”, Logan mentally commanded as his body warped into its centre.

Just in time too. A glowing red bolt came singing toward the Spellthief. As it soared in the distance from the near-miss, it hit the floor and exploded in an imploding hole of sunlight, a sonic boom pushing air and debris away at a startling rate.

Somewhat blinding the attackers, Logan apparated amidst the bright lights and the hidden troops within it. With two blades in his hands in reverse grip, Logan arced them down into the shoulders of two female archers, then dragged them out as he severed their arms.

Throwing the daggers, two crossbows had their strings cut and their wielders impaled. With his hands still forward he opened them wide, swung to his sides and chanted, “Flame Wall, Flame Wall”, igniting from his flanks to the opposite walls.

Screams of pain and fear replaced the sound of crossbow activations, Logan throwing daggers through the fire and flames and dancing around their edges to slash at the other AV Club members.

At the corner of his eye, Logan saw another aim at him as the light dimmed around them all. Bending his back, Logan limboed under a crossbow bolt that imploded in the far distance. That was the second Sunsilt Bolt to be used in combat. They were getting desperate.

Pelting a, “Force”, at the far marksman, Logan pushed him to the floor.

Spinning in his bent position, the Spellthief kicked at the wrist of another attacker to disarm a silver dagger and brought down his own steel dagger into the foe’s neck.

Before his perception could recognise it, a final Sunsilt Bolt hit Logan's chest. A searing pain of puncturing was followed by an ever-incinerating power of the sun as it imploded apart his chest.

Blood and cloth went flying as Logan was sent crashing across the rocky and muddy floor. His head hit a rock as it halted his movement. Logan’s armour stitched itself ever so slowly, as did his wound, he wouldn’t die but he was down to 12 health.

Coughs of blood and inward wheezing showed that the Spellthief was still alive, his blurred vision tracking the man at the far back.

Sitting up, Logan picked out several vials as he aimed his other hand at the aggressor, pulling it back as he chanted, “Necromantic Second Skystrike”, causing a midair tendril to pierce the man’s back as his life was sapped away.

Logan had the crimson-coloured healing liquids wash away the blood from his mouth and chin as both his potions and spell brought him back to full heartiness.

Standing up meekly, Logan stared down the corridor as he saw more men and women running at him with crossbows in hand. While there was no sign of any further Sunsilt Bolts, there were signs of red.

A rolling poncho came spinning in between the AV Club, a dance of blades cutting across them all as the revolving tornado struck them all down in an instant.

A rush of wind and blood came towards Logan as he saw the newcomer rise to their feet. Quayvan, donned in a new cloak and brandished his machete and dagger.

“Ho, Logan!” Quayvan called over to his ally, two fingers raised in his machete hand.

Logan coughed out a chuckle, “Backup took its time.”

“Apologies. The antecedent delay proved itself in my appearance”, Quayvan spoke as he sheathed a dagger to offer a hand to Logan.

Taking it, Logan was pulled to his feet, “Glad nonetheless to see you and your weap—”

Shik.

Logan’s words were cut off. Time slowed as he felt his body grow cold. The adrenaline dripped through his shoes, while his blood stained his chest once again.

Quyavan’s machete had pierced Logan’s heart.

--- *** ---

…Dad