Krail fiddled with his staff as he watched the queen converse with the intruder. Running his magic through its length, he swiftly but silently manifested the spell that Allegra had bestowed upon him. The eight misshapen arrows that the spell created lurked in his sleeves, hiding just out of the enemy's sightline. Their shape proved that the spell's inventor had at least considered its caster's habits—they were still technically arrows. Each was made of five pieces: a head, a shaft, a nock, a crest, and a fletching.

The fletching was the only one of the four pieces that even remotely resembled an ordinary arrow's specification. The long bushy feathers sprouted from an almost invisibly short crest. The shaft, on the other hand, was completely unrecognizable. It was a tiny but thick piece of metal that connected the sphere-shaped nock to the dagger-shaped head.

His pre-cast paid off almost immediately. One of the enchanted bolts shot out from his sleeve and intercepted the foreigner right as he attempted to close the distance. A second blocked his other fist when he struck, and a third occupied the foot that he tried to turn into a weapon. The man was moving hundreds of times faster than Krail could react, but his spell guarded the party regardless.

A fourth arrow landed square on the amberbeak's chest after the other three stalled his limbs, but struck nothing. An odd sensation followed the attempted attack. The spell had a tracking feature for each of the summoned projectiles, and the one he'd launched somehow wound up impossibly far away.

It returned to his side soon after—one of its fallback functions was to recall if it ever went out of range without an explicit instruction—and launched into another attack, but again, the blade barreled through his chest, vanished beyond the horizon, and returned right to his side, prompting the elf to cross his arms and frown.

His allies, for the most part, sat still. Chloe had dashed out in front of her mistress and Jules had raised his wand, but a set of shadowy tendrils had reigned both in before they accomplished anything worth noting. The very same tendrils suddenly appeared around their opponent and seized the floating arrows assaulting him, freezing everything but Arciel herself in place.

Even the Cadrians, who had never quite given up attacking the bird, stopped in their tracks to observe the spectacle. They could tell, even without being bound in place, that she had no interest in their aid.

"I sincerely doubt the need for this excess of tomfoolery," said Arciel, with a confident smile. "I would have readily indulged a bout had you simply requested it"

She stepped forward, drew her wand, and pointed it between his eyes.

"We shall abide by most standard rules of engagement. However, the only spells to be allowed in play are those already active. This ruling applies to myself as well, and I shall be releasing you from your bindings to facilitate an even playing field."

The avian blinked a few times before scratching his head with one of his wings. "Uhhh… Aren't you supposed to be a mage?"

"I am," said Arciel. "However, as I have recently learned, it is imperative for all to learn the art of close quarters combat, and I believe this to be the perfect opportunity to trial the abilities I've gained."

"Well, if you put it that way."

The avian immediately swiped with his wing. His feathers were aimed straight at her neck, but she intercepted the head ornament with a tap of the wand and sent it flying backwards. His bones creaked. Though just a light smack, the parry was nearly heavy enough to rip the wing right off of his skull.

He furrowed his brow when he looked at her, but all she did was cover her lips with her fan and smile. It had to be a trick. Though their reconnaissance units had never quite witnessed her in action, the goddess of fate had confirmed her status. She had revealed Arciel's numbers in an oracle and even shown the higher level seers some of the battles she had fought in the bitter north.

She was clearly a pure mage, a caster that could barely function with her spells taken away. Never before had she shown any semblance of raw power. And yet, there she'd nearly broken his limb.

Thinking that it was probably a coincidence, or perhaps the effect of some sort of magic, Sootbeak activated a racial skill that covered his body in the void's essence. Like her domain—if the claim was even true to begin with—its purpose was to suppress his enemy's magic. The void wasn't quite as potent as whatever nonsense she'd leveraged, but it could easily nullify any spell it touched.

Sure enough, it worked on her tethers. It ate them alive and freed the rest of his body. And yet, their second clash was but a repeat of the first.

Her wand met his hand.

And his bones screamed in agony. Once when she broke his wrist, and again when she smacked him in the neck and sent him crumpling to the ground.

"What the fuck!?" he groaned as he clutched his hand. "I thought you said you were a mage!"

"I am. But that does not mean I lack strength."

"You're supposed to!" He wheezed the words from his still-grounded position. "The goddess said that you were supposed to be fully specced into magic!"

"Perhaps she was simply mistaken?" The man was clearly stalling, but Arciel played along regardless, completely nonchalant.

"There's no way! This has to be some sort of trick!"

"Naturally."

"What the hell! That's bullshit! At least tell me what it is!"

Arciel laughed. "How bold, to assume that an enemy will feed you anything but lies. But very well, in light of your audacity, I shall provide a smidgeon of truth. I am simply borrowing a hint of strength from one of my companions." The vampire squid feigned a sigh as she glanced through the Cadrian crowd and locked eyes with the officer in the fanciest suit of armour. "I do not understand. We are approximately the same level, and yet, her agility alone eclipses the sum of my status."

"Yeah, right! Not even I'm dumb enough to believe that! Your stats are through the roof!"

"I concur. It makes little sense." Arciel stepped across the sky and opened up about ten meters between them. "Shall we continue?"

"I guess if we have to." The bird cracked his nonexistent neck, got to his feet, and smacked his fist into his open palm, lack of a plan be damned.

A wide grin appeared on his lips as he returned to his default stance. It didn't really matter if his magic was disabled. His body was still a portal into the beyond.

He didn't wait long before bounding towards her. It was more of a jovial prance than a bloodthirsty charge; he swung his arms to and fro and kicked his feet into the air. He spread his arms halfway through the rush, just to feel the wind, before reaching for her throat. He knew it would work. It always worked.

While Sootbeak typically kept his body in line with a regular amberwing's proportions, the void gate that was his core could be any size and shape he wanted. He could easily extend his reach and attach his fingers to her face from over three meters away.

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He was sure that it would work, but she rejected it with a slap on the wrist, a light deflection that caused his attack to go wide. For anyone else, it wouldn't have been too big of a deal, just another ordinary counter. But Sootbeak opened his eyes wide.

Because it shouldn't have been possible.

As far as his opponent was concerned, his wrist didn't exist. His hand was connected directly to the void and one with the concept of infinity. Like the furthest reaches of deep space, his flesh was always exploring new bounds, ever expanding, surging to the end of the universe. And yet, the strike had landed. He could feel the pain exactly as he had before he embraced his concept.

He was so astonished that he didn't react to the attack that followed. If anything, he rejoiced when she dug her wand into his ribs and sent him flying away.

He hadn't thought that it was possible.

The man himself had long given up hope of anyone ever touching anything but his hands, his feet, his wings, and his face. It was a destiny he'd thought he'd ultimately be stuck with from the moment he became a voidbeast.

He laughed. He cried. And he threw himself at her. Dodging the kick that came from under her dress, he grabbed her fist as it descended and pulled her closer.

"Oh my god! You can touch me?" he asked, starry-eyed. "You can touch me! And you're a woman!"

The woman furrowed her brow as she kneed him straight in the face and sent him flying again. It was a bit of a shame that she hadn't touched any of his lonelier parts, but he appreciated every moment regardless. He loved the smooth touch of her silken stockings. Her skin was sure to be even more lovely.

Picking himself up off the ground, he gave her his best smile. She was still suspicious, so he raised his hands and wings for effect and sang the song of his people so that she would have no choice but to be his. His eyes shone. It was only as the tune left his throat that he began to observe her more closely. When he first saw her, he thought that her body was nothing short of disturbingly obscene. She'd somehow transformed a holy garb into something that drew the eyes of men. But now, he knew it was for good reason.

He slowly traced his gaze down her body. Her hips were almost ludicrously wide, perfect for laying a full flock. Her shoulders and pectorals were robust; her children would make good fliers. And though she lacked a beak, her chin was sharp enough that he didn't quite mind, and her lack of feathers was somehow more endearing than it was disturbing. The only parts he disliked were the lunar markings that polluted her form, but they could be easily amended.

The man smiled to himself as he took in every last detail. He was already deep in his fantasies, imagining all the things that he had long given up on doing.

Hence why he missed the fuming maid's disappearance.

Suddenly, there was a knife in the back of his head. It didn't quite pierce all the way through to his brain—he had his thick skull to thank for that—but it went deep enough for blood to seep from his eyes.

There was an additional effect. His whole body grew heavy as control was wrenched from his limbs. The maid moved to finish him, but a familiar hand grabbed and stopped the moonblessed blade before it could deliver the final blow.

It was his.

The one he'd hidden beyond the veil.

It was a large, featherless paw covered in sickly, purple skin. His fingers were as long as forearms but only about the width of a thumb. Each of the three digits sported eight distinct joints and ended in a thick, splintered nail. Two were positioned at the front of his talon, while the last sat on the opposite side. Shaped like a mix between a toe and a spur, it could easily rotate around and serve either purpose, depending on what exactly he needed.

The arm attached to the hand was just as eerie and disgusting. Its wrinkled, patchy flesh flaked in places to reveal a pair of half-rotted bones. Its palm sported what appeared to be a slit for an eye-socket filled with tongues and teeth.

Sootbeak paled as the hand released the maid's dagger and surged towards his head. His playful joy draining, he shook his head and slowly backed away. He wailed words of rejection, desperately begging the hand to return from whence it came, but it ignored his teary protests and grabbed ahold of his skull. His body fell limp as the meat hooks dug into his flesh. For a moment, it almost looked like he'd been slain, but he twitched back to life as the hand melted into his body like liquid into a sponge. He began to morph, to go from humanoid to bestial as he returned from the void. His face grew longer and thicker, sprouting dozens of eyes as it extended into a canine shape. Each was adorned in a beautifully brilliant colour—a menagerie of reds, purples, yellows and blues. The wings on his head shrank, but another pair sprouted from his newly formed midsection. Spare limbs grew from each of his shoulders, leaving him with four hands and eight feet. The limbs were practical, but not aesthetically proportional; they were so ridiculously long that he could have readily scratched his butt with the arms that grew from his front shoulders.

Even the system acknowledged that he was the same entity no longer.

The man had gone from Sootbeak the Amberwing to Naghun the Infinite—a pure, elemental lifeform that embodied the endlessness of eternity.

And the first thing he—it—did was slug the maid beside it.

The fist shattered her defenses; it broke both the divine knives she'd raised and bore straight through her gut. A blade erupted from the fist soon after, but Chloe escaped before it could pierce her. Flipping through the air, she landed a few meters away, downed a vial of blood, and raised her daggers again—they'd already been fully restored.

But there was no chance to use them.

There was a moment where the world was devoid of darkness. And then, an explosion of murk and night.

It was Arciel's blinding spell and it had, in a single brief moment, swallowed the voidbeast whole.

There was only one problem.

Voidbeasts were creatures that roamed the far reaches of the ever-expanding world—they had no need for light.

Naghun turned upon her, roared, and broke into a charge. It ignored the pitch black blast that she fired from her wand. The spell was so powerful that it obliterated the castle's outer walls. Suddenly, there were large streaks of burnt material all over.

The beast, however, was without a hint of damage.

It opened its maws wide and gathered an enormous amount of magic in its throat. In just a few brief moments, it was sure to unleash a blast of energy capable of evaporating the capital city.

But the attack was never fired.

A warrior crossed the castle's grounds with a powerful flap of the wings. His landing resulted in a massive shockwave, an earthquake surely felt even in Vel'khan. His steps were just as heavy; he threw the whole world off balance as he galloped across the courtyard and drove his spear into the voidbeast's neck..

Naghun released the blast regardless, but Durham caught it in his other hand and shoved it back down the creature's throat. A thousand shockwaves coursed through Naghun's body, but he retaliated with a bite regardless and sank his teeth into Durham's wrist.

That, however, was a mistake. Dropping his spear, the giant centaur began slugging Naghun in the side of the head. Each blow was backed by another world-ending shake and there were at least ten thousand compressed into the first quarter second.

Naghun squealed. It was a shrill, high-pitched scream—a cry for help that opened a voidgate right behind him. A glowing, rainbow-coloured beard—a dwarven aspect—emerged from the hole and cast a spell that planted a shield between the voidbeast and his opponent. Durham's strike cracked the barrier, but at the very least, the spell stalled long enough for the dwarf to plant its fibres into Naghun's side. An even more powerful barrier appeared as the two entities merged, one that perfectly surrounded them and removed anything foreign, including the hand that Durham had in the former Amberwing's mouth.

The hand regrew by the centaur's next attack. Raising both hands overhead, he delivered a crushing, overhand blow that made full use of his hulking frame.

But the attack was blocked.

The dwarf-piloted voidbeast caught the blow with one of his shielded hands. Returning a bit of a grin, the creature leapt backwards and stood up on its hind legs.

"I'd love to dance." When it finally spoke, it—she—did so in an older woman's voice. "But I'm afraid this'll have to be all for today."

Durham raised his weapon and rushed the dwarf down, but she faded into mist, stolen body and all, before he could close the distance.

"I do not believe your interference was necessary," said Arciel with a pout.

"Sorry." Durham shrugged. "Boss' orders. We were supposed to drive them off as quickly as we could. It isn't good for our reputations if we let them just do whatever."

"Then I suppose it cannot be helped. We shall defer to King Virillius' decision."

"Appreciate it," said Durham. He gave her a light wave before turning to the soldiers, who had spent the better part of a minute trying and failing to kill the voidbeast. He started barking for reports and reflections while Arciel simply looked at the place where the intruders had vanished.

It was a shame that they ran.

She'd wanted a chance to test the limits of her power.

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