Screams of agony burst into the night, roping in Robert’s eyes and attention.

Robert realized it wasn’t just him. The thugs and the clergymen were also pulled into this fiendish world of Limbo. Of course, Valena wasn’t excluded.

They were plunge into an abstract world, a world that rejected their reality.

The thugs bellowed. Their skin began to rot while they bleed from their orifices. They clawed at their own head and skin. They cried and shouted their suffering. Even as they fell to the ground, the world continued to twist their body, soul, and mind. The little blessings they had could not protect them from the diabolical machinations of Limbo.

Robert was torment with the same outcome but he was quick to act. He withdrew more than a single drop of the partitioned force to help cope with the sudden shift into a hostile and foreign world. While he was safe from Limbo twisting his whole essence, the partitioned force wasn’t something he could keep using. This frail body of flesh and blood of his would not be able to withstand the continuous exposure to the partitioned force or Limbo.

When he had assure of his own safety, he looked over to the Caelion’s believers and Valena.

“They’re doing fine? Not bad.”

The two Clerics had cast a Holy Magic protection spell, applying another layer of blessing on top of their current blessing. Though it could only last them for some time and the blessings weren’t completely protecting them. Robert could see their mildly strained faces.

Robert wagered they would hold out for two hours at the maximum. Robert himself could last for twelve but that they didn’t mean it would be smooth-sailing for him.

Valena on the other hand, was also afflicted by the novel reality. She curled on the ground, crying out the torments of Limbo. Like the thugs, she was also clawing at her skin, Robert caught the small sight of blood painting her fingers.

“That has to hurt.”

Robert had half a mind to swoop in and save the distress damsel that is Valena Devetra. However, there were a few hole in that plan. He couldn’t exactly swoop in, he didn’t have the means. Also, he didn’t know what he could do to rid the afflictions. There was his partitioned force but he was certain it would only rupture her entire being. Moreover, there was the absolute possibility of exposing himself and thus, his involvement.

Robert looked on at the dilemma, contemplating the methods and consequences of saving her.

He expected the Clerics to lend a helping hand to suffering damsel in front of them but reality was cruel like it always had been. The clergymen only watched with anguished expressions. No doubt they wished to help but their abilities probably wasn’t enough to save everyone. It was either themselves and their companions or Valena.

Before Robert could come to a decision, Valena’s shadows moved. They rose from the surface they lurked, crawling onto her body. They melded with her, her own shadows becoming her skin. In her struggle, her hood came down, revealing her waist-long raven-black hair.

“Iora has black hair too. A trait of Clan Devetra?”

When the shadows finished their melding, a grin drew across Valena’s face. She was free of the affliction. She was even doing better than the clergymen who had the blessings.

“What in the manner of Magic is this?” one of the Clerics exclaimed.

“Necromancy?” the other Cleric chimed in, it was the one with Sentry Magic.

Hearing that word, the Paladins took their stance and pointed their weapons at Valena.

“She must have been taken over by the evil of this place too,” the Sentry Cleric carelessly proclaimed.

“Really, brother?”

Robert was at a lost of words. He didn’t expect the Clerics to make a conjecture without the support of evidences. The Cleric didn’t even bothered looking for it.

“Are you sure?” asked the Master Paladin who looked conflicted.

“What else it could be?” the Cleric said with grandeur. “In this world that seek to only twist us into its wickedness, this is the only thing that can happen.”

Robert was sure they weren’t that stupid. To become a Cleric or a Paladin, they would need ample education. There was no way they would be content of or fooled by this explanation.

“I-I see…” the Master Paladin uttered with a reluctant face.

And Robert understood then. It wasn’t that they were simpletons. No. They were afraid. They knew nothing of Valena’s Magic and she was using shadows, a trait commonly associated with Necromancy. Pairing up with the fact they were in a hostile and unknown world, they decided to not take any chance as long as there was a single percent chance that something would become a threat.

Or, they were just a prideful bunch who couldn’t accept some other Magic was better than the Divinity they received from their Lord and Grace, Caeleo.

Either way, it was exasperating for Robert to even look at them.

Robert shook his head with disappointment. “Disappointing, for a bunch of devout followers of a supposedly benevolent god. But hey, who am I to judge?” Robert then smiled, “I’m just as bad, if not, even worse.”

“How crass,” said Valena, who had don her shadows as her skin rose to her feet, smiling. “I am offended that I was compare to a despicable and disrespectful form of Magic.”

“Silence, vile one!” One of the Clerics aimed his staff at Valena. A Magic Circle manifested at the tip and arrows of light shot out from the center. “Begone with the light whence you came.”

Valena snickered. Shadows rose at a wave of her hand, absorbing the arrows of light.

The Cleric gasped and frowned at the wonder.

Robert found it poetic, shadow absorbed light.

One of the Paladins infused his great sword with Magic, to the point it produced Aura. He slashed and threw the Aura, but the shadows flicked the attack off like a pebble.

The Cleric fired Magic again but of a single large javelin, which Valena dodged by lazily slanting her head to the side.

She chortled behind her hand. “What was that, o holy ones? It would only graze me even if I had not move,” she mocked.

Her words inflame their unease, spurring the two Elite Paladins into charging at her.

“Ooh, so eager,” she sneered at the two rushing temple knights with their swords raised.

They slashed but their blades met with a wall of shadows.

Robert heard the noise that came upon the contact. It was akin to striking a solid steel.

The shadow wall dispersed but quickly reforming into whips.

The Paladins infused Magic into their blades and slashed at the undulating shadows but the whips swiftly evaded each strikes.

At Valena’s command, the shadows flicked them away. Guarding with their great swords had bear no effect in lessening the impacts.

The Cleric ceased that moment and attacked immediately after the Paladins hit the ground. With the same spell, arrows of light flew at her way.

But the shadows moved faster than Robert and the Cleric expected. The shadows came together into a single giant tendril, sweeping the arrows of light away.

Robert arched an eyebrow. “Oh damn, that’s really impressive.”

The Sentry Cleric looked to the Master Paladin for permission but he was signal to wait.

Before the dance of shadow and light could advance into a ritual, the neglected principal situation had develop.

“So that’s where they were,” muttered Robert, who was spectating everything from the sidelines on the tower. He could be seen as cowardly but his job here was to investigate, combat was optional unless unavoidable.

Amid the thugs who were still struggling in their agony, the villagers appeared. They crawled out of the soil. They came out of the woods. They exited their derelict houses. They were all Ghouls. It wasn’t just the villagers, the livestock as well. The goats, cows, chickens, and other farm animals, all similarly twisted into ghoulish monsters.

The screams only grew louder as the thugs were swarm by the Ghouls and monsters.

It was an interesting development but Robert had his focus on other places.

While he was spectating from the tower, he came to a late discovery.

He couldn’t grasp the ominous force as easily as before. He could still feel it but it required extreme concentration. Before, the ominous force had been obvious due to the fact that it was in contrast with the normal plane. The ominous force stuck out like a sore thumb in that world. But here in Limbo, the ominous was just another breeze.

This was the discovery, which led to a realization Robert wished he came upon much earlier. He only managed to hide from the Sentry Cleric because of the ominous force’s interference.

“Captain Baxton, there’s a presence atop of the tower over there,” the Sentry Cleric relayed to the Master Paladin.

“Please don’t see me,” Robert silently prayed.

“Is there now?” said the Master Paladin named Baxton, turning to look at Robert’s way.

Their eyes met.

“Well, shit,” Robert uttered.

“Cleric Reese, I will entrust the monsters to you.” Baxton armed himself with a mace in his left hand and a large shield in his right hand.

“Of course but what will you do, captain?”

“I will go greet our mysterious guest.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Robert muttered and jumped straight down the tower. He saw a mace flying over but he didn’t stay to affirm.

As soon as he left, the tower exploded and crumbled into a pile of debris, raising smoke and dust. Although Robert had made it out, the shockwave carried him along. He tumbled a few feet before coming to a halt. Pain assaulted him but he was glad nothing was broken.

“I knew it,” a voice came from beyond the cloud of dust. Baxton strode across the tower turned debris, picking up his mace along the way. “That witch had an ally. I knew she was too suspicious. But then again, Dusk itself was all too shady.”

“That was fun… first time getting greeted with a flying mace,” Robert managed to say as he struggled getting off the ground.

Baxton ignored Robert’s sneering. “But Dusk wouldn’t risk this farce with an amateur, and a young boy at that.”

Robert rolled his eyes, the word “amateur” stung him.

“To think there will be an uninvited third party,” Baxton hit the mark.

Robert got up while groaning and clutching at his midriff. “Well, I apologized then. I was unaware they were handing out invitations,” he retorted.

“Cease your jest,” Baxton pointed his mace at Robert. “Now talk, who’s your employer?”

Baxton was a master-level Paladin. In a fair fight, Robert’s chances of wining would be lower than zero. Robert didn’t want to spill it but he had a feeling the Paladin would know if he was lying.

And so, Robert decided to played a gamble. “Mr. Smith,” he answered.

“Who?” responded the Paladin.

Robert laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

Robert grinned deeply, “your relevance.”

“Bratty child, do not think your youth would incur any mercy from me. You will wish that you had not be so smug when I break your legs,” Baxton’s grip tighten on his mace.

Robert glanced beyond Baxton’s shoulder.

Sensing an omen, Baxton turned around— but he found nothing. He quickly turned back, just in time to block two daggers with his large shield, one aiming for his heart and the other his head.

“Ah, at least I tried,” Robert casually remarked over his failure.

“You damn brat,” Baxton snarled, “you will regret mocking me.”

Robert glanced beyond his shoulder again.

“You foolish boy, do you honestly think it would w—”

Robert had started running during Baxton’s mid-sentence.

Baxton was perplex at Robert’s sudden actions. He was about to give chase but he dove aside instead when he felt a tremor under his feet. He dodged a full brunt charge from an ox which had also been greatly twisted by Limbo.

“What abomination!” Baxton’s eyes widened at the ox, which had grew additional horns, a pair of fangs, a tail with a pointed tip. It had even grew twice its normal size. Blood was leaking from its eyes and it couldn’t seem to keep its tongue in its mouth.

Although Baxton had his focus concentrated at the monster, his years of servitude as a Paladin did not allow him to easily drop his guard. He swung his mace with a single hand, battering away a throwing star infused with Magic.

“That vicious brat!” shouted Baxton. His eyes darted around, looking for Robert who had hid himself in the smoke and chaos. He had no sight of Robert but his guts told him the boy was still close by.

He wanted to seek the heinous boy out but he couldn’t be negligent with the monster right in front of him.

The Ox-ghoul kept Baxton in its sights. It stroke the ground with its foot, lowering its head while raising its rear.

Baxton shadowed the Ox-ghoul, lowering his stance and positioned his shield forward.

And the Ox-ghoul took off, rushing with its horns pointed at its victim.

Baxton shouted his battle spirit. Vermilion scales poured out from the shield’s centerpiece, forming into a faintly-transparent wall.

The Ox-ghoul collided with the vermilion wall at a force equivalent to a canon but Baxton didn’t move for so much of an inch. Not only did it not moved Baxton, its horns had even broke against the robust defensive spell that the large shield was enchanted with.

“Mystic Scales,” Robert muttered the spell’s name. He knew that spell and he also knew it came from the centerpiece, which was of Dragon’s origin.

Drawing his shield back, Baxton brought his mace down at the stunned Ox-ghoul, exploding its head.

“See that, brat!” Baxton yelled at his full volume. “If you don’t wish to bear the same poor fate as this abomination, you better show yourself right now!”

When the wind shifted a little, Baxton spun in a half-moon, his mace striking daggers aimed for his vitals. At his next breath, a dagger came from his right, which he easily shielded against.

Baxton had his gaze at every corner of his vision. “The severity of your punishment would only grew the longer you dawdle. Show yourself!”

“Just a courtesy here, that thing isn’t dead,” Robert’s voice came out of nowhere.

Before Baxton could ascertain anything, the headless Ox-ghoul sprung up.

“What the—?!”

Sharp horns sprouted from its neck stump as the Ox-ghoul pounced at him.

Baxton was too close to use his shield. He could only rely on his mace to shield him against the protrusions but a weapon could only do so much as a shield.

The horns broke for the most part against the high-grade and Magic-infused armor but one of the horns scraped away his left shoulder plate and left a shallow wound, and the remaining two horns got in between where the armor pieces met, his forearm and abdomen.

He dropped his shield to dual-handle his mace. Along with a shout of fury, he smashed the convulsing monster repeatedly. Every last parts and bits of the ghoulish Ox weren’t spare. It became nothing more than simple splatter of paint on the ground.

Baxton calmed his rasping breath and agitated spirit. Though the fire in his eyes burned fiercely ever more. He wanted to drag Robert out of his hiding hole and deliver the same fate as the Ox-ghoul. He no longer cared if Robert was only a boy. If evil wasn’t discriminating, then neither was divine retribution.

But first, Baxton had to treat his wounds. Even if he was at a master-level, he was still a human. He would bleed out eventually.

Just as he turned to drag his wounded body to his Cleric companions, he was stop by a crowd of Ghouls. They were slowly crawling and limping their way towards him.

Baxton couldn’t help but thought of his reckless shouts and battles, those thoughtless acts must have attracted them.

A feral bleeding dog rushed at him. Baxton easily smack the canine away but another dog of the same kind followed-up.

“Curse it!” he growled.

A single swing of his mace wiped off not only the twisted dog, but also the whole wave of Ghouls and monsters behind it.

The remnants jumped at him. He bashed them with his shield, splitting skulls and cracking bones.

The Ghouls weren’t just the former villagers but the thugs too. There were also the farm animals, twisted beyond recognition.

He came shield to head with a horse with long crawling legs.

He flattened a featherless human-sized rooster with barbed wings.

He pounded a bipedal goat with overgrown muscles until its whole body was mangle.

He fought the surging stream of Ghouls that came at his way. It was endless no matter how many of them he struck down.

He gasped, “it can’t be…”

Baxton finally grasped his lapse of judgement. The Ghouls weren’t endless, they just weren’t all dead. He noticed he failed to deliver the killing blow to many of the Ghouls and monsters he struck.

Some died with a faint hit but some required the complete pulverization of the body. He didn’t know why those were the case but for good measures, he decided to crush their whole body into a pulp regardless.

His speed and strength were sufficient in dealing with these atrocities despite his injuries. He could still take on at least ten Elites but not for long. He could feel his focus waning. Though his blood loss played a huge role but it was only half the reason. The other half was the air of Limbo.

He knew he was slower and weaker than usual. Every movements were met with slight resistance. Coupling with his blood loss, he gave himself an hour at most before his body gave in.

A Ghoul slightly larger than the average lunged at him from a nearby rooftop.

The Ghoul wasn’t a factor. Baxton could just battered it away like usual. However—

— a spear impaled through the Ghoul.

Baxton turned wide-eye.

He had already swung his mace in anticipation of hitting the Ghoul before it reached him but the abrupt spear contorted his maneuver.

The spear traveled on, Baxton realized.

His current flow of action bound his movements. The spear tore into his left shoulders which had been left unguarded by the Ox-ghoul’s attack.

“That son of a bitch!” Baxton bellowed.

That wasn’t all.

Intense heat quickly spread from his wounded shoulder.

He quickly plucked the spear out and examined it. His sights shrunk at the tip of the blade. It was laced with some substance. He could tell it wasn’t liquid but some powder.

His body boiled. His breathing soared. He felt his veins on the verge of popping.

The Ghouls and monsters who attacked him in this window of opportunity seemed much slower than before.

It was not the time to brood over his wounds nor over the crafty, wretched, and vile brat.

He charged towards the Ghouls with a battle cry.

He struck harder than before.

He swung heavier than his wounded body would let him. He was tearing his muscles but he didn’t care. He kept swinging.

His speed rose with his temperature. His swifter movements were only making his wounds more dire.

His focus crumbled as he begun to simply judge everything as an object to be destroyed.

He was losing his sense of reasoning. A part of him was still aware and understood what was happening.

He was drugged. And it was a famous poison that he knew all too well because it was prohibited by many nations and cities. A drug that gave the user immense strength and speed but sacrifices their mind and body as compensation.

A product of Alchemy that uses essence of monsters and beasts. It was dubbed, Beast Fury Pellets.

“That was easy,” Robert commented from some where.