A well-aimed fireball freed Snake from his restraints. He ripped his arm free, and in a second scales grew along it and claws formed on the tips of his fingers. He sliced the face of a cultist before twisting to cut free his other hand. The cultists lost all control of the situation then. 

Sen readied another spell, but it seemed Snake had it covered. The black-haired boy jumped up and drove his claws into the back of a cultist. He moved rapidly and cut down several more, gouging eyes and cutting throats. Eventually, the two remaining cultists turned to flee. But Snake was on them in seconds. He stretched his jaw wide like a serpent and bit down on one man’s neck. The last one sprinted away. 

Snake’s hand filled with a purple liquid and he flung it in the cultist's direction. The acidic substance splashed onto the man’s back and ate through flesh. He screamed until he finally stopped moving. Snake looked as if he dared the corpses to move. He wanted any reason to keep plunging his claws into flesh. When the dead men didn’t rouse, and he was sure they were dead, he turned his attention to Sen.

“I didn’t need your help!” Snake roared. 

Sen stared at him. Of course. Of course Snake would react like this to being saved. He was shirtless, and the straps had left red imprints on his skin. The scales had grown up to his shoulders. 

“Then we’ll leave you. Where are the other students?” Sen asked.

Snake’s pupils turned to slits. “Why are you even here?” His pupils slid over to Orttha. “Is this some kind of rescue? Did the dean send you?” he asked.

“We took out a quest. We just want to get the rest of the students out alive,” Sen said. This was a poor use of time. They needed to move. He released the hold on Tutor. 

Analysis?

[Already done. He appears sleep-deprived. Combine that with his natural aggression, narcissistic personality, and the drugs in his system, and you have the recipe for a fight on your hands.]

That was what Sen was afraid of. He couldn’t leave Snake behind in this state, but he also didn’t have time to waste.

Snake’s gaze fell to the floor. “A quest,” he spat. He looked up at Sen. “I won’t let anyone think you saved me. You’ll die here. I’ll get the others out. They’ll forget you ever existed.”

Sen shot him a look. “Snake, don’t…”

[He’s going to. Definitely.]

Snake rushed forward. 

Orttha tried to intervene, stepping in with Encapsulation. But Snake brushed past him, shouldering the old man to the side. He swiped at Sen. 

“Bubble Catch Maxim!” Sen threw up a hasty defense. His hybrid stats were down. His speed, strength, and constitution would suffer for that. But he was a magician first and foremost. The bubble popped, but it bought him time. He dodged to the side while Snake sped past. Snake wheeled around and shot toward him again. “Shatter Vine Maxim!” Vines rushed forward, but Snake had expected that attack. He’d seen it multiple times now. He cut them into shreds. 

Exactly as Sen expected. 

“Bubble Catch Maxim!” 

Snake scoffed at the second bubble. For two seconds. Then Sen activated Elementless Shell, and that look changed. 

Snake had swung, expecting a bubble. His fist ended up meeting stone. He hissed in pain as his claws slammed into a hard material he hadn’t been expecting. 

Sen rushed forward, released the spell and punched Snake in the face. He didn’t have the power of a hybrid stat behind it, but he did have the element of surprise. Snake fell back onto the floor. He sneered at Sen. 

But Sen ignored him. “You saved yourself. I didn’t come here to save you. I came here for the others. Now, you can help me, or we can fight. But if we do that, the others are going to die. We can settle this later. For now, let’s fight together, Snake,” Sen said. He held out a hand. 

Snake stared at him before slitted pupils fell to Sen’s outstretched hand. Snake slapped it away but stood. “This way,” he said. It was the closest thing to an olive branch Sen was going to get. 

Orttha shook his head at the exchange.

A voice from just outside the hall got their attention. “What is going on here?” the familiar voice called out as it rounded the corner. “I told you all not to proceed unless I am present!” he shouted. Calabari’s eyes froze when he saw the cultist’s corpse. Then he looked up and blinked at Sen, Snake, and Orttha.

“You’re free…” Calabari said, looking at Snake. His eyes widened as he noticed Sen, and then finally he turned to Orttha. “Why…why is the librarian here?” he asked. 

Mana exploded around Sen, and he walked toward the professor responsible for letting the cultists into Bright Sail Academy. But a firm hand rested on his shoulder. Sen turned back, and to his surprise, it wasn’t Orttha stopping him.

It was Snake.

Their eyes locked. “He’s the reason this all happened,” Sen said.

Snake glared back. “He kept them from cutting me open. He’s also the reason they focused their research on me instead of the others.”

That was…a surprise. He turned to look at Calabari. “Is that true?” Sen asked.

“I…I didn’t want any of the students getting hurt. They told me they wanted an instructor! Someone to help them train new members for the cult. I thought…I didn’t realize I was being manipulated.” Although Sen knew the liar of a man would say anything to save his own life, he didn’t sense any deception within his words. Which was…frustrating. He’d only just convinced Snake to work with him, but Calabari had gone too far this time. Sen pulled his shoulder away and took another step.

Snake tsked, but didn’t react. 

Calabari backed away, stumbling backward and landing on the floor. “Wait, you’re here for the others, right? They’re beginning the ritual soon. I…I was coming to set Snake free so we could try to stop them, but…well, you already did.” 

Again it seemed he was telling the truth. If the others were in danger, he didn’t have time for this. He stared Calabari down. “When I’ve dealt with the cult and gotten my friends out of here, I’m destroying this whole place. If you’re still here when that happens, I won’t wait for you.”

He walked past, and Snake followed at his side. “Wait, how do I leave? The portal?” Calabari called out. 

“No. The portal is for allies only. Find another way,” Sen said. 

He noticed Orttha hadn’t moved and turned to look at him. Orttha approached Calabari and held out a hand . 

“Thank you, Orttha. At least someone has—”

Crack.

Calabari cried out in pain. His leg bent at an awkward angle. Orttha had kicked him so hard the bone popped out. “You put my student in danger,” Orttha said. With that, Orttha jogged to catch up with Sen and Snake. 

Sen nodded toward him. Then they followed Snake to find the others as Calabari screamed behind them. 

“Hold on, Milim, Ill, everyone, I’m on the way now.” 

Ilm

When the protective spell around her snapped, it felt like she was on a battlefield and her armor had crumbled to dust. 

Tatter sensed it immediately. 

“It’s time. We’re starting now,” he barked out. All around him, cultists went to work. They uncovered buckets of red liquid that Ilm was pretty sure were full of blood. They dipped brushes into them and began to work. A ritual circle of some kind slowly came to life in the center of the ballroom with each stroke of a brush. Other cultists gathered around Tatter, and he faced the prisoners. Ill swallowed. She had a bad feeling about this, especially considering the cultists had made no secret of the fact that they wanted to sacrifice the students to resurrect their fallen god. 

Tatter squinted and stared at Milim. He turned and exchanged a look with the cultist next to him. “Do you sense that?” With the barrier down, they were better able to scan Milim, and they’d found something. 

The man nodded. “The hint of a god. She carries a trace.” 

Tatter smiled and reached down to grab Milim by the arm. He pulled her free of the chains. Ill reached out for her friend, but the chains snapped into place, preventing her from making a move. “Milim!” she shouted.

Milim resisted as well. Her bindings kept her from using her magic, but they wouldn’t prevent her from resisting physically. She pulled back on her chains and broke free of Tatter’s grasp for just a second. But before she made it far, two other cultists grabbed each of her arms and held her in place. They looked to Tatter for instruction. 

He nodded toward the circle. “The rest of you are lucky. The trace will be enough to resurrect Harpis. You won’t need to die quite yet. You will have the honor of seeing him reborn, and then further honor in serving as sustenance for his growth! The God of Harpies will devour you,” Tatter said. It appeared he expected them to be genuinely excited about it.

Instead, he received a mix of reactions: disgust, fear, and anger. He sneered at them and shook his head. 

“What are you doing? What do you mean she has a trace?” Ilm demanded. 

Tatter turned and laughed. “You’re about to see the power of a Tomechild. Watch.” 

The blood-painted runes turned brown, as if the blood were corrupted. The sound of heavy, powerful wings flapping filled the room. Ilm felt a presence on par with her master’s unveiled power suddenly fill the room. They were really doing it. They were resurrecting a fallen god. One that had risen in the age after the God of Magic’s disappearance. 

Milim’s eyes blanked. She floated limply in the center of the runes. Her arms, legs, and head hung in the air as if she were drifting on a surface of water. The slightest hint of a tome emerged from her chest. It was a translucent pink, with twinkling stars on it, and hovered only a few inches above her. A single strand of Milim’s hair shifted and turned brown. 

Tatter cackled. “She’s a fitting vessel.”

“Stop this!” Ilm screamed. 

Tatter reached back without looking, and a spell shot forward from his hand. A small bird, or rather, a set of brown wings without a body flew toward her and covered her mouth. She couldn’t speak anymore; it must be some kind of harpy spell. 

Above Milim, a brown spirit appeared. It had grand wings that stretched ten feet in either direction and talons that could crush a man whole. Its face was in the shape of a man’s, but it had long brown hair with brown and white feathers intertwined within like a decoration. It placed a hand over Milim, and then the hand started to dissolve. 

A beam of powerful brown light shot through the ceiling and presumably high into the sky above. 

It was going to possess her, and from what little Ilm knew about possession, there wouldn’t be anyway to undo this.

“Stop.” 

The spirit’s hand recoiled and looked toward the door. 

Sen stood there, with red eyes blazing with rage. He hadn’t used a spell, he’d simply infused mana into his voice. He hadn’t made a single move. Yet at his command, the spirit of a god had halted its actions. Snake glared at Tatter on Sen’s right. Orttha, the school librarian, looked wide-eyed at Milim floating.

Sen looked away for only a moment, and his eyes locked in on Ilm’s. 

“It’s okay. I’m here now.”

Sen 

He took his time approaching the ritual circle. Some of the cultists got in his way. He swept a hand. 

“To dust Maxim.” 

Their bodies collapsed into piles of ash and sand amidst suddenly empty robes. 

“Leave her.”

Tatter snarled. “How dare you talk to a god like that! I will rip your bones from your flesh! I will—”

Sen’s hybrid stats might be out of commission, but Orttha’s weren’t. Under the effects of Encapsulation and Aggression, the old librarian crossed the room in a single moment. He delivered a flurry of punches to Tatter before uppercutting him several feet into the air.

Snake trailed behind him. “Acidic Claw Venom!” Acid shot out of Snake’s palm, covering Tatter’s face before a serpent hand plunged into the man’s body.

Tatter screamed. The skin on his face was assaulted by a powerful acid, while the hole in his chest leaked blood. He crumpled over, whimpering at the pain. 

Sen nodded his approval. 

The other cultists hesitated after seeing that. 

The book floating over Milim intrigued him. The power was familiar. It wasn’t unlike the one that Orttha carried. But it wasn’t physical. It was…almost a spiritual power. Perhaps that was what Orttha meant when he said his and Milim’s circumstances were similar but not quite the same. The spirit looked at the book hovering in front of it, and then at Sen. It realized the similarity as well. And then Sen felt something pressing at his mind. He allowed the connection to form. A magic typically only seen at the level of a god. Mindspeak. 

“The God of Magic. I see a lot has happened in my absence. This one is yours?” Harpis’ spirit asked, 

Sen nodded. “She is.”

The spirit paused for a moment before scanning the room. It took note of Ilm. “And that one as well. What of the others? Do you claim all these prisoners?”

Doing so would press his luck, but this spirit was still gauging Sen’s power. He could afford to take a risk. “You may take any human in the castle, provided they wear a brown robe.”

A long smile crept onto the spirit’s face. “To awaken and be denied sacrifices my subjects have prepared for me. It’s a shame, but we are at an impasse, and so we must negotiate. The girl is under my power, and I need time to transition into a vessel.”

[Master, if we don’t stop him now, defeating him will be much harder once he’s taken an avatar.]

Sen knew that already. But this way, at least, the avatar would be disposable to him instead of someone he cared about. He would not allow Harpis to possess Milim. 

“The girl for your resurrection,” Sen agreed without breaking his stride.

“Very well,” Harpis spoke. Milim’s brown strand of hair returned to pink, and she slowly descended in the air. The spirit looked up, and its eyes focused on Tatter. “You, serve me.”

Tatter froze at the sound of his master’s voice. He slowly turned his head, though he must be in absolute agony and he’d lost his vision. “This humble servant offers all that he is! Please! Whatever it is you require, it is yours!”

“I require your body,” the spirit of Harpis said. 

Tatter tilted his head in confusion. “What?” he asked to clarify, forgetting his previous commitment. 

Harpis didn’t answer. The spirit flew forward and dissolved as it smacked into Tatter. What was left of the cult leader’s freshly blinded eyes rolled back into his head. A thick fur spread all over his neck and arms, and he grabbed the sides of his head as he screamed. His chest started regenerating, and the acidic wounds on his face began to as well.

Snake and Orttha both stepped back, positioning themselves between Tatter’s body and the shackled students. 

When he stood, he didn’t look like a harpy, but rather an extremely hairy man. A trail of feathers poked through the back of his robe, but they weren’t wings. They looked more like two long strings of feathers that more closely resembled tails coming out of his back where wings might be. 

Sen looked back at the abomination. Tatter shuddered. He lifted his hands to look at them, covered in fur. “This power…you have blessed me, Harpis.”

Sen ignored Tatter’s religious musings and stepped through the ritual circle. Milim fell gently into his outstretched arms. The book hovering above her slowly descended as well, returning into her body. Its aura faded away. Milim’s eyes crept open, and through slits she saw Sen.

“It’s okay, Milim. I’m here now. You’re safe.” 

She offered the faintest of smiles before drifting off again. He turned to face the others. 

Orttha’s eyes were wide. “I believe Harpis has chosen an avatar. That man holds the power of a god within him now.” 

Sen glared at Tatter. With a portion of his spirit within an earthly vessel, Harpis held more power than he had a moment ago. 

The harpy god would still need more power to manifest fully. But with an avatar in the world, he now had a champion that could go forth and collect that power. It looked as if he were eager to get started. Tatter smiled, as if he heard something in his head. Harpis was speaking to him. “Yes, Lord Harpis…I understand.”

The remaining cultists ran forward and threw themselves to their knees. The fools still hadn’t realized their fate.  

“Talon Drain Harpy!” Tatter shouted. A bird spirit appeared in the air above and screamed. The cultists grimaced as it forcefully pulled mana from their bodies. 

Technically, Harpis was actively avoiding anything that might antagonize Sen. So when Sen created a replica where he was standing to hold Milim, and stepped out of the clone of his body no one expected him to walk up to Tatter and punch him in the face. 

The look of disbelief on the avatar of Harpis sprawled out on the ground made that quite worth it. 

[Well, I suppose we were bound to fight another god at some point in the new world. Now’s as good a time as any.]