Just one man. He was single-handedly making things worse for everyone involved.
Jorren advanced, limping but determined, and the rest of his group followed, reluctant, but moving with him all the same.
“Halt!” one guard barked.
“All of you—stand down!” shouted another.
More voices joined the chorus as guards converged from every direction, their hands near hilts, their steps quickening. The situation was escalating fast, and it wouldn’t take much more to spark an all-out street brawl.
Can’t get caught here… since I don’t have an identity, they can just claim I’m a slave…
Veronica’s jaw tightened. She cursed that it would take almost a decade more to abolish the practice.
She thought about it for a moment. Then, she reached inward.
Sage.
Hey! You are a part of me now, right? If you can gauge my mana levels, then do you know if my body can handle it if I forced my cores to synchronize?
[Entering your Exalted Form at Tier-1 may result in damage to both your mana cores. The damage would be repairable, but your mana usage will be chaotic for a couple of days. I would recommend achieving at least Tier-2 before attempting this, and Tier-3 before you can safely execute it on a regular basis.]
So it’s possible, she thought, exhaling softly. That’s a relief.
She had no intention of doing it—not for this. Not for a street dispute with desperate mercenaries and confused guards. But knowing the option existed… that mattered. If she were suddenly attacked by the guards, at least she could manage temporarily.
It was a final line that she could cross if needed.
For now, she kept her stance defensive, her mana carefully coiled just beneath the surface. Her eyes focused on their necks.
Jorren stepped closer, spewing more nonsense. “We mercenaries believe in an eye for an eye! This is what happens when you try to abuse generosity!”
Veronica readied her magic.
He attacked, pulling out a small dagger with his uninjured arm, body forward, angled low. Shouts from nearby bystanders and even the guards mixed in. The other mercenaries joined also, taking a half-step forward, about to assist.
A single wing appeared behind Veronica’s hand.
Can’t aim for his neck in that position…
Veronica shot a concussive force of wind forward, one strong enough to send the man flying dozens of meters.
It shot forward directly at Jorren.
“Duck!” yelled their leader Telrick. He ran forward to assist, blade drawn.
As instructed, the man fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding the blast. It streaked past him, slowly dissipating into a normal gust of wind.
Kaela followed along, stepping forward; she drew two knives from her pocket and threw them.
Veronica ducked to the ground, dodging out of the way just in time; she was already preparing another concussive wind spell. Again, she targeted Jorren, who was now struggling to stand back up.
His damaged arm impeded his movements too much.
He managed to get on one knee—but Veronica’s spell never landed.
“Enough!”
The voice came through the square like a crack of thunder.
Veronica’s focus snapped toward it. Her mana spiked, but then settled, her inner core retreating from the edge of bursting once she saw who it was.
The ground beneath her feet trembled. Then, with a violent rip, thick roots and twisting vines erupted from the earth, coiling upward like living chains in front of her.
Her magic exploded against a large root that extended between her and the mercenaries, completely dispersing the blow.
“W-what the hell?!” Jorren shouted—just before the roots wrapped around him and slammed him flat into the dirt.
One by one, the other mercenaries were yanked down, limbs bound, weapons stripped from their reach. Their bodies jerked, then thudded hard against the cobblestones as the vines held them fast.
It was over in seconds.
She narrowed her eyes at the one who had shouted.
Hadrian. Greystone’s steward.
He stood calmly at the edge of the square, posture composed, hands folded neatly behind his back like a man attending an evening stroll; his demeanor made it clear he wasn’t the one who had cast the spell, but one who had ordered it instead.
Veronica’s eyes shifted to the left and spotted her.
Elise stood in the center of the square, one hand raised, lingering traces of mana in the air around her. She was still in her maid outfit, but Baron Welterman was nowhere to be found. Regardless, now Veronica knew what attunement she was—one of them, at least.
Path of Sculpting.
The surrounding guards recognized Hadrian, and most likely Elise too. A group of them rushed over, kneeling down to apprehend the mercenary group. They all noticed that Veronica wasn’t a target of the spell, and knew she was to be spared their attention.
Veronica relaxed.
Steward Hadrian walked over. “I say, it’s seldom Greystone gets this much excitement in a day. First, a mage comes to town, takes down an ogre, helps the guards at the barracks, and now a group of mercenaries comes into town to attack said mage.” he spoke loudly, enough for everyone nearby to hear.
He turned to look at Elise. Her hand was still held out, but now her fingers moved, controlling the roots. They shifted around the mercenaries’ bodies, letting them go to be cuffed by the guards.
“Ogre?” a bystander whispered.
“Mage? Is she the one who took down that monster this morning? I thought it was just a rumor.”
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“That crater is still being filled in. That’s not something a guard could have done with an explosive.”
“Those mercenaries were threatening a person who could take down an ogre? What a joke!”
“She’s our savior, then, right? My children were so close to the gates when that happened!”
One by one, murmurs came from the crowd upon hearing the steward’s words. Only Captain Luthen and a few of his immediate guards had seen her take down the ogre. There might have been a few townspeople hiding in the shadows who spotted her, but it seemed many in the public eye hadn’t believed it.
Steward Hadrian continued, “Luckily, Lady Elise was at the edge of town. This is usually her break hour, so I must thank her for de-escalating the situation.”
He turned to face Veronica. “Now, may I hear your side of the story, Miss Veronica? I’ve already heard enough screaming from that man over there about what you did. And do tell me, as curiosity has stricken me quite hard—did you do the things he claimed?”
Veronica lowered her eyebrows, offended at the question.
Hadrian realized his mistake. “Apologies—that was a poor way to phrase that. I wish to inquire if there was more context to what he said, or if he made everything up.”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she held Hadrian’s gaze, studying him. Not just his words—but his posture, his eyes, and the slight lilt in his voice that carried a touch of courtly sharpness.
He wasn’t trying to antagonize her. That much was clear. But he wasn’t offering blind support either.
Good.
She didn’t want someone who was blindly trusting. Acquainted or not, it wouldn’t help her in the long run. People in positions wore masks—first impressions were easy. It was what lay beneath that mattered.
“I didn’t make the first move,” she said flatly. “He did.”
She tilted her head toward Jorren; he was still groaning on the ground as two guards fastened steel cuffs around his wrists. His arm was still bleeding, the soaked bandages now dark with fresh blood.
“In the forest, I came across their group while they were resting. I was alone. I made it clear I wasn’t looking for trouble. I just wanted directions to the nearest town or city.”
Her tone remained steady. She didn’t plead. She didn’t embellish the story. The plain truth always carried further than shouting. She wouldn't resort to what Jorren did.
“They suggested restraining me. Cuffs—just in case I turned violent. I agreed.” Her jaw tightened. “Later that night, while I was asleep, Jorren tried to assault me. The others didn’t stop him.”
Hadrian’s expression shifted, steeling darkly. He gave a small nod, prompting her to go on.
“So I fought back. I already had a bad feeling the moment I saw they were carrying slave gear. I waited, hoping nothing would happen. But when he reached for me—” she sighed, irritated. “I used magic and injured him. I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t.”
Her arms crossed loosely. “I let them go. Didn’t want a fight—wasn’t looking for one at the time either. I ran into the woods and made my way straight to Greystone. That’s why I was in worn rags this morning.”
There was no pride in her voice. No dramatization. There was only frustration and annoyance.
“And today,” she continued, “he saw me again and tried to spin what actually happened. Provoked me in front of everyone. Said I was… less favorable things. Then worse.”
She frowned. “I warned him. He attacked me, and I defended myself. That’s the whole story. There is no other version.”
Silence lingered between them.
The square was still in motion as guards lifted the mercenaries to their feet, while other urged bystanders to disperse. The tension had lessened, but it hadn’t left entirely.
Jorren continued shouting at the guards, demanding them to let him go.
Hadrian said nothing yet, but Veronica could feel the scales in his mind tipping.
He looked her over again. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes studied her closely, as if probing for deeper intent.
After a few moments, he gave a quiet, thoughtful hum. “I see. That does sound like a reasonable explanation for the events that just unfolded.”
His gaze drifted toward the guards, now hauling Jorren upright. The man snarled and twisted in their grip, futile in his resistance.
“You don’t strike me as someone who uses violence to get what she wants,” he said. “And frankly, there was no clear gain in attacking them. No motive, no advantage.”
His gaze stayed on her, assessing any reactions. “As someone who’s met with the Baron—and even helped train our guards—I find it difficult to believe you’d ambush a group of mercenaries for sport. Or out of spite. Especially since you didn’t even have anything on hand with you when you entered town.”
He paused, then added, more quietly, “I also doubt you would have saved that little child this morning if you were as devious as he said.” His gaze flickered over to Jorren's injured arm for a brief moment. “The strangest thing being, leaving them alive with just a small flesh injury, when you can take down an ogre.”
Veronica didn’t respond, but the corners of her mouth lifted. Just slightly.
Hadrian returned her look with a mild, diplomatic smile. Then his tone sharpened, voice slipping into something more official.
“These men will be held in custody for the next few days while we investigate their movements. It is a serious crime to try and forcibly enslave others without proper process. Normally, we would also imprison you, but considering that you've spoken to the Baron today, we will overlook this. I'm not privy to the details but I am sure the Baron requested your presence for something important. So consider this a special privilege for now. I’ll ensure that he also hears your account of what happened… and that the official report isn’t written by whichever guards were closest to Jorren’s yelling.”
He glanced back toward Elise.
The maid stood calmly, arms lowered. The vines and roots had fully receded, the last of them vanishing beneath the cobblestones like they’d never been there at all.
“Elise,” Hadrian called, “thank you again for the intervention.”
She gave a small nod, voice level. “It was necessary.”
Then she waved her hand, dispelling the magic.
The stone beneath them shifted. Loose gravel slithered back into place, seams between bricks sealed shut, and the ground restored itself with quiet precision. Once finished, Elise gave a nod to both Hadrian and Veronica before turning and walking off as if nothing had happened.
She’s good with her control, Veronica thought, watching her go. Especially for someone only at Tier-2.
Hadrian turned back to her. “I may call for you later today or the upcoming days to verify some details. For now, you're free to go,” he said. “Unless you’ve taken any injuries. I can arrange someone to look you over.”
“No, I’m alright.” Veronica offered him a polite nod and turned to leave.
Her footsteps were quiet, swallowed by the resuming rhythm of the square behind her. But even as she walked away, she felt it.
There were eyes on her.
Whispers in the air all around.
Soft mutters brushed at the edge of her senses, like wind licking at the flame of a candle. Some were harmless. Curious townsfolk, no doubt, surprised to find another mage in Greystone. But the others… she had an ominous feeling about it.
There were gazes that lingered. Calculating ones. Watching her a little too carefully. And if the cultists were truly operating this close to the town, then it wasn’t unreasonable to assume some were already here. Intermingled and hidden in plain sight.
She couldn’t explain why, but she had a feeling something was going to happen tonight. She made too much noise now. If people hadn’t seen her use magic to take down the ogre—they definitely saw and knew about her now.
Still, no one followed her.
No one dared confront her again.
Her thoughts came back to what Hadrian had said.
“You don’t strike me as someone who uses violence to get what she wants.”
That was where he was wrong.
It was why first impressions mattered—but why they should never be trusted at face value. She had taken him for a sharp man, calculated and deliberate. But that one line showed he still misunderstood her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to use violence.
It was that she couldn’t.
Not yet. Not now.
At Tier-1, she was too weak. Too limited and restrained with her capabilities.
This situation with the mercenaries couldn’t happen again. It was only due to luck that things happened to stack in her favor. Pure coincidence she helped out several high-profile figures in town to de-value Jorren’s claims.
If something like this happened again, she’d need to be more decisive. She didn’t have her status here, nor her power. Her mere presence no longer demanded authority.
Any delays that could stop her, she would need to deal with before it would cause her problems in the future.
This was the mentality people adopted in the future.
She had killed demons. But she had also killed people. People caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Collateral damage. More than hundreds. More than thousands.
The war had begun with noble ideals.
Leave no man behind.
But after half the population fell, the mantra changed.
Save those that can save others, as many as possible.
Even if it meant sacrificing the rest.
Even if it meant burning cities to stop a demon from nesting.
Even if it meant cutting down those too far gone, those that posed a risk to others.
That was the motto of the Path of Ruin: Ruin to that which stands in your way.
That was the motto that Veronica Everwells—The Exalted Mage of Ruin—followed.
Veronica walked away, heading toward the inn so that she could advance once more.
Murmurs continued to spread through the crowd. Many spoke about her achievement at keeping calm just now. Others spoke of the ogre that had appeared this morning.
The last ones in the crowd, shifty but unassuming, spoke of something else entirely. Their eyes were locked onto her in the shadows, but they dared not move forward. Instead, they waited.
A clock had begun to tick.
1/26/2026 - This chapter has undergone a revision. In case you see any comments that reference something that doesn't make sense or is inaccurate/incorrect, there is a chance it may have been corrected.
Who do you think is directly connected to, and actively helping the cultists summon demons?
