"Cadane!" Lefahne cried out, rushing toward him. "What happened?!"
Zurrel dropped to his knees beside the convulsing monk. "Hold him still—he's thrashing too hard!"
"Cadane, listen to me!" Lefahne pleaded, clutching his shoulders. "It's Lefahne! You're safe here!"
But the monk's body lurched violently. His eyes were glazed black and with a snarl, he lashed out. A monstrous backhand caught Zurrel in the chest and sent him flying across the room like a projectile launched from a ballista.
CRACK!
He slammed into the wooden shelves, his body crumpling under an avalanche of jars and vials. Glass detonated across the floor in a rainbow of sparks and fumes. He groaned, slumped against the wreckage, blood matting his hair.
"Zurrel!" Lefahne screamed, her voice splitting with panic.
She turned—only to freeze. A cold, unnatural shiver skittered up her spine. Something… wrong was in the air.
Time slowed.
Behind her, a pointed object came hurling toward her back, threatening to run her through.
FWUMP!
Vines burst from the floor courtesy of Zurrel's magic, even in his haze of pain. They coiled into a barrier just in time to block the blow, the impact cracking the wooden floor beneath.
Lefahne glanced at her associate in horror, recalling them recently working together to save a bank teller from the Adventurers' Guild who had overdosed on pixie crystals.
But Monk Cadane was gone.
What stood in his place was a twisted, humanoid abomination. His skin had calcified into a bone-like carapace. His right arm had transformed into a lance-like weapon, thick and deadly. His jaw hung open too wide, revealing elongated teeth and an expression of pure bloodlust.
Lefahne dove to Zurrel, her hands glowing with green-gold light as she began to heal him. "Cadane! What's happened to him?! What is this?!"
CHIME~
The door jingled gently as if nothing had happened. The sweet sound of the bell was a sheer contrast to the chaos. Lugene and Rue stepped inside, brushing dust off their shoulders.
"My, my," Lugene cooed, eyes sweeping over the wreckage. "What a mess. Looks like someone hasn't been keeping up with their chores."
Rue chuckled as he eyed the broken shelves. "Tsk, tsk. You two are such busy bees, always working. But if you keep neglecting the store's upkeep, the customers might stop coming…"
He paused, tapping his chin.
"Then again," he said with a grin, "with products this good, they'd probably come even if the building was on fire."
Zurrel and Lefahne stared in confusion.
"…What are you talking about?" Zurrel croaked as he pushed himself up. "Cadane's gone mad—help us!"
Rue's expression didn't change. Instead, with a graceful flick of his shoulder, he tossed a figure to the ground like a sack of spoiled fruit.
THUD.
It was Sister Lyra.
She hit the floor hard, bound and gagged, her white robes stained with blood. Her terrified eyes locked with the Dravenharts'.
"Sister Lyra?!" Lefahne cried, reaching for her—but Rue planted his foot squarely on the nun's head.
The muffled scream that followed was gut-wrenching.
"Oops," the man murmured, pressing harder. "You two should really keep a closer eye on your associates."
Zurrel's eyes flared with fury and confusion. "Get off her. Now."
Rue tilted his head, his voice dripping with venom. "You know what I hate most in this world? Holier-than-thou, self-righteous people like you."
Lugene sighed as if addressing unruly children. "You always were so proud of your good intentions. So dutiful. So pure." Her voice dripped with contempt. "But purity doesn't fill ledgers, dear. And your little miracles robbed us of every coin we might've earned."
Rue stepped forward, voice calm and cold. "At first, we tried to outmatch you the honest way. Better salves, stronger tinctures… but your potions kept setting the bar higher. So, we changed the game entirely."
"We turned to something more lucrative," Lugene continued slowly. "Pixie crystals."
"You… what?" Lefahne whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.
"We slip a few granules into our remedies," Lugene continued, smiling like she was recounting a joke. "Just enough to keep them coming back, thinking it was healing they craved. And wouldn't you know it? Profits soared."
Rue grinned, rubbing his hands together like a greedy merchant. "Indeed! Every time we reeled in a new loyal patron, the dealers paid us a hefty commission."
Zurrel's fists clenched.
Lugene cast a glance toward the overturned vials and the weeping Sister Lyra. "But then you had to meddle. You and your saintly friends. That blasted elixir you brewed, undoing our careful work. Do you know how much gold we lost when addicts started waking up from their blissful haze?"
"You folks just had to play the hero and start healing our customers," Rue spat. "Haven't you taken enough from us already?"
Their expressions darkened.
"You didn't just hurt our business," Lugene asserted, her voice sharp. "You gutted it! Our clients were drying up—and not from withdrawal."
"We finally found another stream of gold," Rue added coldly, "and like clockwork, you two righteous pigs had to jam a stick in the wheel."
Lugene's smile twisted, her eyes glowing with malice. "We tried to be discreet, but we're done pretending. Now we'll have to take a more direct approach."
"…We're going to kill you all," Rue finished maliciously. "And it'll look like you were torn apart by the monsters from the Dungeon Break."
Zurrel snarled. "Not if I kill you first, traitor!"
Lefahne froze, her heart pounding. Her hands trembled at her sides, mind reeling in disbelief.
She knew Lugene and Rue as friends, family—respected them as colleagues, trusted them as elders of the community. And yet, here they stood, callous and smirking with a nun bleeding and bound at their feet.
It felt unreal. These were the same frail elders who once offered gentle smiles and blessings. Seeing them now, cast as villains with such innocent faces, was almost too strange to believe.
Were they imposters?
Drugged?
Controlled by some dark force?
No. Somewhere buried under the denial, she knew. This wasn't mind control or dementia. It wasn't even a matter of corruption or drugs. This was who they truly were all along; they only acted sincere when it benefited them.
Rue chuckled, a bitter, mocking sound. "Aw, what's with that look, Lefahne? Still holding on to the idea that we were ever like you?"
He reached into the familiar leather satchel slung over his shoulder—the same one Midnight had reported seeing passed to an apothecary in the square. From inside, he retrieved a small, violet-hued pill that shimmered ominously.
Lefahne gasped. "No… don't!"
"Try and stop me," Rue sneered.
Seizing a fistful of Lyra's hair, he shifted her gag and began shoving the pill down her throat.
"If you want to get rid of us," Lugene scoffed, "you'll have to go through your dear 'ol friends first."
"Lyra!!" Zurrel surged forward, but Cadane lunged into his path with a snarl.
The two collided like a pair of Owlbears.
Moments later, the nun's body seized. Her veins darkened. Her eyes rolled back and the sclera turned pitch-black.
"…Oh no," Lefahne whispered. "Rue, what have you done?!"
The man smirked. "Improved her, obviously."
With a monstrous snap, the nun's back arched—and then her body tore itself apart from within. Her arms elongated. Blades erupted from her elbows, curving like scythes. Her mouth widened into a sickening grin of jagged teeth. She screeched, and the floorboards cracked as her body continued to morph.
Cadane thrust his lance-arm forward with the speed of a ballista bolt. Zurrel twisted, throwing up a dense wall of vines—but the strike punched clean through, launching him like a ragdoll. He crashed into a manalamp fixture, glass bursting in a hail of shards. Blood trickled from his brow.
"Zurrel!" Lefahne exclaimed, scrambling toward him again. She dropped to her knees, healing light blooming beneath her palms as she pressed them to his chest. "Stay still—"
A shadow loomed behind her.
The homunculus let out a distorted, gurgling snarl and charged again. Zurrel, eyes burning with fury, hurled a mace of thorned vines at the creature's face.
WHAMM!
Impact.
The fiend recoiled just long enough for the druid to leap to his feet. "Cadane!" He bellowed. "This isn't you! Snap out it!"
Lugene heaved a chilling grin. "It's no use," she sneered. "His humanity's long gone—swallowed by the mindless beast he's become."
Zurrel snarled.
Vines slithered from the ground at his call, weaving into thick, bark-wrapped fists. He pummeled the creature with a barrage of blows—left hook, right hook, a solid uppercut, then a low spin kick reinforced by bark cracked its knee.
The creature stumbled, but retaliated with a lance sweep that scraped Zurrel's shoulder, slicing into flesh.
He hissed, staggering.
Then he ducked under another jab, slammed his palm down onto the floorboards, and summoned a burst of wooden spikes. They erupted from the floor, skewering the fiend through the torso.
But the monster didn't fall.
It shrieked—a high-pitched, banshee-like scream—and surged forward with unnatural strength, impaling itself further just to get within striking range.
Zurrel's eyes widened.
He dodged and called forth another vine whip—this one wrapping around the fiend's left wrist. With a cry, he yanked on the weapon, veering the limb to the side and driving his knee into the creature's side.
Zurrel followed up by curling his fingers. At the gesture, bladed thorns sprouted along the vine. Then he yanked again, watching with a hardened expression as the creature's left hand flew free in a spurt of black blood before hitting the floor with a wet thud.
The homunculus roared, now thrashing with even more rage, right lance poised to finish the job.
Meanwhile, with wide, tearful eyes, Lefahne stood a few feet away from her husband, her hands glowing brighter. "You're losing too much blood! Let me finish healing you!"
But before she could finish her spell, there was a sharp hiss. Lyra's eyes snapped open—black and glossy, empty of reason.