A massive arrow tore through the air, screaming toward the Watcher.
He instantly melted into shadow; in that form, no weapon could harm him.But his twin spears remained solid. One swept aside the greatsword, the other drove forward and pierced the enemy leader's right shoulder. Then he twisted, thrusting at the blue-robed man.
Shhk!
The blue-robed man didn't dodge. He threw himself onto the spear, letting it drive straight through his chest. His face twisted—then his entire body burst apart like an overfilled bladder. A surge of violet-black fluid exploded outward, splattering over the Watcher's shadow.
For a split second, the Watcher's body was forced out of his concealment. The half of his face visible beneath the iron mask contorted. He tried to pull back the spear—but too late.The great arrow hit, snapping his leg clean off and nailing it into the ground.
The Watcher fell, blood pouring from the wound. He yanked out a crimson vial and drank it down in one gulp.
"Watcher, sir!"
Aegor's voice cracked as he dove to his side. The bleeding had slowed, but the damage was severe.
Then came another thunderous crack—a second arrow.
Aegor dissolved into smoke, shoving the Watcher out of its path.
The remaining two cultists didn't pursue. They chugged potions instead, patching their wounds.Rhod could see their soul-light flaring again, regaining strength.
Worse—a new presence dropped into the fray.A figure in a black robe, completely shrouded, landed soundlessly.
The Watcher recognized him instantly."Damn it… the Black Priest. A high servant of the Polluters."
His face went pale. He pushed himself upright with one spear."You'll fight beside me," he growled. "Or we all die here."
Aegor hesitated. "But the others are still down—they won't recover that fast!"
Rhod blurted, "Don't we have reinforcements?"
The Watcher's tone was ice. "None."
He pulled out two small vials."Blood-serum. Give it to them—now."
Then he tossed Rhod a grey pouch."Thunder-stones. Charge them with soul-energy and throw. They might buy us time."
Rhod caught the bag, dazed. No reinforcements? But Raistlin had said the Watcher already contacted the Defense Bureau…There was no time to ask.
The Black Priest snapped his longbow in half. From each end sprang curved blades—it became a twin-edged weapon.He rushed forward like a storm.
"Move!"
The Watcher planted his spear, channeled force through it, and launched himself toward the Priest like a cannon shot.
Aegor shoved the potions into Karamon and Raistlin's mouths, then turned to mist and dove into battle.
Pain vanished from Karamon's body. Exhaustion ebbed away. Power flooded back.And Raistlin's body—the blue ripples around him—was absorbing rapidly.
Moments later, his eyes opened.
Karamon breathlessly explained everything.Raistlin only nodded. He'd already suspected it the instant that blade went through his chest.
"Let's finish this."
He picked up his sword-and-shield calmly.Layers of phantasmal barriers shimmered around him—the Counter-Bulwark, active once again.
With the trio back on their feet, the tide of battle shifted once more.
Karamon focused his healing on the Watcher, amplifying his strength and sealing his wounds.Raistlin moved like a veteran duelist, dividing the pressure, absorbing strikes on his shielded back and retaliating with brutal precision.Aegor harried the enemies from above, his white-smoke form disrupting their rhythm—diverting blows, blocking movements, saving teammates just in time.
Rhod stayed to the side, taking shots when he could, tossing Thunder-stones at the perfect moments. The blasts weren't deadly, but their timing was perfect, leaving the cultists off balance.
Together, they forced the Black Priest backward.
He had to defend against the Watcher's relentless assault, Aegor's interference, and even the sudden flashes of silver bullets from Rhod's rifle striking from impossible angles.
The other two cultists were held at bay by Raistlin alone, who fought like a hedgehog of steel—no opening, no mercy.
Shhk!One of the Watcher's spears slipped past the whirlwind of blades and tore through the Priest's hood.
He leapt back, retreating. Under the hood, his face was shrouded in dense mist.
"Well done, Black Spear Reeve."A woman's voice, sultry and smooth, drifted from the fog."And White Smoke Aegor… the academy's prodigies, fighting side by side. Legends indeed."
No one replied. The cult leader withdrew. The team instantly turned on the remaining two.
Only Rhod froze.
He saw her face through the mist—Karamon's ex-girlfriend, Donna, Governor of District Two—Elyx, herself.
She was a Doomsday cultist.
Shock hit first. Then elation.That woman had once provided the Inquisitor General with the evidence that destroyed him.If he could prove she was a Polluter, his name would be cleared—his survival odds would double overnight.
He couldn't let her escape.
Clutching a Thunder-stone, Rhod crept along the flank.These stones were curious things—activated by a spark of energy, but capable of absorbing much more. Depending on the charge, they could stun, paralyze… or kill.
If she tried to flee, he'd hurl it.He'd stop her no matter what.
But the Black Priest didn't run. Her voice turned low, cold, almost reverent.
"The will of the Supreme God cannot be defied. The Lord of Darkness will come, and you cannot stop it."
Then she smiled—a radiant, terrible beauty—and her eyes glittered with temptation."Don't you agree, my dear Karamon?"
Shhk!
A black blade erupted through Aegor's chest.
He turned, disbelief frozen on his face.Karamon stood behind him—Karamon, whom his smoke had just carried to safety—holding a weapon none of them had ever seen before.
A black dagger, driven straight through his heart.
"You…" Aegor gasped.
Karamon's eyes glowed with oily darkness."Of course," he murmured, "my Lady."
The white smoke dissolved. Both of them crashed to the ground.
The Watcher's instincts screamed. He unleashed his shadow sigils at full force; his twin spears shot forward like lances of night.They pierced the cultist's greatsword—and then the man's throat.
Blood fountained.
The Watcher turned immediately, driving the assault at the last standing foe. His two spears rained down like a storm; within seconds the man was shredded, blood spraying in arcs.
But the Black Priest made no move to help. Her expression had changed—serious now, almost mournful.
"Raistlin," she said softly, "life is meaningless. Birth itself is a wound. We never had a choice. This wretched world has given us nothing but pain… why fight for it any longer?"
The Watcher spun around.
Raistlin had reversed his blade——and drove it into his own chest.
"…You're right," he whispered.