“You’re seeing this too, right, Celeste?” Viktor muttered.

  [Yes, Master. That is Rekindled Ember, isn’t it?]

  He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

  There was no room for doubt. What Dagnar was using right now was none other than one of his own Supreme Thauma, Rekindled Ember.

  It did three things.

  First, it granted the user unmatched regenerative powers and exceptional resistance to all kinds of damage. Compared to that, Brynhildr’s Reliquary combo, annoying as it was, seemed almost like a parlour trick. Along with the power of the Golden Apple, her Reliquaries had helped Dagnar survive a ballista shot. Rekindled Ember, on the other hand, allowed him to survive being crushed by a mountain.

  Second, it granted the user superhuman strength, which was how Dagnar managed to obliterate the gigantic rock from within, launch himself to the sky, and send a Tengu flying halfway across the complex with one single jab.

  And lastly, it activated automatically when the user was on the verge of death. That meant a surprise attack was never going to work. No stabbing in the back, no clever ambush, no poison in the wine. If someone wanted to kill the user of this ability, they had to do it the old-fashioned way, face to face, toe to toe, either hitting hard enough to outpace the regeneration, or surviving long enough for the effects to wear off.

  Thanks to all of that, Dagnar had now become some divine cockroach that refused to die. Frustrating as hell, yes, but that was the Thauma functioning exactly as it was meant to, working as intended, fulfilling its design to the letter.

  Yet, if there was any light at the end of this tunnel, it was this: the idiot was using it wrong.

  Viktor watched as Dagnar leaped up, swung at a Tengu, crashed down, then leaped again. An angry frog on sugar high that kept flinging itself into the air, each jump a waste of breath, each fall a waste of time.

  Good.

  The thing about crafting Thauma was that it was a game of give and take. Getting something meant not getting something else. Thaumaturgy might be incredibly powerful, but it was not without limits. Supreme Thauma merely pushed those limits higher; it didn’t erase them. Rekindled Ember came with three extraordinary perks, but there was also a catch.

  It only lasted ten minutes.

  That was it. That was the extent of the flame’s lifespan after it was rekindled. Ten minutes of borrowed life, borrowed strength, borrowed defiance. After all, Rekindled Ember was intended to be a purely defensive ability. Viktor didn’t need it for killing; he already had plenty of other Thauma for that job. No, he crafted it to protect himself, to survive the absolutely dire moments. It was a shield, a failsafe, a last-resort contingency. It triggered on its own because he didn’t want to be taken down by a lucky shot. It granted him superhuman strength because he wanted to get the hell out of whatever mess had nearly killed him in the first place. There was no point surviving being crushed by a mountain if he was still stuck underneath.

  If Dagnar were smart, he should have used those precious ten minutes to bolt for the exit. If he chose to do so, there was little Viktor could do to stop him. The battle would be lost. The prize would slip through his fingers.

  But thankfully, and ironically, the coward who had spent his entire miserable life running had now, in the one moment where he should have run, chose to stay put. And not for any noble reason. Not out of courage or any high purpose. No, it was for some petty vengeance.

  And he wasn’t even any good at it. After the initial surprise wore off, the Tengu had realized their opponent wasn’t actually flying. He just jumped really high, and his movement was extremely predictable. So all they had to do was scatter every time he came at them.

  While they dodged the clumsy attacks, the Tengu also made a steady retreat. Following Celeste’s instructions, they lured the man away, leading him into the desert, into the shifting sands. Far away from his friends, far away from the exit. Soon, the Supreme Thauma’s effects would wear off, and when they did, they could go for the kill again.

  [Master, Brynhildr and Renee are coming this way.]

  What?

  Viktor snapped his attention away from the dance between raven and cockroach, turning back toward the direction of the mortuary complex.

  There they were, indeed.

  The young aeromancer was flying here, while dragging Brynhildr along for the ride, which was no small feat considering the weight of the armored warrior woman. Trailing behind, came Lahmia and her phoenix of sand, hot in their pursuit.

  Unbelievable.

  He couldn’t wrap his head around Renee’s decision. Her own party was in deep trouble, and she chose to abandon them, off to help some strangers instead. It made no sense. No sense at all.

  They met mid-air—Renee, Brynhildr, and Dagnar—three figures suspended in the swirling wind, three silhouettes etched against the endless desert sky. The young aeromancer stared at the man as she summoned a gust beneath his feet to keep him aloft, preventing him from dropping back to the ground.

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  “How... how could you do that?” she asked, eyes wide with disbelief. She must have seen him hopping around like an angry toad from afar. To Viktor, it was nothing but an ungainly display, but to her, it must be a feat nothing short of extraordinary.

  “Ah... well, yes... I can,” Dagnar said, grinning like an idiot. The unexpected arrival of his target of affection seemed to have turned the guy’s brain to mush, and he had completely forgotten about everything else, including his petty vendetta against the Tengu.

  Brynhildr, on the other hand, didn’t have time for her nephew’s romantic daydreaming. She glanced back at the phoenix that was nearly on top of them.

  “Renee, throw Dagnar at that damn bird.”

  The young aeromancer blinked. “What?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Dagnar said, puffing up his chest. Oh yes, this must be a golden opportunity for the guy to impress the lady of his dreams.

  Renee hesitated, but with a nod, she extended her hand. The wind obeyed her command, forming a powerful current that hurled Dagnar straight at Lahmia’s monstrous mount like a projectile.

  The undead mage tried to make her great bird veer away, but clearly, the collision was inevitable. Her skeletal fingers wove, conjuring jagged spikes of hardened sand before launching them at the incoming human-shaped boulder.

  The barrage struck true. Any ordinary man would have been shredded to pieces, but Dagnar just kept plowing forward, shrugging off the spikes like they were nothing more than flecks of dust in the wind.

  Then came the punch.

  The great bird exploded in a thunderous burst of debris, sand, and displaced air as Dagnar drove his fist through its chest. Shockwave trailed behind as he tore through the wreckage, his arm shooting upward to seize Lahmia’s brittle leg as she tried to flee. He spun her once, twice, then threw her downward, casting her broken form toward the dunes beneath.

  Sand geysered skyward as the ex-pyromancer’s bones scattered like dice across the desert, pelvis and femurs landing far apart, shattered spine coiled awkwardly inside the tattered remnants of her garb.

  Let’s hope Khenemhotep can patch her up once the battle is over.

  [Master, what should we do now?]

  A good question. Unfortunately, good questions didn’t always come with good answers. If Dagnar had been on his own, the Tengu could have danced away from his clumsy swings without breaking a sweat. But now, he had Renee lending him a gust or two to help him close the distance, and that made a huge difference. On the bright side, though, the effects of Rekindled Ember were going to fade soon. So it wasn’t all doom and gloom.

  “Tell the Tengu to keep their distance. Circle them. Watch them. Let them make the first move, then we’ll decide our course of action.”

  [Understood.]

  Viktor watched as Renee landed with the other two on the nearby ruins after bringing Dagnar back. The instant her boots touched solid ground, the young aeromancer staggered toward the nearest patch of shade and practically collapsed against the crumbling wall. Her chest heaved, her hands trembled as she fumbled for her flask, downing all the remaining water in a single, audible gulp. All the flying, fighting, hauling people, shooting bird with manchild-shaped projectile must have taken a heavy toll on her stamina.

  Meanwhile, Brynhildr cast a wary glance toward the Tengu circling high above. “We must move,” she said.

  Easy words to say for someone who is carried. Viktor chuckled.

  And where exactly? Were they going back to the complex to rejoin the rest of Renee’s party? Or would they part ways here, with Brynhildr and Dagnar heading to the exit by themselves?

  The warrior woman hesitated for a moment, then turned to the girl.

  “Renee... this is a very unreasonable request, but... can you take us to the exit?”

  Unreasonable, indeed. Absurd, in fact. The girl had already burned herself raw helping them. Now she was asking her to outright forsake her companions? Even Brynhildr didn’t seem to believe it would work. Her expression said as much.

  Renee stared at the ground, lips pressed into a thin line. Then, she slowly nodded.

  “Alright, I’ll bring you two there.”

  What? Viktor couldn’t believe his own ears. Why? Just why?

  He stared in disbelief as Renee summoned a gust of wind once more, lifting both Brynhildr and Dagnar into the air, and the three of them began to fly across the vast expanse of the desert. The pace had slowed down considerably, though. After all, she was now carrying two people instead of one.

  At this rate, the effects of Rekindled Ember would surely expire by the time they got out of the kingdom of sand. Good. Renee was nearly spent, Dagnar’s Thauma reserves were probably depleted, and Brynhildr was a walking patchwork of cuts and bruises. On the other hand, Viktor still had enough forces left to capitalize on their weakened state and deliver a decisive blow. So as long as nothing unexpected—

  The entire desert trembled.

  The dunes shuddered and shifted, their slopes disintegrating into rivers of sand that poured downward, stirring dust clouds that swirled into the sky like ghostly whirlwinds. A low, menacing growl echoed across the barren landscape, escalating into a deafening roar that swallowed every other sound.

  What in the world was that? An earthquake?

  “Celeste, what just happened?”

  [There is... a massive explosion in the mortuary complex.]

  “What?”

  [I am... not sure. Please... allow me a few minutes to assess the aftermath, then I will report back to you, Master.]

  “Alright.”

  Best not to lose focus. Whatever chaos had erupted in the complex, Celeste, together with Sebekton and Khenemhotep, should be able to handle it. He had only one priority: to kill Dagnar. Everything else was secondary.

  His eyes returned to the three silhouettes flying across the shaking desert. Brynhildr and Dagnar both turned their heads, confusion etched across their faces. They had heard it too, no doubt. Renee, on the other hand, just pushed forward. No sign of hesitation. No trace of worry for the companions she had left behind.

  What was this girl? He knew little about her before this battle. He had always thought she was simply a bubbly, cheerful young woman. Was she always this heartless?

  As they crossed the threshold into the crumbling remnants of the narrow maze, Renee’s strength finally gave out. She dropped like a stone, gasping for breath, her body trembling with exhaustion. With great effort, she pushed herself up and leaned against the rough wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “I... can’t... move anymore... You two... go ahead...”

  Brynhildr’s face flickered with conflict, but after a moment of hesitation, she nodded solemnly.

  “I owe you, truly. When we get out of this, I’ll pay my debts.”

  Dagnar looked like he wanted to argue, but Brynhildr gripped his hand firmly and dragged him forward.

  Together, they pressed on through the flat, sprawling cave. Soon, they would reach the room under the staircase, the very one they had passed through on their way in. It had been empty, as Viktor had pulled away the Cyclops guarding there a long time ago.

  But—

  The moment Brynhildr stepped into the chamber, she flew.

  Out of nowhere, a club the size of a tree trunk slammed into her, smashing her into the wall. Her sword slipped from her grasp, clattering across the cold floor.

  Dagnar froze, then looked up. A mountain of muscle and one-eyed malice was staring down upon him.

  Well, just because there was no Cyclops when they went in didn’t mean there wasn’t one waiting for them on the way out.