A thundering laugh washed over them, deep and rolling like the first winds of a coming storm.

  The Hydra arched both heads. Its dead, glassy eyes glittered with unnatural awareness as it studied Liora like prey.

  The elven archmage bared his sharpened teeth in a theatrical smirk.

  The human said nothing, his face blank and utterly still.

  Adarin felt Liora shift beside him. She leaned back against his chest, tense and coiled beneath his hand.

  He whispered near her ear. “We got this. Let me.”

  She nodded once. He stepped forward, letting her slip behind him, half-hidden in his shadow.

  “Very funny,” Adarin said, voice loud and clear. “Why is any one of you qualified to teach her?”

  Let’s see if I can push them onto the defensive. He mirrored the elf’s smirk. I don’t have your predator teeth, but let’s see who bites harder.

  The human spoke first. Soft, smooth, his words flowed like ripples across still water.

  “Wanderers walk many paths. Guidance comes and goes—like sun through fog. Is it not ever fickle?”

  Adarin tilted his head. Behind him, he could practically feel Liora’s confusion spike. Obscurism. He smirked.

  “You know,” he said, “it’s easy to pretend to be wise when you wrap your thoughts in fog. Much harder to speak clearly about things that are truly difficult.”

  The man smiled faintly. A silent nod. No concession.

  The elf laughed. “How cute. The girl brings a lover. A protector. A husband.” He sneered. “As any good human woman should.”

  Liora dug her finger into Adarin’s shoulder.

  “We know what decency is,” she snapped. “Unlike your disgusting race.”

  The elf’s grin stretched wider, grotesque. “I fought in the Great War. Conquered human cities. Tell me, girl, why should I share any of my secrets with you?”

  Liora exhaled slowly. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she let out a dry laugh. “Because the System is making you.”

  The elf’s smile twisted into a sneer of loathing. His long canines bared.

  The Hydra grumbled. A low, rumbling sound.

  Its heads spoke in a bifurcated chorus, their voices echoing from different angles.

  “Why are we even having a discussion? The choice is obvious, is it not?”

  The robed human inclined his head toward the beast.

  “Strength is not the point,” the monk said softly, folding his hands. “Discipline is. Even giants fall if their spirit wavers.”

  The Hydra turned one head like a turret.

  Its mismatched eyes—two green and vibrant, the other pair dead and hollow—locked on the monk.

  It sniffed, then turned to Liora. “Dismiss the two of them. We have much to discuss, student.”

  Adarin stepped forward instinctively—but Liora surprised him.

  Her grip clamped down on his shoulder like a vice. Then she stepped to his side, chin high. Interesting. Danger makes her spine rise yet again.

  “You, vile creature,” she said. Her voice was steady, her words like a sermon. “State your conditions. I will hear your offer.”

  For a long moment, four eyes stared down at her.

  Then came a sound like thunder cracking over shattered stone. The Hydra was laughing.

  Liora raised a hand and chopped the air. “Enough.”

  The sound cut off.

  Off to the side, the monk lifted a single curious brow. The elf just kept smiling.

  “Very well, student,” the Hydra rumbled and each of its heads spoke in turn.

  “You are to hold, in either order, life and death over five humans.”

  “Make them believe either fate is possible. Half will die. Half will live.”

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  “You will choose the final one.”

  Then the two heads spoke in unison again.

  “See it as a test. A mirror. Which path will you choose for him?”

  The Hydra raised its head with pride.

  “Will is bone and blood,” the Hydra intoned, one head grave, the other snarling. “It binds sinew to spirit. Without it, you are meat for crows.”

  “To aid you, I grant—” both heads tilted, disdainful—“the Regenerative Transfusion spell. Your unstructured healing is embarrassing.”

  Spell Unlocked – Regenerative Transfusion

  Type: Alteration – Lesser Tier 1

  Function: Transfuse Alteration Core Tier drops of your blood into up to (Alteration Core Tier × 10) targets. Regeneration scales to body plan.

  “Your reward, when we meet again,” the Hydra rumbled, “will be the Inevitable Vigor spell.”

  “It will boost the pitiful undead you command,” grumbled the desiccated head. Then the Hydra curled up, heads resting atop its coiled tail.

  Adarin blinked. It’s napping.

  He smiled faintly. I could get along with that thing.

  Liora, meanwhile, was pale. “Are you telling me… I have to kill people just to earn your magic?”

  No reply.

  The elf’s laughter came like acid on an open wound. “Well, well, girl,” he purred. “I shall grant you Vital Overload.”

  “Don’t bother looking it up. It will not only heal those you give life force to—it will empower them while the healing lasts.”

  “More versatile than the old lizard’s trick.” The elf looked at the mountain of muscles and scales with a feral smile.

  “And with Fields of Doom, you will drain the will to fight from your enemies.”

  He turned to the Hydra, mocking its tone. “After all, will is supreme.”

  He bit off each word with relish. The Hydra’s tail coiled tighter, as if impatient with the posturing.

  Liora squared her shoulders, fury sharpening her voice. “What do you demand I do?”

  “Oh, nothing too complex,” the elf drawled, voice dripping contempt. “Only that you savor the gifts your kind waste—liver, lungs, heart. Take them one by one, while your prey still breathes.”

  Liora lurched forward, rage blazing, but Adarin’s hand on her arm froze her in place.

  The elf hissed like a snake. “Silence! You will listen and give me the respect I deserve. I am an Archmage of Life and Death. Keep your victims alive. Consume their organs in front of them. That is my price.”

  Liora turned away, breath ragged. Her face was flushed with fury.

  The silence hit like a cold wind over smoldering coals—drawing the heat away, not quite extinguishing it.

  Adarin watched the elf, eyes narrowed.

  It doesn’t want to share its secrets. Could we force him?

  An interesting thought. Might need to do that with my own mentors.

  He gave Liora’s tense shoulder a squeeze.

  She exhaled slowly.

  The monk, at last, smiled.

  Liora faced him, eyes sharp. “And what atrocity do you demand I commit?”

  The monk bowed low, hands together.

  “Honored Patron,” he said. “This poor monk would never dare suggest such a thing. I ask only that you do what you’ve already done—but more... refined.”

  The monk striated and studied her. “You remember the goblin you pushed your energy into, yes?”

  Liora tensed.

  “Find those who fear you,” the monk said gently. “Not one or two—an assembly. Bind them to your will until they kneel willingly. That is devotion.”

  Liora gritted her teeth. “That... that wasn’t..."

  She swallowed. Her eyes shimmered.

  “Me,” she whispered. “It wasn’t me.”

  Adarin slid an arm gently around her.

  “It’s okay,” he said, voice steady.

  The monk bowed again.

  “In return,” he said, “I will teach you Touch of Death, and later Touch of Life. The foundation of my sect’s sacred arts.”

  System prompts bloomed in her vision.

  But Liora didn’t even glance at them. Her hands shook. “Why does everything have to be this cruel?” she whispered.

  Silence.

  Then she stepped forward, fists clenched, eyes burning.

  “Why?!” she screamed.

  Adarin watched from behind, the edge of a sardonic smile on his lips.

  The monk winked.

  The Hydra lifted one head.

  “The choice is simple,” it rumbled. “Both these fools demand you kill dozens. I demand only two. And those may be your enemies.”

  “Will,” it said, “must be tempered by mercy and determination.”

  One head glared at each of the others. “They have forgotten this.”

  Liora turned slowly. Her voice was raw, her fury barely contained.

  “I refuse,” she said.

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