The shapeless creature charged at him. It felt like the entire world trembled under its advance. Houses shook, the ground warped beneath its weight, like reality itself couldn’t hold it.

  Derek raised the plasma blades in a combat stance. “Why the hell is it so damn strong now?”

  “I don’t know,” Vanda replied. “My data suggests it absorbed the energy of the undead that merged with it. It might be consuming them to empower and regenerate itself.”

  A chill ran down his spine. With all the undead crawling around, that thing had no shortage of fuel. If that was true, he didn’t have many options.

  The monster was still several meters away when it made a massive vertical leap.

  His HUD lit up, tracking its trajectory above his head.

  Derek fired up the actuators and jumped straight at it, blades extended like orange wings. Thankfully, NOVA’s legs were still online and functional.

  Mid-air, a massive punch barely missed him. The air displacement alone was enough to knock him off course.

  He slashed sideways and tore off a chunk of its warped flesh before it moved out of reach.

  They landed at the same time. Him, the creature, and the severed hunk of rotting meat.

  The metallic crash of NOVA hitting the ground mixed with the wet thud of the abomination’s decaying flesh splattering into the mud.

  Derek smirked. Not bad. Maybe he really could chop it into tiny pieces like Isabelle said. And this time, he’d make sure no other undead tried to patch it back together.

  A cold knot twisted in his gut. How was Isabelle doing?

  The abomination didn’t show the slightest sign of pain. It turned toward him, feet sunk deep into the mud.

  It looked ready to charge again, but it didn’t. It just stood there, waiting.

  The severed chunk of meat on the ground twitched. Thin limbs sprouted from it like spider legs, and the thing scurried toward the creature like a deformed puppy returning to its master.

  It jumped.

  The monster absorbed it on contact, reabsorbing the flesh into its warped body as if nothing had ever been cut.

  “Shit,” Derek hissed. “It can reabsorb what I cut off? Vanda, how the hell do I stop this thing?”

  “The energy in this area...” Vanda replied. “It’s flowing into the creature, strengthening and regenerating it. It began pulling from the environment after you brought it down the first time. If you don’t stop that energy flow, even slicing it into a thousand pieces won’t help.”

  Derek swallowed. “Any sign of a generator or conduit?”

  “No, Derek. Nothing NOVA’s sensors can detect.”

  Perfect. Infinite regeneration and his armor was already beat to hell after just one hit.

  The abomination pointed a fist at him, just like before.

  Derek didn’t wait. He dodged hard to the side.

  A melon-sized projectile ripped through the air where he’d just been standing. For a split second, he caught a glimpse of it.

  A head.

  That bastard was firing the severed heads of Ebonshade’s dead at him.

  His stomach clenched like a steel trap. Acid burned in his throat. He’d end this. Even if it meant leveling the entire area and setting fire to everything in sight.

  From the wall of burning debris, the fire golem burst forth like a demon from hell. It slammed its molten fists into the abomination. It looked tiny next to the creature’s grotesque bulk but it had one thing going for it: fire.

  Every punch hit like a miniature explosion, flames surging with every blow, just like Tunga’s fireballs.

  The abomination took three hits, stunned by the surprise attack. The golem’s molten fists carved smoking craters into its flesh, but the monster didn’t even flinch. It charged and answered with a massive backhand.

  The golem flew like a dry leaf in a storm, crashing into a nearby house that crumpled like paper.

  Derek used the opening. He leapt onto the creature’s back, boots sinking deep into its pulsing, mushy flesh.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The abomination raised an arm to swat him like a pesky insect. Derek intercepted it mid-swing, plasma blade igniting with a scream of energy. He slashed down hard, slicing off a massive chunk.

  The severed piece hit the ground with a loud squelch, its edges already seared shut by the heat of the blade.

  Derek grinned. If he could take off both arms and keep them out of reach, this thing would become a lot less dangerous.

  The abomination flailed wildly, shaking like a dog trying to toss off fleas.

  Derek lost his footing. The world spun, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

  Micro-thrusters fired just in time, flipping him upright and slowing the fall.

  He landed hard on shaky legs, barely managing to stay on his feet.

  The creature reached down, picked up the severed arm, and slammed it back into place like snapping in a toy part. Within seconds, the limb reattached and flexed, fully functional, as if nothing had happened.

  Derek swore under his breath. “We’re not getting anywhere like this.” A sharp smile curved his lips. “Time to switch tactics.”

  “Derek,” Vanda said anxiously. “Please don’t do something reckless.”

  But he barely heard her.

  It was time to run a little experiment.

  “Elias, please,” Isabelle begged.

  Still on the ground, she crawled backward, limbs trembling. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted around. The Death sphere—Sierelith’s cursed gift—had to be nearby. But where?

  Elias loomed over her, a towering shadow of divine mockery.

  This was it.

  Surely Orbisar was punishing her for accepting such a vile object from a heretic’s hands. What sin could be greater? Instead of trusting in her faith, she had leaned on the wisdom of a godless woman.

  She’d given in to temptation and now, her penance had come. Delivered by the undead hand of a priest who had once served her God.

  She pressed her palms together in prayer and shut her eyes, bracing for the judgment she deserved.

  “You’re right to pray, my dear,” Elias rasped. His voice crackled like fire through dry leaves, and his eyes blazed like twin lanterns. “Ask God for forgiveness and perhaps He will welcome you back into His embrace.”

  The power of the Life sphere burned inside him, a roaring fire no mortal soul should’ve been able to contain. And yet, somehow, it was like he could see straight through her.

  Maybe… maybe Orbisar was speaking through him. If that was true, then this was a battle she couldn’t win. Not against Orbisar Himself.

  But why would her god put her through such an impossible test? A test where every choice led to damnation?

  The death sphere had appeared just when she needed it most. Why? To tempt her into heresy? To mock her faith?

  No. It didn’t make sense. Had she really sinned?

  She opened her eyes and looked up at her executioner. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Not really. What sin have I committed? If there’s even a sliver of the Elias you once were left in there… tell me. So I can die knowing who I was.”

  The priest tilted his head.

  And smiled.

  Then he laughed.

  Isabelle blinked. What… what was happening? What exactly was he laughing at? Even in the scriptures, she’d never heard of undead that could laugh.

  Elias threw his head back and laughed again. The hoarse, high-pitched, inhuman sound echoed through the temple like shattered glass. His skeletal frame shook with laughter like a tattered curtain caught in the wind.

  Isabelle stared, speechless.

  Elias turned his glowing eyes back on her. “You’re all so… na?ve. Poor little fools. Even staring death in the face, you cling to your illusions.” He shook his head, smile curdling into a snarl. “I won’t tell you anything. You’ll die ignorant, just like you lived. Just like all of you live your lives!”

  Isabelle stared, mouth open. What was he talking about? Believe in what? The sphere’s power must’ve driven him mad.

  She pushed herself up. Her sword was on the ground. She slowly reached for it. All of a sudden, it felt much heavier.

  Elias sneered. “Still think that toy can harm me?”

  Her eyes flicked to the glowing orb embedded in his staff. Green energy leaked from a crack in its surface, slithering down his arm like a serpent.

  She stood with effort. The sword trembled in her hand. “The Cashnar will stop you, demon.”

  “You’re wrong. Your precious Cashnar is fighting a battle he can’t win. Not as long as I’m keeping that creature alive. And once he’s gone, the savage will follow.”

  Her heart and stomach dropped together. Derek… Derek would die because she hadn’t stopped Elias? And Tunga with him. And Alyra.

  Everyone.

  All of them, doomed, just for believing in her.

  A heat welled up inside her. Something that had nothing to do with faith. Or gods.

  No.

  Whatever sins she’d committed, whatever gods she’d failed, none of it mattered.

  She wouldn’t let them die.

  Her chakras flared back to life. Streams of energy vibrated through the seven points where she’d once absorbed power from Orbisar.

  No.

  Not Orbisar’s power.

  Her own.

  She took a deep breath and summoned every last shred of energy she had. “Sierelith!”

  A swirl of violet mist condensed beside her, coalescing into the spy’s familiar form.

  Isabelle reached out, palm open.

  The heretic dropped the sphere into her hand with a mocking smile. “Try not to lose it this time.”

  Elias’s blazing green eyes widened. He lunged, both hands gripping his staff.

  Isabelle pressed the sphere to her blade and poured everything she had, every spark of lightning, every shred of pain, rage, and resolve, through the sphere and into the steel.

  A blast of lightning, black as the void, erupted from the sword’s tip and struck the priest before he could take a single step.

  Darkness wrapped around him like a cocoon. His skeletal frame jerked and spasmed, flailing like a puppet in the hands of a violent child. The staff flew from his grip and clattered to the floor.

  The moment his fingers slipped from the staff, the sphere’s sickly green glow began to die, snuffing out like rot-black flames drowning in ash. The fire in Elias’s eyes guttered and dimmed, fading from a furious blaze to a sickly ember.

  Then his body began to thrash.

  A grotesque seizure took hold of him, his spine arching at impossible angles. His limbs snapped and twisted as though monstrous, unseen hands were wrenching him apart like a broken doll. Bones cracked. Tendons stretched until they tore. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, the jaw unhinged and twitching.

  And still, the darkness wrapped tighter around him, squeezing the unlife out of whatever abomination he had become.

  The green glow in his eyes flickered… then vanished.

  The feral snarl melted into something else.

  Surprise. Then sorrow.

  Smoke curled from his robes and blistered skin, filling the temple with the sickening stench of scorched flesh. His lips quivered. “I... I’m sorry...” he croaked, voice no longer monstrous but heartbreakingly human.

  “So am I,” Isabelle whispered.

  And struck with everything she had left.

  Elias’s head spun through the air, finally landing with a wet thud somewhere in the back of the temple. The rest of his body crumpled to the floor and twitched once before going still, like a sack of rotting meat finally giving up its last defiance.

  Her knees buckled, and suddenly she was on the floor, unsure how she’d gotten there.

  Something tickled her cheek. She let the sword clatter to the ground and touched her face.

  Her fingertips came back wet.

  Tears?

  Was that even possible? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. She’d thought she’d forgotten how.

  Sierelith stepped in front of her, arms crossed. “It’s not nap time yet, Warden of Narkhara.”

  Isabelle blinked up at her.

  Sierelith.

  The spy. The heretic. The kidnapper.

  And yet... Isabelle had survived because of her. Because of her and the death sphere.

  “Th-thank you...” she stammered.

  Sierelith scowled, grabbed her wrists, and hauled her to her feet. “Don’t thank me. Stand up. I need a Warden, not a puddle.”

  Isabelle wobbled, unsteady. What did she want from her now?

  The spy bent down, picked up the sword, and shoved it back into her hands.

  Isabelle looked at it, and for the first time, really saw it. The sword she’d always wielded in her god’s name. But it hadn’t been Orbisar who saved her today.

  She raised her eyes to Sierelith.

  The woman rolled her eyes, exasperated. “What are you standing around for? Get out there and help your friend. Derek, the Cashnar, whatever he is. He won’t survive without that.” She nodded toward the black sphere clenched in Isabelle’s hand. “But it’s a bronze-tier sphere. You can’t hold it for long without consequences, even if it’s intact. Move!”

  Isabelle held it up. It gave off a halo of darkness, swallowing the light around it. But not just the light. Everything dimmed in its presence. Colors. Emotions. Life itself.

  Her fingers were going numb the longer she held it.

  A bronze-tier sphere.

  Its power was already crawling up her wrist, brushing against the chakra in her arm. If she didn’t get rid of it soon, it would root itself so deep she’d never be able to pull it free.

  The thought hit her like a blast of cold water. She sucked in a breath like she’d just broken the surface of a freezing lake.

  Sierelith was watching her closely.

  “The sphere!” Isabelle blurted out.

  The spy nodded. “Yes, the sphere. Welcome back.”

  “R-right! I’m going!” She took one step, then another.

  Then broke into a run.

  And her mind ran with her.

  Back to what had just happened.

  And forward, toward whoever she was about to become.