The sight was so startling that all I could do was stare out at the person.

  Well, I assumed it was a person. It was hard to see the figure through the fading light and the dark of the storm. But whoever they were, it didn’t look like they were flying with wings as I was.

  Instead, I thought it was…

  Well, I think they were standing on a sword?

  A giant one, at that. It was difficult to even call the thing a sword. It was more like a massive slab of iron in the vague shape of one than a real blade. The ridiculous thing was so large that it was almost akin to the oar of a ship, and not a small ship at that. I had no doubt the beast of a blade could act as a replacement oar in a pinch from how ridiculously wide it was.

  It hung motionlessly in midair, a short humanoid form standing on top of it with its arms crossed. It was hard to make out exact features in the darkness, but I thought I could see a long coat flapping in the wind, hanging from thin shoulders. Incongruously, I think I could see a…hat, planted firmly on the person's head, unbothered by the wind and the rain.

  A…cowboy hat.

  My lips parted in disbelief because I had only seen one person on this planet wearing a hat like that.

  And they were looking right at me. The figure had noticed me long before I had seen them and had been watching me the whole time. Across their distance, I thought I might be able to see wild amusement in their eyes. Even though I was transformed into my current monstrous shape, I knew the owner could recognize me for who I was. Somehow, someway, even without the telltale tingle of Observe, this person knew me for who I was.

  But the eyes themselves weren’t what I was expecting. I knew this person to have small, black, evil little eyes that saw the world as nothing more than set dressing for their entertainment. That still existed, of course.

  I didn’t expect the blood-red glow that now suffused them. They pulsed brightly through the darkness, illuminating a wrinkled old face enough that I saw thin lips…

  Curve into a mocking smile.

  Before the owner fell out of sight.

  Startled, I watched as Grand Marshall Shacklock of the Order of Solstice’s Flame stopped hovering to fall toward the battlefield before. As he did, he reached to his side and caught the enormous greatsword falling with him by the handle effortlessly. At the contact, the entire blade of the sword began to glow a strange, sickly orange in color, roiling up and down the length of it.

  With what happened next, I was extremely glad that my friends and companions were still skirting the outside of the battlefield. Because when Shacklock touched down, blade first, in the center of the mountain-top, a strange, static field of power exploded from the point of impact, rapidly expanding to wash over every single Oni still standing. From the twiggiest adolescent to the elders with the grandest horns on that field…

  They all went mad.

  Feral.

  Insane with rage.

  All Oni on that field immediately abandoned anything they were doing. They ceased fighting with themselves and they ceased fighting with my companions. Nothing else mattered to them from that point on but the man who had seemingly cast a spell over them.

  Shacklock.

  They swarmed in his direction, frothing at the mouth with rage-blind eyes and fell to him in droves. I nearly wasn’t able to see the old monster, even from my high vantage point, with how surrounded he was by beast and Miasma both. The only thing I was initially able to see was Oni falling to pieces by the dozen, all around a central point. That massive blade sliced out, again and again, slaying Oni so quickly that it made my previous efforts with my sword-staff seem sluggish in comparison.

  In only moments, the man who was supposedly nearly on the level with Grey had cut down nearly every single Oni that had been on the field. Where before had been well over a hundred Oni, even after all the killing that had occurred before Shacklock’s arrival…

  Now there was only one, driven to its knees, with a single hand grasping it by the horns and holding it in place as it thrashed about uselessly.

  Except that hand was different. It was far, far larger, and far, far more muscled than the palm that had belonged to a fragile, stooped old man only moments ago. Oni were massive in comparison to most people, but whoever this was nearly matched the monsters in sheer size.

  As the Miasma cleared from around the owner, I was able to see why. I…suppose Shacklock had a transformation Skill of his own.

  Because he was a changed man.

  The Grand Marshall of the Solstice’s Flame had gained at least ten feet in height in the moments since I’d last seen him. Compounded on that, his stick-thin frame had filled out as well. It was monstrously muscled, now, appearing as if the physique of a lifetime body-builder, stretched taut for competition. Muscles were packed upon muscles in an almost grotesque exaggeration of the human form, flexing minutely in the rain that fell ceaselessly. Shacklock’s previously baggy clothes were now stretched to the brim trying to contain his herculean form, and where before I’d thought them comical, now I wasn’t laughing.

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  It didn’t matter how garish they were.

  This was an existence I knew could pop my head like a grape with only two fingers. The sword that I’d thought insanely oversized no longer appeared so in this giant of a man’s grip. Instead, it was nearly normal size, held casually in one hand as the other idly held back a yellow Oni elder.

  Beneath a much more pronounced brow, the beady black, glowing red eyes of the Grand Marshall examined the monster dispassionately for a moment before he suddenly spoke. “A bit of a disappointin’ show, ya beastie,” He said idly, in a voice that suddenly echoed in a terrifyingly familiar way. “I was countin’ on you and yours to give this old man one more entertain’ slaughter afore the end. Couldna manage even that, though, eh? Bah. Begone with ya.”

  Effortlessly, Shacklock shifted his grip until one massive paw lay to cover the Oni’s face. I winced at the cracking sounds that echoed across the mountaintop as he curled his fingers inwards, crushing and crumpling its face as if it were naught but a sheet of paper. In moments, the last remaining Oni had perished, dissipating out into Miasma to join the rest still lurking on the mountaintop. In its wake was left only the Miasma that covered the battlefield, pierced only by the glimmering forms of hundreds of Cores.

  I took a deep breath, as the Grand Marshall slung his enormous greatsword over an equally massive shoulder.

  So.

  That was why Shacklock was so feared and yet well-regarded. Effortless, brutal, crushing might. He’d scythed through more terrifyingly powerful monsters in moments than I think I’d ever seen anyone do.

  I felt my skin crawl as his disquieting eyes trailed up to me for a moment before I was visibly dismissed. Instead, he focused his attention on my comrades standing across from him on the battlefield. All of them stood stock-still under his piercing gaze, well aware that this man could end us as easily as he breathed.

  Thankfully, we had something he wanted.

  “Is that you, Kazuma my boy?!” Shacklock boomed across the battlefield, a wide smile on his enlarged features. “I thought ya’d carked it out in the jungles! C’mere, you.” He paused for a moment, before continuing almost grudgingly. “I suppose the rest of ya can come too. Including you, ya great big flyin’ rat.”

  I…think he was talking to me, there.

  Warily, I ceased my flapping to hover back down to the mountaintop, releasing my grip on Vis Maledicta Exactoris as I did touched down. However, I didn’t get the chance to stand alone long before my companions came running up to me. Judging by looks on their faces, I don’t think they had noticed me soaring back up over the edge to hover over the battlefield.

  I don’t blame them.

  They’d been a bit preoccupied.

  In moments, my face was buried in rain-slicked raven-black hair as the owner wrapped me in a relieved hug. “Thank fuck,” Bella breathed into my chest, before looking up. Her relief was evident in her eyes. “I thought ye were gone fer a moment.”

  A smile crossed my lips and I tried to wrap my own arms around her, only for Bella to pull back with a suddenly furious look on her sharp features. Before I could react, the pirate Captain had reared one fist back and driven it into my stomach as hard as she seemingly could. I hurked and hunched over it as I heard Shacklock cackle in the background.

  “Say somethin’ next time, ye dumb bastard!” I heard my lover roar above me. “Don’t just let me think ye were dashed on the rocks!”

  Ah…I…guess I should have done that?

  “Sorry,” I wheezed out, as I felt two pairs of hands grab my shoulders to steady me. I accepted their help and found Azarus and Renauld to be the owners, both of them with relief and amusement, visible on their faces. Liora and Venix were standing off to the side, watching the small drama with either patience or indifference. Still, I received nods of acknowledgment from my more stoic party members.

  However, I didn’t see Kazuma anywhere. It was only when I turned around to face the direction I knew Shacklock to be in that I found the Kawamaran samurai. He had bee-lined straight for the disgraced Herztalian hero and appeared to be speaking rapidly to the older man. As I watched them, the madman’s gargantuan form began to…steam, for some reason, and shrink where he stood.

  Over Azarus’s head, I frowned pensively as I watched Shacklock’s beady little eyes gleam, locking onto the still-wrapped sword on Kazuma’s back.

  Even if the blade which had been the apparent cornerstone of his plan had been recovered, it still couldn’t be used. Shurenga had deliberately crafted the new bond between sword and owner so that it needed time to settle into Kazuma’s soul. If the samurai tried to absorb the force of Shacklock’s Core Collapse, the blade would shatter and disperse, wasting his sacrifice and the artifact at the same time. Kazuma knew this. We had confirmed it with him. And judging by the tense set to his shoulders, he was conveying that fact to the Grand Marshall.

  So why didn’t Shacklock look upset by that? Instead, he looked up briefly and caught my eye.

  Disturbingly, he winked at me.

  A chill shot down my spine.

  I took a deep breath, and together with my companions, we approached the samurai and the madman. I couldn't help but notice there was a tenseness to the set of my friend's shoulders, even if they tried to hide it. All of us were aware that we stood no chance again Shacklock if this went south.

  I was a bit surprised at what actually happened.

  A wide smile with only a touch of insanity found within it, crossed the lips of the Grand Marshal of the Order of Solstice's Flame. "Thanks fer findin' this one!" He growled, slapping one hand hard on the back of Kazuma. The Kawamaran man staggered so hard that he nearly ran right into me, and I had to steady him with my gloved hand. Shacklock pretended like he took no notice. "I heard from the men that ol' Kazuma here got et by an Oni out in the Jungles. Oh me oh my, am I sure relieved to see him not bein' a festerin' pile of Oni shit!"

  All of us were dead silent as the old monster cackled out into the rain, seemingly deeply amused by his own 'joke'.

  He...kept laughing for an almost uncomfortable length of time. I cleared my throat in an attempt to be polite. When that didn't work, I just spoke up. "Ah, it's no iss-"

  Shacklock abruptly stopped laughing and snapped his head down to fix his mad gaze on me. I froze at the intensity I saw in that gaze. "So, as thanks, I'm thinkin' you boys and girls should follow me back to our camp, out here in this godsforsaken pit. Now that you've proved yer worth by reaching the central range, I got somethin' to talk to ya's about."

  He leaned forward, and I noticed I wasn't the only one to lean back almost involuntarily, at the blood-red glow that had returned to his small, soulless black eyes.

  "I insist."