Hemlik ran around like a headless chicken. Every moment that passed only deepened his panic. He didn't know where he was going. His whole plan was to threaten his way to the princess, but three dead knights and seven unconscious servants later, he was somehow even more lost than when he'd first set foot inside. At the very least, he'd started off knowing his approximate whereabouts, but the hall that he was stuck in hadn't even the slightest hint as to where he had ended up.

The rooms that did have windows simply directed him to a courtyard. The castle had far too many floors for him to see past the roof. He would need to venture outdoors if he wanted to figure out his precise location, but he wasn't dumb enough to engage in any such tomfoolery with so many soldiers still hovering in the skies. Hemlik was strong, but not quite that strong. He figured he could take maybe a dozen of them at once, but his encounters on the eastern front had proven that clashing against their commanders would surely leave him on death's door.

He had no choice but to continue wandering through the halls.

But again, he had no idea where he was. He didn't even know the direction that he was facing—his compass was scrambled by a bounded field. One second, north was behind him. In the next, it would be in front, then to his left, and right, and then nowhere at all.

At the rate that things were going, he would no doubt still be trapped come dawn—a thought that only stressed him more and more as the night dragged on.

The worst part was that he wasn't even sure if he was getting any closer. The skill that guided him was every bit as confused as his compass. Nothing about the information it provided was even remotely believable. According to it, the individual known as Claire Augustus was simply always behind him; its indicator never budged no matter how erratically he moved. He didn't doubt that she was capable of such a feat—she had quite literally slain a goddess and her strength was the reason he sought her to begin with—but it was unlikely that she would decide to constantly match his momentum and remain equidistant behind him, even through walls, for no obvious reason. He'd even checked a mirror for good measure, just to make sure that he wasn't crazy, and confirmed the halfblood's non-presence.

It was far more likely that she simply possessed a skill that interfered with the system's regular operation. Hemlik knew few details. His knowledge of her could be summed up as being aware that she was not a true god despite being capable of striking one down, which was to say she was certainly a celestial. And in such a case, it made plenty of sense for her to be effectively omnipresent. The heroes' abilities were already absurd, and they were only fresh aspects.

Hemlik shook his head free of his drifting thoughts and returned his focus to his surroundings. He'd wasted more than enough time already.

"I shouldn't have come alone." He mumbled under his breath as he bit his lips. He knew that the claim was untrue. On one hand, it certainly would have been easier for him to navigate the castle with a companion, preferably a tamer, seer, or rogue skilled in the art of wayseeking, but it was a waste of talent. He had no choice but to eliminate anyone that overheard or even guessed at the contents of his conversation. And unlike the Cadrians, he didn't have the technology to ensure that only his intended speaker was able to pick up on his words.

Breathing a sigh, he gave the hall another scan, and finding nothing, picked a room at random. His efforts were in vain. All that sat behind the door was an ordinary bedroom. A cottontail maid was passed out beneath the sheets. The massive bubble that blew from her nose grew and shrank with her breaths. She occasionally popped it with a dorky snort, but it would always return the next time that she exhaled.

Hemlik cursed under his breath and spun around. But something changed right before he stepped out the door. A strange ticking noise played through his mind as the world ground to a halt. Its colour distorted, growing duller and brighter at once as everything was dyed in a shade of gold. Turning to its source, he found a glowing thread that directed him to the sleeping servant's bed.

He knew exactly what it was. He'd heard tales, legends, and even first-hand accounts describing it in vivid detail.

It was the fate goddess' guidance.

Following her lead, he approached the sleeping maid's bed. Though skeptical, he allowed the deity to wrap his fingers around the girl's neck and squeezed.

Only then did he realise that he'd fallen for an obvious trap. The maid was not a maid, a person, or even a living thing. It was simply an incredibly well-made doll that happened to look the part. To be more specific, it was an artifact, and it used the magic it pulled from its surroundings to snore in a haphazard pattern.

Squeezing its neck—pressing the switches hidden within it—triggered a mechanism that rotated the desk to reveal a hidden corridor. The goddess' fateful string suddenly appeared within and guided him to a specific tile, which he touched to reveal yet another exit. So on and so forth, he broke through the maze and closed in on the princess' chamber.

Even following the optimal path, it took him nearly twenty minutes to cross the castle and enter its residential quarter. From there, the journey was much easier. He took a straight shot down one hall, turned a rare normal corner, and stopped in front of a well-decorated door. A cursory glance immediately confirmed that he was in the right place; her name was etched directly into the plate.

An intense pressure assaulted him the moment he touched the doorknob, almost as if threatening to crush him underfoot. It wasn't just heavy, but cold, so frigid that he could feel his fingers turning blue. His heart pounded against its cage. His eyes pulsed in and out of focus. And his breathing became shallow and laboured. Somehow, even the very thought of opening the door filled him with an infinite amount of dread.

Eventually, he tore his fingers away from the knob. He balled his hand into a loose fist instead. Knocking was risky, stupid even. The sound would surely carry down the hall and attract all sorts of unwanted attention. If he was unlucky, he might even rouse her guardian, but anything, anything was better than entering without her permission. That much, her proximity alone had carved into the core of his being.

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Hemlik gulped. Closing his eyes, he ran over his plan one last time and rapped his fingers against the wood.

He waited for a solid few seconds, maybe even a minute. He wasn't really sure. The clock was certainly ticking, but he'd long lost count of its reverberations. Either way, it was long enough for him to think that she had simply not responded. He furrowed his brow and raised his hand again, but the door cracked open before he touched it.

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the cold. Physically, he could tell that the room was no different from the hallway. At most, the climate control artifacts within had lowered it by a degree or two. But it felt like he was standing naked in the midst of winter, perhaps even dipped in a frozen lake. Bit by bit, his body froze. It started with his fingers and toes, crept towards his core, and eventually swallowed him whole.

He tried to fight and scream, but it was to no avail.

For a moment, he felt like he became a statue, like he'd been effectively petrified by the gaze that awaited beyond the doorway. But it really was only for a moment. His body was back to normal by the time he blinked; he was only lightheaded because he'd forgotten to breathe. It'd felt so incredibly real, but looking himself over, he confirmed it was just a hallucination. He needed to regain his calm.

Taking another breath, he pushed the door wide open and entered with his steps emboldened. There was nothing to fear. He had the goddess' endorsement. Everything would surely go according to plan.

___

Hemlik was not the only intruder to wander the castle's grounds. Sootbeak, the void hero, took a straightline path towards his target. It'd taken the Cadrians only a few rounds of senselessly charging him to realise that their efforts were fruitless. To their credit, they did at least try to switch up their approaches. They bombarded him with magic and focused their attacks on the still-visible parts of his form.

But it was all in vain.

The spells, like the warriors, were sucked into the abyss. The attacks they launched onto his visible parts were just as pointless. The soles of his feet were only corporeal when he had them against the ground. The rest of his feet were still effectively nonexistent and his enemies' attacks phased right through them. Likewise, the same could be said for his hands. Only the bits of skin that touched the enemies he grabbed were vulnerable.

And so, he advanced, smiling even as his allies fell, one after another. It wasn't a cocky grin—the man never carried himself with arrogance—but rather a simple expression of joy. He was like a clown, even smiling and waving at those that he sent off into the infinity.

Though soon left alone, his confidence was well met. He knew that nothing could hurt him. Though labeled as the strongest of their kind, even the other heroes proved incapable of addressing his absurdity. Hence, his lazy advance. Sootbeak focused the vast majority of his attention on his Tracking skill and took a straight-line path that effectively ignored any walls or people in his way. His mission, after all, was not to cause chaos, but to murder the man named Krail Greenwood. According to the general, the assassination was sure to spark an all-out war between Cadria and Vel'khan. Sootbeak didn't really see how, but neither did he really care.

He'd never really been the type to think too hard about things. That was why he'd simply done as instructed when the goddess appeared before him and informed him that he had a solid chance of ascending four times in two years. Evidently, obeying her orders had worked in his favour. He quickly rose through the ranks and went from a street urchin to a so-called hero.

It took him maybe fifteen minutes of contemplation to close in on his target. The elf was up on the building's sixth floor, and Sootbeak was still on the first, but that was hardly a problem. Neither was the fact that his army was dead. In fact, their non-presence made it easier for him to lazily float into the sky. As an amberwing, all it took was to flap the giant limbs that grew from the back of his head to take to the heavens.

Unsurprisingly, most of the Vel'khanese were positioned by the balcony, waiting with their weapons in hand. He'd caused quite the commotion; it would have been stranger for them not to notice.

But Sootbeak didn't mind. The general had confirmed that they were all fair game if push came to shove. Not even the queen was exempt. His only real order was to leave at least one alive, and it just so conveniently happened that not all of their members were present. The Cadrian defector, the fox, and the mysterious armoured fighter were nonpresent.

Which meant he was free to go all out and eliminate the crowd before him.

"There you are! I was looking for you." Sootbeak gave the group a happy wave. He didn't wait for a reply before jumping right into action. Picturing the void, he pressed two fingers against his forehead and called it into the world with a sweep of the hand.

None of his targets so much as reacted to their assured destruction.

The spell was a powerful ability that allowed him to split the space before him into two distinct parts. One half would be left alone while the other was swallowed by the great beyond. All it took was to aim the marker above their torsos for their bodies to be split in half and consumed. Even if they did survive—which was frankly quite likely given their levels—they would be locked in the abyss and trapped forever.

But for some odd reason, his magic never manifested. He tried again, first repeating the very same spell, and then by casting a simple fireball, but the results were unchanged. It took inspecting his status, and subsequently his log, for him to find the cause. According to the system, he was sealed.

"I do apologize for the confusion."

Looking at the speaker revealed the Vel'khanese queen. She was dressed in an odd outfit consisting of a ceremonial garb and an oversized witch hat.

"You are unable to leverage your magic as I have revoked the accompanying permission." She hid a cocky grin behind an open fan and spoke in a haughty tone.

"Permission?" asked Sootbeak, with a scratch of the head. "I didn't know I needed permission."

"You have entered my domain. Permission is but a matter of course."

The man lazily scanned his surroundings. Domains required barriers, and the only one he sensed protected the Cadrian castle. Thinking that it was perhaps hidden away, he sent a pulse of mana out into the world and even checked inside of himself to see if it had somehow appeared in the void. In the end, he could only scratch his head and greet her with a shrug.

"Very well. Seeing that you are still bewildered, I suppose I must explain." She breathed an exaggerated sigh as she walked out into the moonlight. "It is the night itself that I rule. I haven't the need to craft any barriers with the sun hidden beneath the horizon. Now, what manner of business might you have? And why is it that you chose to lead with magic?"

"Sorry." He stuck out his tongue and scratched his head. "I'm supposed to kill at least one of you and figured I'd get right to it." His tone was so harmless, a stark contrast to his violent words.

"Have you any intention of continuing?" she asked.

"Yup," he said, with an innocent smile. "The faster I'm done, the faster I can go home."

"And you remain confident with no magic in hand?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Magic is overrated." He cracked his neck. "And I was never much of a mage." And then appeared right in front of her with his fist mid-swing.

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