When dawn arrived, it did so with a cold that quelled many of the raging fires across the city. The intermittent screaming and howling have tapered down to an infrequent outburst by the time Meira and Corym are ready to leave.

Expressions etched in determination, they present themselves to me. Having rummaged through the clothes box, Meira's found a thin fabric that she deftly transforms into a makeshift headscarf. The cloth, carefully tied around her head, serves as a practical shield against both the swirling sand and heat. Corym emerges wearing sturdier boots that promise to endure the harsh desert terrain and loops the empty parcel bag that'll hold whatever provisions they find on the way.

Trudging past dunes and buried homes, Meira, Corym, and I travel in silence. Meira leads the way with Corym often at her side, when he isn't digging his feet out of sand, and I stand behind them both, [Mesmer] active and lingering against Meira's mind for the slightest sign of mischief.

Minding how much Essence I've got to spare, I don't mitigate any thoughts, actions, or ideas. It's enough to know her thoughts, but there's no need to control them. Besides, [Fiend Vision] is rather Essence heavy, far more than even [Mesmer], and the benefits are numerous.

It casts a tint of color over the silhouettes of Demons and people. I'm still learning what all the colors mean, but so far most Demons I've spied have a green tint. Meira and Corym have no colors, but there's a visible start of the tint, all that's missing is a color.

I figure both of them are blank and don't have any special abilities I can steal, at least not yet anyway. Being mere infantrymen, it's no surprise there's nothing else to them.

Corym sets an arm out in front of Meira, preventing her from taking another step as he points at the sand. "Look, there's something hidden underneath."

Almost instinctively Meira turns back to look at me and I nod. "He's right, there's a Demon lying in wait there."

"Well, why didn't you tell me about it?" she whispers with a scowl.

Shrugging, I tell her, "I got distracted." And her mouth falls open. Smirking, I pull out the shortsword and soak its Crystals with mana and her scowl deepens. "I know I'm not using it right," I say before she can tell me for the hundredth time.

Plunging the blade into the sand, the Demon underneath writhes awake—a bit too late, as I pull the starfish-shaped thing out of the sand. [Fiend Vision] colors this Demon brown, and I quickly figure it's one of the weaker colors. Slicing through its flesh is easy, and plucking out the Pink [Soul Crystal] from within its gut is no hassle either.

"It wouldn't have killed you," I say to Meira, "It would have merely captured and harassed you for a moment before I cut it down. Don't worry, I'm keeping my eye out for the Demons that will kill you."

I'm keeping an eye out not only for their sake, but for mine as well. It's best not to be trapped in here. Even as strong as I am, I'm in no mood for an aimless, drawn-out battle with Demons.

It's fortunate too, because [Mesmer] doesn't touch all minds, especially Demons. Stronger Demons would have defenses against psychic manipulation and invasion, so they remain hidden psychically, even when they're right there.

[Fiend Vision] doesn't have that problem though. Nothing I've looked upon resists glowing up in [Fiend Vision], but the Essence cost is steep enough that in pair with [Mesmer] I'll have to take breaks, leaving some gaps in my defenses.

[Pink Soul Crystal]- Lvl.6(2esq)

[Absorb] [Destroy]

"What is that?" Meira asks, daring herself to get closer.

Fingering the Crystal, I respond, "Life… or it's vessel at least." That starfish Demon must still exist within the [Soul Crystal], its life Essence vulnerable to absorption or destruction—much in the same way I was trapped in mine, except no one's controlling its body.

"Can you… use it?" she starts, the true intent of her words clear in her thoughts.

I smirk, "Bold of you to ask, you know I'm a Demon as well." To be fair, she's right—fixing the Pink [Soul Crystal] to the shortsword's empty gem slot would be a better use than simply absorbing it.

Corym, crouched behind Meira, belts out a long groan. "Can we get moving? We haven't found any unburied, unlooted homes yet. I'm getting… hungry." His audacity dies out once he remembers who he's talking to, and a sheepish smile and blush stain his face.

Setting aside the sword and Crystal, I say, "He's right. We want to be as close to out of here before nightfall. Meira, keep us moving."

She retrieves the map of Kyis from her pouch of Crystals and retakes the lead, but not before regarding me with a look that has me reassuring her, "I won't let you get eaten, not before you deliver me to Hescaria."

We continue the journey through Kyis' slow-forming dunes and paths of sand, altering the path to the western gate exit whenever necessary. And, to Corym's delight, we find a building that the sand hasn't completely buried—the top is finished, but underneath are the slow-rotting ruins of a grocer.

Meira is cautious of it—too good to be true, she thinks. Corym is the opposite, as usual, and after heaving those boots through sand for hours on end, he's ravenous for something, anything he can get his hands on.

"Is it safe?" Meira asks. Her own stomach growls loud enough that she can't deny feeling the same hunger Corym suffers from.

Biting my lip, I lean against a dribbling river of sand, letting it pile and fall over my head as I watch the building and others next to it. Those are in much better condition; the sand piled up isn't nearly as debilitating, thanks to the number of tears torn into the bottom and sides.

"No."

Corym whimpers.

"But we can still search it." He perks right up at this, but Meira is less enthusiastic.

"What do you mean?"

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"Corym, go search for whatever, you'd better find something too."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Meira demands, but Corym's already run right in, provision bag wide open.

I place a hand on her small head and she freezes up. "If you can't relax and search, then help me keep an eye on that one over there." I point over at the building to the left of the grocer Corym is looting.

Pulling away, Meira asks, "What about it?"

"This may be a unique situation where neither of my sensory abilities will alert us to danger. We'll have to spot it the old-fashioned way."

[Fiend Vision], for all its uses, doesn't lend me the ability to see through concrete, but that alone isn't enough to say this place is unsafe. However, the aligned grooves and holes clawed in from top to bottom and even side to side of each building unnerves me.

Meira looks between me and Corym for a bit before choosing to go with Corym. While the two search, I play around with the Pink [Soul Crystal] and the shortsword. Meira is right when she says I'm using it wrong—there's an entire magic behind the Elves' manipulation of mana and Crystals that I can't be bothered to learn.

Not from her, and not now when my Crystal is still cracked. With a sharpened claw, I file away at the pointed tip of the Pink [Soul Crystal]. The material is Essence itself and is stubborn. Shavings fall and disperse in the air, but no matter how much Essence I pour in, it just won't take a circular form.

However, it's short enough that it fits in within the diameter of the slots. Admiring the crude craft, I begin channeling a mix of mana and Essence through the runes connecting each slot when a low rumble resonates through the ground, pouring a heavier pile of sand over my head and cracking the street.

"Meira, Corym!" I call out, pushing out from under the sand to get to the grocer. The rumbling intensifies and unbalances me. Underneath, the grocer trembles as Corym screams.

Pulsing a shot of [Mesmer] throughout, I sprint for the grocer when I sense a barrier strong enough to block it. Through the window, I glimpse Meira and Corym crawling from underneath a fallen shelf, right before the ground tears open, sinking to sand that pulls them into an ascending maw.

It snaps shut over Corym and bursts through the ceiling, sending Meira crashing down to be buried.

"Petriv!"

An unwilling dome of sand and soil break out over Meira, narrowly saving her from being crushed under the fallen weight. "Meira! Quick, get out!" Wielding a borrowed and unmastered ability, it's a great strain maintaining the sand dome and the mass of the crumbled grocer over her.

Injured and disoriented, Meira crawls out as the Demon soars out into the air like a brown bullet. Broadening its impressive wings, its back is a translucent muscle bursting with dancing fire and lined with burnt-orange scales. When it reaches a height, the Demon screeches out deafeningly, glaring down at Meira and I with malevolent ember eyes.

Abandoning my psychic defences, I bare my mind open to the Demon and loudly proclaim, "You don't want to do this!"

If it hears me, it gives no sign. Flapping its wings, it licks a row of serrated teeth in its reptilian horned head and prepares to lunge.

"Fuck. Meira, run!"

"But Corym-!"

"Run!"

The Demon hawk swoops down, setting its talons to snatch whoever off the ground. I sprint faster than Meira, so I grab her by the collar and toss her into a sand dune to the side of the street while the hawk makes the chase.

Its talons snatch my arm and head, slamming me into the ground and digging up the stone street with my body. The grotesque fashioning of Reais screeches at me, bearing over with its two mouths, sending drool and singeing breath down my neck.

Done with me, it begins to turn for the next hunt, but I grab its foot and it stomps down on mine with its free foot in retaliation, crushing my foot underneath it. Groaning, I bear the pain and refuse to let go. My free hand pumps the ground with mana as I cast, "Petriv!"

A concrete chain-link of rock, igneous material, and street stones mesh over the Demon hawk, constricting its wings. The Demon hawk roars at me and bloats with Essence.

A sandstorm kicks up around us, ensnaring the Demon in a cyclone of scalding granules and fine sand that quickly eats away at my crude [Rock Prison]. The Demon, set free, rips its talon from my grip, but not before I break some kind of bone with the tip of my rocky fingers.

Batting its wings, it's carried into the air, where its spread wings and talons are set aflame, dispersing the gathering sandstorm. Far behind it is Meira. She's gone back to hopelessly check for Corym, but I know he's right in front of me.

Ember eyes lock on me as I swelter under the Demon hawk's heat. With each bat of its wings comes gusts of scorching wind, peeling at my skin, reminiscent of the Fire Divide.

"Wekt!" I cast, turning myself invisible for a minor advantage. I get sprinting up sandy slopes and toppled buildings to reach higher ground when the Demon belts out another deafening screech.

A ripple washes over me, sending a shiver down my spine as it strips me of invisibility. It takes less than a second for the Demon hawk to spot me again and lunge with its talons, thrashing against the sand and crushing part of the building in its grip.

Tossing myself out of the way, I lament the Demon hawk's screech and activate [Fiend Vision], revealing the blue hue coated around it. It's a color I haven't spotted before, and it isn't brown; defeating this thing might require some borrowed abilities.

For now, I wield Meira's shortsword with hardened grip. With the Pink Crystal in slot, I fuel the blade with ichor, the rich mixture of mana and Essence, and vault over another missed strike from the Demon hawk.

In horror, it watches as I climb onto its talons and dart my way up its body. It sets itself aflame before I can do any damage, but as I fall—repelled by its igniting blast— I lash out with the shortsword and a glancing gust of concentrated ichor gashes into the Demon's chest.

The improvised attack launches the flame-engulfed Demon into the grocer, flattening it once and for all. I land below it and search for Meira, finding her far down the street, unscathed from the fighting

Squawking upright, the Demon hawk isn't done with this encounter. Nursing a deep tear in its chest and a growing hatred for me, it screams out a gust of scorching wind, batting its flaming wings for added effect.

But this time I'm prepared. "Petriv!" Focusing the best materials on the center of my construct, I bear against the Demon hawk's assault. Thinking intelligently, the Demon hovers around, flapping its wings over on whatever space it can manage to get me.

However, [Rock Prison] is just that, and with a little added mana I rip out fresh terrain and complete my defense on all sides. In the end, it's little more than hot air it's blasting at me.

While it wastes its Essence and mana on the futile assault, I channel mine into my new nascent ability, [Faithless Mimicry], and with [Fiend Vision] harness a new ability from the Demon hawk itself.

[Infernal Screech] aspect harnessed!

At the same time, my tight-knit [Rock Prison] defense crumbles as mana and Essence refuse my mental command to form. "What- argh!" Unguarded, the Demon hawk's winds scald away my skin with renewed force, reminding me of what I wanted to do.

Scream.

I belt out a screech similar to the Demon hawk's. The effect is nowhere as immediate as the Demon screeches out in response, summoning another sandstorm. The cyclone of dirt gathers around the burning Demon, taking the heat off of me for a fleeting second before the cyclone itself ignites.

Urged by the encroaching fiery cyclone, I belt out another screech, funneling in more ichor and hoping [Infernal Screech]'s harness potential of 20% is in my favor.

And it is. Briefly, everything stops, and I'm left screeching and wearing out my throat as a dune of fire-sand falls from the sky and the Demon hawk's fire goes out.

It realizes the same time I do, but as always, I'm faster. Shortsword in hand, I dash forth with a generous burst of ichor to both my feet and the blade. Casting out an incising slash, I carve open the Demon's stomach as its fire begins to return.

Guts, blood, and Corym spill forward as the Demon groans into the beginning of a painful death. To make sure it reaches death, I stomp down on its neck and decapitate it as it writhes.

"Someone help. Help me. Meira… Mother…" Corym mutters in the heated stew of the Demon hawk. I find its [Soul Crystal] at the top of its mouth. It was a Blood Orange tier—no wonder it was so troublesome.

Stuffing away the Crystal for later, I pick Corym out of the mess and drag his shock-limp body down to Meira.

"Thank you, I… we…"

Holding up a hand, I say, "Enough. That was… exhausting. We have to leave here quickly, or we'll be facing the scavengers."

"Scavengers?"

"The Demons coming to pick on the weakened victor. Me."

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