…But it took Alfrik far less than that to swing his spear, detaching the beastman’s arm, and with it, the golden staff responsible for so much pain and misery.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaarghhh!!”
Basram howled. Meanwhile, the artifact’s absence caused an immediate response in the spirit warriors themselves. They jerked unnaturally—only a momentary magical glitch—but Bringar were quick to capitalize upon it. Crossing their weapons to block the last few spells, Dvalinn, Berling, and Grer lunged, severing the limbs of the beastman warrior, while shattering the spirit dagger that remained lodged in the dwarven one’s brain stem.
The remaining human spirit warrior attempted to fly into a mad rage, when a thrown spear shattered his skull from the back, bringing the battle to an abrupt end.
Alfrik’s three brothers gathered at his side and handed him back his spear, then all four turned their murderous eyes on the dark priest.
“Krh… Rgh… My…arm…” Basram groaned. His remaining hand went into the folds of his robes, pulling out his last resort—the final spirit dagger, wrapped in a hexproof cloth.
“You tiny, insignificant wretches!!”
He stabbed the blade into his stump and began to transform. This spirit dagger was not like the others. Its wild magic flowed into Basram, grotesquely enlarging one side of him, until he no longer resembled his former self.
He had turned himself into one of his own creations. This was the ultimate fate of a doctrine that abandoned intelligence and individuality.
“““What are you, stupid?””” said the three younger siblings with identical looks of exasperation.
“A man whose last resort is to trade away his mind for power…” said Alfrik, an enlightened twinkle in his eye. “Isn’t that exactly the sort of thing the gods mock us for?”
The four brothers stared down this hideous monster, then readied their cracked and battered weapons for one last symphony of death. Basram swung a magic-infused punch, which the four brothers dodged before each disposing of one of the creature’s limbs. The mass of flesh pitched forward, and Alfrik drove his spear right through its heart.
The misshapen lump oozed red effluent and was silent.
“M-Master Basram?! A-all units, retreat!!”
After watching it all play out, one Apate Familia officer raised his voice, then hurriedly retrieved the blood-soaked staff before fleeing the Amphitheatrum alongside the other spirit warriors that Mia and the others had been fighting.
“““Erm, Alfrik?””” said the three younger Gullivers, after watching the enemy abscond so easily with their artifact.
“…Apologies,” answered their eldest, wearing a look of guilt. “I let down my guard.”
All of them realized they were far too wounded to give chase. Their heroic victory over four Level 5s had come at a heavy price, and none of them could even stand upright a moment longer.
All Alfrik could do was watch as the remaining four spirit warriors fled to the southeast.
“I let them get away…” he muttered.
““Oh, Hegni and Hedin! This is so much fun!””
Fear and panic ruled the ranks of evil. The sole exception was here, where two crazed sisters carried out their frenzied dance.
The elven twins, the elder Dina and the younger Vena, kept up their assault in spite of the deep wounds inflicted upon their respective fair and tanned skin by their precious archnemeses.
““Just a little longer, and we’ll hold your cold, lifeless bodies in our loving embrace!””
““Grr!””
Dina twirled her stiletto daggers—intended to be a dying knight’s reprieve—while Vena commanded all-consuming hellfire, burning much of the Amphitheatrum to ash. Her flames formed an arena of death, preventing other members of Freya Familia from coming to the rescue. Hegni and Hedin dodged the flames and steel both, landing a short distance away.
Hegni was battered and beaten. Hedin was covered in blood. The Dis sisters had shown their true power, and chances of victory were looking slim.
“Not long now, Vena! I’ll let you have my power! Now give me yours in return!”
“Yes, Dina!”
The sisters shared deviously innocent smiles they clasped hands, sharing their magical energy. Dina began to chant.
“Black mire; red sin. We tear each other with our teeth; the slime that is our bodies mix’d!”
It was not a spell, but a curse.
“Dialv Stige!”
A crimson light wreathed the fairer-skinned of the two, which then spread to cover her sister as well. This eerie glow caused a fluctuation in the girls’ stats, almost as though they were trading blood and flesh.
“Oh, your magic always tastes so sweet, Dina! It’s going to drive me wild!”
“So is yours, my lovely Vena! Oh, it feels like your baby is in my belly, trying to burst free!”
“Oh my, Dina! How lewd!”
““Tee-hee-hee! Ah-ha-ha!””
This repulsive conversation earned a look of anger and disgust from Hedin. Ignoring him, the two sisters licked their lips, as if lapping up the excess power each had received.
Dina’s curse, Dialv Stige, had the effect of mixing her basic ability scores with those of whom she touched. Using it, she was able to steal half the target’s Strength and Agility. No curse came without a downside, however, and in this case, Dina was required to compensate the target with an equivalent amount of her own Defense and Magic.
It was a fearsome spell, evoking the image of a dismal mire, of sinners cutting each other piecemeal, and of their blood and bodies mixing in a crimson stream.
““Now we can start the feast!””
In the hands of the Dis Sisters, however, the spell’s drawback was no drawback at all. Dina took to the front lines, wielding her twin stilettos with speed that would put an animal person to shame, while Vena covered her back with powerful magic spells. This trading of ability scores only served to reinforce their respective roles.
“Their curse seems stronger than when last we fought…” muttered Hegni, panting heavily from exhaustion.
“It seems we aren’t the only ones who’ve been training,” agreed Hedin, clutching his upper arm. The blood was already beginning to seep through his fingers. “No doubt those sirens have been preying on their own monstrous allies in our absence.”
With Dina focused on melee combat, and Vena concentrating on magic, the sisters’ power level approached that of two Level 6s.
“Your magic has come undone, fool.”
“And you’ve lost your glasses. You look so lame without them.”
The elves of Freya Familia had suffered significant damage in the battle so far. Hegni’s Dáinsleif had finally worn off, while Hegni’s spectacles had been blasted off his face. While also Level 5, the Dis sisters were on another level compared to Basram’s spirit warriors, and so the elven adventurers had their work cut out for them.
Thanks to the humiliation they had suffered, Hedin and Hegni had both sworn to kill the sisters personally, and there was no room in their hearts for teamwork. Besides, they were both members of Freya Familia; they considered themselves mortal foes and rivals for their lady’s affection. In Folkvangr, they had been seeking to kill each other, and so could hardly team up now.