Veliky can scarcely move. As a child, she could never bring herself to brave attractions such as these. Her face is drenched in sweat again, and she's in too much pain to conceal her fear any longer. Getting this far has already whittled away enough of her willpower. It isn't scary. None of this is scary, so why in Hell, she wonders to herself, is she paralyzed?

In fact, the true reason is difficult to say. Veliky is not a cowardly woman by any stretch of the imagination. She has stared down at things that would make the most hardened warriors faint, and she's done things that many would consider insane. Yet this aesthetic - this blasted Black Harvest - holds a certain sway over her heart, rousing emotions that she'd rather keep buried deep, that she'd rather not feel at all.

Not feel at all... that's a tempting thought. She looks at her yet-functional hand. One little cantrip, and she could erase emotion from her mind for a period. She could fight every one of these criminals without even a notion of hesitation. Even the pain would become numb and dulled. No more emotion, no more weakness, no more pain.

"Don't you dare..."

The justiciar's presence isn't always obvious. By his own decree, he can be as clear and dominating as the sunrise, or he can be as subtle as a passing shadow. How long ago did he return? Did he ever leave at all? It doesn't matter. Whatever the truth, his message is clear. Veliky lowers her hand and takes a deep breath.

"Alright." She looks to Zarius. "I don't know what a gut is, you'll have to explain that later. But what I do know is that these places are always linear, a straight line from entrance to exit. If it wasn't, families would end up in the same room, and families hate talking to each-other." Business. Logistics. These are nice distractions. "The only other areas will be the backrooms for staff, which are where we're most likely to find Mr. Game. We just need to find an entrance to those rooms."

She looks to the door on the left and snaps her fingers^[1]. Nothing happens. It doesn't even jostle. Veliky exhales in relief.

"That's a false door. I doubt this mansion's actually as big as it seems. All appearances."

She turns to the right, to the other lower-level door, and snaps her fingers again^[1]. This door swings open, and from behind it leaps a mummy, moaning and groaning loudly! Veliky gasps, only to cover her mouth and look away. It's just a prop; with a series of rapid clicks and a high-pitched drone, it retracts behind the false door, which closes of its own volition.

Angered by how easily she was startled, Veliky slaps herself in the face without restraint. She isn't immune to her own light^[2], either; a large, painful-looking sunburn quickly forms on her cheek, but she's gritting through it.

"Next door!"

Of course, the only doors left are up the stairs.

---

1. Minor Trickery
2. Angelic Light

Zarius catches Veliky's hesitation, her contemplation, and her self-inflicted slap. This half-halfling sure had a lot going on in that brain of hers. Was it insecurity? Or was there something else deep beneath the surface. A past trauma perhaps...or some other entity pulling the strings.

For all he knew, it was all of those things. Veliky struck him as a complicated person trying to pass herself off as something else, though less out of choice like himself and more out of necessity for survival. Maybe that something was what she aspired to be, or it was something she had to be in order to protect herself from the cruelties of reality.

Either way, she would likely never disclose such personal information to him. Those looks of hatred, though gone now, still burn in the back of his mind. 

"You know, there is no shame in feeling fear, anger, or sadness. It is what you do in spite of those feelings that matters." He says as he approaches the stairs. "You do not need to be so hard on yourself. You're clearly doing all you can to be brave while injured and battling whatever internal demons you have. That should be enough to feel accomplished."

He considers something as he couches down to check the first few steps for any traps. Veliky had said it wasn't necessary given the haunted house was probably legit for the most part to pose as a cover for what is happening behind the scenes. He couldn't help himself though. Little tricks like the skeleton clearly rattled Veliky, the less jump scares they fell into the better for her sake and by proxy himself. 

"It is hard to hide behind a lie you tell yourself day after day. I know that well myself." He looks over his shoulder at her with his gold eyes gleaming in the darkness. "I will not judge you for it as I am sure you have your reasons."

While he doubts Veliky will buy anything he says regardless of how genuine it is, he does feel that showing her some empathy is important. If only to giver her pause from justifying smiting him later in her head. Any opening for a quick escape in that situation is worth the effort. 

There was a pressure trigger to the stairs. He pushes on it with one hand and the two gargoyles flanking the stairs suddenly move and raise their claws up over the stairs. He takes his hand off the trigger and they slowly return to their original position. Just another prop effect like the mummy. Zarius sighs and steps up the stairs, skipping that step.

He gets to the top of the stairs and over to the door. Pressings his ear against it, he doesn't hear anything on the other side. He waits for Veliky to join him at the second floor landing before slowly opening the door.

Veliky's whole body spasms at the gargoyles' sudden lunge. This includes the hapless halfling's broken arm, lending her to grip her shoulder in skeletal anguish.

"Ow... kien!" Translating this word - which is Goblin, not Halfling - would be pointless, as it would warrant censorship.

She sneers at both the mechanical aggressors. Even her bots, gifted with a modicum of intelligence, aren't so treacherous, nor so worthy of hatred. She lets out a frustrated growl as she climbs the stairs.

"It isn't about being judged, not really. It's about getting better." She makes a two-legged hop over the weighted stair. The landing sends another jolt of pain through her arm. "Gah, kahn! Urgh..." It doesn't stop her, however, neither in her speech nor in her ascent. "In business, form and function are the same thing. Being able to keep a straight face - or whatever other face you might need - directly equates to efficiency." Despite Zarius' prior surveillance, she still eyes the stairs with spiteful suspicion as she ascends. "If it were just me? Fine. I can deal with a slightly lower payout. But I have people working for me, under me, relying on me for their livelihood. Neglecting to maximize would be a betrayal of that relationship."

“Fine, I can understand that," answers the tiefling, gazing down at her. "But this is not business. This whole situation is clearly personal. And the people who rely on you I am sure would want you to survive it. After all, if you fall here because you pushed yourself too hard then that leaves them without you.”

He looks at the door then back at her. “I will go first. I trust you to watch my back for what it is worth.”

Veliky scowls angrily at the remark and its speaker alike. She doesn't need the whisper to tell her how to react.

She vanishes from sight^[1], only to reappear between Zarius and the door, staring defiantly up at him.

"I won't fall here. And if I do, good; better that than wasting their time. I'll go first."

A strong emotion is often the best remedy for another. Affronted, she unabashedly strolls through the door, which leads into a hall of many more that line the wall on either side and with one at the opposing end.

It's only a few steps into the room that all of the doors on either side swing violently open. This starts Veliky, but not in fear; rather, she seems immediately ready to fight. But, instead of any mundane ambush pouring out into the hall, the blue spectre of a beautiful woman, hair floating as if in water, hovers slowly out of one, not turning to face or acknowledge the intruders at all, and enters the opposing door before all of them shut once more.

Veliky's face seems almost as offended as when Zarius had insisted on going first. She takes a cautious step forward, then storms toward the door the ghost had entered, forcing it to open again with a snap of her fingers^[2]. But there's nothing behind, nothing but a wooden wall.

"It's just another damn trick!" She continues down the hall. "Come on, just ignore-"

Suddenly, one of the doors opens again and a giant spider - this one clearly a fake, attached to a mechanical, wooden arm - leaps out at her.

"Gah!" she squeals, before jabbing the spider in its spiderly face. The resulting burst of light^[3] destroys the entire mechanism, sending the metal spider-puppet crashing through the wooden wall behind the door. "Kien kahl ehn sep faji, kahl... encamwane! Fucktin ott erit monstar! Sto sep kien!" Once again, this shall not be translated.

But, after her string of Goblin curses has ended, she realizes that her fit of rage shattered the wooden wall before her, revealing an entrance into darkness.

---

The backrooms of the haunted house, while not rigged to scare as the house proper is, are unsettling in their own right, dark and claustrophobic. Damaged props and mannequins sit in the shadows, their rubber exteriors torn to reveal wood and metal underneath, motionless, lifeless. But Veliky, oddly, finds it less disturbing.

"This is similar to what the insides of the Blixtbots™ look like. Gears and cogs facilitate every motion and function in their bodies." She stares into the empty eyes of a mechanical werewolf. There's a bit of hesitation, but she rudely and roughly tears off its leather face to show its iron jaws.

"I think it's fascinating, using technology and magic to imitate living things. Makes you wonder what life really is." She walks on. Between the shadowy mechanisms, a door can be seen at the end of the room. "Obviously, the Blixtbots™ aren't alive. People ask me that constantly. They don't think in the same way that people do; it's all just protocol and CoC to them. No motivation, no emotion, no guilty pleasures, no secrets. Best of all, if they get destroyed, there's nobody waiting for them back home. Reliable and expendable: better than mercenaries in almost every way."

Veliky stops in front of the door. Her expression is contemplative.

"That entrance hall would've been the perfect spot for an ambush... Given that there wasn't one, I think there should be minimal resistance. In fact, they might've already fled."

With a snap of her fingers, she opens the door^[2].

---

"Yahahahahaharrr! Avast, ye rapscallious landlubbers! Prepare to be blasted!"

These are the first words that echo from the other side of this new room: a huge, arena-like staging area with wooden facades of various structures. The echoing voice, in particular, comes from a heavyset, bearded man dressed as a pirate and wielding a large cutlass, standing behind a huge, wooden cutout painted to resemble the starboard side of a pirate ship, complete with a black flag and accessorized with what appear to be two very real cannons.

But that's only one of several landmarks in this room, which has a dirty, sand-covered floor. Beneath a fake tree, a black-haired girl with dark makeup and a nostalgic, blue dress is having a picnic, slicing bread with a bloodstained butcher's knife upon a checkered blanket. There are two teacups on the blanket: one in front of her and one in front of a colourful hat with no wearer. She looks up to the two intruders with grim, green eyes.

As well, swinging from the rafters using intricate wires is a rotund woman dressed in every colour of the rainbow and holding a parasol designed to look like a cloud. She laughs haughtily; in fact, there's a resemblance to the princess from the store.

Finally, in front of the false façade of an old medicine store - historically known to be cons, their treatments not ordained by the gods - is a man in a dark coat and hat, wearing a beaked mask. He taps the side of a glass bottle in his hand, which is filled with a bright, green liquid.

"The doctor will see you now," he says in a deep, intelligent voice.

Veliky looks forward, utterly flabbergasted. The structures may be fake, but the people are not. It seems another battle stands between them and Mr. Game.

"...Well, back to business," she mutters with resignation.

---

1. Invisibility
2. Minor Trickery
3. Angelic Light

Zarius shakes his head. He didn’t know why he kept trying to talk to Veliky about these things. She was clearly very stubborn and set in her ways. There was only so much help you could offer someone who only sees others as liabilities.

He lets her go ahead and watches with an unimpressed expression as she spooks herself and lashes out with her magic again. Who was she trying to impress? Who was she trying to prove herself to? Certainly not him. They were just acquaintances who just happen to run into each other on occasion. She had no personal investment in him outside of surviving the current situation. It bothered him that it felt like she was just putting on a brave face for some unseen audience despite it being pretty obvious she was terrified and barely holding it together.

He sighs and follows her to the back rooms. She starts going on about the constructs and how they are superior to intelligent life with free will. He makes a face at the reliable comment. Considering every one of her constructs now laid broken in the streets while they have continued onward despite their injuries just speaks to the limitations of such entities.

“I do not agree.” He responds simply, but chooses not to expand on that opinion since it would hardly be something she would understand.

---

"Yahahahahaharrr! Avast, ye rapscallious landlubbers! Prepare to be blasted!"

Zarius’ expression could not get any more unimpressed. A pirate, a child, a princess, and a quack doctor. Great.

Still no telling if one of them is Mr. Game, but it would make more sense that he is hiding somewhere just watching the show.

The pageantry of what laid before them hardly looked intimidating and was more akin to a stage show. At the very least they knew better than to underestimate the costumed fools and unlike every fight before the performers had the home field advantage.

Taking a quick glance about the room, Zarius springs into action without giving Veliky or their foes much of a chance to do anything. He had already locked onto who he was going to take down first and didn't waste any time enacting his hastily conceived plan.

He heads straight for the plague doctor’s set up.

The figure in the mask laughs. “Step right up! I have the cure for what ails you.”

Zarius ignores him and instead targets a stool at the end of the table. He grabs the leg of the stool, he whips it up at the princess hanging from the ceiling.^[1] She draws back in surprise and the stool disappears into the rafters. She chortles in a mocking tone then feels the wires pull at her harness suddenly.

She looks up and realizes the tiefling never intended for her to be the target of the attack. The stool had gotten entangled in the wires, leaving her literally hanging there unable to move across the room.

Her face turns red with anger and she looks down on the scene unfolding below her.

After throwing the stool, Zarius immediately moves in to close the gap between himself and makes a grab for his arm holding the flask.^[2]

Puling back, the plague doctor laughs maniacally as he holds a flask above his head and throws it down between him and the tiefling. A blinding light bursts forth as the glass shatters.^[3] Zarius winces and closes his eyes but the temporary damage had already been done.

“You seem to be suffering from a sudden onset of blindness. I recommend leeches!” The plague doctor pulls out another bottle from his jacket and goes to throw it on Zarius.

His voice gives his location away though.^[4] Zarius manages to sidestep the thrown vial which smashes across the ground revealing it was filled with hungry wiggling creatures.^[5]

The pirate watches on from the back of the set.

“Avast, ye scurvy dogs! Aim at that there canonry starboard!” He points with his sword and the canons rotate to aim towards the fight in front of the doctor’s facade.

The picnicking girls merely sips her tea and locks eyes with Veliky.

---

[1] Improvised Weapon. 
[2] Dashing. 
[3] Flash Flask. (Plague Doctor)
[4] Fighters Sense. 
[5] Parasite Poison. (Plague Doctor)

Veliky holds her throbbing shoulder, grimacing as she strides toward the quaint-looking picnic. But she's no less determined than Zarius to put an end to this operation.

"Where's your boss? Where's Mr. Game?!"

The girl is undaunted. Sipping her tea with all the gloom of a widow, she speaks in veiled mockeries.

"Silly girl. You shouldn't wander in hopes of finding what you want. It only makes failure more painful."

Her bloodstained knife glints and the blue hem caresses the ground as she rises to her feet.

"Here. Let me show you."

An empty threat. She's unarmored and barely armed. Even Veliky could feasibly take her down. So what is this fear^[1] that grips her tiny heart?

The girl steps forward, and Veliky steps back. The little woman can't control her breath. Shadows grow around the girl, like the falling dark of Veliky's final sunset. There is a will within Veliky to fight, but everything else in her mind is screaming that she's going to die, she's going to die. She stumbles back, onto the ground. Something cracks in her shoulder, but it's the self-loathing that breaks her down to tears.

"Raguel... Maa vie't man un...  Maa man'kk awett mea...  Maa'm soorey..."
(Raguel... I can't do it... I don't know why... I'm sorry...)"

"Grab ahold of yourself, Veliky!" The voice cuts through the chaos like a shrill wind. "This isn't ordinary fear. She's manipulating your mind. I need you to FOCUS! Use your magic, you have my permission. But first, I need you to get up."

The shadows twist and contort her mind. She wants to obey, she wants to break this girl in half, but the darkness smothers every thought.

"Maa vie't...
(I can't...)"

"You will! Get up!"

She can't even see the girl any longer. She's lost somewhere in the void of shadows.

But she fights against it. Weakly, she lifts herself with her only working arm, but even raising to a knee drains the courage from her heart. She breathes in anticipation of her end.

"Get up!"

"Damn you!"

She stands, slamming her hand into her own chest. Immediately, her eyes are emptied of emotion^[2]. She turns, just in time to see the knife slashing through the air. But Veliky raises a glowing palm to the girl's wrist. Pale skin sizzles and boils^[3], and the girl yanks her hand away in pain.

Veliky looks on with absolute indifference as the wretch growls and cries. The burn brings her such all-consuming agony, much more than it would an ordinary human.

"A creature of darkness."

"No. Just one dressed for the role."

Veliky lifts her broken arm. The palm is turning blue. How strange. It's excruciating, yet she feels nothing for it - there's the stimulus, but no reaction at all. And then, she's gone^[4].

The pampered fiend looks up with hate, only to see nothing where the halfling once stood. But there she is, appearing midair before her! The fiend hasn't an instant to react before she's struck in the face, peeling the skin off more easily than a razor^[3].

The girl stumbles back, screaming. When she looks back, the miser's gone again. The next attack comes from behind as Velliky trips the feet from under the demonic lass, then kicks her away. The force sends her rolling across the ground in a manner as humiliating as it is painful^[3].

From above, the scintillating maiden knows that something must be done. Though her movement is limited, her arms are not; she points a finger, from which a bolt of lightning courses down, directly toward Veliky^[5]. Although, to Veliky's benefit, it's quite a bit slower than one might think lightning to be; she hears it before she sees it, and is able to leap aside. Where she was, the sandy ground is transformed to glass.

She may have evaded the blast, but the distraction provided ample time for the demon to rise. Veliky turns, only to see the girl - if she can even be called such any longer - with her flesh turning red and horns bursting from underneath her skull^[6].

Of course, Veliky no longer has the capacity to be afraid. Her hand glows^[3] again, only for a familiar voice to warn her - not something she's accustomed to hearing from it.

"The light won't harm her any longer. You're outmatched; use that little brain!"

She closes her fist, smothering the light, and instead extends it forth and draws a sigil in the air. It's the very same spell she'd used earlier - the one that felled the witch^[7]. But the demoness wields her own magic; shadows rise around her, clinging like leeches. Veliky's spell is completed, but fails to take hold.

"EYYYYAAAAAAAAH!"

Is it pain or fury that begets the banshish cry? Whichever, the mad demon rushes forward like Hell's very ire^[6]. Swung to and fro, the crimson blade keens snicker-snack.

---

1. Invoke Fear (Alice)
2. Calm Emotion
3. Angelic Light
4. Invisibility
5. Lightning Bolt (Rainbow Dancer)
6. Abyssal Infusion (Alice)
7. Desperation
8. Black Shield (Alice)

Zarius didn't have time to worry about Veliky as he had enough on his plate as it is. Currently engaged with the plague doctor and still recovering from the blindness, he wildly swings a fist and manages to make contact with the side of the costumed buffoon's mask. The mask goes flying across the set and clatters to the ground behind them as the goon swears and tries to throw another strange potion on the tiefling.

He dodges out of the way just as a powerful force of dense air presses down on their immediate area from above.^[1]

The colorful dancer chortles from above having cast a spell. "Not so fast!"

"Yarharahar! Steady as it goes, lads! Now FIRE!" The pirate shouts out as two cannonballs are shot towards where Zarius and the good doctor are standing. The doctor dives to the ground and covers his head as the air ripples.

The wind buffets Zarius and slows him down. He knows that the cannon balls are probably similar to the one the princess used in the shop earlier that day, but he couldn’t be sure either. He would have to risk it. Widening his stance his vision clears enough in time to see the first cannonball before him. He quickly raises a palm and skillfully redirects the trajectory of the the projectile straight up at the dancer.^[2]

“WHAT?! AGH!” The dancer exclaims as she is struck with the cannonball and is bounced up to the ceiling. The shell explodes on contact and burst of sparks and smoke rains down as the fireworks inside explode. The dancer flips and twists in the air, getting tangled in the wires. 

Meanwhile, the second cannonball slams into Zarius’s side. The force sends him skidding back, through the sharp winds of the spell which shred his clothes and slice his skin, into the prop medicine shop. This cannonball hits heavy and the shell explodes out, but this one is not filled with confetti or fireworks and instead plasters’ Zarius against the wall with a sticky-slimy webbing.

“Yarharhar! We got ‘em, lads!” The pirate jumps down from the ship and approaches as the doctor gets back onto his feet.

Zarius struggles against the substance pinning him to the front of the false medicine shop, but the more he moves the tighter the webbing seems to get.

“You ruined my store front, sir.” The doctor chastises the pirate as he dusts himself off and sees if there are any entact potions left.

“Yarharhar! A crying shame for your patient, doctor. Allow me to send this sea devil to the salty brine.” The pirate draws a flintlock pistol from a holster at his hip and presses the barrel against Zarius’ forehead. “Any last words?”

Zarius glares at him then glances up. “Heads up.”

The stool from before suddenly bonks the pirate on the head having been dislodged from the wires when the dancer got hit with the cannonball. The pirate pulls the trigger in surprise, but he misses his shot. The sharp sound of the exploding gunpowder rings in Zarius’ ear.

“Ow! Me head!” The pirate holds what surely will be a large welt in a few hours. “Doctor! Ye got some rum to dull the pain?”

The doctor starts checking his coat pockets and pulls out another vial. “A dose of this should numb the pain.”^[3]

Zarius snatches the potion from his hand, having slipped out of the webbing while they were distracted.^[4] “Thank you.”

“The slippery dog is free!”

Quickly, Zarius crosses half the distance to Veliky. He winds up and pitches the vial through the air at her. “Catch!”

---

[1] Wind Tunnel (Rainbow Dancer)
[2] Deflecting Palm
[3] Numbing Poison (Doctor)
[4] Escaping Technique

In her clear mind, free from the clouds and haze of emotion, Veliky compares and contrasts every detail in her environment. Her thoughts are like that of a machine, mathematically calculating every percentage and gamble until they reach an optimal consensus.

She raises one finger, which begins to glow, not with the radiance of Raguel's influence, but with a supernatural blue hue. Kneeling down, she touches it to the ground and spins on one knee before leaping backward. The trace of her finger paints a mystical, blue glow on the floor. This leaves an arcane circle on the ground between Veliky and the raging demoness. Just before the monstress steps into the circle, Veliky snaps her fingers^[1] and the floor within the circle swings open as if it had hinges^[2]. The girl already has too much momentum to stop; she falls feet-first into the newly-created hole, only clinging to the edge near Veliky.

She begins to clamber up and out, but Veliky isn't done. She snaps her fingers^[1] again, and again, and again. With every snap, the magical trapdoor swings down, bashing the noirette in the head with shockingly brutal force.

After the fourth swing, the girl is concussed, barely conscious. Veliky strides toward her, plants a boot on her face and pushes her into the pit before closing the trapdoor. The blue lines fade; the opening is gone, as is the enemy.

"Catch!"

Turning her head, Veliky only barely reacts in time to catch the vial. And what is it? It probably came from the doctor. Is it a healing potion? Veliky can only hope, but it's best not to make assumptions. She places it in a coatpocket for later before scanning the battlefield.

The woman in the rafters is dealt with, tangled in wiring and what appears to be some type of web. But the doctor is still alive, as is the pirate, who's descended from behind his façade of a ship to do close combat with Zarius.

Her eyes lock with the doctor's, who immediately grabs two vials from his sides.

"You seem unwell. How fortunate that I am here to help you."

But then, the unmasked doctor doesn't quite seem to know what to do. He squints at both vials.

"Wait... which ones are these again?"

Veliky draws another circle on the ground, but stays on it this time. She snaps^[1], and the door under her swings up and open, propelling her through the air! Both of her feet plant directly into the quack's chest, sending through him a piercing wave of radiance^[3] that knocks him to the ground. Veliky, surprisingly acrobatic as she is, lands on her feet and flicks some dust from her collar.

The doctor raises his head weakly.

"I need... a doctor...!"

He passes out. Only one left.

---

1. Minor Trickery
2. Create Door
3. Angelic Light

The pirate’s laugh echoes off the walls of the room as he swings his sword at Zarius who is on the defensive, sidestepping the swings and blocking the blade with his weapons.^[1] They keep exchanging swings, but neither can get a hit in.

“Yer a slippery fish! If you think this ol’ captain will parlay, yer’ll be swabbing the deck!” The bearded man laughs as he keeps up the attacks.

“Threatening me with menial cleaning is not very scary.” The tiefling comments as the sword clangs against the metal of his knuckle knives.

The pirate pauses in a back swing, clearly rethinking his dialogue choices. “Er…yer’ll be swimming with the fishes!”

The tiefling pauses as well and gives him an unimpressed look with a head tilt, but he keeps his guard up. “You already called me a fish. Is that not implied?”

The pirate blinks, clearly the rum is clouding his head. He rattles his brain for another pirate-y sounding line. “Er...I’ll...keelhaul ye?”

Zarius stares at him for a moment as they just have this awkward pause in the fight. After a moment, he shrugs and nods with acceptance of that threat before suddenly unleashing two heavy hits on the pirate, a punch to the gut followed by an uppercut to the underside of his jaw.^[2] The pirate sees stars as he falls backwards onto the ground and the chaos of the whole fight comes to a eerily quiet close. 

He surveys the room. The doctor was down and out as was the pirate. The dancer was still hanging from the ceiling but there was little she could do with the mess of wires she was entangled in. The girl with the knife is nowhere to be seen though. Veliky didn’t appear to be concerned about that, so he figures she dealt with her somehow.

The tiefling huffs and looks over at Veliky, taking note of her condition and mood. She seemed to be holding up, but he was still worried about how much more of this she could actually take. She probably did not appreciate his worry, but he needed to keep an eye on her. If she went down, that drastically changed the situation. He wasn't planning on running, but if it came down to it, he would take matters into his own hands and ensure they both survived to see another Black Harvest Festival. 

“How is your arm?” He dares to ask, knowing she will probably respond with 'I'm fine' or 'Focus on fighting'.

They still had to deal with this Mr. Game, whoever he was.

---

[1] Knuckle Knives
[2] Two Piece

"I'm fine." No surprise in the words, but the sound is off-putting in a way that's difficult to place. Her voice is raspy, weak, yet the strain that was heard before, radiating from her broken bones, is gone. Her eyes, too, are missing something; they gaze wide-eyed into Zarius' yellow orbs, yet dispassionate.

They're the same eyes that sweep across the room, absorbing every sight, watching for unseen threats impartially. It is quiet...

"Too quiet. We're in a criminal hideout, a fight like that should've drawn more attention. Be on your guard."

---

Somewhere, in a room pervaded by maddening darkness, an ornate mirror reflects a warped image of Veliky and Zarius standing among the unconscious bodies of colourful, costumed thugs. And gazing upon them, through the enchanted glass, is an enshadowed figure. His hat is adorned by tiny bells.

"Hmm... Not bad. Not bad at all."

Suddenly, the darkness is pierced by the opening of a door, welcoming aberrant light. From just outside, a mature, seductive voice pours in like melted chocolate.

"Mr. Game? You're on in 3."

---

Now devoid of the chaos, the staging area is like an empty arena: vast, lifeless and ominous. Well, there is one exception, besides Veliky and Zarius, as the rainbow-dressed woman still dangles from the rafters. But she seems rather keen on being left alone.

Cursory investigation finds it difficult to ascertain this room's exact purpose. The structures here certainly don't match the haunted house's aesthetic. And, strangely, there are many more discordant items that don't even fit the structures they reside beside, displaying the impression of prop storage.

No matter, explaining these oddities wouldn't get them any closer to Mr. Game. But where do they go now?

"...All that, and it's a dead end. We need to keep searching."

But, suddenly, there's a building heat at Veliky's and Zarius' feet. Veliky looks down to see, surrounding her, a flaming, red-orange sigil on the floor. She immediately attempts to step out, but she can't! The sigil forms an invisible barrier, forbidding her. The heat and the flames rise rapidly. Veliky can only stare at Zarius as they are both completely enveloped in the fire.

Then, white light - blindingly white. The flames are gone. Everything is gone. Veliky and Zarius can only feel the ground beneath their feet, but it's a different terrain, metallic, perforated. And whispers, whispers in the periphery, whispers in a strange, unnerving tongue.

"Duv haf myir zmiz?" "Tmyh'ry myry." "Iz'w wzirzulq waal."

It's a language that Zarius knows quite well. Infernal: tongue of the lower realms.

"(Did you hear that?)" "(They're here.)" "(It's starting soon.)"

Is Veliky dead? This question floats about in her mind with far less weight than it should. The fear is smothered, the despair is stillborn. She does not feel the need to cling to life, as any dying person would. Perhaps she should just ask.

"Raguel? Are you here? Am I dead?"

Nothing.

"Raguel?"

"...Ah! Took me a moment to find you. What are you doing here?" His voice is similarly unconcerned, though this is a far more common disposition for Raguel.

"Here?"

There's a calamitous sound like crashing metal. Then, pervading whatever domain this is, a voice bellows.

"Llllladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, imps and quasits, welcome to a very special episode of..."

The blinding light fades to reveal that Veliky and Zarius are trapped in a huge cage. Surrounding the cage is a crowd of tightly-packed devils, horned and antlered, blue and red of skin, hulking and minuscule. Adjoining the cage are two more, separated by portcullises. And beyond is a dark, wooden stage obscured by a large, red curtain. And above the stage is a stylized, glowing sign which reads, as the echoing voice proclaims aloud:

"Do! Or! Diiiiiiieeeee!"

The infernal crowd erupts into applause and terrible, inhuman cheers. Tiny imps leap and screech in delight, while squealing orthons stomp their elephantine feet. And there raucousness only grows with the voice's next announcement.

"Please, welcome your host: Mrrrrrrr. Game!"

The curtains part to reveal the tall, thin figure that Veliky and Zarius have hunted all this time. He wears bizarre, red, patchwork clothes and an oversized jester's cap. But, most strangely of all, his face is obscured by a mask contorted in laughter with emeralds for eyes. 

"Thank you, thank you!" His voice bleeds charisma and ego. "So great to be here! How many of you came up from Tartarus to join us tonight?"

Many of the larger fiends roar and snort in disgusting, bestial vocalizations.

"How about Shendilavri?"

This time, it's the more humanoid members of the crowd - succubi and incubi - that raise their voices to cheer and call.

"Fantastic! What about Cania?"

Utter silence.

"Ah, who am I kidding?" he japes, waving a hand. The audience laughs in a mix of guttural, piercing and cackling cacophonies. "Now, I know you've all been waiting for this a long, long time, so why don't we hop right in and introduce our contestants?"

"Who cares who they are?" shouts a voice at a pitch too deep for any worldly person to match. "They're mortals! Let's see them squirm!"

"Hoh, I like your attitude! But we at least need a couple names, don't we? And these mortals' names carry some weight in the Prime!"

There are murmurs of discontent, but also smiles of devilish satisfaction: a mixed reaction.

"First, we have one of our own - well, partly, at least. Son of Ashen Father Anselm Dvara'Oriyn, and boy, does it ever run in the family! This one has lived a life steeped in sin, vice and crime, and he doesn't seem intent on stopping any time soon. Please, give a round of applause for..." He gestures dramatically to the black-skinned tiefling. "Zariuuus Rha'Oriyn!"

Howls and gurgles, secretions and slurps, the more one listens to the crowd's noises of approval, the more maddening they become.

"Hm," is Veliky's only response to the revelation of Zarius' true identity, but who knows how she'll feel once her magic has worn off? In fact, who knows how she'd react to any of this were her feelings not suppressed by magic?

"And secondly, born in a tiny, backwater village, but with hopes and dreams for a kingdom of steel, mechanical oppression and business, business, business, please welcome our little entrepreneur..." He points at the half-halfling, who only looks blankly back. "Velikyyyy!"

Eyes of infinite, indescribable colours gaze down at the minuscule figure as animalistic cries fill the room.

Veliky is barely listening, instead scanning the black iron bars of the cage for any possible weaknesses. There are none.

"Now, first thing's first..." The condescending Mr. Game snaps his fingers.

Veliky blinks, and, suddenly, all of the emotions and pain flood back into her, showing through her eyes.

"What- ogh, guh...! What?!" She slams her hand into her chest, trying to reactivate the spell^[1]. Nothing happens. She snaps her fingers^[2], but nothing happens. Zarius experiences the same; his abilities have been stripped, even the experience and knowledge of hand-to-hand combat disappearing from his memory. "My... my spells... I can't use them! Agh!"

She keels over. Her arm has swollen and bent even worse than before. The audience bellows and chortles.

"That's right! We went and took away those pesky powers and abilities of yours. Wouldn't want anyone to have an unfair advantage, would we?" he asks rhetorically, smugly. "Oh, and speaking of unfair advantages, look at your arm! Get into a bit of a scuffle out there?"

"Go to Hell!"

The crowd gasps, but more in novelty than legitimate shock.

"Ho-hoh! Where do you think we are, sweetheart?" This does rouse Veliky's concern. They couldn't really be, could they? "Oh, but don't worry, we don't tolerate unfair disadvantages either! So consider it your lucky unlucky day!"

Mr. Game raises his hands and utters blasphemous words in a tongue too old to even recall. Suddenly, Veliky's arm goes numb. She looks at it in horror as it contorts and twists, colour draining from it... only to return as it twists back into its normal shape^[3]. The pain is gone. Her bones have mended. She looks at her hand in shock. Zarius, too, is affected, his torn muscles stitching themselves together under his black skin.

"Well, would you look at that? If little Veliky were only, hmm... three times as tall, you could almost say they're on equal footing!"

Needless to say, Veliky is conflicted. Her arm is healed, but her magic and even her talents are gone. She looks sidelong at Zarius.

"Just play along, I don't think we have much choice-"

She's interrupted as Mr. Game addresses the crowd again.

"Now, you all know the rules by now, but these mortals don't. So, let me give them a quick explanation: in Do! Or! Die! there will be three rounds." He accentuates with three raised fingers. "In each round, each of you will be told to do something by the crowd. Now, you can choose to obey like a good little boy or girl, or... you can die. More specifically~" Another curtain parts behind him, revealing a massive wheel with a red arrow just above it, pointing down. Each section of the wheel is a different colour, with a different depiction of some creature drawn on it: dragons, demons, kobolds, cats. The number of different options is dizzying. "If you refuse, we spin the Wheel of Pain. Whatever it lands on, we throw into the cage with you, and you fight it to the death! If both of you refuse, we'll spin twice, and you'll fight both monsters at the same time! Boy, wouldn't that be a terrible idea! Either way, after each round, the portcullis on your cage will open, allowing you to proceed. If you escape the cages, you can go home!"

The disapproval at the prospect of the contestants escaping is extremely audible in the crowd. Similarly, disapproval of the prospect of fighting things to the death is audible in Veliky.

"Excuse me?! How the Hell are we supposed to fight when you've taken all of our damn abilities?!"

Surprisingly, this question gives Mr. Game pause, but only for a moment.

"Oh, you're absolutely right! Thanks for reminding me. Here at Do! Or! Die! we like to give our contestants a fighting chance. So, here's your fighting chance!"

He waves his hands and wiggles his fingers in a whimsically disturbing fashion. Suddenly, scintillating, multicoloured lights appear, swirling around both Veliky and Zarius. Veliky tries to smack them of the air, to no avail. They vanish as quickly as they manifested. But, looking at each-other and at theirselves, Veliky and Zarius both realize that it was far from ineffectual. Their clothes have replaced by festive costumes, just like the ones the crooks had worn! Veliky's become dressed in the purple garb of a witch, while Zarius has become wrapped in bandages like a mummy!

"Like I said, we don't want any unfair advantages. So, we provide all of our contestants with a complimentary, magical costume to give them an edge! Believe me, you'll need it!"

Veliky, needless to say, isn't a fan. Assuming it grants powers in the same way that it did for the brigands, then it's better than nothing, but she despises skirts with inconsolable vitriol. She grits her teeth and covers her shoulders as the crowd cackles at the sight.

"Now, with introductions and explanations aside, it's finally time to begin - say it with me:"

"Do! Or! Die!" The entire crowd cries in abyssal harmony.

"Fantastic! Now, let's begin with our guest-syndicate representative. What should Zarius here do?"

Immediately, the crowd roars with ludicrous suggestions.

"Sing!"

"Moonwalk!"

"Talk like a pirate!"

"Hmm... Going easy on them for the first round, eh? Alright, we can play that way. Zarius! Your dare is to talk like a pirate - accent, voice, mannerisms, language and all - for the remainder of the show. So, will you do, or will you die?"

---

1. Calm Emotion
2. Clone Self
3. Major Healing (Mr. Game)

Zarius is just bewildered by the events that unfold before them. Somehow they had been transported to a completely different place, trapped in a cage, and surrounded by demonic beings. He could understand their words, which he wasn’t sure if was a blessing or a curse as their cheers echo all around the arena. And then he appears, the mysterious Mr. Game who set this whole thing into motion in the first place, standing before them but far out of reach and putting on a performance to entertain the infernal masses.

The tiefling goes stiff as the announcer reveals his identity to the crowd, but more importantly, to Veliky. When they first met, he had fed her the lie that he was just a research assistant when they first met. Veliky didn’t seem to be the type to forgive such a deception easily. His tail twitches as he holds back his growing rage at the crowd and this masked individual. Demons or not, his reputation and his relations were not for the entertainment of others nor did he appreciate someone sharing that information without his consent.

The sound of Veliky’s response catches his attention. He was surprised for a moment at her underwhelming reaction. Did she not know anything about the Ashen Fathers? Or did she not care?

Then he watches her apathetic gaze change as their magic and abilities are stripped from them in an instant. It’s a strange sensation for him, almost as if he was suddenly in a body not his own. His coordination, strength, and knowledge of techniques are all gone. The results of years of training and hardship erased at the whim of this masked fiend. This ridiculous situation suddenly became a lot more dire.

The tiefling huffs. These entities were clearly toying with them like they were puppets. He wanted to let Veliky know that playing along probably wouldn’t help them either. These were demons after all, creatures of lies and cruelty. Before he can reply, Mr. Game continues on his exposition dump of how this ‘game’ is supposed to work.

The game seemed simple enough if it were actually run earnestly. He doubted they would be so lucky though. These demons would likely do everything they could to sabotage them and force them to fight regardless of their cooperation. This was all just a means to humiliate them, to weaken their minds and resolve so they could watch them squirm and fall into despair. Even if they played by their rules and got to the end, there was no guarantee they would actually give them back their abilities and send them home to just let this whole situation be remembered as a waking nightmare.

Before he can do much though, suddenly he finds himself wrapped up in gauze from head to toe. “Mph!” He claws at the wrappings on his face and manages to pull them away enough to breath and see.

One of the succubi in the crowd lets out a loud whistle. “I’d love to unwrap that present!”

Zarius ignores the cat calls and is just irritated. He takes some breaths to calm himself down. If they were going to have any fighting chance at surviving this, they would just have to stay focused on getting out, no matter what.

He makes a bit of a face at the dare he is presented. Talk like a pirate? Could he even pull that off with his accent? He thinks about if he knows what any pirates sound like other than the one they had faced. Was that even accurate? He then remembers another smiling tiefling he had crossed paths with before, a winged ship captain who ran a group of smugglers he had done business with here and there. She wasn’t nearly as theatrical as the costumed goon from before. Given the situation though, these demons likely wanted the act to be less authentic and more on the embarrassing side. It would be challenging though, he had a hard time with conjunctions and the pirate seemed to use many.

He sighs. “I will choose dare, aye.”

“Oh ho, the tiefling has chosen to accept the dare! From now on until the end of the show, it is all arghs and scurvy for you! So tell us, how does it feel to be a contestant on Do or Die?”

Zarius frowns and clears his throat. "Ehm…I’d rather ‘ave scurvy, matey."

The crowd erupts in boos and jeers at the expense of the tiefling.

"What was that?"

"Gahahaha, make him walk the plank!"

"I'm not convinced! Rip off a hand and give him a hook!"

"Yeah! Take an eye!"

Mr. Game waves his hand to quiet the crowd. "Oooo, the audience has spoken, that performance just is not going to cut it. Too bad we couldn't find a more talented contestant! But you know what that means! It's time for the-"

"Wheel! Of! Pain!"

The air in the arena is filled with the cheers of excitement from the fiends as a scantily clad succubus walks over to the wheel. She winks at the crowd then gives the prop a good spin. The wheel clicks as it spins quickly then it starts to slow and there’s a moment of quiet anticipation as it comes to a stop.

As they await the results of the spin, something strange comes over the tiefling. The hollering of the fiends become muted and time seems to slow for a moment with the light darkening. Zarius’ feels a pull somewhere deep down within himself. A wisp of darkness reaches through the bars towards the side, extending back into the blurred crowd. There’s something…someone there…they’re somehow familiar yet otherworldly. He swears he can faintly hear whispers, but he can't quite make out the words. 

He snaps out of the weird trance as disappointed calls echo around the chamber.

It landed on cats.

Mr. Game addresses the crowd once more. "Oooo, lucky for our contestants, not so much for our ratings. Oh well, there is still plenty of time in the show for more spins! Speaking of which, before we bring in the furry felines, let's get a dare for our second contestant!"

Once again, shouts emanate from the crowd with suggestions.

"Dance!"

"Confession!"

"Get thrown again!"

"Kiss a hellhound!"

Mr. Game points into the crowd. "Oh ho, now there's an interesting one! Veliky, you are dared to give a big kiss to ol' Face Snacker here!"

Appearing on the stage is a big bulldog-like hellhound with droopy, floppy jowls and large lower incisors poking out of its bottom jaw. Licks of fire wreath off its charred skin.

“So, will you do, or will you die?”

The gaze that Veliky focuses on Zarius is of the sort that speaks without her needing to utter a sound. This particular message is a simple word: 'really?' She'd even be inclined to agree with the crowd's sentiment were it not directly harmful to her. Their punishment might not seem particularly dangerous, but, then, these fiends might have a more liberal interpretation of "Cats." Veliky anticipates mountain lions at the very least.

And now it's her turn, and she finds herself in the the beyond-unpleasant circumstance of staring an underworldly dog in the eyes... and being told to give it a kiss. She sighs with the exasperation of a babysitter realizing she needs to change a diaper.

"Raguel, what am I looking at, exactly?"

...Nothing. Veliky's face sinks in concern.

"Raguel? Where'd you go, now?"

"Oh! So sorry, Veliky! Another rule I forgot to mention: we don't allow outside assistance here! Your friend on the other side will just have to sit and watch. Now, about your dare..."

Veliky tsks and crosses her arms at the half-assed explanation. Mr. Game doesn't realize that this is moreso a blessing than a curse.

"Fine," she answers with unveiled spite. "Dare."

She might not have any of her abilities or magic, but she has her wit. She's already plotted three separate avenues to smooch this dog, and at least one of them leaves her own face intact.

An ooh sweeps across the room, a stew of awe and amusement at the sight of the tiny woman's confidence. But their desire is homogenous: they want the beast to hurt her. Badly.

"Alright, then! Let's get your loving partner into the cage! Ha hah!"

Beneath the hound, another flaming sigil draws itself. An identical mark appears on the grated floor of the cage, and the flames of both quickly grow into crackling bonfires. The fires vanish as quickly as they appeared, and the hellhound that was propped up on the stage now stands in the cage. Drool pours from its mouth like a waterfall, only to turn to steam the instant it grazes the metallic floor.

"And, you know what? We're all busy people. For brevity's sake, why don't we throw the cats in there, too?"

A dozen smaller sigils appear in the cage. Veliky expects the worst, but, when the flames die down, what emerges are exactly what they said: housecats. Nothing but terrified, mewling housecoats.

But the crowd seems pleased nonetheless, and Veliky knows why, now wishing that the wheel had chosen something more dangerous. This is a fight to the death. Ignoring the hellhound, they can certainly win against the litter, but it will not be pleasant for the victors.

"Now..." The arrogant host raises his arms theatrically. "Let the battle - and the romance - begin!"

The hellhound's claws slide across the metal grating as it takes a predatorial step toward Veliky. The cats, as much victims in this as Veliky and Zarius, scatter chaotically, terrified of both the hound and one-another. But Veliky stands resolute, prepared to outclever this pooch in any way possible.

What she wasn't planning for was the hellhound to belch a cloud of burning gas directly toward her. The blaze glints off her blue eyes, reflecting with the colours of the evening sky.

She dives desperately - and clumsily - behind Zarius and panickedly pats a fire off her skirt, much to the audience's hilarity. But, in her plight, she realizes that she dropped something she didn't even know she had: a tiny, dark, stylized tome with an emerald set into its cover. It must have come with her costume, which can only mean one thing.

"Zarius, cover me!"

On her knees, she immediately begins flipping through the pages. Just as she thought: it's a spellbook. She can feel supernatural comprehension of the eldritch diagrams flowing into her from the costume's enchanted fabric. But she'll need time if she wants to find anything useful.

Zarius returns the look. He did try. It's not his fault his accent does not lend itself well to the pirate aesthetic.

Still, whatever happened while the wheel was spinning lingered in his mind. What was that exactly? The wheel had landed on something that could be pretty easy to deal with compared to the other options. Had it influenced the selection in some way? None of the other demons seemed to notice and neither did Veliky. Why only him?

"I forgot to mention: we don't allow outside assistance here! Your friend on the other side will just have to sit and watch."

The tiefling frowns. What did he mean by that? He looks over at Veliky. He knew of some folk who had other entities in their heads. A certain troublesome half-demon came to mind. But it was pretty clear to that the fiend that was sharing their body was around. Veliky didn't have any horns or strangeness in her appearance that would suggest she had another entity within her. What's more, he's never heard anything speak through her. Maybe her situation was different and this 'friend on the other side' wasn't able to do such things. If this thing was some sort of holy being instead of a fiendish one, it would explain some of her divine magic.

As the hellhound appears inside the cage and the hellfire of the sigil dies down, the tiefling raises his guard. They couldn't trust the fiends to play things straight as they already bent the rules once. The cats appear and he is surprised that it is just housecats, then it dawns on him that they would have to slaughter the poor beasts in order to proceed. He doesn't really have a problem with it, but he doubts Veliky will be willing to put the defenseless creatures down. 

Zarius holds his arms up defensively in front of his face as the edge of the flaming gout of gas singes the bandages. He quickly smothers the cinders and glances back at Veliky hiding behind him. Seeing she was pouring over a book he had never seen her with before, he understands the situation quickly. That wouldn't matter much if the hellhound spewed more fire. If they lost these costumes they would not only have no way to fight back, but also would never hear the end of it from the jeering crowd. 

"I hope you can read fast!" He responds before he runs towards the hellhound.

Thankfully the footing was in their favor. The hellhound's claws couldn't seem to get a good grip on the perforated metal. This meant it would have a hard time reacting quickly to a moving target.

Betting on his theory, he runs right at the fiendish pooch to force its attention onto him. The hellhound starts to inhale for another belch of fire, when Zarius suddenly changes direction ducks to the side. Nails scrambling against the metal, the hellhound turns to follow the moving target. By this point though, Zarius has managed to get close to the dog and he side steps to keep just in the periphery of the hellhound as it spins around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. 

Meanwhile, the cats are staying far away from dog and the two contestants. Desperately searching for a way out of the cage. A few attempt to pass through the bars of the portcullis to the next cage. 

Having a hard time keeping up with Zarius, the hellhound's attention snaps to one of the cats running passed. It boofs another firey belch and the cat screeches as its fur catches on fire.

Zarius pulls some of the wrappings on his arms loose and twists them into a whip and snaps it at the hellhound's hind end.

"Pay attention, mutt." He hisses. He had to keep the hellhound's attention on him. The cats were unpredictable, and if they led the dog back over to Veliky he would never hear the end of it from the angry half-halfling. 

Veliky flips rapidly through thin, cheap parchment. It's strange to hold a book that's actually sized to her. Stranger still are its contents; the diagrams and components are laughably childish and cliché, but Veliky lacks the Common reading comprehension to fully appreciate the novelty, and, if she even did, she has no time for amusement.

She halts at a page illustrated with a thin, keeling man. What drew her attention was its familiarity. She knows this spell. In fact, she cast it earlier today. Her mana had been drained in the act, but it isn't difficult to feel the foreign energy seeping into and infro her costume's enchanted fabric, and to know that this isn't her mana. It can work.

But, even with the tome in hand, Veliky's poor literary skills make interpretation an arduous task. She can only rely on tiny, vague diagrams. Tatalia would laugh if she were here. The thought of her smug, green face is almost as irritating as Mr. Game's condescending tone.

"Aww, it looks like Veliky's having some, shall we say, academic issues? Poor girl... She never did learn to read Common."

The humid air fills with mocking laughter, guttural groans and other revulsions of infernal mirth.

"Shut up! I'm trying to focus!"

Her defiant growl does nothing to quell the audience's delight.

"That's right. Her father was going to teach her..." Suddenly, the devilish host's entire head rotates on his neck like a pivot, revealing a second, porcelain face on the other side. Instead of a smile, this mask is decorated with a woeful glower and sapphires in place of its eyes. Game's voice mimes that of an actor performing the most despondent of soliloquies as he swoons dramatically. "But; on a terrible, fateful Spring day; his own blood choked his arteries, strangled his very heart! He convulsed and pleaded for life..." His head slowly grinds until the grin stares down at them again. "...but little Veliky ran away."

Whatever maniacal humour these fiends possess, this story is no slight entertainment to them. If Mr. Game's intent was to distract Veliky, it's working; that is not a memory she cares to revisit. She can hardly see the illustrations through her umbrage. But she can't let it get to her. She's so close! If she can only focus...

Rrrrip! Her study is violently interrupted as one of the cats steps on the page in its flight! The cat's claw snags the parchment, tearing it free and dragging it along with its stride. Half on instinct, Veliky lunges to grab its orange hide, only to fall flat on her face.

"Hey! Get back here!"

Alas, her angry, panicked demand only adds to the chaos from which the feline flees. She knows better than to make any attempt at apprehension; she could nary hope to snag a cat on a good day and, suffice it to say, this has been an exceedingly bad day.

She has no choice: she'll need a spell to save her spell. Two pages over, she flips to a sheet drawn with a web, but no spider. Luckily, this one is simpler, only...

"Ew." Veliky cringes at the requirements. But she can meet them.

With graceful technique, Veliky pens a red sigil in the air.

"Wyx!" Her pronunciation is a slaughter of its own, but it meets its function.

It isn't long before she gags on a sticky filament sliding up her esophagus. She lurches momentarily, but forces herself, through every nauseous spasm, to aim at the scampering cat. From her mouth, she spews a net of cobwebs^[1] that ensnares the helpless feline against the bars.

Her first victory in this cruel game! She wastes no time, crawling to the catnapped cat and snagging the parchment from its claws. She already knows the rune; all that's left is the incant.

"Dyweyrizual!"

She traces a brown sigil in the air. Suddenly, the snarling hellbeast begins to waver on its trembling legs. Its chest tightens over its ribcage like a pillow sheet over a man's face^[2]. In a matter of seconds, the seemingly well-fed canine becomes thin and starved, far too weak to fight back!

Veliky strides toward it with her self-confidence reclaimed. She grabs it by its scraggly ear and it whimpers like a hellpup.

"Pucker up."

She doesn't make Zarius' mistake. To avoid even the slightest possibility of confusion, she peels the hound's lips back and plants a loud smooch directly onto its yellow teeth. Then, with her mission accomplished, she steps back, spits on the floor and wipes her own lips of the creature's burning saliva.

And, the moment her lips pass the hound's, the same burning sigil appears beneath it, and it's transposed out of the cage, into the crowd. Normally, a wild animal loosed on the audience would be an indication of gross negligence, but, here, the beast fits right in.

"Done!" she announces. The adrenaline of a victorious effort overpowers her disgust.

Whatever expectations there might've been of the audience's reaction, it seems to defy them all. It's almost completely silent - no disappointment, no approval; the closest mortal analogue might be shock.

Mr. Game, too, is stunned into silence, but not for long. He's never at a loss for words.

"Well, well, well! Congratulations to Veliky and Zarius, because they're going to Round 2!"

Then... applause. Cheers, claps, whistles, buzzes. Against all reason, the infernal audience is applauding their success.

No - not all reason. One who truly understands cruelty as an art would know the precise source of their joy, for the Veliky and Zarius' survival begets the possibility of an even more gruesome fate in a subsequent round. That, and this round isn't even over.

"...Except that you still have a 'fight to the death,' don't you? Come on, there may be a hundred ways to skin a cat, but we're on a schedule, so just break their little necks."

Veliky can be cold-hearted at times, but even she has limits. The words alone nearly cause Veliky to vomit. The thought is leagues more revolting than the webs she'd choked up only moments before. But she holds her hot chocolate, and her expression, eyes closed and voice clear.

She can thank only the fact that she need not do the deed.

"Zarius... do it quick. We need to."

---

1. Web
2. Desperation

The tiefling keeps the hellhound after him for as long as he can. A few more belches of fire threaten to char his already darkened skin, but he still had some tricks. Running around the dog was like child's play, literally. He used to do the same with his sister whenever they would cross paths with one of the guard dogs. To say they were little angel children would be a terrible lie. They were little hellions, terrorizing the poor dumb creatures and their handlers any chance they could get. Their father often scolded them for making trouble for the bodyguards who were just trying to do their jobs. 

His ears perk up at Mr. Game's tale of Veliky's past. So her father died of a heart attack and she was a runaway. That didn't surprise him. Veliky seemed like the type to insist on doing everything herself if she could. He glances back at Veliky still pouring over the book. Damn. The masked bastard was getting into her head. 

He can't help her chase the cat with the page around. Taking his eyes off the hellhound for even a second would result in him getting set ablaze or it turning its attention back onto the half-halfling. He snaps the makeshift whip at it again as Veliky's pursuit of the cat draws its gaze.

"Over here."

"No surprise that our fiendish brother knows his way around a whip!" Mr. Game comments and there's rucous of approving calls from the audience. "Compared to our little Veliky here, dear Zarius grew up with all the spoils of nobility with none of the responsibility. Private tutors and trainers, and servants waiting on hand and foot. Truly living the high life at the bloody expense of others. He's broken and buried so many bodies that even I have lost track!"

He tunes them out and stays focused on what he needs to do. They wanted a reaction. They wanted to make them break. He wouldn't fall for it. He refused to give them the satisfaction after all the bullshit they were putting them through. 

As Veliky casts her spells and gives a big smooch to the whithering hellhound, he sighs and wraps his arm back up in the bandage. It almost seems like they had pulled through on the first round of this ridiculous game when Mr. Game reminds them of the unpleasant task still left to resolve. 

"Zarius... do it quick. We need to."

Zarius looks down at Veliky then around at the scrambling cats. What a pain.

"I will make it quick."

Running around and cornering each cat the best he can, he grabs them and with a sharp twist, snaps their necks, trying to make their suffering end as quickly as possible. It's not as easy as it would be if he had all his abilities, but with or without them he does not hesitate to snuff out their existence in whatever plane this was. As he does, their bodies poof into clouds of smoke. He doesn't come out of the experience without some pretty decent scratches and bites to his hands and arms. 

He corners the last one, a particularly scrawny looking black cat with large ears. It happens again. The room darkens, the sound becomes muted and time seems to slow. The wisp of shadow flits before his eyes again, extending out form somewhere in the crowd of fiends beyond the arena. This cat stands with its hackles raised and hisses loudly at him. Its eyes burned with an intensity unlike the other house cats.

There's a brief moment where he almost hesitates, that feeling of familiarity nagging at the back of his head and the pull tugging on something deep in his soul. The incoherent whispers don't stop as he reaches down and grabs the cat by the scruff of the neck. It hisses again, baring its fangs at him, before he quickly wrenches its head around until it pops. 

Time resumes once again and the lights return to normal. The sounds of the audience jeers and howls rise back up and the feeling is gone. 

"Good show, good show! A killer to the core that one!" Mr. Game's voice rings out. "At least our aspiring crime lord can do one thing right. His dear papa would be so proud!"

Zarius glares at Mr. Game's stupid mocking face. "Be glad this cage is protecting you." He hisses.

The crowd laughs and Oooooohs.

"Touchy. Anyway, let's move on to the next exciting round of-"

"Do! Or! Die!"

Veliky is lucky to have the sneering noise of the crowd to blot out the sounds of Zarius' sins. Raguel must be ashamed. 'I would've been wasting mana' will be her excuse, but she knows her celestial teacher won't listen.

She knows it's safe to peer when she hears the cage's portcullis rise. Fortunately, no remnants remain of the mewling cats to witness. The barrier between the first and second cages - their only path forward - has opened.

Veliky turns to Zarius. Remorseless, even after the horrors he just committed. If only she could borrow that lack of hesitation, that tactful barbarousness, the demands of Raguel's heaven might not be so crushing. Someday.

"I'm not seeing much way out of this, yet. Come on. If you've got a god, pray they don't ask for more impressions."

The second cage is almost identical to the first: same black-iron bars, same perforated grating, same inescapable eyes, same narcissistic host.

"Round two! Fantastic, and already farther than last year's contestants. Now that was a learning experience! Who knew a mortal could survive so long without a torso?" he asks in the most sarcastic, casual way possible.

The portcullis crashes down behind them, showering Veliky and Zarius with sparks. Far from an oversight, it's clearly an intentional inconvenience.

Veliky and Zarius, now standing closer to their quarry, can see his looming, thin form more clearly. His movements are like the clattery whims of a marionette: stiff, yet loose. They also catch brief glimpses of vestigial faces on the other sides of his head: porcelain masks showing a plethora of fake emotions.

"Now, you all know what time it is. Let's hear some dares, what's our Ashen Lad's shame today?"

Once again, outlandish desire are voiced among the infernal creatures.

"Kill the little one!"

"Dip 'im in chocolate!"

"Take off the bandages!" The catcall comes not from the audience, but from the sultry, red-haired succubus onstage. Her dare seems almost redundant, given how voraciously she's undressing the tiefling with her eyes. Her forked tail swishes and coils suggestively.

"Oooh!" Mr. Game's intrigue is parroted in an infinite spectrum by the abominable crowd. "A dare from in-house! Alright, Zarius, you heard the lady. It's only a bit of skin, right? So, will you Do? Or will you die?"

While the request itself is scathingly objectifying, the implications are far more dire. Right now, the costume is Zarius' only source of power. Who knows what he would lose in baring it all?