The man in white snorted, his voice a low rasp. "Take me for a fool? Even if I crawled back with you, do you think that *bastard* possesses an antidote for the UNDYING VENOM? Or have you forgotten? It's the pinnacle of poisons. There IS NO CURE!" His voice cracked with venom stronger than the toxin coursing through his veins. "And even if he did, crawling back to grovel before that monster? I'd rather feast on his heart and drink his blood. My only regret is how blind I was until the end." He gestured dismissively. "Go. For the sake of the years you served… run. Reaper Eleven lies dead. Will you join him as restless ghosts?"
Frozen in place, Dunce finally got a clear look at the figures. All wore dark hoods and face masks, their features hidden, even the pale-skinned leader they called the Hades. When Dunce heard the name "Undying Venom," his breath hitched. That poison was legendary in Gorith's research notes – the one truly unsolvable mystery. Just weeks ago, Gorith had lamented his inability to properly study it. Known only to the vaults of the Imperial capital of the Skygold Dominion, reserved for silencing troublesome nobles, it was priceless and terrifyingly rare. A single drop diluted could slaughter half a city. Its victims could only delay the inevitable, wasting their life force to suppress the toxin. Once exhausted, their very bones liquefied into putrid blue sludge.
Slay One stepped forward, his voice grim but steady. "Sir… Hades. We respect you. None of us truly knew the man beneath the mask, but your Nether Sword… no one alive can match its shadow. I, Slay One, stake my name: few in all the lands can stand against you." He paused, his masked gaze sharp. "But even your might can't hold the Venom back forever. With most of your power spent containing it, how long can you truly last? Without the Nether Sword unleashed… can you truly end us all?" He shifted tactics. "You're right. There's no antidote. But *together*, pooling our strength? We could help you hold it at bay… for years. Why throw away your life? Whatever happened between you and the Grandmaster… it's not our place to know. Our only mission is to bring you back." His voice hardened. "You know the Grandmaster's temper. Failure… yields punishments worse than death."
A sigh, bleak and final, escaped the Hades. "Stubborn fools… so be it. Mercy ends." With deceptive calm, he slammed his massive five-foot broadsword into the earth, half its length vanishing into the loam. His right hand rose slowly, resting against his chest beneath the robes, eyes locking onto the eleven Reapers.
That simple motion sent a jolt of primal terror through the assassins. As one, they scrambled back three paces, thin-bladed swords snapping up. Raw fear flickered in their visible eyes. They knew the harbinger's gesture.
"Think the Venom strips me of my blade?" the Hades rasped, his voice colder than glacial ice. "You force my hand."
"Hold!" Slay One choked out. "Hades… can you truly still wield it?"
A low hum vibrated from the white-clad figure. Then, an explosion. Not of sound, but of *malice*. A wave of soul-numbing, freezing evil erupted from him, engulfing the clearing. Ancient trees of the Riverwood shivered violently; the susurrus of leaves became pained groans.
Dunces' blades flared with various hues of combat aura – reds, yellows, blues – bracing against the encroaching shadow.
Dunce gasped, the invasive cold and vileness seeping into his very pores. He shuddered violently. *This man… a demon made flesh!* The overwhelming, suffocating evil filled the world, dragging Dunce towards a scream. Then, warmth bloomed deep within him – a gentle, resilient force he didn't know he possessed. It surged outwards, pushing back the invading darkness. He sagged, gasping, the phantom chill replaced by comforting heat.
As one, the Reapers surged forward, blades ignited with lethal brilliance, stabbing towards the Hades's heart.
"NETHER FLASH — HEAVEN… EARTH… TREMBLE!" The Hades's form dissolved into a terrifying blur. His body vanished in a phantom flicker. From that ephemeral point, a terrifying, concentrated void of evil *detonated*, centered on a single, ephemeral point of deepest, coldest blue.
Evil surged, consumed the assassins' attack, swallowed the clearing whole.
Then, silence. The shadow receded as quickly as it had come. The Hades stood rooted before his embedded sword. Dunces were back in their original positions. For a heartbeat, it seemed like a nightmare that never happened.
*Thud. Thud.* Two bodies crumpled soundlessly to the forest floor. Slay Six and Slay Ten. Withered husks, drained of all life and moisture, their eyes sunken voids staring sightlessly at the mist-draped canopy.
Slay One's voice was a raw scrape, stripped of its former certainty. "You… you… the Nether Sword… the Nether Flash?" The dreadful reality of what he'd witnessed shattered his resolve. The lingering cold pierced his marrow. He wasn't afraid of death – but dying for nothing was a fool's end.
The Hades's hand remained buried within his robes. "A first," he stated flatly. "Witnessing the Nether Flash… and breathing. For the sake of old bonds… go." He gestured weakly towards the corpses. "This… should suffice as your answer. The killing ends today."
Slay One stared at the desiccated corpses of his comrades, then towards the cooling body of Reaper Eleven beside the great sword. Teeth grinding, he snarled, "Take them. Move." He lunged, scooping up Eleven's body. Two others silently retrieved the husks that were Six and Ten. The remaining nine Reapers formed a tight defensive circle, backing slowly, cautiously, until the mists swallowed them whole.
Alone again, the Hades's lips twisted into a bitter grimace. "So… the 'Hades' is reduced to bluffs to survive." He staggered, grasping the broadsword's hilt to prevent a fall. "The Undying Venom… truly lives up to its name. Is this pitiful clearing my end?" His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the damp earth.
Pushing the venom down had demanded everything. Releasing even a fraction to conjure the terrifying *illusion* of the Nether Flash… it had shattered his precarious control. Exhaustion and the creeping, unstoppable poison overwhelmed him.
Dunce blinked, rubbing his eyes. What he'd seen felt impossibly unreal – the sheer, suffocating dread emanating from the injured man. Master Gorith's darkest concoctions felt like hearth smoke next to *this*. Only the undeniable presence of the prone, unconscious figure in white made it real. He never realized the gentle warmth inside him, born of the mysterious Life Rockforce-Origin Fruit, had shielded him from the fatal shockwave of psychic energy that could have shredded his mind.
Swallowing hard, Dunce got shakily to his feet. Step by hesitant step, he approached the fallen swordsman. Curiosity warred with terror. What did the Undying Venom actually *do*? His master Gorith had theorized a way to suppress it… maybe… just maybe he could try?
He reached the man's side, crouching cautiously. The white cowl hid his face; only the eye holes were visible. His body trembled faintly.
*Not dead.* Dunce scrambled back in shock. *Still alive!* The man just lay there, trembling.
*Master Gorith said… strong people can hold the poison off,* Dunce thought frantically. *He must be incredibly strong!* Gorith's notes had described a theoretical suppressant, lamenting he'd never acquired the real poison to test it. *A chance!* Dunce's simple heart surged with purpose. *Help him!*
"Can I… help?" Dunce whispered, more to himself. Gathering courage, he reached out and gently peeled back the white mask.
Beneath was a face both striking and haggard. A lean-jawed, pale visage framed by sharp brows angled like blades. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and a firm mouth were currently twisted in agony. Worse, a faint, sickly blue aura shimmered over his skin, seeming to crawl upward. His jaw was locked tight against pain.
Dunce frowned. This face… it didn't look *evil*. Not like the shadowy figures in black. Those guys felt wrong. This man… he fought to survive! But the way he killed… *so cold*. Still… the urge to try Gorith's method won out. *Master Gorith would want someone to test his idea… right?* He ignored the crucial detail Gorith never managed to confirm: the required immense energy reserves to maintain the suppression once started. He also ignored the potential threat the man posed if he woke furious.
Decision made, urgency kicked in. He tugged at the man's arm, trying to haul him up. *So heavy!* He couldn't budge him more than an inch. Panic flickered. *Can't move him!* He smacked his own forehead. *Dummy! Fix him here!*
Dunce bolted towards the familiar shape of Gorith's log cabin workshop deep in the forest fringe.
Inside, he raced to Gorith's meticulously organized lab. Dunce had memorized the notes years ago. The list for the "Venom Shackle" sprang to mind:
* Argent Core Metal - 3 *taels*
* Crystal Dust - 1 *tael*
* Heartbreak Weed - 0.5 *tael* (Master said it's deadly poison? Half a tael seems a lot… but Master knew best!)
* Refining Frostbone - ? *tael*
* Windbone Grass - ? *tael*…
He meticulously gathered the components into Gorith's small, sturdy crucible, added water, and stirred with a pestle.
He muttered a quick apology to his absent master, "Master Gorith, please don't be mad. Saving a life is good, right?"
"Okay," he breathed. "Here goes nothing." He focused, summoning the remembered incantation. "Fiery spirits that dance in the air! Grant me your burning might! By my call, lend your power! APPEAR, FLAMES OF CREATION!" A gout of blue-tinged flame leaped from his palm. He carefully maneuvered the crucible over the heat.
Hours of practice paid off. Dunce controlled the flame, keeping the heat steady. Soon, the water boiled. Knowing the Argent Core was the stubborn one, he added a pinch of Gorith's invaluable Flux Powder. Still, the metal took its time, nearly an hour to fully meld with the other ingredients into a sizzling slurry.
Sweat soaked Dunce's brow. Sustaining the flame for so long pushed his meager magical reserves to the brink. Finally, the water evaporated, leaving a thick, mercury-like paste. With trembling hands, Dunce poured the mixture into a small, silver ingot mold.
The mold sizzled dangerously when he plunged it into a bucket of water, releasing a cloud of steam. *Okay… done.* He sighed, exhaustion warring with a thrill of accomplishment. Once cooled, he opened the mold. Ten gleaming, metallic silver pellets nestled inside, exuding a faint herbal scent. *Success!* He pocketed one pellet and sprinted back towards the clearing.
His heart sank. The clearing was empty. The man in white… gone. Even the massive sword had vanished. Dunce stood frozen, bewildered.
*Clink.* Cold steel kissed his neck. An impossibly heavy weight settled on his shoulder, pinning him in place. A chill voice breathed in his ear, "Identify yourself."
Dunce instinctively tried to turn. The pressure on his shoulder increased brutally, slamming him face-first to the ground. The broad tip of a massive sword pressed against his chest. The Hades stood over him. "I said: Identify yourself." He'd regained consciousness just after Dunce initially fled. Sensing another presence but powerless to move, he'd bided his time. After Dunce left, he'd managed to leverage the last shreds of his control to extract his sword and hide. The returning boy – skinny, young, radiating no threat, only excitement – lowered his guard fractionally.
"M-m-my name is M-Dunce," Dunce stammered from the dirt.
*Dunce? Is that some mocking alias?* "Why are you here? Where did you go?"
"I live close! I was making the medicine! You have the Undying Venom! You need help!" Dunce blurted.
The Hades stiffened. "What? You can *cure* the Undying Venom?"
Dunce shook his head frantically. "No cure! My Master… Master Gorith… had an idea. A way to trap it! Lock it inside!"
A flicker of hope died instantly. Kill-hunger flared in the Hades's eyes. "You heard us. Why intervene? You serve the Grandmaster?" Though weakened, crushing this child's life remained trivial.
Dunce blinked up at him, uncomprehending the lethal intent, only the question. "Does… does helping someone need a reason?"
The Hades paused. *Innocent? Idiot? Or the best cover I've ever seen?* He was at his absolute limit; the sword's weight alone made his arm tremble. A gamble seemed preferable to inevitable collapse. "You possess the suppressant? You're certain?"
Dunce shook his head again, bluntly honest. "First time making it. Master showed me how to make other things though. Master Gorith is the best alchemist! I followed his notes exactly."
*Alchemist. Gorith.* The names meant nothing. Likely *not* affiliated with the Order. The Hades let the sword drop with a heavy thud beside them. "Very well. I'll trust… for now. The pellet. Give it to me." *If it's a trick… death comes quickly regardless.*
"O-okay." Dunce fumbled the silver pellet from his pocket and handed it over.
The Hades examined it skeptically. Heavy. Metallic. *Ingestible?* "This… is the medicine?"
Dunce nodded earnestly. "Yes! Master's notes say it only works for really strong people. You swallow it. The metal traps the poison inside it! But… you gotta keep it floating inside you with your energy! Else the poison leaks out slow-like. It doesn't kill it, just… puts it in a cage."
The explanation, crude but logical, tilted the scales. *Worth a shot.* He popped the pellet into his mouth and swallowed, grimacing at the heavy, metallic slide down his throat. He sat cross-legged on the damp earth.
Dunce added hastily, "Oh! Master's notes say… you gotta use your energy to pull all the poison towards the pellet once it's down!"
The Hades closed his eyes, focusing his depleted power. Skepticism warred with desperation. Then… *wonder*. The chaotic, ravenous poison *obeyed*. It slithered away from his vital organs, drawn like iron filings towards the metallic core within him, coalescing into a single, contained knot of lethal corruption. Instinctively, he wrapped his own potent energy around the cluster – suppressing the pellet, reinforcing the cage, preventing the slow leak Dunce described. He felt the weight settle internally – nearly *half* his total power would be permanently bound now, maintaining this inner prison. But the suffocating pressure of the Venom… *lifted*.
He opened his eyes, breathing deeply. Color had returned to his pallor. The unnatural blue tint was gone.
Dunce leaned forward, eyes wide. "Well? Did Master's idea work?"
A flicker of something almost like gratitude touched the Hades's stern features. "Contained. For now. My thanks, boy." The admission felt foreign on his tongue.
Dunce beamed, a wide, guileless smile. "Good! Good! Master would be happy! Remember… gotta keep the pellet floatin' inside! Poison leaks bad!" He scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off. "Gotta go! Master's workshop is a mess! Gotta clean before he gets back. Doesn't like visitors much." He turned, ready to vanish back into the mist-shrouded forest.
"Hold." The Hades's command stopped Dunce mid-step. "Dunce, was it?" The Hades pushed himself to his feet, feeling steadier than he had in days, though significantly weakened. A debt unsettled rankled. His pride demanded it. He also needed to understand *why* this child hadn't been crippled by the Nether Sword's aura. "You intervened. Name a reward." It was a test as much as an offer.
Dunce blinked, pondering seriously. "Umm… well… maybe… kill fewer people? Even bad guys… dead people can't enjoy warm bread?" His simple morality offered the only 'price' he could think of.
The Hades almost smiled, a rare ghost of amusement. "And how did you decide *they* were 'bad guys' and *I* deserve rescue? Did I look… trustworthy?"
Dunce scratched his head. "Dunno. Just… felt wrong, those shadows. You… looked like someone caught in a trap? But… the way you ended them…" He shivered involuntarily. "…felt like winter grabbing your soul."
The Hades's sharp gaze snapped back to Dunce. "You were nearby? During the confrontation? You felt the Aura?" His own power resonated subtly, probing. "No ill effects? No pain?" That was deeply unsettling.
"Nope!" Dunce shrugged. "Felt cold. Then… warm inside." He edged towards the trees. "Really gotta clean Master's stuff. Bad if he finds a mess."
"Then," the Hades cut in, leaning slightly on his massive sword hilt for balance, his tone deliberately softer but still carrying command, "offer me shelter. Just to recover. My strength is bled dry by this cage." He gestured vaguely towards his abdomen. "I need food. Rest. To rebuild what little energy I have left to sustain it. Without it…" He trailed off meaningfully, eyeing the fog where his pursuers had vanished. "…those *bad guys* might return before I can leave this forest. My debt to you would be short-lived indeed."
Dunce hesitated. Bringing a stranger, especially *this* intense stranger, back to Gorith's sanctuary felt dangerous. But the man's expression looked drawn, the threat plausible. The idea of failing *after* saving him felt wrong. "…Okay," Dunce conceded. "But just to rest! You gotta go when you're strong enough! Master might be back soon. Doesn't like… guests."
"Rest. Then I depart. My word," the Hades stated. This cabin, this alchemist's lair… it intrigued him. A potential haven. And the mystery of the boy remained unsolved. He needed to see this place.
Dunce led the way through the misty woods, back to the surprisingly sturdy cabin nestled within the protective wards Gorith had woven. The Hades paused, taking in the sight. Not just hidden, but *warded*. Cleverly. Impressively so. "This place… your Master is no common hedge-wizard. That ward matrix… elegant work." The appreciation was genuine.
"Master Gorith is super smart," Dunce agreed proudly. "Tired? There's a bed inside. Can get you food later? Sleep helps."
The Hades simply nodded and followed Dunce into the simply furnished cabin. He wasted no time, sitting heavily on the indicated cot and sinking into a deep meditative trance. Days of terror, pain, and near-death had taken their toll. He needed to anchor himself, to rebuild the fractured foundations of his power.
Dunce quietly retreated, returning soon with a basket of dew-kissed fruits from the orchard. He left them near the silent figure on the bed and slipped out, closing the door softly. A wave of profound satisfaction washed over him. *He helped! Master Gorith's plan worked!* He quickly tidied the lab, restoring every flask and tool to its precise spot, erasing all evidence of his experiment. Then, outside in the fading light, he practiced his spells – tiny, harmless jets of flame sputtering from his palms.
Drained by the magic and the day's events, Dunce slumped onto the cabin's rough-hewn porch steps, leaning against the sun-warmed wood. The quiet hum of the warded forest, coupled with his exhaustion, pulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A hand, firm but not unkind, shook his shoulder. "Dunce. Wake up."
Dunce groaned, blinking blearily against the twilight gloom. The man in white, the Hades, stood over him. He looked… different. Sharper. The gaunt exhaustion lessened, the unnatural pallor gone. The oppressive aura was tightly leashed, though an undercurrent of restrained power remained.
"Huh? M-Riverer Hades? You feel better?"
A curt nod. "I do. You were exhausted. Mystic Night has fallen. Tandor't sleep out here." His voice retained its low rasp, but lacked the murderous chill from earlier.
Dunce scrambled up, joints stiff. The air had grown cool and damp with mist. "Oh! Dark already. Yeah. Sleep inside better." He'd intended to send the man on his way as soon as he recovered, but the enveloping darkness and dense fog made navigating the Riverwood impossible. One night. Then he'd leave. Dunce pushed open the cabin door and shuffled inside, the day's weight pressing heavily on his small frame. The presence of the dangerous, quiet man in the other room made the familiar cabin feel strange and charged.