Fallen Mage Regressor

Every part of Mal's body hurt. By tomorrow, he'd be a patchwork of bruises. He instinctively pushed himself up and banged his head against a church pew.

He groaned.

Screw this. Why do I do this to myself?

He took another sniff of the air. Arsenic, again. The scent was almost completely gone, but it was unmistakable.

I really hope that I'm wrong about this.

Mal forced himself to his feet and wiped some of the dirt and sweat off his forehead with the back of his palm. Opposite to him, the cultist did the same, then strode out to Cornelias's side.

The cultist glanced back at the cup. Mal had ended up at the front, near the entrance, on the opposite side of where the cup was.

"It seems you've played yourself," Cornelias said. "Really, this whole duel was something of a stupid idea. There was no way you'd be able to wear us down. In a battle of attrition, my spell makes me king."

Both Cornelias and the cultist stepped backward, eyes on Mal the whole time. Mal watched them with an impassive gaze. They stepped backward.

Mal smirked.

Cornelias's eyes shot open. The next second, the bricks on the ground collapsed underneath them.

To their credit, they reacted quickly. Cornelias dived forward and grabbed the edge of the artificial cliff, while the cultist had outright managed to clear it and was standing on the edge.

"Finish them off, Hemp."

She was like a crack of lightning in a stormless night. The cultist snapped their head around—

But it was too late. Hemp's dagger poked out from the cultist's stomach.

The cultist tumbled to the side, just barely missing the pit.

Hemp very purposefully and very slowly walked up right next to Cornelias and peered down at him.

"Wait, wait—"

Hemp stomped her foot into Cornelias's fingers. Cornelias cried out and let go, and he tumbled to the bottom of the pit. A loud thud echoed out like a thunderclap.

"You know, we were worried that you'd be able to summon a barrier even in a situation like this," Hemp said. "But you were so panicked you couldn't even think of it. You're really not suited for combat at all, are you?"

Cornelias groaned. He pushed himself up only to slip on a black liquid.

"What the hell is this?" he said.

Mal walked up to Hemp's side. "Did you manage to find the others?"

Hemp shook her head. "I tried, but couldn't. We'll have to go to plan B."

This was what Hemp had been doing prior to the fight. Hemp had wanted to assist Mal—but Mal was worried that there might be contingencies or safeguards that Cornelias had set up, to where after a certain period of time, the people in his experiments would be killed.

So this was the compromise. Hemp would search around the city while Mal waited for Cornelias to arrive. And then, Hemp would show up to help at a designated time, when Mal approximated Cornelias would arrive.

Cornelias's breath turned ragged. "You know that there's no way you'll be able to do anything, right? If your plan is to starve me of air, I've prepared for that contingency. I have a wind spell to keep me alive."

"Good to know. We had that as an alternative in case this didn't work."

Cornelias paled. Hemp threw a torch into the pit. Cornelias's barrier lit up with a flash and the torch bounced off it and into the wall.

As soon as it hit the black liquid, it lit up the oil into a roaring flame.

"You see, Cornelias," Mal said. "There was one thing about your so-called invincible shield that had me a little confused."

Cornelias hacked from the smoke. His face turned red and sweat built up across his forehead.

"Despite your little reverse void trick, we were still able to see you. I hadn't thought of it, but then today, as I was thinking of how to get past your barrier, it was the only thing I could think about."

Cornelias took off his shirt and frantically rubbed the sweat off his arms.

"In theory, your spell is perfect," Mal said. "In practice, you were too lazy to go the full mile. Or maybe you were egotistical enough that you thought it didn't matter, and that the value of being able to see your opponents was worth it. Either way, you left a hole in your defenses. Light was able to pass through your barrier, which meant that other things, if they were small enough, would be able to do the same."

Cornelias's breath came in quick, pained gasps. "You think this barrier is the only thing I have? I am—"

He hacked and coughed further. He tried to raise his arm and Mal could see faint traces of mana going into his body—only for it to sputter out when Cornelias coughed again.

"And now, your concentration is shot." Mal slipped his hands into the pockets of his robes. "Even if you knew how to modify your barrier spell, it doesn't matter. You have too little combat experience to be able to maintain that kind of focus, and that's assuming that you even know or are capable of doing a true Nullomancy barrier."

Silence. The smoke streamed upward, out of the pit and built up at the top of the church roof.

"Fine!" Cornelias shouted. "You've got me beat. What do you want?!"

"We want a location," Hemp said. "Where are they? Where are my friends?"

"Let me out of this pit—" a wheezing cough. "And I'll tell you!"

"Their location, Cornelias," Mal said.

"If you don't let me out, they're going to die! They're going to starve to death in a room underneath a house because nobody is coming for them!"

Hemp's expression cracked. Mal put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

The crack disappeared, filled in by steel.

"A location, Cornelias," Mal said.

Cornelias screeched, then frantically sprouted off an address. It was close. Hemp would be able to get there in a minute.

"Hemp is going to verify it," Mal said. "And if they're there, we might consider letting you go—"

"Wait!"

Hemp stopped right when she was about to move.

"There isn't—" Cornelias's voice halted, then picked up in speed. "I—you don't understand, there are other factors, it's—"

And the mystery deepens, Mal thought.

"What is it, Cornelias?" Mal said.

"There are no survivors!" Cornelias shouted.

Hemp's eyes widened.

"But that's impossible!" Hemp said. "I saw them! They were right there!"

"It was an illusion!" Cornelias shouted. "That idiot bleeding out on the ground is an illusionist—it was all a plan from the start!"

Hemp was silent for a few seconds. Mal watched her to see what she'd do.

She turned to Mal and nodded.

"..I think he's telling the truth."

Mal shrugged. "Then let's go."

"Wait, what about me?" Cornelias said.

Mal picked up the dead cultist by the scruff of their hood and walked toward the entrance of the church. Behind them, Cornelias's hacks continued, desperate screams filled the air.

A loud boom. The screams fell silent.

Outside of the church, it had long since turned dark. There was nothing but the faint chirp of birds and the sound of wind whistling through the empty alleyways.

Mal dropped the cultist body to the ground. He grabbed the beak of the mask, then tugged it up.

Mal stared at the face.

It was nobody. Some random stranger that he'd never met before. It was a face so utterly benign and normal that if Mal had seen him in a crowd, Mal probably wouldn't have been able to place it even with a picture for reference.

Mal dropped the mask to the ground and shook his head.

"Guess that's it then," he muttered.

He faced toward Hemp.

"So, how're you feeling?" Mal said.

Hemp looked back at the church with a strange expression.

"It's strange," she said. "I'm disappointed that they weren't alive, but I'm also relieved that everything is finally over. I can put my past behind me and move on."

She chuckled and slung both of her arms behind her head. Her smile was crooked, half-formed.

"Deep down," she said. "I think I knew that he was lying. It was just that I couldn't deny what my eyes had seen."

"Even the finest of wizards have been fooled by illusion spells," Mal said. "It's a difficult thing to expect."

Vigil was far stronger than a lesser demon, but in the original timeline, he was taken down by such a creature. The element of surprise really couldn't be underestimated.

"So I guess the job's finished,," Hemp said. "Which means our contract is up."

"Right, you'll be needing the full payment, then."

Mal reached out, reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins. He held them out to Hemp. She stared at the gold for a few long seconds, then brought her hand up and clenched her fingers around the pile. She brought it back toward her and slipped it into her own pocket.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around," Hemp said. "Call me up when you need another job done."

"Wait."

She'd halfway turned to walk away when she stopped.

"Hemp, I'd like to offer you a position in my household."

Hemp's neck snapped back toward him, cheeks flushed a bright, vivid red.

"Wait, wait, I was only teasing you back at the bakery, and besides, I'm not ready for something that long term, marriage is a big deal—!"

"Marriage? I wanted to make you my spymaster. What are you talking about?"

Hemp blinked, and the red flush faded away. She coughed into her hand, eyes shifted to the side.

"Right, I knew that." She looked back at him. "A spymaster? What does that mean?"

"I'm the son of a duke," Mal said. "I'll need trusted people to serve in various roles as I manage my estate, when I inherit it from my father. One of those roles is that of a spymaster. We haven't had one in a while, and I'd like you to take that role."

"What exactly would that look like?"

"When I need somebody to do skullduggery, you're the person I come to. If I need something stolen, you'd be at my beck and call for that purpose."

He paused. "But really for most of the time, you'd just be getting free money whenever I don't need you for anything."

"Oh, free money? Just for existing?"

A familiar gleam flashed in her eye. Her fingers waved in the air and she rubbed her palms together, cheeks back to that flushed red and a devious smile on her face.

"Let's go ahead and talk salary," she said.

After much negotiation, the two came to an agreement that both of them seemed happy with.

"Then that settles it," Mal said.

He held out his hand.

Hemp looked at it, then rolled her eyes.

"Come here, you big lug."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him in toward her. Her hands reached up and wrapped around his waist.

Mal froze stiff, then reached out and did two awkward pats on the back of on her back.

A scoff.

"You have all the emotional intelligence of a golem." She stepped back and crossed her arms. "Seriously, learn how to give a decent hug, will you?"

"I'll line that up on my list of subjects to study."

Her grumpy scowl gave way to a smirk. Mal smiled back at her.

Normally, Mal would have thought to himself about what a terrible person he was for doing this. But for some reason, that familiar voice of self-loathing was nearly absent.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought. Perhaps this helps her just as much as it helps me?

With the cultist mole dead and Cornelias buried six feet under, there was only one problem left to deal with.

Midterms.

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