Lord Canning knew the nightmare wolf had been sent to assess the situation inside the camp. Its very presence was a declaration of strategic intent—a scout sent to gauge their strength and vulnerabilities.
The nightmare wolf was the result of a Tier 7 fusion spell that combined darkness magic with a beast transformation spell. Specifically, it was modeled after a large British-Columbia wolf. Normally, the transformation spell granted the wolf invisibility—a skill that rendered it unseen to the naked eye but not impervious to detection. Mages with heightened magical senses could perceive its presence, those with sharp noses could catch its scent, and anyone physically reaching out could still feel it.
The fusion with darkness magic elevated the transformation, granting the creature the "Void" ability. This spell temporarily rendered the wolf nonexistent, placing it in a liminal space where it couldn't attack or be attacked—except by magic tied to light or darkness. The void ability also allowed the wolf to pass through solid objects, though it had a limitation: upon returning to the material realm, no physical object could intersect its body.
Balduino, now the nightmare wolf, moved through Lord Canning and Menzine undetected. The creature phased through the camp gate, entering without disturbing it.
Inside the void, the wolf's vision changed. The world became an expanse of stark whiteness, with thin black outlines tracing the edges of objects. As it entered the campsite, outlines of human bodies littered the ground—testaments to the carnage wrought by Canning's arrival. At the center of the camp, Balduino noticed the outline of a girl standing amidst the chaos.
When he moved closer, the girl suddenly jumped back several paces, her eyes darting around as though searching for something.
"Could she sense me while I'm in the void?" Balduino wondered, his hackles instinctively rising.
The void spell dissipated, and the nightmare wolf emerged, fully visible. Balduino's towering, smoke-wreathed form now loomed over the girl. Annabeth's expression shifted subtly—a flicker of surprise, but not fear.
The wolf hesitated, staring at her, as if unsure of its next move now that it had encountered someone still alive within the camp.
Annabeth tilted her head, her arms extending sideways in a casual yet provocative stance. "What?" she rudely asked, her voice steady and mocking. Her posture radiated confidence—a taunting "come at me, bro" challenge that filled the air with tension.
***
Outside the campsite, a tense standoff hung in the air, neither side making a move. Lord Canning guessed the bandits were waiting for their scout to return before taking any action. Confident that Annabeth could keep the nightmare wolf occupied, he decided to have a bit of fun at the expense of the weaker bandits.
With a subtle motion of his hand, he vanished from sight. The Tier 7 mages, who had been standing with smug expressions moments earlier, began retreating in panic. Their bravado crumbled as fear took hold—they had no idea where their enemy might strike next. One of them even teleported onto the roof of a wagon, abandoning his companions entirely.
Noma sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes at the display. These men, she thought, were utterly pathetic.
Of the group, only Noma and Sazar remained unfazed. Both stood their ground, unmoving, as they scanned the area. Sazar, despite his imposing figure, could clearly sense the powerful magical energy emanating from the two enemies. He didn't need to see Lord Canning to know he hadn't moved.
"Calm down, you idiots," Sazar barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "He's still standing by the gate!"
The bandits relaxed slightly, laughing nervously as they exchanged uneasy glances. Their momentary relief was short-lived. The mage on the wagon suddenly toppled to the ground—his head missing.
The group erupted into chaos. Weapons were drawn, spells readied, and panicked whispers filled the air. Even Sazar and Noma stiffened, their confidence shaken. A faint, chilling sensation brushed over the tops of their heads, though they dismissed it, unaware it was the lingering trace of a magical attack.
Noma quickly assessed the situation, concluding their foe was a formidable ice mage. Without hesitation, she began conjuring her Tier 8 field spell, Desert Sun.
A massive sphere of fire ignited twenty meters above her, flooding the surroundings with blistering heat. The oppressive aura of Desert Sun amplified fire magic and dampened water and ice spells, sapping the air of moisture. Plants withered, and the parched earth cracked under the spell's influence.
The reduction in water vapor disrupted Lord Canning's invisibility. His intricate mirroring spell relied on the interplay of water and light to bend the visual field, rendering him unseen. By manipulating light to reflect what lay behind him and projecting it through a series of thin water surfaces, he created an effective illusion of invisibility.
However, with the air dry and his water-based spell nullified, the mirage broke, and he reappeared.
"Hahaha!" Canning laughed, clearly unfazed. "Well done, Noma. You actually managed to break my spell, though I'd say it was more luck than skill."
"Indeed, sir," Menzine chuckled, his tone casual.
Canning's gaze drifted to Noma, taking note of her dual swords and the fire dancing along their blades. A smirk tugged at his lips. "I think she's a swordswoman. Care to test her out?"
Menzine's face lit up, unable to hide his excitement. Swordsmen like him lived for duels against worthy opponents.
"I'd be honored, master," he said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head in gratitude.
"Get up already!" Canning scolded, waving a hand dismissively. "I've told you before, none of that formality nonsense."
"My apologies, my lord," Menzine said, grinning as he rose.
The joy on his face was unmistakable. No amount of rebuke could dampen his anticipation.
"Menzine, you're grinning like an idiot—and you're drooling," Canning teased, laughing heartily.
Menzine laughed along, his spirits unshaken.
The bandits, meanwhile, bristled with anger at their enemies' mockery. They yearned to retaliate, but the sight of their comrade's swift execution made them hesitate. Glancing nervously at Noma and Sazar, they waited for their leaders to make the first move.
Finally, Sazar and Noma began advancing, the others trailing behind. Though their steps were heavy with dread, the bandits clung to the hope of revenge.
As they neared, Sazar's mind churned with questions about his adversaries. He hadn't anticipated being the one questioned first.
"Are you Lord Sazar, the owner of this place?" Lord Canning asked, his tone casual yet cutting.
"Hmm... I am. Who's asking?" Sazar replied, his curiosity piqued.
"Let's just say you've got an overdue bill," Canning said, his smile turning sharper. "And I'm here to collect."
"Oh? And who sent you? What exactly are you collecting?" Sazar asked, the literal meaning of Canning's words eluding him.
"The devil," Canning replied, his smile twisting into something dark and malicious. He cracked his knuckles, the sound reverberating ominously. "And I'm here for your soul.