Watching the shadows creep further inwards as the sun set, Rio placed down the quill on her desk. Noah had long disappeared, something about the dire knight misusing Sunchaser money, Rio hadn't really been listening when the assistant left in such a hurry. Besides, the templar had her own problems to deal with.
"How did you get past the guards?" Asked the templar, her eyes narrowed on the figure standing against the far wall, their figure shrouded in darkness, "Most assassins would wait for me to at least leave the fortress..."
The figure was unmoving, but Rio could feel it sizing her up, looking for any gaps in her guard. Eventually the shadow spoke in an oddly familiar voice, "Assassin? Why would you think that? I haven't done anything wrong at all!"
Rio's calm smile wavered for just a moment. The question hung in the air, almost like the figure truly believed their behaviour wasn't suspicious at all. In fact the familiar tone was jovial and innocent, like it was a child speaking, unburdened by sin.
That was until the voice added, "Oh but I am here to kill you... So I suppose I am an assassin."
Rio's smile dropped. Watching the shadow step out of the darkness, the figure revealed herself with the grace of a practised fighter. Her footsteps were light and soft, yet contained strength far beyond what should be possible. The figure's eyes were a pretty golden brown, and yet the atmosphere they gave off was far from beautiful, in fact Rio would describe it as twisted.
But this heavy aura the woman generated wasn't why Rio's expression grew serious, it was because she had realised why the voice was familiar. The templar felt her heart grow cold when faced with the tanned woman.
"Netra..." Said Rio nervously, "I was under the impression that I killed you all those years ago,"
Netra paused, her head tilting in thought. "My name was Netra? So then when I called myself Niva..." The ex-Scorch knight smiled. "I can't believe I got my own name wrong, How embarrassing!"
Rio frowned. This woman in front of her was definitely Netra, but there was something wrong with her. The old Netra was aloof and cold however this one was the opposite, every time she spoke it was with exaggerated emotion, it reminded Rio of when actors would try to play up their emotions in performances in order to cover their tepid skills.
"I see," Said Rio, "I did kill you that day, you've come back as an undead."
Netra sighed, almost wistfully, and lifted a hand to her face. With a slow, deliberate motion, she wiped away the illusion that shrouded her features. The golden-brown eyes that once gleamed with warmth melted away, replaced by a dull, eerie crimson—an unmistakable mark of the undead.
Rio tensed, though she didn't begin casting yet. This was confirmation of what she already suspected, but seeing it with her own eyes made the truth settle uncomfortably in her gut.
"Ah, there we go," Netra murmured, stretching her arms above her head. "No need for the act anymore, right?"
Rio remained silent, watching closely as Netra—or Niva, as she called herself—examined her own hands, flexing her fingers as if still adjusting to the body she now possessed.
"You know," the undead woman continued, voice light and conversational, "when I first woke up, I didn't even know my own name. My mind was just… fragments. Like someone had taken a hammer to a mirror and left me to piece it back together with shaking hands."
Her expression remained cheerful, but there was something deeply unsettling about the way she described it.
"I didn't have anything to go off of. No past, no purpose, no real sense of self beyond scattered emotions. But there was one thing. One single, solid truth that I could cling to in all the mess."
She took a step closer, and Rio finally reached for the dagger strapped to her belt. Netra—Niva—didn't react. She only smiled wider, a sharp, predatory edge creeping into her expression.
"That name," she said, her voice dipping into something cold. "Your name."
Rio didn't blink. "And what did my name tell you?"
Niva let out a breathy laugh, the sound bordering on manic. "Rage. That's all I had. A vague, festering wrath at the name Rio. I didn't even know why at first. I just felt it, deep in my bones." She rolled her shoulders, as if shaking off an old stiffness. "So I had to figure things out myself. Had to dig, had to remember. It took a long time. But eventually…"
Her gaze darkened, the amusement fading just enough for something far more sinister to take its place.
"Eventually, I remembered you."
Rio felt something shift in the air between them, a charged, invisible tension stretching thin like a bowstring drawn taut.
She exhaled slowly. "And now that you remember?"
Niva tilted her head, mockingly thoughtful. "I think I should kill you."
The Sickle in Niva's hand gleamed as she shifted her weight, preparing for the inevitable.
"I figured as much," Rio said flatly.
Niva lunged.
With a flick of her wrist, Rio raised her hand, sending out a pulse of gravity magic. The air around her shimmered, and the ground beneath Netra's feet suddenly became heavier, pulling at her in unnatural ways. The force wasn't enough to stop the charge entirely, but it did slow her down, just enough for Rio to move.
Niva grinned, her movements unimpeded by the gravity shift as she swept her sickle through the air, the blade cutting a thin line in the space between them. The templar frowned, her instincts warned her that their was more to the sickle than was seen. She had to end this quickly.
She twisted her hand again, and gravity around Niva shifted once more—this time, in the opposite direction. With a sharp crack, the force sent Niva hurtling backward, slamming into the far wall with enough impact to shake the room.
But within seconds, Niva was already rising, her face a twisted mask of amusement and fury. Her undead body showed no sign of injury, the gash from her collision already healing over, flesh knitting back together with unnatural speed.
Rio's talents stemmed more from just knowing multiple lost magics, the templar had the miraculous ability of casting spells without chanting. All she needed was to flick her wrists to unleash the explosive mana coiling within her. But even then, Niva was moving with speeds that had Rio stressed.
Niva's movements were a blur as she lunged once again, her sickle raised high, its blade gleaming in the dim light of the room. Rio's heart raced, her mind calculating, every muscle poised to react. She couldn't afford to waste time. This fight needed to end now.
With a swift motion, Rio raised her hand, her fingers spread wide. The air crackled with tension, the very atmosphere thickening with her power. She focused her magic, summoning the core of her strength—the Cataclysm.
A fierce, chaotic surge of teal and black lightning erupted from her palm, streaking across the room in a violent flash of raw energy. The crackling bolts of power raced toward Niva with terrifying speed, splitting the air with a sound like the tearing of reality itself.
The undead woman's eyes widened for a brief moment, but she didn't hesitate. She swung her sickle down to deflect the surge, but the lightning wasn't something that could simply be blocked. It shattered everything it touched. The blade of the sickle split apart in an instant, disintegrating into shards that fizzled away into nothingness. Niva herself screamed in agony, her undead body spasming from the violent strike as the lightning tore through her.
The floor beneath her cracked open, furniture splintering and collapsing into the rift of destruction. The walls groaned under the force of the energy, buckling and warping as if the room itself were being torn apart by the cataclysmic strike.
But Niva didn't fall.
She staggered backward, her body blackened and smoking from the lightning, yet still remarkably whole. The charred remnants of her clothes smouldered as her skin, still covered in crimson veins, slowly stitched itself back together. She hissed through clenched teeth, her dull crimson eyes burned with an eerie, lightless gleam.
"I'm impressed," Niva crooned, her voice carrying a new, dark edge, though the glint of madness in her expression only made the words seem more taunting. "But I guess I should expect at least this much from the herald of tomorrow."
Rio didn't bother responding, but instead called out to the world. "I, Rio, bind the natural. Regalia: Mindscape"
Niva's eyes widened in surprise as the templar seemingly materialised in front of her and place a single finger on the undead's forehead.
Niva's body froze. Her eyes, once glowing with eerie crimson light, now began to glaze over. Her entire posture slumped, as if the energy sustaining her undead form was suddenly tethered, anchored by Rio's spell. Her head tilted slightly to the side, lips parted in a silent gasp. Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, her body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.
Mindscape was an insidious weapon. It allowed Rio to manipulate the very soul of another person, which in turn gave her the power to influence memories, emotions and if need be... extinguish the life of her foe.
She staggered backward, the overwhelming fatigue from the battle hitting her all at once. The weight of her own magic made her knees tremble, and her vision blurred for a moment as she collapsed against the nearest wall. She could feel the residual heat from the Cataclysm still crawling through her veins, and the strain of her mindscape manipulation had left her feeling drained, almost nauseous.
She allowed herself a brief moment of weakness—letting her head rest against the wall as she took slow, deliberate breaths. This was just another step. Another trial. She would face whatever came next, but for now, she would allow herself the smallest of pauses.