Chapter 440 (1/2)

Ptolemy felt his vision go black, and suddenly he was somewhere else, away from the battlefield-

The blood seemed to drip right off his hands and into the ground, the Death Cultist he was facing gone. Now, he was standing on a dirt road at the edge of a field of flowers.

“Do you like it here?’ A voice asked, and Ptolemy turned to find Aratta, standing and wearing a blue and yellow sundress. He felt a strange… tenderness towards her, but Ptolemy’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve done this before,” Ptolemy informed her, cursing how polite he was, even now. “My instincts tell me you are a liar. I will not remain here, I have enemies to fight.”

Her laugh was soft, like the rustling of papers in a library, her long, dark hair a rich contrast to her caramel skin. Even now, Ptolemy waivered, thinking about the curves of her, wondering when the last time he had laid with a woman was. But he silenced that.

Ptolemy couldn’t deny his kindness made him vulnerable, in some ways, to this sort of illusion and trickery. But he had not forged himself a position in Donnyton for nothing. Shaking his head sadly, he used the Skill Dispel. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to happen. Ptolemy frowned.

“Ha, this… this is not an illusion, per se. It’s more of… a provided location for the performance of a ritual. Dispelling the location is useless… you need to stop the ritual.” Aratta said matter of factly, stepping towards Ptolemy. “You see… I did not choose to be here, but sometimes my orders aline with my baser needs. I had something very precious taken away from me… and now I use men to fill that gap. Aren’t I a cliche? And now that I have you alone, you will break for me, and-”

“Am I too early? I’d hate for my entrance to be… an inconvenience.”

Both Ptolemy and Aratta turned, to find a man standing there, with a motorcycle helmet over his face.

Aratta smirked. “Dauntless… that’s what you call yourself yes? How nice of you to join us. I’d hoped you wouldn’t be able to resist. It’s almost cute, isn’t it, how Ace thinks his insanity will protect him. Why don’t you also-”

“Break something, yes. And I have just the target in mind.” Dauntless said in his almost monotone voice, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles.

Aratta frowned, her nose crinkling. “I’ll make you regret that.”

Instantly, something in the air changed, and Ptolemy gasped. It was like 1000 hooks that he wasn’t aware of in his skin started pulling in either direction, slowly ripping small chunks of him off. Not only was the pain almost unbearable, but it also spread this thick, grey apathy through him, causing his eyelids to drop steadily downward.

Aratta beckoned them. “Come on then, I need this to be quick. That cunt Alana is chasing me very rapidly. Tsk tsk, she really hid her strength.”

“A pity, I’d hoped you would say that about me.”

The strong, almost blasting voice gave Ptolemy a bit of edge, and he forced his eyes back open. Dauntless walked towards Aratta jauntily, seemingly unaffected by the strange force that she had placed upon Ptolemy. Was he not under the influence of the same thing, or…?

Hissing at Dauntless, Aratta raised her hand and pointed at him. Instantly, the vision of the dirt road by the field shuddered, as the force of her ritual smashed through the transient mental location. Ptolemy groaned, his will buffeted by the collateral forces, and even that was enough to bring him to the brink of unconsciousness. Dauntless simply slowed for a second, then continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Aratta’s frown deepened. “This… is impossible.”

“Only the insane would argue with reality,” Dauntless retorted, stalking closer.

Aratta pursed her lips, then forced out a laugh. “Fine, I underestimated you, so what? What are you going to do about it-”

Crack.

Ptolemy heard and felt it more than saw it because his eyes were slowly unfocusing under the influence of whatever Aratta was doing. But Dauntless’ hand blurred, and suddenly Aratta’s head was knocked backward, her jaw slightly… askew.