August Intruder- Chapter 63- Skin Walker (Patreon)

Darkness was a bearable thing when the only things the light showed were beauties tainted with the underlying threat of monsters that walked with spindly limbs and critters that latched unto you and refused to let you go.

It was also a welcome experience when a man was dying in front of you.

Melmarc forced a trembling hand against Naymond’s lips. Between the both of them, his interface lit up, presenting him with information he already had.

You have used [Vitality of the Drunk]

Come on, he begged. You can’t die.

There was something about the very thought of Naymond dying in front of him. It wasn’t just in the discomfort of watching someone die. There was the discomfort of watching someone he knew die. And, yet, even that was not all of it.

Even though they hadn’t spent much time in the portal together, there was a slightly odd relationship there. Two people who’d survived a portal together, yet alone. They had stuck it out in their own way until help had arrived.

Now that help was here, no matter what anyone thought a man who had doomed him to the mistake of ending up in a portal, Melmarc refused to believe Naymond deserved to go this way.

He felt a single drop of liquid fall from his hand, the skill activating the way he knew. Angling his hand once more, he positioned it so that the next drop would trail a path straight into Naymond’s throat.

Melmarc knew instinctively that it didn’t really matter. If the droplet landed on Naymond’s tongue, the skill would work the same way. But he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t take the chance.

Unlike when he’d helped the woman named Claire, he found himself lacking patience.

The Delvers remained squatted around him. Quiet. Patient. If anyone had anything to say, no one was saying it. To one side of the room the largest of them, Nelson, kept Claire company. Her breathing was paced well, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Color had returned to her face and she was a far cry from the pale woman that had needed saving.

But she was not yet awake.

A gentle hand settled on Melmarc’s shoulder after a third drop of his skill fell into Naymond’s mouth. It was gentle but firm, and it demanded his attention.

“Marc.”

It was a single word. His name said so simply. Yet, it was all the condolence anyone could put in a single word.

Melmarc wasn’t even sure if ‘sorry’ would’ve carried a heavier level of condolence. Still, he was not ready to accept it. He and Naymond weren’t even close enough for him to be receiving condolences on anything regarding him.

He’d given you a place to stay.

It was as if his mind was giving him a reason to accept the condolence. But it was wrong. Even if Naymond died, which he was not willing to accept—not yet—it didn’t change the fact that the portal still needed to be cleared.

And I still need to fight a demi-god.

Melmarc felt his mind tilt at the thought. Importance moved slightly, priorities struggled to realign themselves.

His brows furrowed as he found himself focusing on the here and now. Caldath wasn’t an immediate problem. He was a problem, but he was one that dangled somewhere at the end of the portal…

Hopefully.

“You have to stop,” Clinton’s voice came from behind Melmarc. It was followed by a bright flair of lights coming to life behind them.

From their short journey from the forest to the building, Melmarc had come to think of the man as the leader of the group. For some reason, they’d slapped different Delvers who hadn’t worked together before into a group and sent them into the portal.

That knowledge had Melmarc considering the fact that the Delvers around him had been a rushed job. An emergency plan scrounged up on a last minute act.

Oddly enough, the idea did not worry him. Each man looked like they knew what they were doing.

And while Melmarc had gotten no experience with Claire, he liked to think she knew what she was doing, too.

Which meant that her mastery of [Vitality of the Drunk] had to be significantly stronger than his.

With the thought fresh in his mind, he turned away from Naymond and moved to his feet.

To Clinton, he said, “He’s not dead.”

Clinton nodded kindly. “I never said he was.”

“Good.”

You seem desperate, Melmarc thought as he made his way across the room. The room was illuminated in white and red lights from glowsticks that littered the ground. Each one was brighter than the average glowstick Melmarc knew. The Delvers watched him move until he stood over Nelson and Claire’s unconscious body.

Nelson looked up at him, then down at Claire. He repeated the action twice before turning his attention to Clinton.

Clinton was squatting next to Naymond now. He had replaced Melmarc as if he was keeping the position safe for him.

“It’s fine,” he said in response to Nelson’s unspoken request.

For a moment Melmarc found himself wondering what he would’ve done if the large man hadn’t allowed him do whatever it was that he wanted to do. No answer to came to him.

I guess it’s a good thing it didn’t happen.

Placing his worries aside, Melmarc bent down and tapped Claire gently on the cheek with his hand. When he’d been carrying her she had moved in his arms, adjusted for comfort. That was not the action of someone that was unconscious, it was the action of someone that was asleep.

So now it was time to wake up.

“Miss Claire.” He tapped her a little harder. “Please wake up. Someone needs your help.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jude muttered. “She might still be healing.”

“She’s asleep,” Clinton replied.

Jed was the only one who remained quiet, but he did make his own sounds, filing away at a short military knife. The sharp sound of file against metal slowly filled the air.

Melmarc ignored them and tapped Claire harder. “Miss Claire.”

He felt movement from where Jude was. Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about it because Nelson got to his feet.

Jude groaned in annoyance. “I think it’s a bad idea. The kid’s a healer, he might as well heal the dude. I don’t see why he has to wake our healer up.”

“Because our healer has more experience,” Clinton said, placing a gentle hand on the spade still in Naymond’s neck. His next words were muttered so low it might as well have been to himself. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

Melmarc waited silently, didn’t even pat Claire for fear that he would miss the sound he was waiting for.

Nothing came.

He had never wanted to hear the word ‘dissonant’ in his head so badly than he did right now.

“I say we let the healer rest,” Jude said, adamant.

Nelson rose to his full height now. When he moved, Melmarc noticed that he placed himself between him and Jude.

“Are you always an ass?” Nelson asked, his baritone deep with an unhidden threat. “Is it like a trade mark? You have to be an ass.”

“No,” Jude said. “I’m more of the voice of reason.”

Melmarc could smell a growing chaos. He tapped Claire a little harder. Come on, get up. This is getting out of hand.

A few weeks ago, things getting out of hand would’ve been a very dreadful problem. Now, Melmarc was surprised to find that his mind only interpreted it as a discomfort.

He stopped his hand before it patted Claire on the face again and looked at it. It wasn’t trembling.

What’s happening to me?

Things were threatening to become chaotic and he wasn’t even scared. Experienced Delvers may or may not be about to fight right now.

Claire’s eyelids fluttered. They didn’t open but it looked like they were trying to open. Melmarc hurried to help, tapping her on the face again.

“I was paid to close a portal and get a kid out,” Jude said, his voice matching the threat in Nelson’s. “I’m not going to have my Healer be deprived of getting in top shape just to save a man at death’s door.”

Nelson took a single step towards Jude. “You aren’t the one calling the shots.”

“I don’t work for you.”

Claire’s eyes blinked open and Melmarc sighed in relief. He glanced back, wanting to announce that she was awake and paused.

Jude looked like he was preparing to square up against Nelson. His hand was inches away from his side arm.

What Melmarc found funny, however, wasn’t the fact that grown men, professional Delvers, were about to get into a fight over something silly, it was the fact that he didn’t feel slightly threatened by it.

You’ve faced terrible things.

There was that. But Melmarc suspected that it wasn’t all there was to it. If he was being honest, maybe he was suffering the arrogance of rank. Jude was a C-rank after all.

He also had [Knowledge is Power] to give him some level of safety for a time long enough to survive any immediate chaos.

Melmarc wasn’t sure if it was confidence or arrogance he was getting drawn into.

“Your friend isn’t doing so well.” Claire’s voice was soft, feminine. She sounded like she sang amazing soprano in the choir.

Melmarc kept his eyes on Jude. “I know.”

“Shouldn’t someone be helping him?”

“Someone should.” Melmarc finally looked at her. “But you’re the only healer.”

Brown.

It was the first thing he noticed. Claire had very light brown eyes like the one he often saw on the internet taken under the right amount of lighting. They were interesting eyes, he thought.

“Can you stand?” he asked Claire after a moment.

The response he got was a nod, then she raised her hand to meet him. “Help me up.”

Taking her hand in his, Melmarc got up and pulled her with him. She was lighter than when he’d been carrying her. The moment they were both standing, she took a tentative step back.

“Alright, that’s a lot,” she muttered. “I thought Nelson was the one that was carrying me, but I’m beginning to think it could’ve been you.”

Melmarc didn’t think confirming anything was necessary, after all, she hadn’t really even asked a question.

“You’re one tall kid,” she said, head tilted back so that she could meet his eyes.

Melmarc didn’t mind it. Mostly, when he and Ark met someone new, his height was overshadowed by Ark’s. So people were always more enamored by Ark’ height to take note of Melmarc’s.

Also, people weren’t always so quick to point out their heights. They were usually more polite than that.

“You’re awake.”

Melmarc turned as Claire moved her eyes to the owner of the voice. Clinton remained squatted next to Naymond.

Claire gave him a smile. “Just needed a good sleep.” Then she turned her attention to another part of the room. “I see they still can’t meet eye to eye.”

Clinton chuckled lightly. “That would be the day.”

Nelson and Jude weren’t so eager to go at each others throats anymore. Their animosity was still there, brimming in the air like two wild animals waiting for the other to strike. Melmarc gave it the littlest attention. But even the littlest attention was attention.

Jude, he thought, was going to be a problem. He was very certain of it. And problems within a portal like this needed to be taken care of. Nipped in the bud.

The certainty of his decision stunned him for a moment, so much so that he had to give himself a harsh reminder.

You kill [Damned] not people.

It didn’t make sense that killing bloodless monsters had somehow numbed him to the concept of death. Even those who killed animals for one reason or the other, didn’t go around looking at other people as nothing but sacks of blood, right?

This thought wasn’t as certain.

I’m not killing anybody, he told himself while Claire stood beside him, arms folded over her chest.

Besides, how was he going to kill a professional Delver? A Contractor, at that. A man who fancied himself to be a mercenary.

An answer came to him as easily as one plus one. By striking first and striking fast.

With the rise of the thought, Melmarc felt his mind working through a plan. Like trying to write a test while caught up thinking about the cartoon you were going to watch when you got home, Melmarc found his mind working two jobs.

“Can the both of you stop bickering, please,” Claire said, voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the air. “You’re scaring the kid.”

Delayed by a touch of hesitation, it took a moment before Nelson and Jude turned to look at her. Melmarc wasn’t sure what it said that she was their focus and not him. Then again, there was a popular saying that you didn’t piss of your Healer in a Delving party.

He supposed it had good reason.

Jed raised his head from his knife. “The kid doesn’t look scared, though.”

There was no surprise there. Melmarc didn’t feel scared so it only stood to reason that he wouldn’t look scared.

“Yea,” Jude agreed. “Not even a single bit.”

“Claire,” Clinton said, ignoring everyone else. “If you’d be kind enough as to come and help our dying friend over here, it would be appreciated.”

Claire looked down at herself first, engaging in the task of ignoring others before touching a hand to her neck. Her expression dimmed a little. It was the way an expression dimmed when caught between confusion and an inability to make sense of something.

She looked like she had something to say. But she said nothing. Instead, she walked over to Clinton and bent next to him.

She groaned at the sight of Naymond illuminated by the bright lights from the glowsticks. “He looks like he got the short end of the portal.”

“He’s a [Sage].” Clinton placed a hand on Naymond’s neck, checked his pulse. “He had no business being in a portal without a party. I’m guessing during the time it took for the kid to find us, he got himself into a bit of a mess.”

Claire leaned in, sniffed at the air around Naymond. She touched an injury in his thigh, checked it. Making sure she didn’t touch the [Damned] still attached to Naymond by the shovel in his neck, she stepped over him. On his other side, she stuck two fingers in a deep cut in his side.

Naymond let out a whisper of a pained groan. It was a good thing.

Sometimes people, depending on their path in life, viewed things differently from others. In this moment, Melmarc witnessed the difference between how a Delver looked at a dying man and how a Healer looked at a dying man.

“There’s a mistake somewhere.” Claire opened one of Naymond’s eyes. “These injuries were accumulated over time.”

“Are you certain?” Clinton asked.

Jed had been leaning against the wall where he’d been sharpening his knife. Now he was not. He remained at the wall, but did nothing to put himself in a relaxed position.

Claire nodded. “I’m certain of it. It’s hard to tell since I’m not seeing any signs of aging but some of these did not happen within the last twenty-four hours.”

Naymond’s lips moved gently. From where Melmarc was standing, Naymond looked like he wanted to say something. Struggled with it. Lips moved again, barely shaping themselves before failing again.

“We need to heal him,” Clinton said.

Claire nodded and raised her hand to Naymond’s lips. “Injuries these bad might take a lot out of me. It’s a lot. And life threatening. I’m surprised he’s still alive.”

“What of the shovel?” Clinton asked, reaching for it.

She waved him down. “Leave it. His body will push it out as he heals.”

Jude took a step to his side. “You think that’s a good idea?”

On a normal day, what he was doing would’ve gone past Melmarc. But this wasn’t a normal day. The past few days hadn’t been normal days in any way. And his time in the portal had taught Melmarc to always have an exit.

So he knew when his exit was blocked.

In the room, there was only one other exit left. The window behind Naymond. The one he had used to leave the room to find the Delvers. To go through it, however, was to cause discomfort to Naymond and the Healer.

“You said the injuries are old, right?” Jude asked.

Melmarc’s eyes cut to him. There was something in his voice, something Melmarc had a hard time placing. It was like an underlying effect, there but hidden beneath a lot of falsehood, like a food you had to think and pay attention to in order to find the taste.

“Not necessarily old,” Claire answered, her hand still against Naymond’s lips.

Melmarc couldn’t tell if she had activated [Vitality of the Drunk] yet. If she hadn’t, then it was because of what Jude was saying.

Nelson’s eyes moved to Jude. The action was slow, purposeful. Questioning, even.

“What are you thinking, Contractor?” he asked, voice effectively calm.

Dissonant. The word lit up in Melmarc’s mind.

It meant one thing; it was time to pay attention.

“Skinny,” Jude said.

Melmarc had no idea what the word meant in the current context. Since entering the portal, Melmarc was sure that he and Naymond hadn’t tasted a drop of food, unless Naymond had been eating the critters. And they were fine.

He didn’t think he had lost any weight. Even his clothes still remained relatively clean. Their only blemish was his shoe that was worn out from being used a little too much, the dirt and grime on his clothes from moving around a lot, on the ground, against the wall, clashing into [Damned]. But they didn’t feel old or stretched. The only real problem was the torn front of his top that revealed his chest where there had once been an everlasting purpling bruise.

Naymond was not skinny, and neither was he.

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Jed pointed out.

Again, Melmarc’s mind graced him with a single word.

Dissonant.

Melmarc was missing something. Not something in the room, though. He was fairly certain his mind was putting what was going on in the room together well enough. A little more time and conversations between the Delvers would likely lead him to be sure of what was happening.

What he was missing was in the effect of his thought. Dissonant probably doesn’t just mean lies, right?

“It makes plenty sense,” Jude was saying. “There’s a healer here… Long term.”

His voice was still off, his expression strained as if he was annoyed at himself. It clicked for Melmarc then.

Right now, Jude wasn’t being rude or mean. He was being suspicious. Maybe it was a good thing an actual team with working experience hadn’t been sent to help him. Just the thought of being a stranger caught between him, Delano and Eroms while they were trying to communicate without letting him know gave Melmarc a headache.

I’d be as lost as a sixteen-year-old in a portal.

But these people didn’t know each other well enough. They had no inside jokes or shared experiences. All they had to go with was common knowledge only Delvers would have. Which meant that ‘skinny’ was a Delver term that had nothing to do with body size.

Jude is suspicious of me.

Melmarc’s gaze moved back to Jude and Jude met it. Melmarc couldn’t read an expression on the man’s face. But he was sure the man was reading the expression on his face.

“Can’t be,” Nelson said. He looked back at Clinton. “Right?”

Clinton said nothing.

Naymond made a sound, barely audible. Melmarc wasn’t sure if he was still struggling or if the sound was muffled because of Claire’s hand over his mouth.

“I say skinny.” Jude kept his eyes fixed on Melmarc. Within them was intent.

Something was about to happen.

A few moments ago when Jude and Nelson had been about to go at it, Melmarc hadn’t been worried because Jude was only one man. Now, if something did happen, it would be him against a handful of Delvers.

Nothing he’d been through in this portal would save him. And even if he thought he could survive because of the rank disparity, Clinton was a B-rank Delver. Melmarc couldn’t delude himself into victory.

“Calm down, Jude,” Clinton said. “Let’s not do anything stupid.”

“Stupid?” Jude scoffed. “We’ve already done something stupid.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” This from Jed. “It would be extremely costly. You know how sensitive this mission is.”

“That’s exactly why.”

Jed shook his head in dismay. “Jude, don’t be stupid.”

Melmarc watched decisions war behind Jude’s eyes. The man was warring with himself even though he didn’t look particular bothered by it.

The look in his eyes settled, and Melmarc knew he had made a decision.

Jude pulled his side arm in one quick motion and Melmarc had a gun pointed directly at his face. His hands shot up reflexively.

Too many movies growing up as a child had affected him here. When a gun was pointed at you, you raised your hands high in the air to show that you weren’t a threat. As intelligent as that sounded, the reason wasn’t factored into Melmarc’s action. His hands had simply shot up because his body had reacted that way.

What it had done was taken the one chance he had at moving first.

And you thought you were ready for anything, he thought, oddly not panicked. Surviving in a portal has given you a lot of hubris.

“Put your fucking gun down, Jude!” Clinton hissed. “The kid can’t be a Walker!”

A Walker? A Skin Walker?

Was that what Jude had meant by ‘skinny’? The man thought he was a Skin Walker? One of the registered monsters found mostly in B-rank portals and above that burrowed into corpses and controlled them.

That was insane. They only showed up in B-rank portals and this was a C-rank portal.

“He’s right, Jude,” Nelson said, doing nothing to come between Melmarc and the gun. “He can’t be a Walker.”

Dissonant.

Melmarc sighed internally. At least the big guy was trying something.

“Because this is a C-rank portal?” Jude asked in disbelief. “What’s the first thing you always learn before entering a portal? Never assume you know what’s on the other side.”

“Doesn’t give you the justification to point a gun at a child.” Jed’s words were a little too calm. Unbothered.

Jude frowned, thought about it.

“Alright, you have a point. How about this?” He moved his hand so that the gun was trained on Melmarc’s thigh. “We have a Healer after all. And he’s a healer, too. A Healer that doesn’t fight like a Healer.”

Was that the basis of his conclusion? Melmarc thought. Was he paranoid simply because Melmarc hadn’t corrected them when they thought he was a Healer?

If they thought he was a Healer and he’d brought them to Naymond who had injuries spanning more than a day, then he could see why Jude was suspicious. But it was quite a leap to jump straight to him being a Skin Walker.

“May I say something?” he said cautiously.

“I would rather you not,” Jude replied.

“You may,” Clinton said. “You’ve got a gun trained on the kid and you’ve got your skills, too. Let the kid talk.”

When no one objected, and Jude said nothing, Melmarc took it as a collective agreement.

“I’m not a Healer,” he said.

Jude scoffed. “Lies now? Only Healers have healing skills.”

“Mages have healing skills, too,” Jed pointed out.

“But theirs tends to be flashy,” Nelson mused. “Lights and colors and symbols. And not all of them can heal.”

“So do we have an agreement?” Jude was looking eager now. “Now it’s trying to lie its way out of this.”

“Curious question,” Jed said. “What happens if you’re wrong? How do you intend to make up for it?”

“I’m not.” Jude paused, frowned. “If I am, I’ll find a way to make up for it. Compensations, damages. An apology. Anything. But I’m not.”

Melmarc was flabbergasted. Was the man stupid?

If he was wrong, then it meant he was pointing a gun at a defenseless boy. If he was not mistaken, it also meant that he would be shooting a defenseless boy. And the man’s idea of making up for it was compensations or damages or an apology?

Take his leg. His left leg.

The thought surprised Melmarc. More surprising was the fact that instead of dwelling on the violent tendency that begged him to take a man’s leg, he was more focused on a different question. Why the left leg?

The answer came easily. It was because Jude had his gun trained on Melmarc’s left thigh. It sounded like a fair enough exchange.

God what am I even thinking?

Next thing, he’ll be thinking about—

Take his eye. His right eye.

What the hell?

Melmarc couldn’t stop himself from looking at Jude’s right eye. While both of the man’s eyes were open, it felt like the right eye was his aiming eye.

“Haven’t seen a kid that’s so calm in front of a gun,” Jude pointed out.

“I swear to God, Jude, if you don’t put that gun down…” Clinton let his warning trail off. He allowed everyone imagine what possible punishment could come from him being disobeyed.

“I’m a Faker,” Melmarc found himself saying. “I copied Miss Claire’s skill, that's how I healed her.”

“Can anyone confirm this?” Jed asked.

Each Delver looked between each other. The looks on their faces confirmed that no one could confirm it. If they had been sent to get Melmarc, they had definitely not been told what class he had.

And why would they?

There was no confirmed shapeshifter amongst any of the monsters ever found in C-rank portals. No one would’ve expected any of the Delvers to get paranoid and do this.

Take his right ar—

I’ll break his rib.

The decision was sharp, immediate. And it was Melmarc's. It was his, judged a fitting punishment.

Jude’s eyes narrowed and Melmarc figured that just as the Delver’s decision on what to do had shown behind his eyes, maybe the Delver had also seen his.

It meant one thing. Regardless of whatever the others were saying, something was gong to go down.

It was inevitable.

All that mattered now was who struck first.

“We can have him copy someone’s skill to prove it,” Claire suggested.

“No,” Jude said quickly with the added emphasis of taking a step back. “Give it a chance and who knows what it will do.”

“Is my friend going to be alright?” Melmarc found himself asking.

It would be stupid if this entire thing was keeping Naymond from being healed.

“He’s actually getting better,” Claire said. “I started healing him long ago but it would take sometime.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jude groaned. “That’s the problem with you company Delvers, too optimistic. Fix now and figure it out la—”

Melmarc moved.

He wasn’t going to fight fair against a trained Delver, he didn’t care the Delver’s rank. Jude, however, showed his experience. His aim shifted accordingly and the air exploded with the sound of a gunshot.

[You have activated Knowledge is Power]

Melmarc felt the pain as the bullet struck him in the thigh and pinged of in some direction where it would eventually die from the absence of enough momentum.

[Skill Knowledge Is Power is in effect].

[You cannot receive or inflict damage.]

Melmarc rushed forward. He’d weaved to the side on the first shot, but the fact that Jude’s shot had still struck through meant that the Delver was a better marksman than Melmarc had anticipated.

He could keep darting from side to side but that would be a waste of time and strength. There was also the chance that all the shots would still land. Face with that truth, Melmarc chose a different route.

Hunkering down into a boxer’s stance, he kept his head protected with raised hands. He trusted [Knowledge is Power] enough that a gunshot to the eye would only cause him pain, but he didn’t trust himself enough to not blink if it happened. And blinking would be a moment when he could see nothing.

A moment like that would be devastating.

“Disarm him!” Clinton barked.

Melmarc assumed he was referring to Jude but couldn’t be sure. Two more bullets pinged off his arms, pain filled his mind but didn’t consume him. It was instantaneous, gone as quickly as it came.

“Fucking Skin Walker,” Jude swore under his breath.

When another gunshot didn’t come, Melmarc knew the man had switched tactics. So he brought his arms down and focused on something else. Clearly, Jude had deemed using a gun to be a waste of ammunition.

In front of Melmarc, Jude had put his gun away and had both hands held out in front of him. Melmarc didn’t wait to see what would happen.

He moved his hand and his interfaced appeared in front of him.

[You have used skill Secrecy]

[Remaining uses: 1/2]

The notification was succeeded by an extra weight in Melmarc’s hand. With the appearance of the ring of light came a slight disorientation. Behind Jude, the returning wave of mana from [Knowledge is Power] distorted slightly but did not die.

Melmarc ignored it as he focused and slammed the ring of mana into the ground with all the strength he could muster.

It struck the ground, shattered like broken glass, and exploded to consume almost the entire room. Its reach didn’t matter because Melmarc knew that Jude was caught up in it.

Jude’s lips squeezed in a frown of confusion before his eyes focused on his hands held out in front of him. Clearly he was confused as to why whatever skill he’d wanted to use did not activate. Then his eyes widened at the air in front of him.

Melmarc didn’t care to wonder if it was his interface telling him something. The wave of mana was already returning to him.

It passed through Jude and the man stiffened for a fraction of a second. Melmarc was already on him.

An indicator appeared above Jude’s head. Melmarc ignored it and drove his foot into the man’s chest with all the strength his Gifted body could muster.

His foot struck Jude in the chest and the Delver shot out of the room like a fired cannon. He went through the door tumbled once before slamming into a wall. The impact was loud when he struck the wall.

Then the wave of mana returned to Melmarc.

[Skill Knowledge is Power is concluded]

[Skill Bless Your Kindness does not take effect]

Melmarc dismissed the notification. It seemed that [Knowledge is Power] worked properly in the presence of [Secrecy] but [Bless Your Kindness] would not activate on its own.

It didn’t matter.

Around him, the remaining Delvers stood quietly. He wasn’t sure if they were stunned to silence. There was a very likely probability that he’d just worsened things for himself with what he’d done, but right now, even that did not matter.

A good distance in front of Melmarc, slumped against a wall outside the room, Jude was unconscious with a red indicator above his head.

With a single-minded focus, Melmarc headed for the door.

He had a rib to break.