The cult leader was tied to a tree with rope, then reinforced with vines Celeste had conjured, and finally—just to be safe—Lyanna had put a mana-suppression collar on him.
Ravi sat on a log nearby, eating a strip of dried meat while Celeste fussed over his back.
"Dermal integrity is... absolute," she muttered, prodding his spine with a glowing crystal rod. "Not even microscopic cellular degradation. The Void energy dissipated upon contact. It's as if your bio-field acts as a nullification barrier."
"That tickles," Ravi said, flinching away. "Are you done?"
"I will never be done," Celeste threatened. "I need a sample. Just a small biopsy punch. One millimeter of tissue."
"No punching."
Lyanna walked over, wiping goblin ichor (from earlier) and dirt off her armor. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were alert. She stared at the bound cultist.
"He's waking up."
The leader groaned. The tattoos on his face shifted sluggishly, as if the ink were trying to crawl away. He opened his eyes—milky white, devoid of pupils—and saw the three of them.
"The Void... sees all," he rasped, spitting a glob of black phlegm onto the ground.
"The Void sees you tied to a tree," Ravi pointed out. "So I wouldn't rely on its 20/20 vision right now."
Lyanna stepped forward, her hand resting on her sword hilt. "Who sent you? Grimshaw said this was a simple clearance. You were waiting for us. You knew us."
The leader let out a wheezing laugh. "Grimshaw? That bone-picker? He is a puppet. We serve the True Master. Malachai."
Malachai. The name dropped like a stone into a deep well. The temperature in the clearing seemed to drop five degrees.
"Malachai Voidbringer?" Celeste gasped. "The Demon Lord from the histories? He's been dead for three hundred years. The Heroic Spirits sealed him in the Abyssal Plane."
"Seals rot," the cultist hissed. "Chains rust. The Master whispers through the cracks. He prepares the way. He seeks the Vessels."
He looked at Ravi again. Fear and reverence warring in his blind gaze.
"The Empty One," he whispered. "You are... wrong. You should not be. Magic does not touch you. The Void does not claim you. You are a glitch in the Weave."
"I've been called worse," Ravi shrugged.
"Why were you hunting us?" Lyanna demanded. "Why me? Why Ravi?"
"The Princess carries the Blood of the Old Kings," the cultist said, licking his lips. "A potent sacrifice to open the gate wider. But him... he was not in the prophecy. The Master did not foresee him. We were told to eliminate the anomaly before it spreads."
"Well, you failed," Ravi said. "Badly."
"Failure is temporary," the cultist smirked, revealing rotten teeth. "The Mark has been placed. The Hound knows your scent now."
"The Hound?"
The cultist's body suddenly seized up. His back arched off the tree trunk. The black tattoos on his face began to glow a violent, burning violet. They writhed, faster and faster, spreading down his neck.
"It comes," he gargled, foam forming at his mouth. "The Beast that Eats Magic. It comes for you, mage. It comes for you, warrior. And for the Empty One... it brings the nothingness."
"He's overloading his core!" Celeste yelled. "Self-destruct spell! Get back!"
Ravi grabbed Lyanna and Celeste and threw them behind the sturdy rock outcrop just as the cultist screamed.
BOOM.
It wasn't a kinetic explosion. It was a silent implosion of Void energy. The cultist, the tree he was tied to, and a ten-foot sphere of earth simply vanished. Gone. Erased.
Silence returned to the Gloomwood.
They stepped out from cover. Where the prisoner had been, there was now a perfect, smooth crater.
"Well," Ravi said, dusting off his shoulder. "That went well. Very informative."
"Malachai," Lyanna breathed, ignoring his sarcasm. "If the cultists are trying to resurrect a Demon Lord... Grimshaw sending us here wasn't just a trap. It was a test. Or a sacrifice."
"He knew," Celeste deduced, her face pale. "The Chancellor knows about the Void activity. He sent 'troubleshooters' to see if we could handle it... or to feed us to it."
"Probably both," Ravi agreed. "If we die, problem solved. If we win, he has a stronger weapon."
He looked at the two women. They were shaken. The mention of Malachai was heavy—a legendary threat far beyond goblin nests or bandits.
"We need to get back to Aethelgard," Lyanna said, her voice finding its steel again. "We need to confront Grimshaw. But we need proof."
"The proof just vaporized," Celeste pointed out, gesturing to the crater.
"Not all of it," Ravi said. He walked over to where the leader's staff lay—it had fallen outside the implosion radius. It was twisted, blackened wood, tipped with a pulsing purple gem.
He picked it up. The wood sizzled against his palm, trying to burn him with necrotic energy. He just squeezed. The sizzling stopped.
"This reeks of the Void," he said. "It's tangible evidence. Celeste, can you analyze the magical signature and trace it back to its source?"
"Given enough time and a stable lab, yes," she nodded, taking the staff gingerly with a telekinetic grip. "I can prove its connection to the abyssal planes."
"Then we have our proof," Lyanna said. "Let's pack up. We march at dawn. I'm not spending another minute in these woods."
As they returned to the campfire—rekindling it nervously—the mood was somber.
Celeste sat by the fire, examining the Void staff. "The 'Hound' he mentioned... In demonology texts, Malachai had a lieutenant. A beast bred to hunt mages. It consumes mana."
She shivered. "If they summon that thing... I'll be powerless against it. It eats spells."
"Good thing I don't use spells," Ravi said, sharpening a stick to roast a new piece of meat. "And Lyanna has a big sword. We'll handle it."
Lyanna looked at him from across the fire. The flames cast dancing shadows on her face.
"Ravi," she said quietly. "Earlier. The blast. Why are you unharmed?"
Here it was. The direct question.
Ravi sighed. He stopped sharpening the stick. "You saw the cultist. He called me an 'Empty Vessel.' A glitch."
He looked up at her. "I told you I was different. Maybe the Void can't erase nothing."
"That's wordplay," she said, though without heat. "You're solid. You're real. I can touch you." To prove her point, she reached out and poked his knee.
"Ouch," he joked flatly.
"I don't know the science," he admitted, looking at Celeste. "Maybe Celeste is right. Maybe I'm just so dense that magic bounces off. Or maybe I'm just too stubborn to disappear."
Lyanna held his gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Stubborn," she agreed. "I'll go with stubborn."
She stood up and moved to sit beside him. Shoulder to shoulder. It was a declaration of alliance. Of trust, despite the unknown.
"But if this 'Hound' shows up," she whispered, leaning in so Celeste wouldn't hear, "and it tries to eat you... promise me you won't rely on being stubborn. Promise me you'll let me fight."
"I promise," Ravi lied.
She rested her head on his shoulder again. "Liar."
He chuckled softly. "Get some sleep, Princess. We have a Chancellor to annoy tomorrow."
In the shadows of the tent, Ravi stared at the ceiling. The Widowmaker lay beside him.
Malachai. Demon Lords. Void Hounds.
His simple life as a "weakling" adventurer was officially dead. He was now player one in a game for the fate of the world.
And worst of all... he was starting to care about the NPCs.