The new moon left the night dark, only lit by the stars. Rhaelza's steps were silent as she approached the northern entrance, leaving even the blades of grass between the street stones untouched. And yet, she was humming quietly, caring not for the monsters that might hear.

Any that got too close got bisected anyway.

The tune was an old one from her homeland, and one of the few things she still remembered of her mother—a quiet voice, singing as she held a baby, a cursed child, in her arms.

When Rhaelza was six, the villagers had stoned her to death.

But that was neither here nor there. The tune was pleasant, so she hummed it until she reached the walls of the northern dungeon entrance—or rather, what remained of them. The attackers had done a good job bringing it down, leaving only rubble in its place. But approaching from the front was far too obvious, and so she wrapped around, coming up over the massive roots that enclosed the sides and back, overlooking the district.

They don't fear a sneak attack, she mused. They went out of their way to eliminate anyone that could threaten them alone.

Rhaelza's info-gathering hadn't been fruitless. Liresil had one retired moon-rank adventurer, and another who likely would get the rank if he went to a guild that could bestow it. The former had been murdered, same as the sepals, and the latter was out-of-town.

She couldn't help but smile a little. How unlucky for them… Did you know they would be moving, Boss? Or was it a simple coincidence?

With a breath, she pulled the thin mantle she'd been maintaining back into herself, keeping a tight hold on her aura. The last thing she needed was to be sensed before she could scout. Luckily, she was confident there were few people in the entirety of Aeora better at masking their presence. Even the boss had a hard time detecting her when she got serious.

Over the next thirty or so minutes, dozens of cult mages found their lives stolen without being able to so much as scream. There was a difference between theft and assassination, and Rhaelza was no assassin—but overconfidence was a glaring flaw in any defense, and she was more than capable of this.

It was practical too, since she didn't want to have to deal with too many outsiders as she fought the Acolyte.

But first, she stopped by the entrance. Now that was better defended—guarded by over a dozen warriors and mages paying far more attention than the rest had been. Not wanting to make a scene, she attached a thread to a bundle of firestones and hung it near the entrance, saving it for later.

With the last of her tasks done, she took a long stretch and wandered towards the location she'd scouted earlier.

The Acolyte of Delusion was resting on a half-crumbled balcony, enjoying a bunch of grapes as several young men and women massaged her legs and feet.

A massage does sound nice, Rhaelza thought. I should get one when this is over.

Carefully, she wove a fine thread of mana and cast it out towards the cultist. It slowly snaked closer, forming a noose at its end.

The thread shook, then stopped, and Rhaelza felt something pull on it from the other end.

The acolyte sat up, her servants scattering back into the building as she looked around, her eyes searching.

"Whoever you are, you're hiding well," she called out. "But using a thread to attack me is the height of futility. You've interrupted my relaxation, and I've had such a hard day. If you come out, I'll be sure to kill you quickly."

Rhaelza sighed. So she can control my threads then. Another annoying fight… My luck is just terrible.

She took six slow, deep breaths, exhaling a thick layer of mana over her body. Another thread pulled her across the gap, landing on the railing of the balcony, looking down on the acolyte, her needles drawn.

The acolyte looked up at her, then down at her needles, then back up. Perhaps she was trying to grasp the threads in Rhaelza's clothes, but the mantle served as a sort of insulation, just as Rhaelza had expected. The acolyte's face tinged with disgust.

"How unpleasant. So who are you?" She shook her head. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. My name is Callithea al Scense, an exalted acolyte of Delusion. How would you like to die?"

Rhaelza smiled, holding up one of her needles. "Lying in a bed filled with down feathers and wrapped in silk."

"Life is full of disappointments… or so I'm told."

They stared at each other for a long moment, only silence passing between them.

Rhaelza lunged forward, her needles flashing.

Callithea's hair snapped into place to block the blow, but the enchanted blades cut clean through, and she had to twist away, a gash opening up on her arm.

She screamed as blood spewed from the wound. "What are those blades?" More hair lashed out to counterattack, reinforced with even more mana and attacking from all sides.

Rhaelza danced out of the way, weaving a thread to catch her as she landed in the air, then leaping immediately as it turned on her.

Callithea was laughing now, clutching her arm as she glared out through her bangs. "Threads! You attack me with threads!"

Rhaelza ignored her, tossing another line out to snare the acolyte—again rebuffed. She dodged again, moving back into range and stabbing with her needles.

Callithea moved quickly, deflecting and counterattacking, the sheer number of attacks forcing Rhaelza to focus on dodging. It was an annoying blessing—she was forced to maintain a thick mantle or her clothes would be turned against her, which limited the mana available for physical enhancement, turning an easy battle into a pain.

Rhaelza dropped down between two buildings, leaving a trail of tripwires as the acolyte pursued, pulling them out of the way.

She kicked off a newly created thread and reversed, trying to catch Callithea off guard, but her own previous wires swung in to defend their new master, and Rhaelza was forced to dodge again.

"Mana or not, if it's threadlike, it's mine," the acolyte spat. "It seems this world simply loves me more than you!"

Rhaelza flipped back up onto a roof. "Is that what you think? Delusion suits you."

Callithea smiled, her mood swinging back and forth. "People hold 'truth' in such high regard, but a personal delusion is far more real than any sort of collective 'truth' could ever be! Each person holds some delusion dear to them—that they are loved, that they are better than others, that their stupid pasta recipe is somehow greater than anyone else's! Isn't it such a wonderful thing? They sleep soundly at night wrapped in their own delusions, comforted by them. Delusion is shelter against pain, against the harsh 'truths' of reality which only deliver sorrow and misery.

"And those with strong enough delusions? They are those who can enforce them upon reality, and turn them into truth! The world does love me more than you, because I believe it so. I am the most loved, because I believe it so. I am superior to you and others, because I believe it so. That is my delusion, and thus that becomes truth. And I am rewarded for my faith! I have a blessing, a gift from the world itself! My wonderful followers and lovers too—all proof to the truth of my delusion."

Rhaelza's grip tightened on her needles.

The Boss knelt down, placing a warm hand on her head. Her village burned behind him, the smoke carrying death into the sky. But for the first time since she'd been in her mother's arms so many years ago, she felt… relief.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"People cannot help but turn away from the ugly truths. They delude themselves into believing the world exists only for them, and use that as justification for their own actions. The truth is, the world exists for no one, and so seeking such justification is meaningless. Do as you please Rhaelza, take what you want. In this flawed world where lives are nothing more than brief sparks in the night, nothing really matters at all."

With a deep breath, she loosened her fingers and shrugged. "It's just a job Rhaelza. An annoying job, but a job all the same."

The acolyte tilted her head and smiled. "Oh? Am I getting under your skin? You poor thing… someone like you must not be loved much at all. But don't you know? The one who loves themself the most is always the winner! And so my victory is assured!"

Rhaelza twirled her needles in her hands. One good strike is all it would take. She wasn't a warrior like Xerxes or Brynn, but this was a life she could steal.

"You're overworking me, Boss."

She dashed back in, ducking and twisting around whipping tendrils of hair. She wove more threads of mana, casting them out recklessly as her senses sharpened. Callithea stole each one, turning them against her, until Rhaelza was dancing in a storm of her own threads.

She thrust her needles, but they were deflected by her own technique, brought together into a woven shield. She grit her teeth for effect, then jumped away from the counterattack, lashing out with even more thread.

Ten, eleven, twelve. Her eyes flicked around calmly as she wove through the onslaught. She can only control twelve distinct groups of thread with any precision, not counting her hair. It was unlike Rhaelza's technique, which relinquished control of the threads once they were placed. Humans were terrible at multitasking, and it was extraordinary she was able to control so many at once. By weaving threads together into groups, the effective amount she could control increased, but blessings were not omnipotent, and hers was no exception.

She can't pour mana into my threads either. She relies on the amount of mana I'm putting into them.

Rhaelza poured mana into them anyways, continuously striking only to be repelled. Callithea stole her threads with glee, twisting them into thicker strands to maintain her limit and strengthen her own defenses.

Rely on them more, Rhaelza thought. Get confident.

She felt mana gathering behind her and twisted. Another cultist had seen the fight and was trying to help, using hand signs instead of incantations to cast silently. Rhaelza pulled more mana in, straining herself to dart towards him, her needle piercing his neck an instant later.

His robes came alive a moment later, and she immediately distanced herself, resuming the attack on Callithea.

As Rhaelza used more and more thread to maneuver, the battle slowly began to turn in the acolyte's favor. With each moment, her defenses grew and she became bolder.

"Trying to find the limits of my blessing?" She laughed. "It doesn't matter! It's already too late!"

Rhaelza flipped away, finally landing back on the balcony where their battle had begun. Callithea perched in the air across it from her, standing on a stolen thread. Perhaps if Rhaelza was a warrior, the acolyte would have been right. But she wasn't—she was a thief.

She made a simple cutting motion with her needle.

"Leave no Trace."

The thread beneath Callithea's feet disappeared, along with every other thread Rhaelza had placed, all at once. The spider moved.

The acolyte fell, off-balance, and Rhaelza appeared beneath her, pulling herself forward with a new thread in the instant before Callithea could grab it.

A silvery needle pierced clean through hair, clothes and flesh, coming out the other side of the acolyte's chest. A distant explosion rumbled through the air as the entrance to the dungeon collapsed from the blast of a firestone.

Callithea's body jerked, and her hair and robes lashed out wildly.

Rhaelza leapt back, pulling the blade out from her chest. The balcony was torn asunder, stone crumbling beneath their feet. Callithea fell through as it collapsed, crashing against the ground below.

Rhaelza landed lightly beside her as the flailing slowed, and then stopped.

"No no no…" Callithea's dying voice was airy. Her eyes were filling up with tears. "You cheated! You must have cheated! I—I was loved! I love myself more than anyone! I'm loved more than anyone. How… could I lose?"

Rhaelza stood over her body, looking down at the pitiable creature beneath her. "Dressing up the world in pretty lies—perhaps you can spare yourself that way. But love… of all the things to lie about."

"I wasn't lying!" Callithea wailed. "I'm loved! I'm loved! What would you know about it? You've probably never been loved in all your life, you worthless woman! I hate you, I hate you!"

Rhaelza didn't say anything. She pulled a cloth from her jacket and wiped the blood off her needle, tossing the cloth to the ground and dismissing the last thread she'd used.

Callithea's eyes grew glassy as life left her. "Please… love… me…"

"The truth, huh?" Rhaelza muttered, sliding her needles back into their sheathes. It was just a job, but she couldn't help but find the acolyte just a little sad. "May you find that love in your next life."

She drew her mana back into herself, and Rhaelza was gone.

***

The woman who loved herself sat atop a crumbling building on the northern side of the city. It was still dark—her favorite time to work—but it seemed she'd have to take care of things during the day. The sanctum wasn't open yet, and the boss hadn't sent the signal.

"Well, nothing to do but wait then." Her legs dangled freely over the edge of the roof. She whispered a song into the air, wondering if the boss would spend some time with her once they finished their business.

'Close your eyes little one, tucked in your bed

Keep quiet little one, outside is the web

The mother spider's watching, looking for her prey

Close your eyes little one, stay inside your bed.

Don't cry little one, or else she will come

Stay here little one, sucking on your thumb

If you go outside now, you will be her prey

Stay inside little one, till the day has come

Hold your mother little one, do not go astray

Else the mother spider comes and she makes you her prey

She will grab you up and take you deep into her web

So close your eyes, sleep now, tucked in your bed.'

***

Wyn didn't waste any time after waking up. As he and Sadirah walked back through the guild, he got in touch with Eia at the estate, appraising the situation.

'You really spoke to Haoma?'

I did. And I'll tell you all about it when we get a moment, but for now we have bigger problems to deal with. Corrin's up again? That's good.

'Yes, but after the last attack, more monsters appeared outside. They might have a hard time getting out.'

Wyn pondered that for a moment. Ask Corrin if he thinks they can break through.

Her response came after a pause. 'He said of course he could. But specified it would probably tire him out, and so it would be best if you could do something to make it easier on him.'

Wyn snorted. There must be a lot of monsters then.

Tell him I'll do just that, but he's going to have to be patient.

'What are you planning Wyn?' Curiosity drifted through their bond.

First thing's first, I need you to head north and check on something for me. After that, you'll go back to the western entrance and see if Sloth is still there. Information is what's going to win this battle for us. We have some time left until sunrise, so there's no need to rush.

'Well,' Eia's voice was nervous. 'There might be one small problem left.'

As he entered the courtyard, Wyn's steps slowed and he saw what Eia meant.

Across the whole space, scores of the refugees had collapsed, looking pale and sickly as they were looked at by healers, or propped up by adventurers and given water.

It was as if a sudden plague had struck the guild. And it struck unevenly. Children were unconscious across the grounds, hit worse by its effects than adults. But some—the adventurers nearby, and Sadirah besides him, seemed untouched.

"What's—what's happening here?"

And then he realized, the city was in far more danger than he'd thought.

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