Considering the mess that was unfolding, I couldn't really whine about getting to the end. It looked more and more unlikely that anyone would really send carrier pigeons and band together against a plague of the land. If anything, we probably wouldn't even be credited for stopping the problem, because almost anyone that came across us ensured a bloody death.

"Damn it, there's a disease literally spreading across the land!" I tried to convince ourselves to cease fighting and carry one, but by that point a rogue was already curdling bloody words. Their wagon was also wrecked and spitting flames into the sky, so it seemed as if diplomacy was over. Clenching my teeth, I squinted my eye and held back my coat, whipping out emerald knives that left the same green trail as witnessed in an earlier fight. They seemed to travel as if they arrows, whistling the tones of a banshee before making a sickening plunge into one of the magicians. His white robes dripped and stained red, assuming one could see through the fire that charred his skin and clothes. He seemed to be in extreme pain by the time the others figured out what had happened, whilst I briefly whispered to the Lord that not all encounters would end so messily.

I mean, I've seen someone get killed by a ceiling object. It wasn't uncalled for to be regretful, considering how haunting memories can get. I speak for the fact that I was sold off and kidnapped, something that still terrifies me to this day.