Even after decades of experience in this line of work, Jazdia could not master the art of commanding the "irregulars".

Sure she could prattle a long detailed plan during a briefing, and everyone would then nod in agreement, but in a real-time battle, that capability diminished somewhat. She had her own reasoning for that; barking a command in the middle of combat can be distracting for those who were usually out for themselves. And God forbid her sternness could often make people feel antagonized. She would rather not risk it. 

So, when something disastrous like someone miscalculating and ending up injuring their fellow teammates happened, Jazdia would rather remain focused on the immediate threat. Scolding could wait for later. 

Her arrow radiates in a purple light. 

For now, it seemed Jonas' attention remained focused on Yvonne, who was now pointing her sword at the old man himself. A weak stance, intended to distract the opponent while her other hand reached for a healing potion. Looking at how severe the damage to her tendon and the amount of blood spilled from it, imbibing one of those pots was indeed the wisest course of action.  The question was, could Yvone get enough time to administer it?

The Delving Patriarch stood still. His mustache moved. What did he say to her? Jazdia could only guess. A deadly guess. And of course, she wouldn't take that chance.  

[center]****[/center]

Jonas Delving lowered his partisan. His eyes remained alert, and his attention divided. One for the incoming cat who was now running toward his side, two for the sleazy ice mage, and three, and most importantly for the brave woman in front of him.  

[b][color=#FFD700]"Go on, Rosenving. Take your medicine, or risk it. Your call."[/color][/b]"  He gloated. Though deep inside he wanted to praise her for that slick evading movement she did, he knew such appreciation would be premature at best. The fight was far from end, and he still had more tricks up his sleeve. He would see that the opponents would do the same. 

He would get just that. 

From the darkness, a violet trail of light whizzed toward him. Promptly, Jonas raised his energy shield and let the arrow penetrate halfway into the panel, entrapping the crystal arrow inside the solid manifestation of radiant energy and having its brilliance color utterly outshined by it. He had deliberately skipped the part where he should harden it, all to prove his point. That he could catch even the most unexpected attack, and he was superior in every way to them.

A smug smile bloomed on his face until he realized that this tiny crystal arrow was one of the few things his magic could not snuff out. 

A pair of violet eyes glowed in the distance, and from that direction, he heard.

[color=ec008c]"Yona! Back off now!!"[/color]

[center]****[/center] 

Ignoring the enraged thugs, the wargs made a quick beeline toward the standing captain, who fruitlessly tried to stab one of them, only to be staggered by the other. Tired and outnumbered, the next tackle finally brought him down to his knee. One of the wargs quickly seized his arm to have him release his weapon, while the other swiftly sank its partially melted teeth into his neck.

The damaged maws didn't make quick work of ripping away the captain's throat. The wounded captain had to witness it all, listen to his partner scream and gurgle, see him gone into the darkness as they dragged him farther to rip him apart. Terrorized beyond measure, he helplessly ran back toward the inner courtyard. 


When Evan tried to melt his own ice, he should have known that the process was accelerated beyond his calculation. 

When he tried to stab the second semi-incased enraged, his psychokinetically-controlled sword could not penetrate the ribcage. It immediately lost its solidity in the first attempt and became dull and eventually shattered for the subsequent stabbings. 

But... it wasn't all. With no magic instilled to keep the ice blocks frozen, they were left alone to combat the smoldering heat from the enraged's augmented body. The second enraged thug started to break free. What remained of his skin had boiled and melted away, revealing reddish and hardened muscle beneath. The third thug was still imprisoned, but his icy prison too was undergoing a similar process at an alarming rate.