-Gena Showalter

John wasn't particularly surprised by what he found when he arrived - Seras was walking toward one of the necromancers, clearly **** or dead. Though her back was to him, the stance Seras took over his body told John all he needed to know about the color of her eyes. She raised a fist up, cocking it back and turning her head just enough that John caught a glimpse of a vicious smile and an eye as ruby as slippers.

"Seras… that's enough."

Seras paused, glancing over her shoulder. Despite the command, she was still holding her fist aloft. Her eyes locked with John's, and for an instant he thought about taking a step back.

"Seras, enough. Stand down."

The red faded from her eyes after another moment, and she hazily stepped away from the fallen man. John turned his eyes to the body and cast Observe.

Terry Mittols
Level 3 Necromancer Apprentice
<Undead Asylum>
-10 / 55 HP
Relationship: -200
Alignment: -39
Status Effects: Dying

"You did well, Seras. I'm proud of you. But…"

John struggled to find the words of what he wanted to say. They had already killed three of the men, and he'd been to blame for at least one of them, if not indirectly for the others as well. He'd been ready to kill Victor and had only let him go out of a sense of disgust for what he'd been about to do. If anything, John should have knocked him out, but he didn't think past the moment, so he had neither the ground nor desire to shame or lecture Seras.

"…just don't lose who you are. You're kind of cute when you're angry, but don't lose Seras Victorias. I happen to like her a lot."

Seras blushed, and for a moment her cheeks were almost as red as her eyes had been. John stepped up to the man's **** and bleeding form, checking out the damage. His legs were both broken in odd places, clearly shattered by a blow from the pursuing vampiress. His chest was oddly lumpy, and John had to guess his ribcage had taken some powerful blows. Most noticeable was the shattered nose still gushing blood, which curled John's lip as he found a dry and unbroken piece of skin to place his hand on.

Mana coursed through him as he channeled a Lesser Heal spell over the man's body. Not enough to revive him - just enough to put him back at exactly zero health. Thanks to the man's lower level, it didn't take much of John's remaining mana to bring him up. The Dying effect disappeared, and his breathing steadied a bit. Perhaps the most surprising part was when his nose righted itself and the bleeding stopped entirely, though his limbs remained crippled. Apparently, John's spell had recovered enough of the man's health to undo that blow, at least.

"S-sorry, Master. I just… when I fired that gun, saw all that blood, I don't really remember much after that. Not until you shouted at me."

"It's part of what you are now, Seras. You've only drank blood by order, not of your own free will… seeing that much of it probably puts a kind of strain on your body I can't even begin to understand. Don't feel bad about it. I just wanted to stop you in case you'd regret it later."

"John! There you are; this blasted Barrier is massive."

John turned in time to see Moira and a full escort of Knights, many of whom John recognized from the prior day. They were moving in formation, with Moira leading the charge, obviously ready for combat. Moira in particular seemed alert, glancing over John and Seras before scanning the distant corridors of the mall with interest.

"I don't see anyone, and I don't feel any other presences. Are they hiding?"

"Uh, actually…" John sputtered, gesturing at the fallen necromancer, "this is the last of them."

"You defeated them?" Moira raised an eyebrow, taking in the fallen man for the first time. "I suppose you were not in as much danger as I feared, then. You've never called before, so I assumed…"

"All but one of them. I was… he surrendered. I was worried about Seras, and I didn't have any way to restrain him, so I just kind of let him go."

Moira frowned deeply at that, letting her gaze fall away from John as she shook her head. "That's a shame… we've been looking for these ones for quite some time."

John blinked in shock, glancing between Moira and the fallen mage. "You… knew these people? Enough to recognize just one?"

"Indeed," Moira said with a sigh, walking up to the **** man and grabbing him by the collar. She lifted him up and shook him harshly, as if not entirely sure he was really out. "They have been practicing the worst kinds of necromancy for the last several months, but they've been cautious in their deeds. The closest we came to catching them was when they accidentally stumbled upon an Order cemetery a few weeks back. They must have approached you because of her aura. She reeks of necromantic energies."

"My Warden… this creature is his?"

One of the knights had stepped forward. John was extremely surprised to see the very same Knight he'd spoken to after returning from the mission yesterday, the same woman who had so helpfully informed him on some of the Albidian Society's history. Moira had called her Knight Etriyya. Despite her helpful tone back then, she seemed much less happy to see John now.

"Yes," Moira said idly, not bothering to correct either the Knight's tone or words. "Your former Warden Lord is already aware of some aspects of this situation, do not concern yourself with its existence. It has not violated our tenets of magic… yet. All you need to know is that it has attracted the attention of this guild of necrophiliacs, and for that, John Newman has my deepest… gratitude."

Moira placed an unsettling emphasis on that last word as she hoisted the **** body of the fallen necromancer up, smirking with a glee that John found entirely disturbing. She walked over to her entourage of knights and handed off the fallen man, locking eyes with the body for just a little too long.

"Secure him and prepare him for transport. What members of this guild have escaped **** this day will be quickly found when this one faces the Order's Inquisition."

"Inquisition? That's ominous," John said, narrowing his eyes at Moira.

"As it should be. You're new to the Abyss, John Newman," Moira replied, her tone colder than normal, "and I wouldn't expect you to understand, but the Abyss is a very harsh place. One does not dare to stand for law and order against the endless tides of chaos without a reputation for harsh treatment of one's enemies."

"Really?" John asked, raising an eyebrow at the implication of that statement. "As soon as these guys saw the Order's logo on my cloak, they just tried to kill me harder. Seems like they thought if they did I wouldn't be able to tell you what they looked like. Your reputation didn't exactly help."

"…You revealed your affiliation? And you expected that to help?" Moira asked, looking at John with concern.

"I, uh…" John paused, sensing a certain disbelief at his words. Not just among Moira, but the Knights that followed her. After he voiced his concerns, all of them looked quite surprised, as if they found it absurd anyone would expect affiliation with the Order to keep them safe.

"Did my father not tell you how dangerous it was to reveal your allegiance to us?"

"He said that the cloak would make me as many enemies as it would friends… I just didn't expect someone trying to kill me to try even harder. What made them react like that?"

"Nothing of importance," Moira said brusquely. "I told you before that the factions within the Abyss keep the peace out of necessity, not desire. The only reason the Cabal have not declared war on us - or we on them - is because we are both terrified of what larger organizations might descend upon us in the aftermath as we tried to recover from an extensive campaign such as that. And the only reason those guilds do not simply attack us outright is because as weak as we are, we would cripple them enough for one of their own rivals to attack them. But when you reach guilds such as this, ones too weak to hold any territory or influence any other organizations…"

Moira spat in the general direction of the **** necromancer, now held bridal-style by one of Moira's knights.

"They are too weak to hold any significant sway and therefore too weak to fear conquering for the sake of territory or power. They simply exist until they do something so heinous that they gain the ire of someone stronger than themselves or until they gather enough power to overtake one of the lesser guilds. Their only saving grace is their unobtrusiveness."

"So either they stay out of everyone's way or they get trampled on?" John asked, a bit off-put by the casual nature Moira said that with. "That seems… harsh."

"As it should be," Moira reiterated, shaking her head. "If you have no further business here, John Newman, I suggest you exit this Barrier and conclude your business at this mall with haste. In the future, leave any of these creations of yours at home. As you have just discovered, magic is quickly sensed and rarely tolerated."

John nodded but frowned. As Moira and her Knights began to march toward the parking lot, apparently preferring to exit the Barrier in a more secluded location, John wondered what kind of place this Abyss really was. He'd intended to grow stronger, but what kind of attention would that attract? How fortunate was he to stumble upon the Order in his first day as a new mage? Given their mention of an Inquisition, and Moira's hardened attitude toward opposition, he wondered if he was fortunate at all…

"Master? What should we do?"

"We're going home, Seras," John said with a sigh, doing his best to put on a smile for the concerned vampiress.

"I guess clothes will have to wait for another day," Seras concluded with a sigh, lowering her head.

"Nah," John replied, grinning as two bags appeared in his palms. "I stashed 'em before they could get shot up in the fight. You don't have to go naked anymore… unless you really want to. I wouldn't mind the view, honestly."

"M-m-master!"