The poison gripped the weasel down by the throat, tightened around the hold that hurled him down to the black abyss. Encased in a cocoon formed from vines and weeds, Tristram laid in a dormant state, writhed in a excruciating pain as the vile venom coursed through every part of his body. In torment, his last memories were of his home, the people that he left behind to the call for adventure. As the weasel was quite avaricious to the schemes of plenty, his ultimate goal was to return to his family with riches and fame that score in abundance. Yet those dreams to tell tales of monsters and heroes fell on his favour, cursed by his ever growing misfortune as a low mercenary.

Lost of all hope to fight, Tristram embraced the inevitable end, slowly dying in a painful death. Even if he somehow managed to survive, get treated, the poison from a spider's bite would make him a cripple for the rest of his life. A fate that was worse than death. He would rather end his own than to see it come to fruition. And he was so close to do it.

Just before he was about to slit his throat, he heard something. His short ears caught a faint voice. A whisper. He was startled, looking around to find no one but himself. He thought he was going mad, driven insane due to the poison. After a minute of unsteady silence, he heard the whisper once more, precise enough to call out his name. It was no dream.

His eyes soon caught the attention of a crimson glow, warm and deep in colour. It came from one of his pockets as he stretched his paw out to retrieve it. Rummaged the pocket for the source, he, at last, felt it in his fingers. He pulled it out, slowly, gently, with his paw clenched tight around it. Close to his face, he opened his hand and light soon engulfed around him.

As the light flickered to fade, at the palm of his paw laid flat a ring, the very same item that he took earlier from that forgotten room. No longer the colours of obsidian and copper, the ring glowed in a gentle vermillion and thrummed with unlimited power. Such radiance blinded the weasel, enough that the pain that he held, the worries and stress, swept away in an instant.

Tristram heeded to the whisper of the ring, now sharper, louder to call out to him. He should be worried to take it all in, bewildered that an artifact was in his possession. Yet the more he looked at it, the more he cared little about the rest. It was his and his alone. His for the taking. Entranced and tempted by it all, he steadily put on the ring.

And without warning, everything went dark.

The soft, tantalizing glow from the ring blackened before his very eyes. Left but the ever-encroaching darkness that surrounded him, a cold chill ran through his spine as Tristram realized the grave error that he made. Fear and panic overwhelmed him as he struggled to remove the ring, but found it impossible to budge. It was firm tight in his finger.

The whisper that called out his name fell into silence, replaced by a peal of sickly laughter, its noise stabbed Tristram by the ears. Loud was its laughter that he tried to cover his ears in a futile effort to reduce the noise. It continued for less than a minute before silence returned. At first, he was safe, his trouble laid to rest, but then he winced in pain and felt something burning below his feet.

Tristram looked down and froze. A terrible blaze, wild and voracious, consumed at both of his legs, spreading upward to his body with rapid succession. Overwhelmed with dread, he sought to extinguish the flames with his paws, but that made the situation worse for him as the fire soon caught onto his arms.

From legs to chest and all the way to the head, Tristram screamed as he was burned alive, the pain beyond immeasurable to imagine. He jerked his body in a violent motion, arms waving, claws clenched through the vines to dig himself out. The weasel had found his fate, and it was not the idea of a life as a disappointed son or being a cripple, but rather the role that he served afterwards in behalf of the ring. For it was his and his alone.

=====

Accornhall Mansion, Ground Floor,

Amion plunged straight for the kill, his glowing blade aimed at the soft spot of the spider's eyes. His sword connected, but missed the target and instead landed on its hardened shell, bounced off to no effect. The spider retaliated, clawed limbs stretched far and wide upon the human.

He pulled himself back from the assault, dodged each of its attack that was inches close to his death. His fiery hand uttered the flames, landed straight at its claws that caused the spider to pull away enough for Amion to make the safe distance. His struggle against the spider left him at a standstill, an unsure victory that he had come to admit. He felt the burn around his neck began to irritate him, the Redstone pendant flared brighter, hotter, like meat on a frying pan. Brought low to desperation, he became indecisive. No matter the number of strikes or the continuous shower of fire, he was unable to get through to the spider.

While Amion debated himself on how to proceed, another problem etched at the corner of his mind. He had been in a state of denial for some time since his encounter with the spider, refusing to believe what he faced against. From his early engagement, he noticed the odd tactics that it displayed, its resilience to hold out the heaviest of his flames and the sheer ruthlessness that gave him no pause to recover.

He didn't believe it at first, mindful that most of the creatures in this world shared little resemblance from his own, but when the spider mentioned a name that relate to the order his fear became reality. The spider was not from this world. It was from his.

What stood before him was a myth, an ancient race of spiders long extinct for centuries. Once dominated the marshes and deep forests of the land, they claimed countless of lives from their unending appetite and brought low to dozens of cities and settlements.

There had been names that defined them, all true to be feared and hated upon: The Fangs of Agrash, The Whisperers of the Green and Shadow. The Navune.

When Amion heard the name, a sudden rush of memories filled to his thoughts. At a young age he and the other initiatives of the order,  studied the Beast of Lore, a tome that listed all of the races that were eradicated by the Knights of Burgundy. In one of those pages, the book detailed the last Navune, the oldest and fiercest of its kind, slain by Bavris the Everflame during the War of Agrash. A man of fierce honour and perseverance, he fought the monster alone for three days and three nights until he stood victorious at the cost of his own life.

Based upon its appearance Amion believed that he was dealing with the very same creature of legend. Its ancient macabre of vicious teeth and red-piercing eyes all hold true to the tale. The rumours that spun of lost treasure and ghosts that wandered the mansion were nothing more than fabrication, a part from Navune's specialty to deception and the idiotic rumours that spread by the common beast folk. Knowing what he was up against, he shuddered on what would happen if the old spider unleashed its horde to the town, the terror it would unleash if not for their timely visit to the mansion. Whatever thoughts that troubled him was soon later put to rest as a ferocious roar snapped Amion back to his senses.

The sound of her footsteps pounded and creaked the wooden floors like heavy drums, beat after beat that gave the full force and ire of the great bear. With a wave of her stone hammer, she landed a several hits at the side of the Navune, sending shockwaves to its entire body. While proven capable in close quarters, each blow of her weapon had little effect on the spider, its carapace armour shined far resilient. It quickly spotted the disturbance from blow and with a swing of its clawed arm, sent the bear flying, heading straight for a concrete wall.

Close to a perilous impact, her paws glowed bright of emerald green. The bear uttered the words as vines sprouted out from the ground, stopping her midway from the air.

Amion snapped. "Yara!" He called out, his attention on her safety was a mistake as the Navune sought the initiative.

Swift in a burst of speed, the monster opened its jaws, exposing its hideous, razor-sharp teeth. It dived head first at the human. Unable to dodged it in time, Amion stood steadfast in position. His hand raised and aimed at the monster as fire burst out from the palm. It went towards the inside of its mouth, and though it was impervious from the outside, the inside was not.

The Navune screeched in pain, tasted vulnerability for a long time as the fire danced around its teeth and flesh. It diverted its direction and crashed to another room, creating a giant hole of the wall.

With the Navune absent to quench the flames that riddled in its mouth, Amion took his chance to act and motioned to check upon Yara.

Yara was safely unharmed from her toss, but that didn't stop her to utter several profane words that would make a berserker blush. "Rot takes it whole and of its ancestors!" She raged, unable to contain the fury that swelled inside of her. As the vines gently placed her on the ground, she right away caught glance on Amion. And right away she cursed him for it. "Rot takes you damn whole as well. What in Armello is that thing?"

Amion sighed with relief. Honestly, he suspected much worse punishment from the bear other than verbal abuse. He wasn't complaining though. He'd seen her action before and showed much one not to aggravate a bear

"With that enough energy it seemed my concern stand less trivial." He said, feeling the glare from Yara.

"And if you want to keep it that way then you tell me what is going on," she countered, her body loomed tall to threaten him. "Now talk. What are we dealing with?"

Amion spared without detail and told her of the monster they faced. After a minute to explain about the Navune, the origins and purpose afterwards, Yara grew silent, grim. She turned to the giant hole in the wall and then back at him.

"You are a blasted bunt, you know that?" Yara chuckled. "To think I've seen everything."

Amion was surprised that the bear hadn't crack from the news. He overestimated her iron fortitude.

Yara took a deep breath. "Much as I want to ask you more, and a damn lot once this is over," she retrieved his hammer that the vines stretched out for her. "We got a bug to squash. So? Do you have a plan?

Amion lowered his head. He had a plan, but it was one of those risks that he must do alone. As much as he deeply admired Yara, the thought of Tristram weighed heavily on him. He did not want to lose her. When it came to hunting monsters and abominations, that honour belonged to the Knights of Burgundy. Yet they were no more, and he was alone to face it.

The Navune shrieked aloud in a terrible fury, startling the two. Yara tightened around her hammer, snarling. "Stubborn creature," she turned to Amion. "Come on, what is the plan?"

Amion didn't respond right away, his eyes fixed on the giant hole, deadened by fear. "The plan?" he began, gripping firm on the hilt. "The plan is that you and Tristram get out of here as possible."

Yara stared, wide-eyed. "What? Truly, you jest?"

Amion grew unsteadily silent. He was not one to make jokes. "Get Tristram to safety," he pointed at the cocoon, shifted a glance at the giant hole. "Bring him home. There is nothing for you here."

"If you dare expect me to run with tail between my legs..."

"Yes. That is what I expect you to do," Amion chuckled and turned for a moment at the cocoon where the weasel, Tristram, was placed at. He didn't want Yara to face the same fate. "Take your earnings and leave this place. Have a wonderful life."

"But..."

Yara stopped her sentence as the two heard the spider's footsteps, louder by each minute. Afeared of its approach, Amion positioned to the attack with a blade on the one hand and a fiery flame on the other. “Go home, bear. There is nothing for you here."

Yara opened her mouth, but hesitated, her paws clenched tight to a ball of fist.

“Did I stutter?" the human asked, raising his voice. “I said get out of here."

Yara growled, bared her teeth. She didn't take kindly on running away, but when a massive threat loomed over her, the idea to stay and fight seemed to shift in her disfavour. Without a word, she walked towards the cocoon. Lifting it on her shoulder, she glanced back at Amion and disappeared.

With her out of the way, Amion could rest easy, mindful that he did not have to hurt anyone in the combustion of flames. "Right, let's get this over with."

Amion's fiery hand flared even higher. His surroundings caught aflame and burned to a cinder.

Amion lived to the fullest, struggled and lost many of his brothers in the war. It had taken him everything. His home, the people he cared and loved. In this world, he would live a life as no one, a deserter of his own belief. And he was fine by it. His former life served but only misery and contempt.

The spider approached in haste, precarious to end the human for good. Amion stood defiant, ready to give his life for the greater good. As he was about to charge straight towards death, his ears caught something that pulled him from commitment. It was the sound of footsteps from the rear.

The flames faded from his hand as Amion's patience was wearing thin. He muttered and cursed in silent. He turned around to dissuade her. But no words were spoken to voice in as he met  with a punch to his face.

The blow from the bear's punch was direct, weighed in force that dropped Amion down to one knee. "You fool..." Yara uttered softly, shaking her fist. She gave him a glare. "Don't you dare."

Amion rubbed his chin and spat out a bloody tooth. He looked up to her, disappointed. "You should not be here."

The bear was quick to respond with another blow of her punch that hurled Amion flat to the ground.

"Don't. You. Dare." Yara repeated, harshly. She pressed her foot on his chest to lock him in place. Her head leaned close and looked squarely in his eyes. "We do this together," she said. "We do not surrender our lives for it."

Amion stared at the bear in disbelief, unable to look away from her. His disappointment turned to fury, matched only second to her "Damn you! Get off of me!" he shouted, his hands struggled to remove the bear's foot to no avail. "Selfish. Arrogant. Mutinous beast! When I tell you to get out of here. I mean it."

Yara remained silent, her gaze still fixed on him. She pressed her foot on his chest even further that ceased his struggle. "No, I will not. I know that look when someone is about to end his life."

“Y-you dumb bear, who do you think you are?" Amion cursed, his voice quivering with rage. “You don't get to decide on others," he pointed his finger. “You don't force to accept what is you don't like. I will not drag you into this. Not when you have a chance to live. Not when Tristram could be saved!"

Yara said nothing at first, a painful expression emerged. Amion gave a good long look at Yara, and a cold realization struck him. "N-no, you can't be serious," he laughed, shaking his head. "It isn't true?"

Yara removed her foot and moved backwards. "There was nothing I could do to save him. He died from his wounds."

Amion was grief-stricken over the weasel's death. He had known Tristram since his time on the town, learned much from him about the affairs that circled the kingdom. A selfish fellow with money-grubbing schemes and outlandish jokes, Amion saw past all of that. He saw him as close to a brother than any.

It took Amion a moment to stand, his face covered with one hand in despair before his composure returned. He looked straight at Yara. "You need to go," he declared, his voice wavering. "It is not too late to run."

Deep in his grief that Amion failed to the notice his surroundings as the large, open jaws of the spider loomed behind him.

The Navune was about to gobble the human whole when a green light blinded its eyes. It felt a tug on one its tooth. As the light began to fade, the spider was able to spot the vines, entangled. They pulled it hard from aside and missed its intended target.

Amion gradually looked behind the downed spider, preoccupied with the vines for the moment. He then turned back to Yara, wide-eyed as her entire body shifted in wooden bark.

Yara grinned with madness in her eyes. "Now it is too late to run," she implied, directed her hammer for the attack and charged straight for the spider.

Amion watched the bear gone forward to her probable death, speechless without words. It didn't stop him however to earned a genuine respect for her.

"Bah, crock caution to the wind." He ended, his hand began to ignite a flame and the black blade on the other glowed hot.

Without another word, Amion joined into the fray.

====

The mansion continued to burn and blaze in a wild inferno, its fire spread throughout the halls and the upper floors. Much of its children were gone, either burnt to a crisp or fled from the scene, leaving the spider alone to face the two. The battle was fierce. It stretched its limbs out against them.

Amion dodged and blocked the attack with his glowed sword and uttered the flames at the palm of his hand, pushing the clawed limbs away from him. Yara, though not as quick and agile than her counterpart, proved herself to be a resilient combatant, her bark impervious to break. Her affinity to the magic of nature served well in these situations, using the vines that hadn't been burned to entangle the spider if not only for the briefest of moments.

The Navune hissed, annoyed at its disadvantage. Its large size was unable to connect a hit at the human warrior nor was it able to stop the animal from spewing vines against it. A jet stream of fire continued to pour out from his hand, relentless and without end. Amion tried to avoid to burn the vines as he circled around the spider. His breath grew heavy, his grip on the blade shaken. The redstone around his neck burned even hotter, burdened him with pain on the chest. He knew he'd need to hurry before the consequences would render him expendable.

The spider had enough of the charade of torment. With one of its clawed limbs still free, it directed its focus towards Yara and whirled a wide arc. Yara stood her ground, the roots below her feet burrowed deep below. She formed herself a shield made out of vines to brace the impact. In a direct collision, she held out a vicious blow. For a moment. The force of a monster's swing was too grand that it swayed Yara off from her feet and smashed to a pillar, buried under a ton of rubble.

Amion took a glance at the bear, his face bore a genuine concern before he soon repealed his thoughts, reminding himself that he had a monster to slay. Though the spider managed to strike Yara down, it had left itself an open for Amion to take his chance. Without delay, he dived straight for its unguarded eyes, his blade pointed true.

Close within his reach, Amion could taste the moment at hand. He had the spider dead on his sight. He could have ended it all, end the spider for good as its eyes were its weakness. He could have finished the job and returned back to Blueberry Town and lived the rest of his days free from the past. Yet all those things seemed fruitful if not for the pain that erred him.

The redstone pendant flared with intense fury, anchored him from his purpose. His sword faltered and missed, inches close to his intended target. The Navune, instantly aware, countered. Its long reach connected that brought the human low.

Amion felt pain twice over. One from the pendant and the other the spider. He had no chance to defend himself and faced the full force of the spider's blow. His ragdoll body limped and fell from the side, his sword slipped from his fingers. He was still alive, but the pain caused by the pendant endured.

The Navune hissed and laughed aloud, its joyousness revealed its insidious bloodlust. It approached the human steadily, closely, and when it dawned on him, raised its sharp, scythe-limb for the fatal blow.

Amion could only watch in horror as death was within his reach. He was a fool to believe he could beat it, let alone triumphed what the Burgundy Knights had struggled to do. As he closed his eyes to accept the inevitable end, the sound of its limbs plunged forward.

*CRACK*

Amion heard a terrible snap, bones break, flesh torn asunder, but it wasn't his that he caught, but rather the sound of wooden bark. He opened one eye, and then two, widened with shock. The colour of his face paled and faded.

In front of him, Amion gazed at the great bear, Yara, standing, opposing, the giant spider with the tip of its limb created a hole onto her chest. Blood trickled down from her mouth and her chest as Yara rose a weak grin.

"Told you...we stick together..." she told Amion, dying. Her paws clutched at the spider's scythe-limb as vines began to sprout from her body, extending to lock the monster in place.

Amion shook his head, his eyes infuriated with rage. "Hypocrite," he uttered, softly, shakily, his voice volume louder, intense. He gritted his teeth. "Damned hypocrite!" His feet sprung into motion, his hand reach out for the black blade, heading straight for the monster.

The Navune understood what the human intended to do and tried to retreat in a safe distant. It failed to do so as its limbs got caught by Yara's ever-growing vines. It continued to struggle, to break free from its predicament. It didn't notice the figure appearing from the side with a blade close in point. Amion dived in for the plunge and pressed his weapon onto the spider.

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from the Navune, a jet black of blood spewed out from its exposed red-orb eye that stained Amion's armour. It began to shake its head in a wild and desperate frenzy, but Amion remained where he was at.

The hot blade seared through the spider's flesh and sank deep to its brain. With both his hands and arms burned by the sword, which reached the restriction for him to tolerate, he twisted the handle and flooded the spider in a gush of flame, cooking the inside to the degree that the spider ended whatever resistance it had left.

Yara watched the entire event unfolded, her weak smile glued to her face. She closed her eyes gently, felt a tinge of pain as the fire crept to consume her. And without regret, she died where she stood.

Amion had become a monster, unbent to surrender while the monstrous dropped flat to the floor in a blithering pile of squalid corpse. The blade from his hands and the pendant around his neck seared and roasted to his flesh, the pain unbearable to contain any longer. Without knowing that he had already let go of his weapon, he looked above the fire-lit rooves of the mansion as he drifted down to a sea of red and consciousness failed him