Jove had come to Oak for many reasons. Work for the Rune Knights, visiting friends, traveling the country and enjoying the illustrious Swineherd Pub, he had expected things to go a certain way. Normally he traveled and got the opportunity to meet those living in the city he served. It wasn't a job that he was overtly passionate about; He appreciated the impact his job had, but hated the work. He chose to take on tasks that he was made to handle, things which allowed him to use his straight forward logical thinking to its full potential. Even days sitting in the office, unable to leave due to multiple meetings and the need to file paperwork, was acceptable for work.

What had not been acceptable for Jove were missions which involved intense emotional involvement. He was a man cut off in nature, always keeping himself a degree or two removed from anything around him. He never saw this as a problem, and it certainly hadn't been formed via a defense mechanism from some sort of trauma. Jove wasn't one of those who had such an involved backstory, he was simply different from others. Even in his past relationship, regardless of intimacy, he simply came across as guarded. It would take a truly empathetic individual to understand the way he operated, and so he tried to avoid being the shoulder to cry on, as he understood this could be perceived as coldness. There were times, however, which this sort of thing was unavoidable for the type of work he did.

Jove was no longer a businessman. He was an officer of the Rune Knights, a wielder of great magic and power, authority and influence. He was someone who represented all those around him, all members of Fiore, and driven by personal ethics, those who could not fend for themselves. Sometimes death was involved. Sometimes he could not protect the ones he served, and he had to witness them perish early. He could not always save everyone. A simple rule then, something which could make his type of work possible for such a relatively normal man.

Whoever he could reach.

That was it. Whoever he could physically touch, grab, hold; Protect them. He was not so conceited as to talk about putting his life on the line; he was, however, foolish enough to do so. After all, had he not fought time and time again? Could any threat, despite difference in power, not easily kill him in a stroke of luck or twist of fate? It would be ridiculous to say he didn't care, but clearly he could not convey this.

A few times, however, the two would converge. Some who could empathize with this disconnected man, and those whom he could reach. He only wished he had done so while they lived.

Underneath the catacombs of Phantom Lord, spirits had grown restless. There was very little information associated with the actual job, simply the bare minimum. Ghosts with great power and influence over the physical realm had appeared, and a mage was needed to come deal with it. Upon arriving, Jove was given more information regarding what was happening. Spirits had indeed made their home beneath the now long gone dark guild, but the situations was not as straight forward as that. There were spirits of innocents who had become trapped there for the crime of dying it its proximity, and there were darker entities which fed off of them. It hardly made any sense, but in a world of magic it was certainly possible. This had been going on for weeks, and the echoes of horror came through the floors throughout.

Jove had entered the basement, met with the voice of a scared young man. He was still just a child comparatively, and the Knight stared at him with the same emotionless expression he usually wore. "Hello." He said greeted the one before him as if they were still alive, and the spirit somehow smiled back. It was certainly aware of the danger it was in, this echo of life, and yet it still felt so human. It thanked him for coming, and yet warned him to leave. Even though it would perish in one of the worst fates imaginable, it still worried for another. Jove reached forward, despite knowing his hand would pass through, and yet it did not. Magic coursed through his fingers, allowing him to interact with the spirit, and feel its ethereal shoulder. "You're safe now. It'll only be a moment."

WC:761/1500

Jove stepped forward, and as he did so, he muttered a single word. "Superbia." Jove's appearance began to change, brought about by the power behind his word. His slicked back hair began to grow, stretching down his spine. Horns sprouted themselves from his forehead, whilst a foul aura began to surround his body. Putrid mana poured from his skin, so demanding of respect that the wretched spirits who haunted this place began to come enmasse. The spirit behind him stared, though he did not seem to be overcome with fear or disgust. He looked at Jove's changing form, and yet he seemed to be at peace. It were as though, despite this being such a sudden series of events without explanation, he knew exactly why Jove was there.

Jove stepped forward and opened his mouth, a small orb forming within his jaw and glowing brightly. A magic circle appeared before him, and out came a massive beam of energy. It crashed forward straight, instantly decimating the first of the dark spirits in sight.

As if this were the starting bell, others began to swarm. They looked like corrupted humans, and though the description was dull, it was apt. Their skin seemed bulbous, veins protruding and glowing as if they pumped lava. Their eyes seemed melted, their mouths frozen in all different stages of grief. Jove stepped forward, taking out his scythe and swinging it forward, the magical blade slicing directly through the first of the spirits. His movement did not come without cost, a corrosive mist bursting from the ethereal cloud and melting part of his flesh. Jove winced in pain, a silenced grunt forcing itself through gritted teeth.

He turned, spinning the scythe again. The base of the staff went just past his hip, his free hand reaching around his back and grabbing it below the midway point. He allowed the weighted momentum carry itself around his torso, and as the weapon swung backwards, he moved his newly freed hand to catch the body of the weapon and stop its reversed momentum. Then, without warning, he swung it forward again. His body twisted and danced in this way, the blade seeming to become a blur as it spun around him. Each of these beings did their best to send an attack as they suicided into them, be it in that corrosive haze or some sort of magical spell or debuff.

Through it all, he fought. He didn't bother with the debuffs within his arsenal; it was a fools errand. They did not rely on speed nor strength. They were held together by mana, their forms themselves equivalent to powerful spells. This became evident as Jove's staff slowly began to weather down and crack.

The dance finally came to a halt, and as Jove stood there covered in his own blood and catching his breath, he swung the weapon downwards. The blade embedded itself into the earth, and with it Jove stepped forward to face the two final evil entities which haunted these catacombs. They looked no different than the others, and yet Jove could sense a disparity. These things were on an entirely different level, and they were angry.

They charged forward, and Jove leapt back. They sent an array of attacks, some seemingly physical despite hitting him like mana. He dodged or deflected what he could, but the damage continued to add up. His face remained serious, brows often furrowing due to the sheer struggle of the fight before him.

Eventually, he found an opening. Clenching his hand into a fist for but a moment, his palm covered itself in a bright glow. He was ready to counterattack. One of the spirits lunged at him, as if to tackle him. Jove's left leg swung backwards as he pivoted on his right foot, turning his body to the side, and leaning back ever so slightly at his torso. The spirit shot by him, and with that same twisting motion, Jove speared his right hand forward. The pads of his palm hit, and a bright light shot forward through the spirit, eradicating it from existence.

Jove grinned, as victory was now all but assured. The other spirit, seeing this opportunity present itself, sent an attack far more powerful than anything Jove had witnessed before. It hit him head on with enough force to evaporate the Knight, and yet his grin had activated something: Reverse. The damage of the attack did not interact with Jove at all, instead eradicating the final spirit.

Turning his attention back to the original spirit, he suddenly found himself surrounded by innocent souls. They smiled, they cried, they cheered, and yet the young man he'd first met looked at Jove the same way. "Thank you," he uttered, all of the remaining good souls slowly breaking away into a glowing dust, raising to the heavens and free from this cursed place.

EXIT

WC: 1581/1500

Spells: