Meanwhile, the magician woman stretched her arms, now fully healed. But instead of backing away, she turned her attention to Ian again, her eyes shining.
"Oh my, what a charming young man," she purred.
She walked around Ian, admiring him like a prize, even reaching for his camera.
"And you have such a wonderful little device! I bet it captures your beauty perfectly!"
Ian awkwardly stepped back.
"Uh... thanks, but-listen, my heart belongs to Olive, so-"
"Nonsense!" the woman giggled. "I've already decided! You saved me, so we must be fated to be together!"
Ian internally screamed.
Before he could flee, Patrick stepped in, physically separating her from Ian.
"Hey, lady, that's not how you repay your rescuers," Patrick said firmly. "You can't make him uncomfortable like that."
The woman huffed, flipping her blue hair.
"And who are you to tell me what to do, scar-face?" she snapped.
Patrick's eye twitched.
"Excuse me?" he shot back. "I'm the guy stopping you from making a fool of yourself!"
"Oh, please, you're just jealous because no one would ever look at you the way I look at Ian!" she teased.
Patrick gritted his teeth.
"Lady, I swear-"
Before things escalated into a full-on shouting match, Zack and Jen quickly stepped between them.
"Enough!" Zack said, raising his hands.
"Both of you, calm down," Jen added, exasperated. "Let's just figure out what's going on."
The magician crossed her arms and sighed dramatically.
"Fine. Name is Grace. I'm a 21-year-old magician from Mystra. I was captured three years ago by Raven."
The group listened quietly.
"A year ago, I overheard the guards talking," she continued. "They said my planet, Mystra, was destroyed by a group of demons calling themselves the Vampire Family."
Patrick's eyes widened.
"Wait. What?" he said slowly.
Everyone turned to him. His hands clenched into fists.
"That's too much of a coincidence..." he muttered. "Because... the Vampire Family destroyed my home planet, Yumeria, too. Almost exactly a year ago."
The group fell silent.
"No way," Ian muttered. "What are the odds?"
"It means something," Jen said softly.
Grace looked down, her fingers tightening around her robe.
"I was tortured for three years," she finally said. "But I held onto hope. I knew I'd escape one day. Even if my planet is gone, I won't stop fighting."
She closed her eyes, took a breath, then lifted her hand. A faint glow surrounded her as she summoned a staff out of thin air.
"I am a magician of Mystra. Even if my home is gone, my magic remains."
Ian nodded, impressed.
"That's useful. We'll need all the help we can get."
Grace grinned.
"Anything for my dear Ian."
Ian tensed up immediately.
"Nope. Nope, nope, nope." He waved his hands. "I told you, I have a thing for Olive. And I'm younger than you. So-never happening."
Grace pouted.
"Details, details!" she said, stepping forward.
Before she could get close, Patrick moved in front of Ian like a shield.
"Nope. Not happening," Patrick said flatly. "Forcing feelings is never a good thing. Back off."
Grace scowled.
"You again?!"
"Yeah, me again!"
The two immediately started bickering again, much to everyone's frustration.
"These two are going to be a problem..." Zack muttered.
Jen sighed, rubbing her temples.
"Let's just keep moving. We've still got more levels to clear."
The squad, now including Grace and a handful of willing fighters, moved forward. The third level awaited.
As the group advanced, the remaining prisoners from the second level introduced themselves.
One of them, a tall, muscular man with blue hair, stepped forward, spinning a spear he had picked up from a fallen demon guard.
"Name's Darry," he said. "I'm a fighter, and I'll fight to the death if it means taking down Raven's forces."
Another prisoner, a younger man with silver hair, held up a sword he retrieved.
"Call me Waker. I can fight, too."
A third, a gruff-looking man with dark red hair, lifted an axe over his shoulder.
"Blaine," he said shortly. "I'll cut down anything that stands in our way."
With their newfound weapons, the prisoners from the second level armed themselves, ready to help.
As the group approached the third level, the kitchen area of the guards came into view.
Patrick, his yellow hair messy, wandered into the kitchen and started rummaging through the supplies.
Jen raised an eyebrow.
"Patrick? What are you doing?"
Patrick hesitated before holding up a large frying pan and a meat cleaver.
"Uh... I'm more comfortable using kitchen utensils," he admitted.
The room fell silent for a second. Then-
"Pffft-"
Grace sliding her blue hair burst out laughing, twirling her staff with amusement.
"You fight with kitchen utensils?" she teased. "That's the weirdest fighting style I've ever seen!"
Patrick gritted his teeth, shoving a large spoon into his belt.
"Oh yeah?" he snapped. "And you're the only magician in the group. You stand out even more, 'Magic girl.'"
Grace huffed.
"Excuse me? At least I have real combat abilities!"
"And I have cooking skills that'll keep us alive!"
The two instantly started bickering again, throwing sarcastic remarks back and forth.
Meanwhile, Ian sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Here we go again..."
But before he could step away, Grace suddenly wrapped her arms around him again, pulling him into another dramatic embrace.
"Oh, Ian, at least you understand me, right?" she cooed.
Ian stiffened.
"Oh, come on-!"
Patrick, rolling his eyes, immediately pried Grace off of him.
"Alright, that's enough. I owe Ian and rest for saving me, so I refuse to let this witch keep clinging to him."
Grace pouted.
"Witch?! That's so rude!"
Patrick crossed his arms.
"You're literally a magician. You should take it as a compliment."
Grace stomped her foot.
"That's not how that works!"
Jen sighed.
"These two are gonna be a headache, huh?"
Zack nodded tiredly.
Despite the chaos, the group had grown even larger, now reinforced with fighters and armed prisoners.
"Alright, everyone," Darry said, gripping his spear. "Enough chitchat. The third level is ahead. It's going to be even tougher than the last two."
"We're ready," Blaine added, adjusting his axe.
With their extended force, the team marched forward. The third level awaited-stronger guards, harsher conditions, and even deadlier obstacles.