Apocalypse respawn

"There are about thirty of them," said a member of the group. "but we'll get them."

Rargnes, Sengrar, and a man sat on a stone bench, gleaning information.

"Do you have firearms?" Rargnes asked.

"No." the man shook his head, "but we have something better."

"Better? Because with their armor, I doubt a sword or a lance will do much to them."

"We have magic," he said with a smile. He pointed to the group's designated leader. "Do you see him?"

He was a relatively small man, about five feet something. He was not particularly muscular but rather chubby. His round face gave him a teddy bear look.

"Yeah, I see him, and?"

"He's the mage."

"I don't want to judge based on looks, but are you sure we should trust him?" Sengrar asked from the background. "I can believe he's nice—maybe a bit too nice. But he won't be able to run. He's not trained for hardships; that's obvious."

Rargnes said nothing. The other looked at him, frowning.

"Are you serious? You're judging on that? I told you he was a mage, not a warrior."

"But the enemy will run if they're not suicidal or rush in. They won't stand like target dummies for him to hit. And one mage at that? What can he do all alone?"

The man shrugged

"Well, anyway, the guy does his job. He killed a goblin with one shot."

"He did what?" Sengrar asked. Does he have something to use magic, or can everyone do it?"

"He improved his class, apparently," he said, "and he's quite skilled in his management skills. He even found a person who would be perfect for bait. Don't underestimate him." He whispered, "Those who tried to make fun of him didn't end well. I don't want him to cast a spell on me just because I talked to you guys."

"He can cast a spell? Can we do that?" asked Rargnes.

The man looked at the mage, talking with his group members. Seeing that they weren't glaring at him, he continued.

"Don't repeat it, but he has people who go for him and who are his ears. If you say something wrong, he will soon know." He hesitated. "I think that's why the other one got sick."

"He got sick? Couldn't it be a coincidence? Plus, goblins and people from the Middle Ages are showing up. You know, like the Native Americans, spreading diseases... you got rid of the corpse, I hope?"

"That's not it! He had internal bleeding from an illness no one knew, and he was completely delirious. We got a doctor. She said she didn't understand why he got sick; his body was perfectly fine. He didn't die, though; no one else caught any illness being with him."

"You let him stay?" Rargnes was baffled. "So you're telling me we're all contaminated?"

The man sighed. "Come, I'll show you." Sengrar followed him immediately. Rargnes didn't move briefly, then rose up and followed it.

"You're sure it's not dangerous?"

"Yeah, stop freaking out, you're gonna jinx it."

The man gave glances alongside the road, crossing eyes with the mage.

"I'm getting fucked for you..." 

They passed through a broken window, zigzagging in the fragment of broken glass, and arrived before a fortified door. The man took a key and opened a few padlocks. The door opened with a squeaky noise, followed by a man's groaning voice.

The room was tiny and messy. It had a lone bed where a man lay under cover, groaning and muttering things endlessly. Next to him stood a nightstand filled with medicaments. 

Rargnes stepped over the trash, standing before the ill man. He wore a medical mask, and last-minute perfusions were hanging from his arm. Looking closer, the man must have lost quite some weight and barely survived.

"That's not true," he muttered under his breath. "No... free me... free me! It's fake... all's fake..."

Rargnes glanced at the leading man.

"He's been talking like this since the spell was cast."

"But isn't it just paranoia? Or some kind of hallucination?"

"That doesn't change the fact that the spell did it. He had upset him the very same day. And the same night, well, he was affected. And then, you know, his class has a name."

"Which one?"

"The blood wizard. Do you understand? He has internal hemorrhages, and then the name Wizard doesn't inspire anything good. It's occult."

"Can I examine him?" asked Sengrar.

"If you don't mind the curse passing on to you... because I didn't tell you, but we had a second case -"

"You literally said there were no others." Rargnes shouted. "you serious?"

"Yeah, no one else because the other died directly since he had confronted the blood wizard. He died within a few hours."

Rargnes took a calming breath.

"So, you understand... whether he did it voluntarily or not, I prefer to stay away. If evil spirits watch over him, it's not my place to fight against the inevitable."

Sengrar sat on the stool near the bed, grabbing his arm and studying his magical pulse.

"No magic, nor any external one."

Only insignificant residues of magic were found, in average quantity, like in every being since the apocalypse came, as it naturally flowed into humans.

He shook his head. 

"Frankly, there's nothing to report... I don't see any trace of any kind of magic. Besides, if he could do that, why doesn't he do it on the goblins?"

"He never admitted it. Many think like me, but they won't tell you. It's better to be with him than against him. You never know. Well... gotta watch over them, hoping the curse will stop."

They greeted him and left the room as he continued caring for the sick man.

"what do you think?" asked Rargnes

"I just hope you don't get infected," said Sengrar.

"Why do you say that?"

"I got a strong body, plus magic. But he's around your height. There's little difference. If you continue to remain magicless -" 

"I didn't get your talent or class. The best way is not to get involved," said Rargnes. I think he's got a deal with the mage. They want to show us some fear so we will obey them. Did you see his arm?"

"I'm sure of what I say... there was no magic."

"That's not what I meant. Under his shirt, there were scars."

"You think of injections?"

"Nothing like that. The illness is probably true, as you said. I trust you with your mage abilities. It's either a disease or a problem with his body reacting badly to the energy and mana fragments."

"Not a spell?"

"In any case, it has nothing to do with the mage, or we can't prove it. It's better not to stay close and risk catching the disease. But those scars were crazy. Was it whip's mark? And he had calloused hands. My guess is that he inherited it because his body was too weak."

"'Kay, 'Kay. We search for the third?"

They separated, each joining one of the six lone members of the group.