Bells started ringing, and more armed guards flooded out of the warehouse. Lycan cursed. He had made sure to be careful when hiding the bodies and was unsure how they had discovered him.

The guards formed a perimeter around the warehouse, searching for their attacker. Lycan noticed some were sorcerers as they began lighting several torches through transmutation.

Lycan lept out of the shadows and into the open. He had felt the ground rising around his boots and had jumped to avoid the trap.

"There!" One of the guards yelled with a croaked voice.

Several things happened at once, and Lycan rolled to the side as an arrow zoomed past where his head was. Lycan fired back several balls of flame. A wall appeared from the ground to block his attack.

Lycan knew some of his shots hit their mark based on the screams.

"He's a fire sorcerer!" One of the guards yelled.

"Stay back!" another one ordered.

Lycan kept moving, avoiding the earth's elementalist attempt at trapping him. He fired towards the warehouse, hoping it would cause a distraction. The fire began spreading.

"Focus on the sorcerer!" a guard yelled.

Lycan fired again at the guards. This time, however, he condensed the flame into a line. It shot at the transmutated wall dead centre and straight through, drilling a hole through the earth elementalist behind.

"Addi!" Lycan heard an old woman yell.

He was about to fire again at the remaining guards when he heard something behind him. Turning around, he saw a large wave appear from the body of water.

Lycan scanned the burning warehouse and saw a figure with arms raised on the roof. He fired at the figure before they could complete their transmutation. He missed. The wave crashed atop the warehouse and Lycan, dousing the burning building.

Cursing, Lycan dodged left and stabbed the closest guard with his sword. He swerved left. Swung. Stabbed. Sliced. And by the time he finished off the last guard, his clothes were soaked with blood. The guards were not fighters, he discerned. They did not fight in a formation and were much too old.

An elderly woman stepped in front of him from behind the warehouse. Two blobs of water floated above her back.

"You won't get them!" The woman yelled.

Lycan did not reply. He fired two shots at her, which she cancelled out with her water. Lycan rushed in with his blade. She did not move fast enough, and he stabbed her through her chest.

The woman groaned. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled Lycan's ear close. The old woman opened her mouth, but her life expired before she could deliver her final words. Her body sagged and fell to the ground.

Lycan looked around. Bodies decorated the landscape, and the water nearby turned red. It was a filthy job.

"Behind you," Lycan heard Alez's voice in his mind. Turning around, he saw her appearing out of the forest with six people. A knife floated behind each of them.

"And who are they?" Lycan asked through his mind.

"They ran away while you were distracted," Alez responded as she approached Lycan with her six prisoners.

"Kneel," Alez ordered out loud as she stopped near Lycan.

The prisoners shivered in fear. When Lycan looked closer, he felt his gut churned.

Alez must have noticed Lycan's hesitation, and she spoke through their connection. "They're no different than the ones you already killed."

"They're barely adults," he replied, the grip on his sword tightening. Lycan saw one of the prisoners begin soiling themselves.

"You have your orders, squire," Alez reminded him.

Lycan pointed his sword at the kneeling prisoners. "Assassination I can accept. But this?"

"Please," one of the prisoners pleaded through her tears. "I'll go to the army. Don't kill me."

Lycan's eyes widened as the rest of the prisoners began to beg the same way.

"What," he paused. "Are they talking about?"

Alez clicked her tongue. "They must've hid from the draft."

"And you didn't think to tell me about this draft?" He spat.

Alez's face grew furious. The next thing Lycan knew, he was clutching his head with both hands, his sword lying next to him. He felt the inside of his head squeezed.

"Remember who you are talking to," Alez reminded him with a whisper. "You don't want to get your hands dirty? Well, too bad. Our world is about to be attacked. You don't have the luxury of staying clean."

Lycan felt Alez's hand lift his chin from behind so he would see the prisoners.

"These people knew exactly what they were doing," she whispered. "They stole the supplies meant for the ones fighting for humanity. How many of our soldiers died because of them? Will you visit their families and tell them why their children and parents aren't coming home?"

Lycan gritted his teeth and stretched his palm towards one of the prisoners.

"You can make it painless."

Flames began to form on his palm, but he could not bring himself to shoot.

"What about your friend? Have you thought about him, Mataram?"

Alez's final words broke Lycan. He let out a cry and unleashed his tenaga. The fire came out in a stream. He saw the eyes of the prisoners grow wide as the flames consumed them one at a time. His flames disintegrated them before they could cry out.

Lycan felt the tightness in his head disappear, yet his head felt heavier than ever. He stared at the dark patch where the prisoners had kneeled.

"You know about him," he stated more than questioned.

"Yes," Alez replied.

"Can you get him out?"

Alez shook her head. "I won't," she answered. But you can one day if he is still alive by then."

-----------

Mataram stood in the courtyard of their base along with the rest of the soldiers at the camp. His leg still ached, but the pain was manageable. They were waiting for Commander Ezra to make his appearance. Recruits had arrived at dawn, their eyes still unscarred.

"I'm going in from now on," Mataram whispered to his right.

"It's my turn," Scissoring whispered back.

"I don't care. I'm a sorcerer. I can handle it better."

Scissoring looked down and frowned. She met Mataram's eyes. "Your hands haven't stopped shaking since last night."

"I'm fine," Mataram reassured. He clasped his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking, but he failed.

Scissoring looked conflicted, but her survival instincts won. "Fine," she muttered.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Commander Ezra stepped out of the command tent. Despite its name, the 'tent' was a round stone structure. Six high-ranking knights trailed the commander. The commander cleared his throat and amplified his voice.

"By the end of this day, the forest will be ours!" The commander announced.

Mataram almost collapsed to the floor. The commander's booming voice had shocked him, and his legs moved on their own. Dodging for an attack that did not exist. Scissoring had caught him, sliding her arm underneath his pit. She did not look at him, nor did the other soldiers around them. She let go once he regained his footing.

"No more will we show them any mercy for their transgressions! Our great empire has seen it fit to make them pay with blood!" the commander snarled. "More of us are on our way! Let's prepare the predrinks! Let's make the mudmen pay!"

It was not a great speech, but the Mataram and the soldiers cheered anyway.

After the speech, Mataram joined the sorcerers, queuing for power stones. Besides himself, none had black armbands. When it was Mataram's turn, the woman distributing the power stones paused.

"Rats don't get power stones," she gibed. She looked down at Mataram, her face smug.

He stared back. The woman was new, he reckoned, much too clean and well-groomed. Judging by her height, she most likely was also a highborn. Her face grated Mataram.

All of a sudden, she dropped the power stone that she was holding, her hands clutching her neck as she choked.

"Here," a man from her right said to Mataram, tossing a power stone.

Mataram caught it.

"Could you please let go of my squire now? I'm sure she learnt her lesson."

"One more," Mataram ordered.

The man kissed his teeth and tossed another at Mataram. Mataram undid his transmutation as he turned to leave. He could hear the woman's coughs as she gasped for air. The veteran sorcerers gave Mataram approving glares.

"Here," Mataram gave one power stone to Scissoring as he reached her.

Her eyes went wide. "I've never used this," she blurted.

"Squeeze it hard enough until it cracks, then throw it at the enemy," he told her.

Scissoring nodded in thanks as she put the power stone in her pocket. "Are you ready?" She queried.

"No," he confessed.

"Neither am I," she sighed.

------------

Mataram triple-checked his tools and weapons, memorising where he put each. Scissoring stood next to him. They have yet to receive any new members for their squad. They stood with the other rat squads at the rear of the main army. The plan was simple: the army would rush through the forest at speed. A thousand Air Force knights had arrived earlier that morning. They'll be supporting the opening attack.

"I'll be quick," Mataram reassured.

"Don't take too long," she smirked.

The trumpet howled, and the army roared. In the distance, the front line advanced in an orderly manner. Above, Mataram saw Akar's sorcerers zooming in a line formation. Row after row of sorcerers advanced. He heard the clangs of weapons and looked forward. Although outnumbered, the enemy's airborne sorcerers had begun joining the battle.

"I didn't realise we have so many of them," Scissoring awed.

"Me neither," Mataram concurred.

"This attack is larger than I thought. Much larger," she added. "Why now?"

Mataram knew why. He remembered the man he had met during his journey to Badai. Mataram had yet to see him since they arrived.

Before Mataram could reply, the captain barked. "Flush them out!"

A small hole opened up underneath Mataram. Despite his small stature, Mataram had to squeeze to push himself through. Once inside, he lit his match.

"We detect movements underneath," Mataram heard a man's gruff voice inside his mind.

It surprised him, and he almost dropped his match. This kind of coordination required numerous visioners. Scissoring was right. The scale of this battle was more significant than he had thought.

"They are retreating towards the front lines," the voice continued. "Go after them. Our earth elementalist will prevent them from shutting the tunnels."

"Why not shut all the entrances and bury them alive?" Mataram asked in his mind. There was no response.

Grunting, he began sweeping the area before him with the broken branch he had brought. The branch caught something, and a spiked board popped from the right. Mataram held his breath. After undoing the trap, he continued.

"Hurry! We cannot let them reinforce the front lines," the voice in his mind stressed.

Mataram was unsure if the visioner was speaking to all the rats or only him. He stopped when he felt his stick finding thin air. The tunnel bent downwards, and he could not see or hear anything from below.

Tossing his match below, he heard a hiss as his match extinguished. There was water below, he thought. Transmuting tenaga, he could not detect further than the water's surface. Pulling out his knife, he climbed down.

His foot slipped on a wet stone, and he fell into the black water. Mataram was rising to the surface when he felt two hands grab him by the neck and push him back down. He thrashed and swung, but his blade could not find its mark.

Recalling what he had previously done, he transmuted his tenaga into the air. The tenaga moved slowly as it crawled through the denser water. But once it was through, he immediately found his mark. He heard a loud bang, and the grip on his neck loosened.

Standing above the shallow pool, Mataram coughed out the water he had swallowed. He tasted blood. He ignored the body, and with his matches wet, Mataram began feeling with his foot. He found an opening underneath, near the edge. Inhaling as much air as he could, he dove in.

The hidden tunnel led him into a bedroom. There was light, and the ceiling was high enough for Mataram to stand. Bunkbeds lined the walls. He heard shuffling down another passageway.

Knife at the ready, Mataram tip-toed towards the sound. He bolted through the entrance, intending to surprise whoever was there.

A girl screamed. Mataram lowered his knife. She could not have been older than eight.

"I won't hurt you," he assured her, halting his approach. She was missing a leg.

The girl looked up at him with large and fearful eyes.

"I'll get you out of here," Mataram offered his empty hand and resumed approaching her at a slower pace.

As he got close, her expression changed. Gone was the scared look, replaced by a hateful snarl. She unfurled a knife from beneath her clothes and jammed it into Mataram's injured leg.

Mataram grunted as he fell onto his knees. He felt the child yanking the blade out and saw that she was about to stab him again. He swung his knife and sliced her throat.

The child's knife rattled as it fell onto the floor. She was clutching her neck, blood seeping through her fingers.

Mataram met her eyes as she collapsed. Her chokes drowned his hearing. With an agonising yell, he stretched his palm towards her. Her head burst.

"WHY?" He shouted at the dead child. "I wanted to save you," he muttered.

Pulling himself up, Mataram began rummaging through the cupboards in the room. It was empty. They had left that girl to die or as a trap. He cursed at the barbarism as he limped back to the hall.

"Mataram," a familiar voice called out to him.

"Scissoring? What are you doing here?" he asked, perplexed.

Her clothes were soaked with blood.

"Not mine. It's from the water," she replied, noticing his worried look. "Your leg," she exclaimed.

Scissoring helped Mataram sit before checking his wounds. "Doesn't seem too bad," she surmised.

"Just hoping it's not poisoned," Mataram breathed.

"You have the weapon?"

Mataram tossed his head towards the room he had just left. Scissoring went inside. She did not let him know if she was bothered by the sight.

"It's not poisoned," she called out.

Mataram heard light shuffling, and Scissoring returned carrying a pair of trousers. It belonged to the child. She shook her head before Mataram could say anything.

"Why are you here?" Mataram asked as Scissoring bandaged his leg.

"We were ordered to leave. We don't leave anyone behind, of course."

"Thanks," Mataram thanked her, and he meant it.

"You'll do the same for me."

Mataram grunted as Scissoring tightened the knot.

"Come on. We need to go," she urged as she put his arm around her shoulders. "We don't want to be left behind."

They made their way towards the end of the hall towards a small exit.

"I'll go first," Mataram insisted. "I can detect them," he explained, touching his ear with his finger.

"Fine," Scissoring replied.

The tunnel led to a fork. Transmuting tenaga, Mataram could hear several breathings coming from the left opening. He took his power stone and cracked it.

"Brace," he whispered a warning to Scissoring.

He threw the stone into the opening and heard a few questioning voices. Panick replaced it when the people inside realised what the stone was.

Mataram flattened himself to the floor. There was a loud boom, and the tunnel shook. Mataram could only hear one laboured breathing in the room now. He did not bother checking; he did not want to see.

"Are you alright?" he asked Scissoring.

"Yeah," she groaned. "I'm fine. Let's go,"

He continued his crawl, waving his knife to check for traps. He kept transmuting his tenaga, checking for breaths. A loud burst came from the front.

"What's that?" Scissoring panted.

"Enemies, upfront," Mataram answered. "I killed them."

Scissoring let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

They continued the path. The first few times, Scissoring would yelp, but she got used to the sound of bursting heads. Mataram heard the sound of the battle first before he saw the light.

"Exit, up ahead," he informed. "There's still fighting, I think."

He looked backwards and saw Scissoring holding her knife at the ready. She nodded at him. As he got closer, he noticed leaves were covering the opening. The sound of battle got louder.

He blasted the leaves before taking a look outside. He could see the front lines not far away.

"We're good," he said and exited.

Bodies lay around them, and the stench was horrible. A few were treating those who were still alive of Akar's soldiers. They looked up at him when he emerged but turned away when they realised he was not an enemy. Mataram grabbed Scissoring's hands and hauled her up.

"Thanks," she said. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Mataram, your eyes!" she exclaimed. "They're bleeding!"

"Just... strained," Mataram panted between breaths. "Just...need....some....rest."

"I'll get someone to check on you." She turned and bolted to the nearest knight who was tending another soldier.

"Scissoring, stop!" Mataram yelled. But he had seen it too late.

Scissoring turned around to face him. "Wha-?" Her sentence was cut short as the false ground beneath her opened, and she fell into the trap.

Mataram limped as fast as he could towards where he last saw her. He tripped and fell next to the opening. He saw Scissoring.

Sharp sticks impaled her body, blood flowing out of her mouth.

"Help!" Mataram yelled. "Someone help, damn it!" He saw one of the soldiers rushing towards him carefully and turned back to Scissoring. "Hold on. Help is coming."

Scissoring let out a blood-filled gurgle.

"She's a dead woman," a voice said next to him. "I'm sorry. You can only lessen the pain."

Mataram wanted to retort, but he felt a hand on his cheek. He turned and met Scissoring's gaze. Her eyes were pleading. He understood what she wanted and held her hand. He was meticulous and gentle in weaving the air for her. He watched as her gurgling stopped, and her eyes drooped close. Like falling asleep. Painless.

He lifted Scissoring's body and delicately laid her down. Her face looked almost peaceful now.

How many more of his friends must he kill? he wondered. Unsure what to do, he turned his ire towards the enemy. He took the power stone he had given Scissoring and searched for the nearest tunnel. With his knife at the ready, he dove in.