There was no getting out of this without a fight so Jerome didn’t bother talking. He attacked. Fast and hard. He didn’t look at their faces. He only saw them all as targets to be eliminated. Everywhere he passed through, Blanks went down groaning in pain.

But there were too many of them. He shot down from the tree, only to see the archer who had been chasing him, being constricted by a large green-scaled python. Jerome said a prayer for him in his heart and went into a roll the moment he hit the floor.

He picked up the archer’s quiver of arrows and bow in the same motion, quickly stuffing them into his storage bag. Someone tried to tackle him to the ground but he moved with quicker reflexes, giving him an uppercut upside the jaw. The Blank was launched face-first into a tree.

Jerome bolted but even as he ran, he still had to block attacks from various weapons. A sword came at him from the right and he instinctively rotated his spear to knock off the sword. But just as with Hedon the last time they fought, the sword was too heavy to push away.

Jerome was launched backward and his legs gouged into the earth as he tried to balance himself. This time around though, he held onto his spear. He centered himself quickly on both legs as Fisheyes came into his view.

The young man was beginning to annoy him and he could feel his anger stirring again. Jerome kept his hold on it. Making sure to tamp down on it. Though he could feel his control slipping. He had been cooped up in this part of the forest for a whole day, nervous to hell and back. And watching out for an archer that he could not find. He was a nervous wreck already and this fellow was just asking to get it.

“I told you to give up that spear of yours or receive a beating of your life but you decided you wanted to suffer,” Fisheyes said.

“And I’ll give you a chance to walk away now,” Jerome said, barely containing what he knew was about to happen.

Fisheyes chuckled. “You don’t think you can take all of us, do you?”

Jerome looked around. There were quite a number of them. He didn’t bother counting but he was sure their numbers had doubled. There was no negotiating with these people. And he didn’t feel he was going to be morally compromised if he ended up killing one or two of them. They were here to kill him too. There was no reason to hold back his rage until he couldn’t anymore.

Very well, he thought. You asked for this, Fisheyes.

~~~

There it was again. That feeling. Like something bad was about to happen.

Rihal looked around the new chamber he was in but whatever he was feeling, it seemed no one else was feeling it. He had felt it first when Jerome went all ‘Noir’ on Hedon. And now he was feeling the same thing again… now when Jerome was being cornered by at least three-score Blanks.

He watched as Jerome gripped his spear hard until his knuckles turned white. The Blank that was leading the gang against him just sneered. He wasn’t underestimating Jerome which told of his capacity to think and strategize. Other Blanks would’ve let their egos plan for them.

Jerome attacked. He gave them no time to react, going for the ones he perceived as weak. Their leader stood shocked as the Blank in front of him zoomed to the side.

If Rihal wasn’t a Spirit Realm artist, he probably would only see a blur moving on the screen.

“Your boy is one nasty fellow, Lord Rihal,” someone said beside him. “Do you care to share what you’re giving him?”

Rihal raised an eyebrow at the guard who asked with a pointed look. “And what might it be you think I give my disciple?”

“Come on, Rihal. Look at him. It’s clear as day he’s on something,” Dunn Itakar said.

“He’s not on anything, Dunn,” he’s just unleashing his inner potential, Rihal thought that last part to himself. If what was to come for Jerome wasn’t a kind of potential, he didn’t know what was.

“Rihal, the Royal Blanks have their own version of Pilgrims’ Keep up in the Frozen North, along with Blanks from House Itakar.”

“You should know, Dunn. You’re an Itakar,” he quipped.

“Don’t change the subject, Rihal,” Dunn shot back. “Even the Royal Blanks don’t move like that, and they are strong. I admit they are stronger than our Blanks.”

“Oh, you admit,” Rihal gave him a sly grin.

“Don’t grin with that blindfold over your eyes, Rihal. It’s… eerie.”

“I have 5000 reasons to smile, Dunn. What’s it to you?” Rihal said, poking the Itakar were it hurt for losing 5000 mids to him. It was a lot of money.

Dunn scrunched his face in anger. “I’ll raise you another 5000.”

Rihal smiled. “Desperate much? What’s the stake?”

“If he can win—”

“You must be joking. No, if he can get away from them, I win.”

“Deal.”

The Head Guard whistled. “You trust his skills that much, Lord Rihal?”

Stolen story; please report.

Rihal only shrugged.

The room was suddenly drowned in a roar of excitement as the fight between Jerome and his assailant reached its climax. Jerome had taken down many of the Blanks that had surrounded him and he was fighting like a wild animal. He held onto his spear this time around and fought with it.

The fight scene on the screen shifted with the Blanks as they moved, trying to hem Jerome in and direct the flow of the battle. Some of them had run away at this point not bothering to fight anymore.

The leader of the gang barked orders around. Somewhere they had dug a pit to trap him in. The experts in the room saw through what they were trying to do immediately.

“Well, at least he took down many of them,” Dunn said. “And I won in the end, so everybody’s happy.”

Rihal snorted. “You’ve not won yet, Dunn.”

“What—”

“Lord Rihal never stipulated a time frame for his disciple’s escape. And for that, we must wait and see what happens next,” the Head Guard declared.

“What…Rihal, you—!” Dunn, stuttered as he boiled with rage in his seat. But since he couldn’t refute the Head Guard’s declaration, he just sat there in silence.

Rihal wasn’t that much into gambling and considered it a habit that was too worldly for him. He, however, didn’t like to lose money. Not stipulating a time frame for Jerome’s escape was to buy himself more time. He wondered if his disciple would be able to escape the claws of the older Blank. But he knew the chances were slim.

The fight ended almost as quickly as it started. Jerome was locked up inside the pit and his spear was taken away from him.

“You should go see Tekkel Alvric, Rihal,” Dunn said, bristling. “Don’t worry. He ain’t as greedy as me.”

The Itakar was mad that he was probably going to lose another 5,000 mids very soon. But honor moved him to give solid advice, even though he would rather see Jerome delivered to the Alvrics.

Rihal only smiled. Now he waited for whatever decisions the gang of Blanks was going to make.

“What’s the rush?” he asked, “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

He couldn’t interfere. The only thing he could do was wait till it was time to hand over his disciple to Alvric. He’d be there to collect him. But he knew Alvric wouldn’t let go easily. That’s if Jerome didn’t escape first.

~~~

Jerome woke up in an unknown area of the forest. It was dark and the air was damp. He smelled earth all around him. The earth’s essence was also strong. Was this a pit? He looked up and the sight he saw confirmed his thoughts. He tried to move but his whole body burned. He was in pain and almost unable to move. He held his tongue, stopping himself from groaning.

Voices reached him from above. This must be a camp of sorts. What had happened for him to find himself in a pit covered with tree trunks? He suddenly remembered what had happened during the day. His fight with the archer, then the pincer attack from the rest of his assailants.

Everything went blank when he gave in to his rage. And even now he could still feel it — the rage. It burned through him but was a bit controllable.

Jerome was very uncomfortable with the fact that he lost control of himself and didn’t even remember what he did. That was a stupid thing to do on his part. He should never have taken his hold off his rage like that. He promised himself never to do that again.

He sat in a meditative posture to cycle, absorbing the meager ambient essence in the air, and using it to replenish his strength. Unfortunately, Blanks couldn’t absorb attributed essence and the essence he sensed was most powerful in the pit was earth-attributed. Only when he turned Sprout could he start absorbing attributed essence.

After more than half an hour by his estimation, he stood up, ready to escape his imprisonment. His wounds were mostly healed. He still felt pain but it was bearable.

The camp had gone quiet by now. It seemed everyone was sleeping. This was the perfect time to escape. He reached for his spear at his back only to find nothing. The special holder for the spear was also gone. He touched his belt. His storage bag was gone as well.

Rage threatened to consume him. Jerome clenched his jaw tight and his hands into fists. He slowly crawled to the top of the pit using pieces of roots here and there on the walls of the pit. They must have dug this in a hurry and didn’t look to cut all the roots out.

The Blanks had used large tree trunks to block the mouth of the pit. He pushed the trunk of one of the trees but it didn’t budge — as if there was something heavy on it. It wouldn’t have been difficult for them to find large, heavy rocks to weigh down the tree trunks.

Frustrated, he started digging at the edge of the pit. It took a while but he was able to get a hole big enough to crawl through.

A silent camp greeted him when he crept out. Everyone was out cold. Jerome didn’t care about them though. He only wanted to find his things and there was only one person that would have it with him.

His armor was ruined, covered in dried blood that was most definitely his. But he had no change of armor. He’d just have to keep this one on until he was ready to leave the forest. Then again, maybe he could also steal armor from these bozos. But another thought surfaced — he was literally smaller than everyone of them.

A large tent stood to one side, overlooking the pit. He was sure he would find all his personal effects in there. He opened the flap from the outside, grateful that it wasn’t a modern tent with a zipper. A zipper would have alerted the person sleeping inside, and he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to get it open.

Sure enough, Fisheyes was sprawled on some layers of blankets, sound asleep and snoring like a chainsaw. Jerome looked around for his things. The spear was beside Fisheyes as was the special holder. His storage bag, however, was nowhere to be seen. Jerome strapped the holder to his back. The spear was in its contracted state so he left it as it was.

He straddled Fisheyes and stabbed the spear into his shoulder as he stuffed his mouth with a fistful of cloth. Fisheyes screamed into the cloth which muffled the sound. His eyes bulged when he saw Jerome on top of him, pinning him down. The spear had also pierced through the armor he wore, his flesh and bones, and into the ground beneath him. His body convulsed in pain underneath Jerome.

“Where is my storage bag,” Jerome whispered ominously to him.

Fisheyes huffed, breathing hard as he tried to suppress the pain he was feeling. His eyes betrayed him in an instant as he looked down. Jerome got up and kneed him between his thighs, causing him to groan in pain. He searched Fisheyes’ armor until he found what he was looking for.

“You have been a pain in my ass, you know?” Jerome sat on him again, pulling his spear and stabbing him in the other shoulder. Fisheyes’ screams were muffled again. “I did warn you though, but you didn’t listen.”

Jerome drew his fist back and knocked his lights out with an elbow to his temple.

Soon after, he was walking away from the camp hoping this would be the last he saw of any of them. He had taken all their weapons as they slept. And dumped them into the huge bonfire they had made to keep themselves warm. That had taken a lot of effort on his part. But there weren’t many of them left, so it was doable.

Ironically, none of them had storage bags. Fisheyes on the other hand… Well, hopefully, he’d learn his lesson when he woke up to his own nakedness, strapped to a tree on the edges of his camp. His own blankets had been more useful as resources than any other thing in his tent.

Jerome decided to find a place to recuperate completely. He needed to be at full strength to tackle whatever else he would face in the mountain range. His rage was not diminishing. In fact, confronting Fisheyes had made it flare up and now he was having a harder time getting it under control.

~~~

“It looks like I won,” Rihal turned to face Dunn with a wide grin on his face, “...again.”