Arthur, Donald, Aryn, a still unconscious Melvin, Marina and her surviving friend are all rushing to the capital on the cart, even if they have to sit uncomfortably on top of vegetable sacks or wooden boxes. The two captured bandits are tied as tightly as they can be with thick rope and with a rag in their mouths. Every fighter here, injured or not, has their eyes on them. At the mere idea of trying something, Aryn is going to start cutting fingers.

Arthur’s second boss, Melvin, is unconscious and doesn’t seem like he’ll wake up any time soon. According to Marina, she smells something like a sleeping potion on him. She theorizes it was something to keep him from struggling or talking, effectively just making him luggage to the assassin. She says he might be asleep for the rest of the trip.

The dead are also being carried with them at the front of the cart, right besides Donald, who is driving. They have yet to start smelling, but it should be soon. It’s been 12 hours since the attack. Donald refused to leave their bodies there and insisted they deserve a proper burial.

Fortunately, since the mercenaries did bring their own healing potions, there were enough to heal everyone’s wounds. With the way they work, after applying the liquid directly to the wounds, they begin a slow healing process. They should be fine by the end of the day and hopefully they won’t even leave scars.

The attack happened closer to the capital than any other town, so in the end, it was decided that they should better just rush there, taking turns driving the cart and keeping guard. They would not be setting up camp, just in case the assassin comes back with reinforcements.

Turns out there was a clear reason for the attack, although they can’t confirm anything until Melvin wakes up. When they inspected the cargo, they found something Donald swears he didn’t know was there, smuggled with the box of ingredients for the mages at Clock Tower.

Marina called it [ulzer]. It’s like a fruit, almost like a tomato, only far smaller, red like wine and very dry. She says the job she got from Prince Eliot was to confirm if any caravans were smuggling this specific fruit into the city, since not only is it poisonous, but it’s apparently the key component for some kind of drug.

The theory is that, if Donald is being honest, Melvin was the one in league with the bandits, which is why they tried to kidnap him while killing everyone else. It helps that Donald is willing to cooperate and will go with Marina to talk with all relevant authorities once they get to the capital.

That’s the gist of the situation. They ride towards the capital as fast as they can, taking turns to drive the cart and watch over the bandits. But when it’s finally Arthur’s turn to sleep, he can’t take advantage of it.

Only minutes after he got comfortable, sitting and resting his back against a big box, his body starts burning from the inside. He wakes up with a scream. The pain surging from the core of his soul and spreading throughout his body. He feels the pain directly in his nerves and feels like they’re about to tear. His chest tightens painfully and feels like it’s on fire. His head feels like it’s going to split open and he starts sweating, drenching his clothes.

‘Fuck! Why now of all times!?’

“Arthur!” Aryn calls to him, holding him by the shoulders. “What’s wrong!?”

Marina’s eyes immediately land on the bandits, but there’s no prana oozing from them.

“Not… them…!” Arthur manages to say as he grits his teeth.

No, it isn’t them doing this to him. This has been happening to him for three years already. He knows how to deal with it by now.

He stars the flow of prana through his body, but this isn’t what he’d normally do in a fight. Sparing no expenses, he lets the magical energy run through his body like a violent river. It enhances his body to withstand the pain, but it burns through his Prana at an extremely accelerated rate.

“What the hell…?” Marina mutters, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Arthur! Stop! If you keep doing that…!”

“I know!” Arthur grunts in response to Aryn’s warnings.

He knows the risks of doing this. He knows them very well.

Every person has a limit to the amount of Prana they can use before they need to rest. However, it’s not as simple as that. When they reach their limit, it’s not like they can’t keep using prana, but forcing the soul to keep producing magical energy can have lasting damaging effects on the body AND the soul itself, leading even to the loss of one’s life. People have described it as squeezing the soul so hard it stops producing prana and starts taking your life force.

But Arthur doesn’t have time to worry about that. He knows full well this pain won’t stop until he runs dry. Unlike before, where he’d compared himself to a burning torch, he would now have to say he’s like a bonfire.

“What’s going on!?” Donald yells from the front seat of the cart.

“We don’t know!” Marina replies hastily.

“It’s fine!” Arthur grunts again but doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have the energy to.

Every inch of his body hurts and he’s trying to run magical energy throughout it until he’s completely dry. Over the three years since this started, this couldn’t have happened more than 8 times. Yet it’s like every time is more agonizing than the last.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

His output of prana starts to dwindle, and breathing is only getting harder. But he has no choice but to keep going, or the pain will never go away. His vision starts to blur and his mouth is dry. In barely two minutes, he’s reached past the limits of his prana.

“He’s STILL going? How much does he have?” Marina mutters to herself.

The tension in his muscles finally begins to diminish and his chest starts to calm down. However, Arthur is absolutely exhausted. He’s lightheaded, dizzy and can’t see straight. It doesn’t take long for him to fall unconscious.

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

He doesn’t know how long he was out, but when he wakes up he can still feel an uncomfortable sensation deep within his chest. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’ll make it difficult to use prana for a while. Everyone’s still in the cart as they ride towards the capital. The sun is high up in the sky, so it must be afternoon already.

‘Shit. I slept for longer than I should have. I missed my shift.’

“You alright, kid?” He hears Aryn’s voice from above him. The man is sitting on top of one of the boxes and looking down at him. Arthur nods to his question. The senior guard then holds a waterskin next to his face and gives it a shake as he grins. “Thirsty?”

Arthur immediately reaches for it, and Aryn doesn’t even try to deny it from him.

Only when he’s drank almost half of the water inside does he realize he shouldn’t have done it.

‘Please let this be my share of it! I don’t want to pay for drinking extra!’

“Sorry. I drank too much.” He apologizes, passing the waterskin back to Aryn.

“Don’t worry. We’re fairly close to the capital now. We won’t have to worry about our water supply.” He gives him a reassuring smile.

Relieved, Arthur looks around and sees Donald sleeping against another one of the boxes. Marina’s friend is driving the cart, and the woman herself is also looking at him from her seat on top of a stack of sacks of grain.

“How long was I out?” He asks, rotating his stiff neck and rubbing it with his hand.

“About twelve hours.” Marina tells him. “Would you mind explaining what the fuck happened?” She asks with a scowl and arms crossed.

“You almost ran yourself dry. You could’ve died.” Aryn says.

“I know, but if I hadn’t done that, the pain wouldn’t have stopped.” Arthur sighs.

“What pain?” Marina insists.

“I don’t quite understand it myself. The first time this happened to me was three years ago. Since then, it’s happened about three times a year, though it’s not like it follows a calendar. It’s annoyingly unpredictable.” He groans.

“And does running prana through your body help?”

“It does.” He nods. “Again, I don’t understand why, but every time this happens, I have to use prana beyond my limits and it goes away. It’s not like a healing spell or anything. Those don’t work.”

“Well, that’s quite a limit you have, then.” Aryn says, raising his eyebrows. “Two whole minutes of an output as wild as that… Man, I would’ve died in 20 seconds.”

“No kidding. Who the hell are you?” Marina asks with suspicion.

“Me? My name’s Arthur. I’m the son of a courier.” He answers plainly. “Not much more than that, sadly.”

‘Hopefully I’ll be able to say I’m a knight in the near future, though.’

“Don’t give me that. You’re definitely not normal.” Marina keeps her scowl.

“Gee, thanks.” Arthur says, unamused. “I told you. I wish I knew why this happens, but I don’t. Besides, me having a high Prana capacity can’t be that special, can it? Isn’t it mostly down to luck how strong the soul you’re born with is?”

“For the common folk like us, yeah.” Aryn answers. “I hear nobles keep a lineage of strong souls to ensure the prosperity of their families, though.”

“Fine. You’re pretty damn lucky, then, Arthur.” Marina says, leaning back. She then coughs to clear her throat and looks at Arthur in what he believes, from how little he knows her, is an uncharacteristically bashful way. “Also… Well, thank you for saving my life back at the forest.”

“I did that? Oh yeah, I did!” He laughs. “You came out of nowhere and almost gave me a heart attack.” He then shakes his head and smiles at her. “Well, you’re welcome. Thanks for helping us out, too.”

“If you don’t mind… there’s more stuff I’d like to talk to you about. When we’re alone.” She says, giving the tied-up bandits a look. They’re awake, but tied up so tightly and uncomfortably that they’re not really a threat. Still, they’re dead if they move. “Would you be up for a drink when we reach the capital? Well, and after I take care of everything else, too.”

Before answering that incredible invitation, Arthur looks up at Aryn with an excited, yet restrained expression and whispers.

“Aryn! I’m not good with this sort of thing! Is… is she asking me out!?” He asks, trying to control his eagerness.

“She is, you lucky bastard.” Aryn smirks and gives Arthur a playful kick on the face. It’s less of a kick and more of a push to annoy him.

“I’m not asking him out! I just have some things to talk to him about, and we might as well do it over drinks.” Marina assures, yet her cheeks turn a light shade of red that gives Arthur hope.

“That sounds like a date to me, boss!” Her friend calls out from the front seat as he laughs.

“You shut up! I’m telling your sergeant of your performance here! She’ll have you training until you drop!” Despite her harsh words, her face is turning redder and redder.

‘She’s really cute.’

When the silence finally settles amongst them, Arthur allows himself to reflect on something. It might sound heartless, but because he barely knew the guys who died, he can’t feel much more than pity at their deaths. Sure, he would’ve loved to be strong enough to prevent it, but he doesn’t feel a heavy loss.

What about Aryn and Marina, who did lose people they knew? His eyes turn to the senior guard, and it seems he can easily read the pity in them.

“Worried about me? Don’t be.” Aryn shakes his head. His expression solemn. “These are not the first companions I’ve lost. They won’t be the last, either, so long as I continue this line of work. Hell, maybe I’ll be the one to go after them.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “We’re all ready for it. We know it comes with the territory. Be sure you’re ready to lose friends, too, if you continue fighting.”

Arthur swallows. That’s… heavy, but he thinks he understands. He just doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready to lose people dear to him.

In only a few more hours, they finally reach the walls of the capital, Radiant City.

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Part 1: END.