The drive through the forest proved delightful, with the narrow, unpaved road winding its way amidst clusters of rocks and towering trees while the air remained refreshingly crisp and pure.
The sun intermittently peeked through the trees, casting scattered patches of light here and there. Now and then, the road crossed over a babbling creek, its clear water meandering gently through the valley. Further to the left, you could sometimes hear the sound of a larger stream rushing between rocks.
Occasionally, I spotted raspberry bushes along the roadside, their fruit tempting me to halt, but due to the lateness of the hour, I decided to press on.
At one point, a trail veered to the right, and I followed it, soon coming upon the cottage after a brief two-hundred-meter journey. The road carried on, passing through the wide-open gate, and upon reaching the cabin, I spotted the three boys seated at a table with wooden benches on either side.
They greeted me with waves as I parked my bike and shouldered the deer.
"Hey, Lores!" Hew exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "What... what do you have there?"
"The hunter returns, bearing a heavy load on her strong shoulders to nourish the family," Tom declared with a solemn tone, raising his beer glass, which closely matched the shade of his dirty blonde hair. Even seated, he stood almost as tall as Mike, who stood beside him.
I rolled my eyes at his antics as I approached them and placed the deer on the table, which left them in a state of awe.
"Did you find that poor thing by the roadside?" Mike inquired, running his hand through his brown hair and stepping closer to me.
I shrugged and then pointed at the deer.
"Well, I unintentionally took its life, so I figured it would be a shame to let it go to waste. I owe it at least that," I replied.
"But, but... what can we do with it?" Mike wondered, moving closer to inspect the animal. "Is it deceased?" he asked.
I nodded, abstaining from rolling my eyes.
"How long did you have to chase it to accidentally run it over?" Tom inquired. "And how did you manage that on a bike?"
I scowled at him, but I had no other story ready to explain the happening.
"This is a hunter's cabin, Mike," Hew interjected. "My father uses it for hunting. There's another table near the house where he dresses the game. The only issue is that I'm not very skilled at skinning these creatures. Perhaps we could..."
"I'll handle the skinning and butchering," I said, eyeing the table Hew had pointed to.
I was well aware that Cala possessed these skills. If she could do it, I figured I should be able to as well.
"We'll freeze most of it, but I'd like to prepare some roast deer for dinner. Is there enough space in your freezer?"
"Sure," Hew replied.
"That's a great idea!" Tom chimed in. "Can you really cook it?"
"My cooking skill is level seventy-seven in Mephisto!" I proudly declared, earning a burst of laughter from them.
"I'll go work on improving my wood-collecting skill in preparation for the fire," Hew said with a grin.
While they were a bit surprised by my hunting expedition, they didn't seem entirely opposed to the idea. For some reason, the thought of real roasted meat was incredibly appealing to me at that moment, and since everything was readily available, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. As the boys began preparing for the fire, I efficiently processed the deer. I laid it out on the table and donned an apron, selecting a couple of very sharp knives from the cabin. Cala's skills came in handy, and I quickly and skillfully skinned and butchered the animal in record time.
"Wow, you really know what you're doing!" Mike exclaimed, standing beside me and watching my skilled butchery. "Have you been hunting with your dad?"
I nodded and couldn't help but chuckle at the idea.
My poor dad wouldn't harm a fly; he's just too soft-hearted, but it was a good enough explanation.
Butchering an animal is quite a gruesome task, and even with Cala's skill, the slicing and cutting took long enough that it was already dark when I finished.
Fortunately, we had some light thanks to Hew, who had installed solar cells and batteries that provided enough illumination throughout the night.
Soon, the portion I intended to roast was spinning above the fire, while most of the rest went into the freezer, with only some parts being discarded.
After cleaning up the table, I headed to wash myself and noticed Hew bringing a couple of rifles to show Tom. The two of them were engrossed in a passionate conversation about hunting. I had no idea they shared this passion, and Tom seemed to be more knowledgeable about it than I thought.
After I had rid myself of the lingering gore from my earlier butchery, I gazed into the mirror and was pleased to see that my skin was nearly fully healed, regaining its smooth and healthy appearance. Surprisingly, neither of them had made any comments, probably mistaking it for a rash or something minor.
I picked up a glass of juice and made my way back to where the two of them were engaged in a lively discussion about rifles while Mike was keeping a tab on the roasting meat. I checked shortly with him, but since it would still be a while until the roast was ready, I approached the pair and listened briefly to their conversation.
Firearms didn't particularly interest me, and I soon lost interest in their discussion.
Out of sheer boredom, my gaze landed on the rifle that Hew was holding in his hands. I couldn't help but be curious about the name engraved on it, so I reached out with my free hand, intending to give it a slight turn to the side in order to read the name.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The sudden gunshot momentarily deafened me, and a burst of fire and dust covered my face. I felt a powerful impact against my sternum, and the explosion momentarily blinded me. There was a loud thud against the cabin's wall to my left, followed by some shouts, which then faded into an eerie silence.
I stood there, blinking hard, still clutching the rifle by the barrel in my left hand, struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. My gaze locked with Hew's wide, saucer-like green eyes, and his trembling lower lip spoke of his shock.
“Nooooooooooo!!!” - he screamed in a panic, still holding onto the rifle.
“Umpf, sorry,” I mumbled flatly, my chest aching from the impact. I glanced around to assess the situation; there had definitely been a gunshot, but everyone appeared to be unharmed. I was still a bit stunned, but oddly enough, they seemed more rattled than I did.
Suddenly, Tom sprang into action, his right hand gripping my back while his left hand pushed aside the tattered remnants of my blouse, frantically searching for the wound on my chest. My blouse was in shreds, almost nonexistent, and dark splotches marred my skin. He believed those were gunshot wounds.
I had been shot? But there was no blood? I lowered my head to inspect my chest and promptly slapped his hand away.
“Hey, no touching!” I protested.
He blinked at me, then glanced between my chest and my face, clearly perplexed.
Meanwhile, Mike pointed at the cluster of dark dots on my chest and then bent down to pick one from the floor. I appreciated his resourcefulness, as his brain seemed to be functioning better than Tom's when it came to picking up dark splotches.
"It was a buckshot..." Hew finally said, his eyes still fixated on the cluster nestled between my breasts. The rifle he held trembled in his hands, its barrel still pointed in my direction. Slowly, he lowered the rifle, his face flushed, his entire body visibly trembling, and sweat trickling down his temples.
I took one of those dark blots, and it plopped from my skin as if it had been glued there, but with not a very strong glue.
Tom turned to look at Hew with an intensity in his eyes I rarely saw in them.
I covered my breasts with my left hand and pushed Tom away.
“Peepshow is over. Does anybody have a spare blouse somewhere?”
They all began talking, shouting, and clamoring simultaneously, but their discussion had nothing to do with the blouse.
Later, as we were eating, we were still talking about it.
"I heard something hitting the wall," - Mike said as he stood up to investigate a couple of small holes in the cabin's wall. - "It hadn't pass through," - he observed.
"Don't tell me those ricocheted from you and ended up in the wall?" - Tom wondered - “So that's why you don't wear a helm! You are bulletproof!” - he concluded.
That was what was bothering him? I sighed, slightly annoyed.
"In India or Egypt, nobody wears a helmet," I explained in my defense.
"So you're a witch!" Mike exclaimed, his dark brown eyes locked onto mine.
We were seated a bit away from the cabin, eating by the light of the fire. It created an eerie atmosphere, with the dark woods surrounding us, casting large, shifting shadows illuminated by the flickering flames.
The scents and heightened emotions had greatly increased my appetite.
Well, he could put it that way. I nodded to Mike, preoccupied with the piece of roasted deer in my hand. Besides, I did not know how else I could explain it to him.
Hew had been notably quiet since the rifle incident. He spoke only a few words, burdened with guilt for nearly causing harm to one of his friends due to negligence. His appetite was nearly nonexistent, his eyes were red, and his lower lip trembled frequently, but I didn't want to press him further.
Should I reveal more to them? I pondered whether to broach the subject of Dreamland, but perhaps it could wait.
Alternatively, should I wipe their memories clean? The thought crossed my mind; however, there was uncertainty regarding how my memory-altering spell would work now. My mana had been tainted by dark magic, and it seemed this spell also performed some form of mental restoration after erasing short-term memories.
With my corrupted mana, that part would probably not work, so I would likely cause some lasting harm. How bad would it be? Should I first test it on those I consider my friends? A deep sigh escaped me.
Besides, Matt already knew about my abilities, and it was likely I would slip up again sooner or later. Maybe it was time to be honest with them.
"But I'm still struggling to grasp what actually happened," Tom reiterated, frustration clear in his voice. "The laws of physics can't just be ignored. Even if you were somehow bulletproof, you should have been pushed back by the force of the shot. When we sparred in kumite, your body always reacted according to the laws of physics; why is it different now?"
Tom had a point, and his observations were valid. Not even in Dreamland had I experienced something like this. I instinctively rubbed the base of my nose, then gazed, annoyed at my oily fingers.
I tsk-ed, cleaning them with a paper towel.
Thinking this through, this is what happens when you attack bosses or dragons in Mephisto with non-magical weapons, so it is probably a function that high-level magic users and those aura users acquire.
"It was an instinctual reaction, like those fighters you see in games," I tried to explain.
Tom still seemed skeptical. "I can't wrap my head around the idea that you don't get pushed back when you're hit. My mind just can't accept it," he protested.
In response, I showed him my left arm and said,
"Go ahead, hit me as hard as you can."
Tom complied, delivering a solid blow, though he held back a bit, which turned out to be fortunate for him.
Stupid me, I should have warned him about what might happen. As his hand made contact with my shoulder, a shadowy ripple passed briefly over my skin. It was a fleeting, barely noticeable effect.
His hand struck my shoulder as if it had hit a solid wall, and he let out a surprised yelp.
My lips curved upwards in a little smile while gazing at my arm. I was not sure that it would work; I feared it might have been a one-off happening!
Concerned, Hew asked Tom, "Did you break anything?"
Tom shook his hand in disbelief.
"No, I don't think so," he replied, still baffled by what had just occurred.
Mike, always observant, chimed in with a question, "What was that dark light that passed over your arm? Was that magic?"
I nodded in response. "Yes, it was."
"So you refrained from using it when sparing?"
I shrugged. It was not really so, but I did refrain from using Cala's power.
"That would beat the idea of sparring, wouldn't it?"
"But energy cannot just disappear in this universe, magic or not!" Tom protested, his frustration evident.
I took another satisfying bite of the roasted deer before responding. "You're right; it doesn't vanish, but it can undergo transformation," I replied.
After I swallowed and wiped my mouth with the back of my left hand, I continued,
"So, when we talk about the energy involved here, it's not much. Think about the famous equation linking energy and mass. The energy we are talking about here, could be equivalent to the mass of two or three protons. I'm not entirely sure how it works, but that's my estimate. And just to clarify, I didn't consciously do this. I didn't have time to think about it in the heat of the moment. My best guess is that the magic present at the point of impact prevented the bullets from penetrating my skin and transformed that energy into something. It makes sense, you know. Now I understand why black dragons are impervious to physical attacks. I used to think it was just a game mechanic to make them tougher opponents. But it's logical. Black dragons lack an aura, or to put it differently, they must keep all their black magic tightly bound around their body. It must be an innate skill. You simply cannot penetrate that magic barrier with a non-magical attack.”
"Hmm, so we're onto black dragons now?" Mike chuckled.
I couldn't help but shrug and roll my eyes. My big mouth got me into this. Fortunately, they took it in good humour.
Since the next day was a national holiday, I decided to stay the night as well. The boys had already planned to stay.