Irwyn carefully listened to the noise outside of his tent. The sound of fighting was not receding in the least, but there were no further screams of agony. That meant that the fight was either equal or that one side was playing with the other. If this happened yesterday Irwyn would most likely try to sneak out of the tent and observe the situation from further away before even considering to jump in. Now, however, he was confident enough to walk straight into the fray. Or perhaps it was pride rather than confidence.

When he left the tent it was instantly apparent that the latter of the two possibilities applied. His five remaining mercenaries were separated around the broken remnants of the camp, and each of them was fighting a single opponent while there were two other people spectating close by; likely prepared to interfere should their friends be in any actual danger. The people did not look like common bandits, their choice of steel equipment and metal armour gave that away together with the fact that their movements were far too organised. Perhaps they were also former soldiers although they were obviously more skilled than Irwyn’s bunch. When he walked out into clear sight he was almost immediately noticed by basically everyone present; he wondered whether it was a coincidence that his tent happened to be clearly visible for all the fighters.

“What the hell is going on here?” He yelled since he was already seen. If these people attacked him because they just randomly ran into them they could be negotiated with or even intimidated into withdrawing by his background. If they were already aware they were attacking Irwyn von Blackburg things would become much more troublesome. And interesting.

“The sleeping beauty finally woke up. Let’s wrap this up boys.” One of the bystanders spoke, by his tone their leader. He was more of a mountain than a man: he stood at two meters tall of pure muscle. Irwyn immediately opted to find out what he stood against.

[Activating skill Overseer]

[Activation successful]

[Name: Vincent Crush]

[Race: human (nullified)]

[Soul grade: common]

[Mana: 0/0]

[Active Classes: Barbarian warlord (T 3/3) 1/20, Berserker warrior (T 2/3) 15/15, Fighter (T 1/3) 10/10]

[Worship: none]

[Essence: 5,301]

[Unspent points, level: 0, attribute: 0, upgrade: 0]

[Titles: Born nullified]

[Magic: none]

[Skills: Barbarian might+ (35/100), Berserk (10/10)]

[Dormant classes: Raider]

[Attributes:]

[Magic capacity: 0]

[Constitution: 60]

[Strength: 80]

[Intellect: 10]

[Dexterity: 20]

[Soul: 3]

And just like that Irwyn lost any notion that he was not the target. Even someone like this man who was barely in the third tier would not just become a bandit. The main difference between a second and third tier was the fact that they obtained their first upgrade point, at least the most run of the mill classes with maximum tier 3 did. Classes which had maximum tier of 4 obtained their first upgrade point after reaching second tier, but those were already difficult to obtain: the methods were usually either through consuming a one use item or very long procedures which were often also guarded by large powers as their deepest secrets. Any class with a natural maximum above that was highly sought after by nearly all large powers of the world; to be able to produce awakened without the risks and costs of forcefully evolving a class into a T5/4 was desired by many.

But Irwyn was getting side tracked. What was important now was the fact that the man in front of him had a skill reforged by an upgrade point. In some cases that might even triple the power of certain skills which was especially dangerous when applied to a buff type skill like [Barbarian might]: it might literally grant the user strength to bend steel with fingers and crush rocks in their palm.

However, Irwyn was not particularly worried about that: brute strength was only useful if one can land a hit. What really made Irwyn wary was the title [Born nullified]. It meant quite literally that the man was a natural walking magic nullifier. A common spell would just bounce off him or straight up dissipate. That would not be nearly as troublesome if it was not considered natural magic resistance by the Logos. That meant that increased resistances from skill tree and classes specialised in resisting magic like berserker made him nigh invulnerable to anything bellow mid-tier magic.

All things considered this was likely not a coincidence. Whoever arranged this ambush prepared things carefully. Since there was no sign of Tora helping they apparently also somehow also managed to occupy the monkey-woman. It would appear that Irwyn would be forced into showing his fangs. That meant only one thing: He couldn’t afford any witnesses.

Just as Irwyn finished his thought process dozen sounds of steel sliding into flesh resounded and all of his 5 remaining allies crumbled with a scream. Irwyn quickly counted the exact number of his foes and came up with 13 including their leader.

“By the way things are looking; you know exactly who I am, don’t you?” Irwyn asked almost rhetorically “Since misunderstanding or intimidation is off the table. Tell me: For what purpose did you seek me here here?”

“You are even smarter than they say, lordling,” The man laughed at him “why do you think we are here?”

“To capture me and either demand ransom or sell me off to someone in a better situation to blackmail the Blackburgs. Brightbeaks perhaps? I don’t think anyone else would dare.”

“Not quite, lordling,” the man smiled

“Then what is it you want from me,” Irwyn raised an eyebrow to fake incomprehension, but he already understood that things would get messy. Considering the difference in tiers he would not be able to flee unscathed.

“You see, noble politic are far too complicated of a concept for the bunch of us. We prefer burning down villages, raping the woman and slaughtering the men for a bit of gold and fun. When we accept payments it is for the thing we are the most skilled at. To spill blood and then vanish with no strings attached.”

“So you come for my head? In the heart of my family’s land with just the bunch of you? Before the end of the week there will be a wanted poster with a hefty sum on each of your heads in every single town and village in the entire continent. They will hunt you down like the wild wolflings you are and torture you until you run out of screams and blood.”

“Hahah, You might be brave and smart, but that will not help you here, lordling,” the man laughed at him again and smirked “the only person dying in screams of agony will be you. Our contractor is someone high on the inside who is bound by a contract to help us get away with this whole thing. I might be a peasant to you, but I am not stupid.”

“You are stupid enough to let a mage cast, Fireball,” Irwyn smirked and released what appeared to be a common fireball. Nigh chantless casting was impressive for a sorcerer, impressive enough to make the long casting time appear natural. However, Irwyn was a completely different breed of a mage after the previous night: the sort that would consider chant a distraction instead of guidance and spell formula a confinement instead of a mold. The kind that could make a spherical cataclysmic obliteration look like the most common second tier spell.

“As if!” The man shouted and grabbed for the projectile, intending to crush it with his bare palm. He was naturally confident in his ability to resist the spell; with his resistances he could literally eat fireballs for breakfast and probably actually had tried in the past.

“Wait, boss, watch out!” One of the man suddenly shouted with audible panic. He was a sorcerer of some sort then, but that didn't mean he was particularly skilled: the spell Irwyn used had so much mana in it that even a common street trickster with no actual training would be able to tell it was not a normal fireball.

The burly giant was about to curiously look at his shouting subordinate and perhaps reconsider, but it was already far too late. The moment his hand touched the sphere it shifted into a humongous spike of solid flames. Despite his tremendous resistances the infernal lance passed through his flesh like a hot knife through butter. In a split second there was only a burnt stump left from his arm and a gaping hole appeared in his chest. Hole might not be the most accurate description as the crevice that opened in his chest was so large it practically bisected him. The wound did not bleed as it was already cauterised and spreading flames were already burning away what was left of his organs.

“Boss!” A different men yelled and began to run towards the burning corpse. Around half way there his head suddenly exploded into a vortex of flames, killing him instantly. The remaining man were all left with the same fate as Irwyn used the moment of distraction to throw thin volatile needles into soft spots on their heads. He allowed himself a short victorious grin before he screamed in pain.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Aaargh” Irwyn scowled as he tore off what was left of his burned right sleeve. That action revealed that his hand was entirely charred black from the spells backlash. His body was simply nowhere near capable of withstanding the level of magic he used. Irwyn quickly looked for the supply stashes as he was attempting to not choke on his own blood in between the screams. As soon as he found it he took out a large potion and chugged it down.

The withdrawal symptoms he would get after drinking two of them in just few hours would be annoying, but it definitely beat the large internal bleeding caused by a magical backlash. When the pain finally receded and the blackness of his limb slightly lessened Irwyn wanted to honestly thank his parents for not cutting any corners when assigning them the supplies. He sat down and wiped off the perspiration on his forehead with his left hand since his right was unusable for now.

Irwyn was not sure how long he rested, but by the time he stood back up only charred bones were left from the corpses. First he looked for a horse, but to his dismay they had all run away during the fighting, most likely scared away by the fire and explosions.

Since riding off on a horse was now off the table Irwyn had to consider his other options. He could estimate his rough location in the region and perhaps reach the nearest village, but his safest bet was to group up with Tora. She had likely already finished the trouble on her side; she just didn't approach him after simply confirming whether he was still alive. From what he understood about the woman this would not be out of character. He would probably have some difficulty convincing her, but in the end she was assigned to be his guardian and would likely not actively try to fail that assignment.

With slight focus he picked up her specific mana in the forest and headed straight for her. She remained unmoving until the very moment he called out to her. “Tora,” He shouted which finally seemed to gather enough of her attention to make her enter his sight. She looked ordinary, so ordinary that she could be very easily forgotten; the only thing that made her features distinct was a birthmark in the middle of her forehead. She did not look any worse for wear than when Irwyn saw her previously so her side of the fight was likely more annoying than dangerous.

“Irwyn, what happened to you,” she said; this was actually the first time he heard her speak, but her tone did not sound very genuine because it was overly stoic.

“I was far outnumbered so I had no choice, but to pump all my mana into wild magic and hope for the best. Although I got seriously hurt and overexerted my mana I am still alive, so it was technically a success,” Irwyn told the made up story he thought of on the way here. It was not very solid since any knowledgeable mage who saw the campsite would call bullshit on it, but he took the risk and hoped that Tora would not add a precise description to that version of the story. Trying to kill her was far too risky right now to be worth it just in order to contain the information, “what took you so long anyway?”

Tora didn't answer; instead she beckoned him to follow. She led him only few dozen steps further into a birch grove. There laid 3 corpses, each had an arrow neatly placed into the middle of their foreheads. They were wearing different clothes than the original attackers which made Irwyn suspect they were some sort of support unit for the others.

“I will try and search them for some clues.” Irwyn volunteered. He wanted to know who or why wanted him dead, and his magic unfortunately did not leave behind enough to examine. Tora only silently nodded.

Irwyn quickly kneeled down in front of one of them and with his only working arm tried to go through the man's pockets. He was overjoyed to find an insignia in the first socket only to immediately curse when he recognised it. It was a symmetrical grey brick castle placed on pitch black background. Without the slightest doubt the Blackburg family crest.

Oh fuck. Irwyn cursed silently as he made a desperate dodge to the side. It was only thanks to that that the arrow only struck a shoulder instead of his heart. Unfortunately it still knocked him to the ground and before he could move again another arrow pinned his forearm to the forest soil, dispersing the spell he was forming in the process. Then another also pinned his right leg to the ground for good measure.

Irwyn stared at Tora who had an arrow drawn in her shortbow about 6 meters away, ready to immediately run it through his throat if he tried to retaliate. When she was certain he was not going to cast anything anytime soon she actually laughed.

“Hahah, I originally hoped to get rid of you more discreetly, but this is actually so much better than what I had in mind. This way I can relish in the look in your eyes as you struggle in fear and regret.”

“Why would you even do this in the first place?!” Irwyn bellowed and feigned a tremble of fear. Since he was already in this position he might as well try to find out who was behind this madness. Tora seemed rather happy to boast a bit before finishing him off.

“I doubt you would understand.”

“I consider myself smart. Argh!” his comment only managed to earn him an arrow into the other knee. He faked yet another tremble to make her keep talking.

“Shut up. I say you wouldn't understand, because you never even noticed what you have done. Tell me, do you know what happened to your sister young lady Alira lately.”

“Hmmm,” Irwyn wondered for a moment still shaking “I don't think I have even seen her since…”

“Exactly. I don't understand why, but she… changed after what you told her. I don't comprehend people well, but ever since that day she would no longer smile or laugh the way she did before, moreover she would start crying at night; since she thought no one would hear her then. She even fell further out of favour because she was at odds with you; just recently even the duchess herself admitted that Alira would be just used as a bargaining chip to marry off in few years.”

“How is any of that my fault?” Irwyn questioned still maintaining the shaken tone.

“It is!” she yelled at him, her eyes were completely wild at this point as she did no longer attempt to suppress her emotions.

“The breakdown was the result of a long term accumulation of various problems from lack of parental love to gradual spoiling by the vanity of riches. Even if I hadn't done what I did that bubble would pop eventually. And how is our my fault that she lacks both the talent and determination to earn her own favour and fate? Argh!” His logical reasoning was only answered by another arrow straight into his elbow; at this pace he would quickly become a porcupine.

“If she had not taken pity on me back then I would have died a dog's death. I will repay the favour of my life even if I have to flee for the rest of my days. I will take the revenge for what you did to lady Alira.”

“I see,” Irwyn sighed and finally stopped trembling “Since that is the case I am glad.”

“Glad?” Tora frowned.

“I thought there was someone in an untouchable position of power hellbent on killing me. But it's just a misguided traitor,” Irwyn said. She would definitely attempt to shoot him now. His hands were both crippled and it would be difficult to cast something that would save him in this situation. He unfortunately had only one way out, but he knew that it would come down to this the moment his only remaining hand was pinned to the ground.

Preview image for Demon Sker [https://www.fontspace.com/api/renderfont4/zyzD/eyJyIjoiZ2RpIiwiaCI6ODAsInciOjEwMDAsImZzIjo4MCwiZmdjIjoiIzAwMDAwMCJ9/RGll/demon-sker.png]

The presence of his soul encompassed the entire forest in an instant. Tora was just about to release an arrow into Irwyn's neck when she suddenly stiffened. Utter shock was plastered on her visage when suddenly all her muscles loosened and she began to collapse. The arrow which was already drawn was released, but its aim was disrupted and it missed Irwyn's neck by hair's breadth.

Irwyn had no time to react to her flabbergasted expression as he vomited out an entire mouthful of blood.

[Soul pressure resistance increased to level 2/10]

He did not even need to look to know he was experiencing massive internal bleeding. Unfortunately he did not bring a potion from the camp: An oversight that might cost him dearly. He also knew he would never make it back there alive in his current state. In such a desperate situation he could only use equally desperate means.

“Aaargh” yet another scream of pain resounded in the grove. Since he couldn't use healing magic there was only one way to stop the bleeding: to sear the wounds. Scorching one's own internal organs was not only an unpleasant affair; it was also an extremely dangerous and could cause long term damage, especially so to a young, still growing body. He spent the next several minutes yelping in utter agony.

When that was finally done he barely managed to remove the arrows and treated his wounds the same way. With all the bleeding temporarily stopped he was able to stand up with difficulty. Irwyn knew that this solution was only temporary: The wounds would eventually reopen if he put his body under strain, but that couldn't be fixed for now.

He slowly walked towards the corpse of Tora as wilted leaves in great quantity fell all around him. The birch trees and formerly green grass were now deathly, dying at speed visible to the naked eye. He decreet death and so all living things died. No exceptions. When he reached the dead woman Irwyn did not even spare her a glance, instead he managed to barely manifest a sphere of flame in his left hand and let it drop on her torso. It did not immediately explode, instead it just laid there, shining brilliantly. He couldn't explain a forest in which all life suddenly ceased if he was interrogated. A forest which burned down was a different story though.

He limped away as fast as he could in order to avoid being hit by the timed spell and headed straight for the camp. For now he needed to get his hands on another potion. The withdrawal would be brutal and he ran a serious risk of developing an addiction, but it was far better than haphazardly rupturing internal organs.

It took him few minutes to reach the edge of the forest, but plains finally appeared before him. He took a look at where the camp should be. And he found nothing there. He raised an eyebrow at that: He couldn’t quite understand how or why he got lost. Perhaps he was far more tired than he believed. A distant explosion sounded from behind him and he knew the forest was set ablaze; there was definitely no turning back now. With no better options he stepped into the plains in hopes that he would perhaps stumble upon the camp, but no such luck came to him. He traveled the plains for a short while longer before darkness took him.