(Zhenya POV)

Footprints, broken branches, cleared brushes. Following these crumbs under the dim moonlight, I led the way with Fredrica trailing uncomfortably close behind. Ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, she was being a little too overprotective. *Boosh!* Never mind.

Hit with a sudden explosion of air. The draft carried along with it a flurry of bodies, scattering before us as they face-planted into the dirt. “Are they still alive?” Fredrica remarked as more people came flying out of the treeline. I think some of them are twitching, maybe.

Close to the ground, scuttling closer to the source, we stumbled across a tense game of blitzz and go with a familiar face conducting the proceedings with his club. It was The Giant! Repelling any and all on comers with wind pressure alone.

Tone-deaf to our enemy’s struggles, Fredrica had this air satisfaction around her that said, ‘He finally let loose a little’.

“You see him?” I asked to get a second opinion, but sadly neither of us could spot their leader. “Not like he’s hard to miss. So chances are they’re deeper in.” Yeah, a guy wrapped head to toe in bandages would be hard to miss.

"Alright, let's get moving." But before we go jumping into the fray, “Hey Freddie, let me take point on this one. There’s this game me and the other kids used to play back home called blitzz and go and...” After giving due explanation, she was entirely onboard. If not, a little too enamored with the idea.

“Okay, on the next wind blast... GO!” Dashing forth, we took cover behind a tree. By now, everyone was aware of our presence, because of someone’s loud-ass armor. Oh well, not like they could do anything about us. “Hold, Hoooold, Hooo-, GO!” It went on like this for a while, with us knocking others out from behind cover stealing it for ourselves.

The key to this is in the shifting breeze. Feints, delays factored with his inhuman flexibility, makes any attempt to approach a gamble. Instead, you have to feel it on your skin.

“Each wind-up of his massive club a stirring breeze, a serious swing a brewing blizzard. Something like that.” And I think I’ve lost her... At least she seems really into the idea. If we’re ever up north, I’ll just show her The Howling Mountains.

Soon we were racing past the giant who, like Fredrica, had this air of satisfaction emanating off him. Just a gut feeling, but I don't think I’ll ever understand those two...

From here on, the tracks started branching out more. No point following these ones, they’re deeper and messier. Most likely came from deserters running for their lives.

Eventually, we reached the next major divergence.

Let’s see, trees brutally sawed down, unusual four-pronged stab marks...Yep, beginning to see a trend here.

Annnnnd cue. Enemy troops came sprinting right past us, stampeding out of the darkness with Mono-Eye (unsurprisingly) right on their tails. Oh Shit! He’s looking this way.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Stand your ground Zhenya. Maybe only as good as a rodo playing dead, really this wasn’t my best idea. But it was the only one.

Can’t show weakness...

Come on, blink already!... Hmmm...

Screw it, wheres that hungry potion. His eye widens in shock at the mere sight, and before I know it, he’s already turned tail, resuming his chase with even greater fervor.

“Huh. That turned out surprisingly well.” Must have scarred him real bad during our last tryst. Are we the real monsters here?

“But still no sign of their leader.” Fredrica followed up. So it was inwards and forward once again.

Judging from the tracks, there should only be three or four of them left. And The Giant mentioned he had brothers, multiple. So one more left I guess.

Right, so what’s the next horror that can no doubt one-shot us... Apparently, a fairly pudgy one, chilling on a chair of vines. Gotta say, for a giant, he’s awfully squishy looking.

Actually, he looks oddly familiar... Wait! I got it. When I first entered through the gates. Yeah, he was there with the other robed people.

What was it called again? With all that fancy glowing green powder, oh! The rite of cleansing. Also around town too, he’s the guy always giving those grand speeches.

“Bargas?!” Fredrica exclaimed. “I- Is that you? What in the goddess’s name happened!”

I wanted to see how this was gonna play out. But, “Zhenya. Go on ahead, I’ll deal with this guy.” Her tone made it clear. This was non-negotiable. Tiptoeing past this Bargas guy, I disappeared into the woods, never once breaking line of sight.

After that, it didn’t take me much longer to run into their supposed leader.

“Whazzit? Ah, you’re that half-blood girl...” Standing in the middle of an expanse, turning around as if expecting me to reach him. Entirely bundled in bandages was Sabastian. “I figured some A.A hounds would be coming my way, but if fate didn’t have a hand in this, I don’t know what did!”

Sinking into a broad stance, with steady hands, he aims his spear at me. “Consider this payback for the burns.”

Kicking himself forward off the ground, I barely had time to draw my sword before *Clang* he started stabbing away. His movements were incredibly fluid, each thrust quickly chambered into the next. Practiced but orthodox, it didn’t take long for me to grasp the timing and.

*Srrrrrrkt* Clashing against his spear with the flat of my blade, I push it aside before he has a chance to bring it back and slide into his dead-zone (so to speak).

Instead of, I dunno anguish or shock as his spear is rendered mute. A smirk forms on his face, as a crater forms on mine. Staggering back, I blearily gleam the trickling blood on the blunt of his spear.

Still hazy from the pain, I barely manage to duck and roll out of the way as he lunges at me, pressing the advantage.

Hearing his spear impale the ground, I used the time to regain my footing and reorient myself.

Yanking his spear out of the dirt, Sabastian takes up a new stance. Unorthodox, free-form, this was his true fighting style. A dazzling mix of acrobatic pole jumps conventional spear strikes and twirling his spear like a baton.

Now a veritable meat grinder, his spear almost seem to bend at every conceivable angle.

Pinned on the back foot with swallow cuts and bruises cascading in. First thought, dive into the woods.

(back with Fredrica)

Watching Zhenya disappear into the darkness, Fredrica turned her attention to the twisted form of the man whom she once knew.

“Explain. Now. What in the Pale Witch’s name happened to you!” Fredrica demanded, her voice warbling with obvious agitation. Sword and shield were drawn just to drive the point home that any petty drivel or deflecting excuses would not be tolerated.

All but unperturbed by her passionate demand, Bargas gingerly got up from his vine-grown seat. “Fredrica. I am not surprised that you haven’t heard. You always did have your head in the training grounds, never the meeting rooms. Didn’t you hear? I was disowned, and by none other than my own honorable father.”

“Hmph. Well, I know for a fact that your father would never disown you even in the worst-case scenario.” She didn’t know Bargas particularly well, more acquaintances, but she did know some things about him. Both being the children of front line nobility and all.

The Red Lion people used to call him. An unofficial title he received for the exceptional skills he displayed during the sparring get-togethers they were a part of.

Talented with the sword and gifted from birth with an abnormal constitution. His muscles developed as naturally as breathing and his stamina... Little to say, his body was extraordinary and martial prowess unquestionable. It was already decided that he would inherit his father’s position despite being the youngest child.

That is why...

“Ah yes, my unique constitution.” Bargas addressed his rotund body without a hint of regret. “You know, my father only exiled me at first. It was only after he learned that I gave away my gift did he disown me. Couldn’t even say it to my face, bastard sent a messenger instead. Even to this day, I haven’t been formally disowned, the coward couldn’t even put it on record.” *Click*

Asserting a break to their talks, Bargas clinked his iron-plated gloves together, finally comfortable after fiddling with them throughout their conversation. Downing a small packet of powder, he pounced right at Fredrica, throwing out a string of lightning-fast jabs.

Blocking it, she already expected hands to be thrown sooner or later. Considering the circumstance, also knowing if she had to talk about her own father, she’d probably want to beat the shit out of someone to.

Each blow rattled her shield, ever so slightly denting it each time. Frighting considering, he was attacking barehanded. But to Fredrica, who faced attacks from dungeon creatures who could kill her in one hit, this meant nothing.

Taking the offensive, she shrugged off most blows without a second thought, keeping Bargas on his toes with precise slashes. ‘He can’t keep this up forever.’ Bringing her sword up, she thought him dead to rights with this one, but.

Jolting backwards, Bargas brought his arm up to intercept just in the nick of time. Resulting in a dull *thunk* as her blade made contact, only sinking maybe an inch deep before stopping.

Despite it only being a shallow cut, wresting her sword from his arm(?) took Fredrica way more elbow grease then she cared to admit.

“Y-your arm.” Thoroughly mangling his finely tailored suit in the process, she caught a glimpse of what lay underneath.

Well, the jig was up. Bargas tearing off the shredded remains of his sleeve freed the dense, almost tumor-like growth of bark on his outer forearm that his suit concealed. “Oaken skin disease...”

“A gift I received during my time in Felschonheit.”

“But t-that still doesn't make any sense!”

From what Fredrica knew, that bark should have been very sensitive. He should be paralyzed on the ground in pai-

‘He doesn't feel pain.’ An epiphany hit her. “Anaesthetics.”

‘So that powder he swallowed was to dull the pain, and it seems to be a rather potent one to boot. Actually, it’s a wonder he can still move like that.’

Slamming his bark encrusted arm into Fredrica, pushing her back and resuming the fight. Bargas threw out various debilitating powders to prevent her from rushing him down again. Slowing the pace of the fight down to a crawl there was a lot more room for thought.

“So all this, just to spite your father? Take over the dungeon, then what?” She managed to squeeze out in between ragged breaths, running around the gas plumes to reach him.

“My father?” Bargas let out a dismissive chuckle. “My family name, my title, and especially my father, they can rot for all I care! What I’m- We’re after is so much bigger than some petty family drama!”

During his brief stint of hotheadedness, Bargas slammed into Fredrica’s shield as she approached with more force than he anticipated. Here Fredrica finally found her chance!

Pushing forward into the blow at an angle, she directed his fist upwards, sending it careening, just barely skinning the side of her helmet.

Opening him up, Fredrica drove her sword right into Bargas’s side.

But opportunity gives birth to opportunity, this goes for both sides. Unfeeling to the blade stuck in him, Bargas’s right fist crashed into Fredrica’s breastplate, caving it and knocking the air out of her. Disengaging by pushing her shield off the brick shit-house that was Bargas’s body, both combatants wobbled backwards, but it was clear who won this trade.

Nursing his side, Bargas wasted no time treating his wounds. Even numbed, he was enough of a practitioner of the medical arts to know nothing vital was damaged. It would be blood loss that would do him in.

“Heh. Not bad.” He said in between dry heaves. “But a wound of this caliber is nothing! The world needs to be changed before it falls.” Throwing handfuls of seeds to the ground, they immediately took root, sprouting into the shape of nightmares. Flowers that reeked of death, jaws hungering for meat.

In an instant, the woods around them transformed into a jungle of horrors. “Heh hehe, lovely aren’t they? No? I can see it in your eyes already, judging them as abominations.

But let me ask this, those fanciful flowers that everybody thinks of, what good are they really? They bloom, look pretty and wilt. Useless little things that can’t even die if they did nothing.”

He walks up to a palm-sized bud that was about to bloom. Peeling it open, extracting some bile, mixing it with a potion before gulping it down.

It didn’t take long for Fredrica to put two and two together. He didn’t say he lost his gifted constitution, but that ‘he gave it away’. Alongside this abnormally strong skill, there was no doubt. Bargas bargained with the goddesses and received a blessing.