Hey you,

there was a heatwave where I live in the last few days and I discovered that writing in that climate just doesn't work for me. I also had a lack of sleep the last few days so if the sentences seem off please tell me.

On another note I'd like to hear what you think on how the story should progress further. I have a few ideas already, but nothing is set in stone and I'd like to hear your suggestions.

2400 Words

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The energy waves of 100 third realm experts who mobilized their Mana shocked Szilas out of his meditation. His confusion didn't last for long and when the first attacks landed on the sect's grounds he had already taken out his battle armor and rapier, a sword treasured by his family for hundreds of years.

As a sect elder he had the obligation to defend the sect with his life. He was extreme clear on the strength of the sect and had resigned himself to die together with it. When he exited his room his three children with their spouses and his fifteen grandchildren already awaited him in the living room. It seemed that in his old age dressing himself in his armor had taken more time than anticipated.

"The sect will probably perish tonight. Don't resist once we old folks are dead. It will be on you from now on to let our family prosper!"

When he had said his piece he darted out of the door to experience the fun of battle one last time.

What awaited him outside were many flashes of energy that streaked through the darkness, spreading destruction wherever they landed. Multiple structures had already collapsed and the rubble was mixed with the corpses of anyone unlucky enough to be trapped inside.

The elders of his sect were fighting the intruders while heavily outnumbered and the disciples often also joined the fight in the hopes of tipping the scale, even if it was just by a bit. But the tide of enemies proved to just be too strong.

When multiple shadows rapidly neared his position a cold glint entered his eyes. He may be old now, but once he was feared in all of province and he even gained the nickname 'The Serpent'. His whole being resonated with this nickname.

His attacks were fast, vicious and his blade coated with poison from his . He moved agilely on the battle field and he had created multiple strong poison arts.

When he probed them with his divine sense and saw that his opponents were only in the early and middle stages a cruel smile formed on his lips. Did they think that his sect was only made up of weaklings? He had long ago reached the peak and carefully hidden that fact from the world.

Instantly a poison mist formed around him and he flashed forward with his movement art. The name was from a time when he was young and brash and nowadays he never mentioned it anymore.

His enemies were clearly surprised by his speed and he used that advantage to instantly behead one of them. The ensuring fountain of blood drenched him in blood and stung in his eyes as he quickly passed the corpse.

Enraged cries erupted from the group and multiple of the enemies began their assault simultaneously. He quickly figured out that they had never fought together before as their coordination left several glaring holes through which he instantly escaped the enclosure and mounted his counterattack. This time the enemy had managed to deflect his attack with his arm, but in exchange for his life he had lost that appendage for good.

What the enemy didn't knew was that the poison in the air and on the blade would soon kill him anyway. With every gust of wind he created by moving his poison mist spread further, but in the dark no one had noticed it yet. Had they fought by daylight the intruders would have just pelted him with ranged attacks, but now under the cover of darkness he held the absolute advantage.

Once again employing his movement art he dodged a burst of fire, a few icicles and a scythe made of that were aimed at him. He feinted an attack on one enemy while spraying toxic liquid on the warrior with the scythe who had followed him and who had mounted a sneak attack on his unprotected back.

With a shrill cry the man dropped on the ground writhing in pain. Then he turned his attention to the attacker in front and followed the feint with a real attack that sent the enemy on his back as he had more strength than his frail body would suggest. He formed a spike out of pure poisonous Mana and shot it into the enemy on the ground.

That was when he noticed the enemy who had newly joined the fight. His eyes widened when he made out a familiar face. He had faced off against Torian 'The Hunter' and his two friends Maria 'The Berserker' and Ralph 'The Crusher' many times before. Their nicknames were quite unoriginal, but the fact that they got famous enough to get them and that everyone in the province knew them was all that one had to know about their strength.

Out of his own team of six no one else had managed to get a nickname and four of them had already died in battle or through age. The only other survivor was now the as Szilas couldn’t be bothered to do it, but still wanted a very firm say in the sect then and in the future. But as it seemed now there was no future anymore. At least he had made sure that no one in his family was a good-for-nothing so with a little bit of luck they would survive.

Focusing on the man in front again he noticed that the other teachers had left and searched for new targets. Torian of course knew about his poison and that they were no threat to him.

“Old Devil I didn’t think that you would still be alive and kicking after our last meeting. But it seems you lost quite a bit of your vitality. I almost feel bad fighting you when I see you like this.” A mocking grin was on Torian’s lips.

Szilas just snorted and began a mad dash towards Torian. Since Torian's was not made for combat he drew his own sword and took a stance. Szilas on the other hand knew that his poison would be expelled by Torian's Nature affinity immediately and likewise decided to conserve his Mana for strengthening his body.

They both knew how to use the attribute-less attacks that warriors trained in, but they were not proficient enough with them to use them in a situation like this.

With their huge quantity of Mana they just strengthened themselves to the limit and began a flurry of attacks and counters. They danced through the rubble and burning skeletons of houses and people at an insane speed that most fighters in this battle couldn't even follow with their eyes.

While he was moving through the whole battlefield that was once his sect, Szilas saw many of the elders and disciples fighting until they drew their last breath to defend their sect. He had known what would await the sect, but to see it pained him nonetheless. 

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Then a Mana pressure suddenly appeared behind him. He had no time to mourn his inattentiveness and was smashed into the ground by the Gravity affinity.

"It seemed you had a bit of trouble with this one."

Hopelessness spread through Szilas' mind. The Protector had made his move and he now had no chance to take someone important with him into the underworld.

When he felt a huge amount of Mana gathering behind him he felt a tiny ray of hope. He had recently developed an Art that would allow him to concentrate poison around him into a makeshift armor. Slowly he too gathered Mana and condensed it around him. his own gathering was luckily overshadowed by the Protector who prepared to finish him off.

When he felt that the Protector would release his move at any second now he used his movement Art and soared into the sky. When he reached about 5 meters in height the Protector let out a snort and released his blast of pure Mana.

Szilas curled up and tried to protect his head as best as he could. Then the blast reached him and shattered his armor along with his spine. He felt a brief moment of indescribable agony before he blacked out.

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When he awakened again he was greeted by a world of pain. There was nothing in his body that didn't hurt. Most of his bones were probably broken and his skin, or the parts of it that were left, was full of scrapes and bruises. That he hung in the crown of a tree in a very uncomfortable position didn't really help that either.

But there were also good points to this. He was alive for now and hadn't bled out internally or externally. The most important organs also still worked and he was sure that one of his arms wasn't broken. He accessed his and willed one medicine after the other to appear in his mouth. Jewellery  with space enchantment was very rare on this continent and he was luck to find this ring in the burned ruins of a secluded sect in the mountains.

He relaxed a bit as he felt the medicine taking effect, slowly mending his torn skin and muscles. The blood on his body had already crusted over and was now slowly breaking off to make place for new flesh and skin. He also suddenly realized the thirst he suffered now that he slowly grew accustomed to the pain. He materialized a jug of water in his functioning hand and shakily brought it to his lips.

The refreshingly colt water felt delicious like never before to him. This brought him back to his senses from the delirium he was in previously after awakening again. When he finally opened his eyes only darkness greeted him. For a few seconds he thought that he had gone blind, but when he slowly tilted his head he could make out a few shapes of branches before him in the feint moonlight.

Apparently it was still night, or night again. The second option seemed more likely when he thought about his thirst and the dried blood on his body. If his thirst was anything to judge by then it had been multiple days as he could go a week without eating or drinking under normal conditions. One of the many advantages Mana brought with it.

He tried shifting his body a bit to get in a more comfortable position, but his aching body protested immediately. He had no other choice then to endure and wait until he was healed further. After a while he finally remembered to use his to examine the state of his body. He was still a bit muddle-headed it seemed.

What he came up with was a broken back, arm and legs while most of his other bones had tiny cracks and fracture all over them. His organs were mostly just about to fail though. Had he awoken just a few hours later the damage might have been too much to survive in the short-term.

After he had made sure that there was no immediate threat to his life he drifted back into unconsciousness.

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After several hours he awoke again. This time the sun stung in his sensitive eyes and it had begun to rain again. When he probed his body again his had done their part to fix him up and his bones were temporarily able to withstand stress again. His organs were mostly patched up and would not fail for the time being. All of his muscles still ached, but now they were at least useable again and would let him finally leave this damn tree.

Very slowly and carefully he crawled down the tree. What would normally have been a few seconds of descend turned into a whole hour with small rests every time he had successfully lowered himself on another branch.

When he finally was back on solid ground he let out a sigh of relief and searched for a branch to use as a staff to lean on. After searching through the dried leaves that covered the ground for a bit he found an acceptable branch and began marching in a random direction. He would find a landmark sooner or later as he had  lived here for centuries and it was basically his backyard.

After only half an hour he had found small clearing that was very close to his sect. Or former sect now. He was quite anxious to find out what had happened after his involuntary departure.

When he finally saw the first ruins he was quite out of breath and would have rested if the worry about his family's fate hadn't propelled him forwards. He made his way through the rubble that was still littered with dead bodies and body parts. No one had apparently bothered to even bury or burn them.

When he spotted as rank 1 gnawing on the arm of a corpse that was otherwise completely buried under a collapsed wall, he sent out a Poison Spike to quickly kill it. He couldn't just stand by idly as animals desecrated the dead of his sect.

He let out a sigh of relief after finding his former residence in ruins, but no signs of any corpses. That meant that most, if not all, of his family had survived this disaster. With his greatest worry resolved he was finally able to relax and take care of his body.

Exhausted he sat down on the remains of a wall and again tended to his wounds that had reopened after his overexertion. The rains still soaked him, but at this moment he didn't care anymore. 

After careful consideration he decided to bury the dead of his sect for the next few days while recuperating and then he would find the reason for this attack.

It was time this region showed some resistance against the and with their future on the line he was sure that he would find support from the leaderships of the small sects that still remained in . 

Satisfied with the rough outline of his plans for the future he rose again to begin his depressing work as the sole undertaker for his sect. he would give every single one of them a proper send off and not just some nameless mass grave.