Almost two dozen disciples scour through the DarkWoods in silence, perhaps in another time, in other circumstances, there would be banter. But everyone present has lost someone, how could they not? A third of their number, gone. Now they’re searching for bandits, not for the merits, there's too many to split between for it to be worth it, but for blood. A group of children and some adolescents, traipsing through the woods in search of violence. The woods are quiet, as though in respect for their solemn pursuit.

Tantra misses when things used to be fun. Sure there was the constant training, but at least it didn’t come with an undertone of grief and rage. Again and again her brain reminds her that if she was never sent here, none of this would have happened. She tunes it out as she eyes the undergrowth. Normal forests don’t have a lot of plant life once they grow this big, the trees acting as a barrier to sunlight, but the DarkWoods is the holder of a Foci, giving the plants and vegetation another source of life,So the deeper they go bushes, flowers, and fruits they find. Their deep enough to see how the trees benefit from this, growing thick instead and tall, some holding a diameter of two meters, and wrapped around a few are vines of black grapes. There used to be tribes that inhabited the branches, living in harmony with the forest and beasts, there still are a few, much deeper in the forest, but most of the periphery has been taken over by bandit groups. Using the Foci as a refuge from more dedicated pursuits to their annihilation.

The bounty never specified which bandits they needed to hunt, but still they unanimously agreed to go after the Rakkaja, who inhabit most of the eastern forest, connecting to the Boreal Pass a few hundred kilometers north. Young master Hakan leads them through this vast place, he is short for his age, but still towers over Tantra, on his shoulder is a greatsword, she doesn’t know the specific name, it’s a big sword and it seems kinda impractical in the forest. There are rumors that Hakan is the cusp of anchoring, but those are just rumors, and Tantra knows how embellished those can get when the subject of conversation is someone of status.

The young master tilts his head and she can hear Sola’s voice whisper into his ear, he just nods and changes direction slightly to the right, rustling through the bushes, not even bothering with stealth.

The rest follow him.

They hear voices go quiet at their approach, and as they push through the foliage they are met with perhaps three dozen bandits, skinning the corpses of wolves the size of bears, all of them turn to look at the children, with…mostly confusion.

“Aren’t you a little far from home?” One of them says as he stops his cutting to regard them, “This is Rakkaja territory, it’d be best if you kids left.”

“We know where we are, bandit.” Hakan says, pushing his greatsword off his shoulder, “you have attacked my people, we are here to return the favor.”

The confusion among the bandits is palpable, “did we attack the Serpent’s Fang?” one asks another.

They shrug, “I did hear Rakia was gathering a few hundred, but I just assumed that was for a merchant caravan.”

One of them scoffs, “of course that madwoman would pick a fight with a sect, Koraz is not gonna be happy once he finds out.”

“Enough,” Hakan says, “draw your blades and meet your death.”

“Look kid,” one of them sighs, “we didn’t have anything to do with whatever happened down south, and we’re not the type who enjoy the idea of killing kids. Although I have met a few who get off on that, but that's besides the point. The point is that you all should leave, before you get hurt.”

Hakan is silent, and so are the children as they draw a myriad of weapons.

The bandit sighs, “it’s gonna be one of those days huh?” He gets up from his kneeling position and draws his blade, “let it be known that under the gaze of the heavens and the gods, we offered you mercy.”

Then he is gone.

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

A clang echoes throughout the forest as Hakan blocks an overhead strike, kicking the bandit back and bisecting a second that thought it a good idea to sneak up on him. Guts fly and the world is turned to chaos as the children rush the leather clad adults with weapons and warcries.

-

Kisrin dashes between two bandits, keeping them busy with kitting tactics as Etra faces them head on and Tantra tries her best to help with her little dagger. It’s pretty cute, how she pretends to not care about matters relating to cultivators, and yet here she is, hunting bandits just like the rest of them.

He knows about her condition, took him a little while longer than most disciples, by the time he found out he’d already started training her, someone spread the rumors like jam on bread. But it makes sense, when he really thinks about it, why else would she need a Qi stone? At first he thought it was a merchant's vanity, but no, it was to supplement what her soul cannot provide. He hasn’t told her that he knows, nor that most of the other disciples know as well, he doesn’t really want to add that kind of stress on her shoulders.

He knows she’ll find out eventually, but it won’t be from him.

She gives a light stab with his spear that pierces through the thigh of a bandit, Etra taking advantage and driving the spear through his throat. The other bandit panics and charges Tantra.

Kisrin panics, and jumps, pushing Qi into his legs and tearing muscle as he bolts forward like a comet. His spear drives itself into the man's gambison, but doesn’t pierce, pushing him down to the ground, Kisrin joins him as his legs lose their strength. He tries to get up but something pins him to the ground.

He turns his head and finds a blade jammed into his shoulder, then he feels the pain, as it is torn out.

-

“Kisrin!” Tantra yells as she charges the new addition, dagger raised high as she goes to stab the woman. Before she can, something cuts deep into her back sending her to her knees. The woman twirls her blade, staring into Tantra’s eyes as she stabs Kisrin’s other shoulder. The boy screams as someone pulls back her hair, puts their blade to her throat, and slices it open. She falls to the ground and paws at the new opening, gurgling blood as she chokes. Blood flows between her fingers, and she starts to cry.

Is she going to die? She doesn’t want to die.

There has to be something, she thinks, as her oxygen deprived brain desperately tries to come up with a thought.

Oxygen?

Oxygen!

In desperation she brings Qi to her lungs and begins to feed it Qi. It is not boosting, it is not circulating, it is an offering. It burns, causing her to gurgle out what should be a scream. Someone is at her side. Telling her something, but she can’t hear anything. All her being is focused on survival, and through the pain, she can feel that she did something right. She brings more Qi whenever her vision starts to fade and lets the fire tear through her body. It sears through her being with a pain she can’t comprehend. Not because it is overwhelming, but because it is confusing. Like a soothing full body migraine. Someone shakes her and she gurgles out blood in response, can’t they see she’s busy here? Honestly, she’s going to have to teach whoever this is some manners once she surely survives.

Surely.

-

The World speaks to him.

It tells him stories.

None of which are of the typical persuasion.

Once it told him of a bug with many legs, eating through leaves and foliage, not a care in the world for what surrounds it. All that entered its mind was the desire for more, the desire to feed. The bug, eventually, once it was finally sated, wrapped itself in a cocoon, where it slumbered for weeks and weeks, until eventually…

Once it told him of a wolf with sharp fangs, leading a pack of pups and juveniles, scouring the forest for its next meal. It understood companionship, it understood responsibility. It would be the first to starve in times of famine, and the last to eat in times of bounty. It’s spawn spread throughout the forest, becoming the dominant species, and as it watched…

Once it told him of a sky with two suns, in a world of death and pain. They crested horizons to reveal the ugliness that lay beneath, they had many names, the solar twins, Lakia and Laria, judgment’s gaze. They were thought to have lasted forever…

Once it told him of a dying man, abandoned by his gods on a battlefield of sorrow. He cursed them, and cursed himself, for all the sacrifices made in the name of a forgotten faith. He cried and cursed until he had no more tears to shed and his throat could no longer scream. It was guaranteed his death, and yet a thing not of this World noticed his plight…

It tells him so many stories.

He can barely contain it all in his little head.

Now? Now it pries his eyes open and shows him the story of a boy.