Reaching the gates proved less hard than Aster had expected. The marauders had swept through the village like locusts, leaving everything behind them in shambles. The once vibrant festivities were destroyed, and the walkways carried the mark of a thousand men trampling through like a herd. Aster met only silence as he tiptoed to the gates. For the guards stationed there, the ones who had let him through, their bodies were unrecognizable, left only as pieces of bones and meat barely holding together. The only thing that showed who they were were the plain uniforms they wore, now bearing marks of their deaths. A spear of agony stabbed through Aster's heart, leaving deep-seated splinters behind. Despite his previous misgivings and the need for secrecy, these were honest men who only sought to protect what was theirs. They didn't deserve to be desecrated by a bunch of barbaric men whose only goals were to destroy and plunder.
It was only thanks to his enhanced senses that he had long caught the presence of several men beyond the gates. The earlier clearing was completely transformed into a makeshift camp, with hastily drawn bonfire dancing in the center of the gathering of a score of men. Most of them were all standing and crudely armed, forming a rough circle of what Aster soon saw was a small group of children. Seeing it with his own eyes made his rage churn. No one, especially the children, deserved to go through such a nightmare. He knew from the experience that most of them would probably end up like him. They will forever be haunted by their memories of loss and death in equal measure.
It took only a glance to see a few of them standing apart from the rest—a group of three men standing beside the burning pyre, the flickering flames throwing their shadows on to the ground like ripples on a lake. Aster immediately crouched low, making sure his steps were silent. While the swirling cloak of darkness served to hide him, to anyone who paid attention, it would be easy to notice something was not quite right with shadows moving about. To his bloodthirsty glee, no one was even paying attention at the gate. Keeping closer to the wooden walls on his left, he slowly tread further from them, heading for the forest. They were all distracted by something else, and their words easily carried to his ears, allowing him to catch the drift of their conversation.
"Is this the child that gave you so much trouble?" a silky yet hoarse voice asked from somewhere in the middle. Aster had no idea who that might be, but even he could sense the hidden danger lingering beneath the question. His instinct told him the voice might just belong to their ringleader, but he had to see it for himself to confirm. Only such a person of strength could afford to be dismissive of others amidst a group of battle hungry men.
The man who replied next proved him right.
"H-he must b-be some kind of w-witch, boss."
Another one piled on.
"He m-moved things with his mind." He exclaimed. "I wouldn't dare lie about this boss. That's how he got Tar. The boy jerked his little hand, and a cauldron bonked his head to death. It would have gotten us too if we didn't threaten the old woman he was staying with. That was the only way we could have brought him to you."
A nervous chuckle escaped the second one, but it was silence that followed that fully unnerved them. Only a few fading screams and roars could be heard from the village, and Aster, who was busy making his way to the forest, made sure to not add to the noise. He didn't want to attract any kind of attention until he was fully prepared.
Someone who Aster could only imagine was their boss took a deep breath.
"Am I cursed to always be surrounded by imbeciles?" He practically roared the last word, his hoarse voice doing his no favors.
Aster drifted ever closer to the forest, using the walls of the villages as cover to make his way.
"Even if we could ignore that fact that a man of mine was somehow downed by a cauldron, isn't it known that only females get to be witches? How could a child and a little boy at that ever awaken as one?"
The two men got defensive.
"We are not stupid, boss." This time the first one didn't even stammer.
"Yeah, we know what we saw. If it wasn't for Tar getting bonked in the head and then dying in our feet, he would have told you the same thing." The second one was added.
"W-we might not have magic, but we could s-sense it," the first one added.
"And boss, that kid has magic. It's why we tried so hard to bring him here. We had to leave his old woman alive just so we could tie his hands to make sure he doesn't try anything funny." the second one finished
Aster felt a little chagrined as he finally rejoined the forest. It was only earlier this night that he had tried his level best to escape it, as he sought a good bed and bath after sleeping on end on the grounds and up in the trees. Instead, what he got was more than what he bargained for. A sudden invasion of bloodthirsty men, in addition to blood and gore, were his current companions and would continue to be so as long as he wanted to save those children from their grasp. Steeling his heart, he flitted around the tall trees until he found one good enough to serve his purpose. He quietly climbed all the way up until he found a good vantage. Barely sweating from the exertion, he would forever be grateful for his flawless body. It was one of the few things that made him glad he had gone through with the blasted ritual in the first place.
"Is this true what my men are saying? That you child are one of them witches?"
When Aster's eyes finally focused down below, the view of the clearing fully opened up to him. The tree he chose had a good vantage point where he could lay eyes in almost all directions while the copse of leaves and branches properly concealed him in case of any wandering eyes. He made a quick count of two dozen men who were haphazardly spread around, with a few of them standing over their captives. Most of the children seemed unconscious, with a few that were aware, all tied up with makeshift ropes on their hands and feet, and their mouths filled with clothes to stem what would have been a cacophony of cries and panic.
But there was one who almost immediately caught his attention. Calling him a child would have been a disservice, as he seemed to be almost the same age as him. As he sat close to the bonfire, the flames lit up his shoulder-length hair in a vivid dark, his lean frame exposed by the faded robe he wore. It was his eyes though that truly pulled him. There were a deep gray, and they would have definitely been something to look at if it weren't very obvious. The boy they were talking to—the one they kept saying was a witch who was effectively blind.
Something that their leader was very quick to point out.
"Are they expecting me to believe," his sultry, raspy voice returned, "that a blind child could take out one of my men so easily? Mmh" He conversationally said, standing over the boy with his back towards Aster, his words seemingly whispered but practically heard by everyone.
"Maybe I should have really focused on raising some truly able men around me. But then they always fall short of my expectations. You give any one of them a little taste of power, and they get it into their heads to betray me." He sighed, "Me who has taken them in, fed them, kept them safe, and provided all of the women they wanted." He kept talking to the kid, almost as if his henchmen were not around.
"They might also be right after all, that you kid are truly special no matter how strange that may be, that their comrade truly hadn't died of stupid causes, that they hadn't made up some piss-poor excuse to escape the battle. But they will soon remember that no one who lies to me, Burning Hands Krel, lives to tell the tale."
From where he was hidden, Aster couldn't get a good look at the leader of the marauders without shifting to another place. However, in an unexpected show of power, he along with everyone else felt a rushing whoosh of blazing fire emanating from where he crouched. Everyone in the vicinity couldn't help but flinch from the unexpected light that washed over them. When Krel stood up, fire roared out of his hands in a crackling inferno, igniting the air all around in a shimmer.
The two men who brought the child now shivered in fear.
"W-we w-wouldn't dare l-lie boss." The first one stammered so badly Aster struggled to hear his words. The second one desperately nodded for his life.
"We would never use this as an excuse to escape battle." He spoke in a rush, almost if he was afraid he wouldn't get to defend himself before his life became forfeit. When Krel fully turned towards them, Aster visibly recoiled as his sight landed on a horrifying visage he could have only dreamt of in his nightmare. The marauder's face was split directly in the middle, with the left side viciously marred by a scar of melting flesh and his right, still hale and hearty, showing what would have once been a conventionally attractive face. But it seemed years have not been kind to him, as even the clothes he wore and the beard that he kept were very coarse. He was just about to walk towards the two men when some kind of movement exploded into their midst from the gates. When Aster saw who it was, he couldn't help but swear.
"Please…help…"
The man now staggering in their direction was none other than the archer Aster had first laid his eyes on, the one he was sure he had skewered with a blood spike. As he came into light, his gruesome wounds were laid open. Aster, who had just been wondering how he had survived through the spell, could immediately tell the archer was already on his last legs. His blood spike had pierced through his chest on the upper right side. It might have missed any of his vital organs, but it had definitely tore through a major blood vessel, as even as he struggled to move, he left a visible trail of blood behind him.
More annoyed with himself than with the archer, Aster regretted not making sure if his enemies were truly dead. From the look of things, though, it seemed that ship has already sailed. The archer was resourceful to know not to pull the blood spike out of him even as it painted a dire crimson color all over the field. Aster could guess it was only the reason he was alive even as he was dying.
"Help me…we were ambushed... "
Krel's voice was filled with anger.
"What happened to you? Quick speak"
The archer could barely get the words out of his chest.
"The village...had another protector..."
"Another protector…" His blemished face turned slightly to the man on his right, a slender one who oozed sinister energy.
"Rhal, you told me there was only one person I had to worry about: their village head, a certain nature mage of old age. So what is this I hear about another protector?"
The one named Rhal barely hid his frustration.
"I truly did case the village boss. The only mage they had the last time I checked was their village ruler. All of the hunters were long gone into the endless forest." He snarled at the dying archer. "Who is this protector you are speaking of?" He threatened, "Make sure the next words you utter are the truth, or I will personally rip your tongue from your corpse."
The archer tried to stand still, but it seemed it was too much for him. He dropped to the ground even as he wheezed as hard as he could.
"It was… a blood mage." Everyone in the vicinity visibly paled at his words. "A strong one... he was the one who saved the village head. He killed us all. I am the only one who survived. Please, I need help."
Krel fully turned towards his left-hand side man, who could only raise his arms in defense.
"There were truly no hunters in the village, not even this blood mage. I am sure of it."
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Krel stared at him for a moment until his gaze finally shifted to the archer.
"If what you say is true... then that means he or she might have just recently entered the village... or concealed themselves so well that none of the villagers knew... or perhaps both."
He looked at archer slowly losing his life on the ground and sneered.
"Well, let it not be said, I was not grateful for your warning. Although blood mages are notorious for being vicious, he is only a single mage against a horde of my men. It doesn't really change my plans. Sooner or later, they will all die. As for you...
He strolled towards the archer, his hands a deadly beacon of light and dancing flames. Despite his injuries, the archer was still aware enough to realize something was not right. His eyes widened when it dawned on him, and he tried to drag himself back the way he came from, but it was too late. Krel reached for his leg and pulled him closer, his hands leaving burning welts on his skin.
"You have become nothing but a burden."
He viciously gripped the man's head with both of his hands and then proceeded to let his mana free, setting him ablaze in a conflagration of burning skin and boiling blood. The archer struggled to free himself with his fading strength, but his hold was too tight. Only his ghastly screams rent the air apart for a short while before they also petered out.
Krel let his burning corpse fall off his hands.
"Worthless mongrel." He muttered as he shook his hands, "Why did you go and get yourself injured and then dare come back here? None of us could heal you even if we tried. You were better off dying to the said mage than showing your face here."
After he made sure his hands were free of any kind of grime, he turned towards his men.
"Rhal, take half of the men here and go deal with our new stranger. A blood mage or not, it seems he might not be so powerful if a weak archer could live after his spell." He added with a smirk, "Bring me his body once you are done. I know a few people who would pay a handsome price for a dead body of a blood mage."
Rhal stiffly bowed as he answered. "As you wish, boss. I will try to bring his body intact."
Their boss airily waved at him.
"Be quick about it. We already have most of what we came for in this village. These children won't carry themselves."
Rhal only nodded before he quickly took nine of the men with him, leaving eight behind, including Krel himself and the behemoth of a man who towered over him, the one Aster had a feeling might be his right-hand side man. Feeling like he had to make a move soon, Aster decided to wait for a little while to give some distance between Rhal and the others. Any kind of attack right now would only serve to unite both of the groups against him.
Below, Krel looked at the burnt body in distaste before he ordered another of his remaining men.
"Take the body and get rid of it. I don't want it to mar my sight as I wait for my new prize."
One of the men close by detached himself from where he stood and then walked to the body. Seemingly unaffected by the blood and smell, he crouched to the ground and heaved the burnt body to his shoulders like he was just carrying a sack and made for the forest, his feet making haste of his journey.
"Make sure to dump it further than here. None of us want to deal with any predators this night."
The man didn't even acknowledge that he heard as he disappeared into the forest. To his bad luck, he passed almost directly underneath the tree Aster had chosen to hide on. Aster could only shake his head, as it seemed even the gods were on his side this night. In his mind, the marauders were already dead, and as he looked down below, he saw his first target offering himself up to him on a silver platter. It was about time he made these barbaric men pay for all the pain and death they wrought. He just had to make sure he kept his life at the end of it.
With an uncanny grace, he quietly detached himself from the braches above and silently stepped on the ground. Creeping behind him, Aster easily trailed the man within the forest. The man in question wasn't even trying to be quiet, his stoic form crashing through the forest like a bolder thundering down a hill. A part of him was still torn from spilling so much blood, but he ruthlessly squashed it. Just as his master had once asked him in the past what he was willing to go through to get his vengeance, the answer he gave then was still the one that resonated with him even now. The fact that these men were so willing to inflict harm on innocent people only made it easier for him—even if they were being controlled by a mad mage wielding strange flames. The question wasn't whether he could show mercy but whether he would live through the night.
They both moved within the forest, one unaware of the other. The man suddenly stopped when he found a small patch on the ground, cleared of any roots. He heaved the body he was carrying onto the ground, but before he could do anything else, a sharp crimson spike jutted out through his neck. He gurgled as he turned and gasped as he dropped to the ground. All he saw as his last breath escaped him was a being made out of darkness standing only a few meters away from him.
Silently killing an unarmed man still rubbed Aster the wrong way, but he wasn't in the mood to care for the nuances. Once he was sure the man was dead, he carried him and the body he brought to a small mesh of intertwining roots closeby that could visibly hide them. He did not have the time to dig; instead, he pulled as much of the spilled blood all around him into a single orb that he coalesced into a solid sphere that he quickly stored before pilling the surrounding dead leaves and twigs on to them, making sure at least their form looked as natural to the environment as possible. As soon as he was done, he made his way back to the remaining marauders. His plan hinged on taking them out as soon as possible, and he was sure by now Krel's right-hand man Rhal must be quite a distance away for him to quickly return and interfere.
He found the clearing much more ordered when he came back. Their leader, Krel, was sitting before the gathered bonfire, staring at the flames, while his remaining left loomed over him like a mountain with only his shield tucked away in his back. The rest of his men were circled around the unconscious children, all except for the one they suspected to be a witch. He was seated beside the fire, his feet and hands tied, forced to face the man who had destroyed his life and that of many others.
“Did you know I was once a child just as you?”
Krel was talking to the child even though the child himself seemed largely unresponsive.
“I was full of hope, I was. My affinity for flames had just awakened, and I dreamed of becoming a mage powerful enough to bring all of the fire in the world to my will. But sadly, that kid was very poor, with not even a gold to his name. But he still hoped in his heart that he would be accepted. That he could show the world that he was worth something, that he only needed a single chance.”
Silence seemingly stretched on as flames cracked and popped into the air.
“The day of recruitment arrives, and do you know what the judgement was?”
His misshapen eye stared coldly at his only audience until he abruptly answered himself.
“He was found to be untalented!” he loudly exclaimed as if it were the funniest thing he had ever said. “Not only was he piss poor in money, his talent was so lacking that they wouldn't allow him even a step into their white walls. ‘Your manifestation lacked depth and detail. You do not qualify to study in our sacred halls.’” His voice turned into a mockery of someone only he remembered. He then let out a laugh so bitter that even the flames swayed to his emotions.
More than a little spooked by the hysterics, Aster nevertheless slipped through the bushes, perfectly using the trees as his cover to get closer to a favorable position.
“As it happens, it wasn’t really their fault. At the time, all the poor kid could do was barely coat his puny hands in flames. The kid protested against the result, finding it hard that his dreams could be shattered by a simple test. He raised his voice and fought for a chance, and when he was given, when he was told he could be chosen as long as he could meld the flames in his hands into a ball, do you know what happened?” He held his breath for a second before the words gushed out of him.
“He spectacularly failed. In fact, he failed so badly that even the overseer who pitied him could only shake his head.”
He raised his right hand, once more washing it in flames.
“After all, what use was of a flame mage who couldn’t even chuck balls of fire at his enemies?” He pointed his radiant, flaming hand at the child, his face turning sinister. “This little child would be the same question I give you. After all, what use would a witch be for me if he can’t even see?”
Despite the sudden turn of the conversation, the child was still in the same position as before, almost as if he couldn’t sense the danger he was in.
“You should probably do something, kid, or these flames would burn you right where you are. That will show those overseers what it means to shun away someone like me.”
The child might not have been aware of the coming danger, but Aster was, and he knew he couldn’t bear with himself if he witnessed another life being taken in front of him, especially one so young. Already in as good position as any, he swiftly formed his mana into pointed spikes as silent as possible and then willed them to fly to their targets, immediately taking out one of the man in the clearing while grievously injuring another one.
Krel immediately turned to his head and snarled.
“Who is it? Who brazenly dares to attack us?”
The only reply he got was a silent whoosh of wind as the injured one suddenly keeled over, dead by the time he reached the ground. On this night, Aster was the hunter, and the marauders were his prey. There was no need to talk. In his heart, he had already judged these men, and they did not deserve mercy. The night was perfect for hunting monsters.
Their leader Krel could only watch in distaste as his men began panicking, brandishing their crude weapons all around them.
“Useless lot all of you,” he growled. “Bunch up together. Watch each other’s back.”
He turned his head towards the forest, his hands a conflagration of flames by now.
“No one hunts us without paying for their lives.”
As his men hurried to obey his orders, another silent whoosh passed, which almost nearly took another of his men out of the fight. He vehemently cursed under his breath as he heightened the blaze of his flames, its light now strong enough to chase away the nearby shadows.
“Do you dare show your face, whoever you are?” He flicked his head at his right-hand man, who was smart enough to follow and stand beside him, hefting the shield into his hands. A lifetime of being a marauder had carved some very deep lessons within him; the most important was taking any caution necessary wherever possible. It was the whole reason why he was more than annoyed by his subordinate’s mistake. No one this strong was supposed to remain in the village by the time they invaded. Luckily he was nothing short of creative.
“You should not have come here.” A surprisingly youthful voice seemingly emanated from all around them.
Krel sneered when he realized he might be facing someone young.
“We are marauders, little boy. This is our trade. Now why don’t you go run back to wherever you came from and leave us be?”
He walked slowly, making sure he was surrounded on all sides by his men.
“I promise you will get to keep your useless life as it is. From your voice, I know you are not of this village. There was no one this strong the last time I checked, or at least someone this capable.” He chuckled, “Better yet, why don’t we join hands? The monarchy days are numbered, and soon this village and all like it will all fall one by one. It would hurt me deeply to see someone of such potential fall here.”
A dark laughter echoed from the forest.
"No, it wouldn’t, not really. I have met your kind before... and the only thing you deserve is... death. Blood Spikes.”
An explosion of solidified blood fell on the wary men like a crimson rain. Krel promptly responded by sending a deluge of fire to meet the spikes in the air. Most immediately shattered into fragments, but two of the spikes still landed. One found its way to the chest of another man while the other got destroyed by the large shield carried by his right-hand side man.
Krel immediately zeroed in his direction.
“The spell came from there...kill him.”
Without hesitation, the remaining wave of five men quickly moved to where he had holed up when he was busy collecting enough blood for the spell. Realizing that he could no longer afford to do the same after his cover was revealed, Aster swiftly dropped down to the ground and then proceeded to flee into the forest, a blast of fire scorching the branches of the tree he had just perched on. The sudden glare of light was enough to expose his inky cloak, and his men, who at first had no idea where he was, did not take long to hone on him, roaring as they did so, as the few smart ones carried the burning branches with them as they followed him into the forest. They rushed through the trees, his cloak trailing behind him, and his pursuers clamoring for his blood when a fading roar snapped them back into their senses.
“Come back… mongrels... the forest... trap.”
Under his coat of darkness, Aster let out a dark smile. Before the marauders could snap out of their bloodlust, he suddenly increased his speed, his figure fading into the darkness until it abruptly vanished. He had manifested one of his tendrils and fastened itself to a nearby tree before pulling it tight, allowing himself to be propelled faster than they could ever run. His body was hurled into another direction, pulling him away from the light, allowing him to lose his tail in a blink of an eye.
The group of men were forced to halt their hunt, all of a sudden finding themselves surrounded by a dark forest in all sides. Their only source of light came from the burning branches in their hands, and even, its radiance was barely enough to pierce the heavy cloud of darkness that seemed to encroach them.
“The mage... where is he? I can’t see him.”
“We should not have come here,” one of them whimpered.
“Shut up, Tarik.” Another snapped.
“He disappeared…I saw him vanish in that direction.” One pointed at the place they last saw him.
“Should we go after him?” the same one asked.
“No, we should return.” The one who had snapped as Tarik tried to take control of the situation. “Let’s stick together until we rejoin with the boss. He won’t leave this mage to gallivant around much longer."
“But did you see the spikes? They were blood—real blood. We should never have picked up a fight with a blood mage. And am I the only one who saw his cloak? It was seemingly made out of darkness... "
"Tarik, if you do not shut your mouth, I will ram this sword up your arse.” Their impromptu leader threatened, “Now bundle up and protect each other’s backs. As long as we get out of this forest, he would be forced to meet us head-on.”
Hiding within the trees and watching below as the marauders panicked brought a savage satisfaction to Aster. These were men who towered over weak people and thought that was strength. His whole plan had revolved around separating the leader from his men; starting from the moment he had cast his first spikes to the time he had let himself be pursued. None of the men had realized what was going until it was too late. With his astral affinity, the night was his but even then he did not let himself be any less cautious. Zeroing in on the man who was in the midst of bringing his wayward brothers into some semblance of order, Aster soundlessly let a tendril of his mana slowly make his way into to him. Just like what the bestiary has recorded, if one takes out the head of the beasts, the rest of the horde will prove to be much weaker. That was Aster’s goal and as the crowd of men struggled to collect themselves in order to make their way back, Aster genuinely smiled. They will prove to be enough of a challenge for a mage on a path of vengeance. This was just the start.