Drake's first day of search was uneventful. He wasn't sure whether he should be happy with that, or disappointed. All he saw were some refugees, and once a Menoraz Army patrol, which he avoided, not because he had anything to hide, but simply because he didn't want to waste time being questioned by them.
As he had expected, there were fewer civilians running from the frontlines than a few days prior, when roads were crowded. Anyone who wanted to escape, and had the means to, had already done so, which was why he had inquired the receptionist about farms. Their owners would be reluctant to leave everything behind, but, at the same time, were the most vulnerable to the gangs of scumbags that were roaming the land.
That night he and his companions slept on the wet ground, under the trees. It certainly wasn't comfortable, but he had grown used to it. Habitually, he pulled out his carving knife, and started working on a small statue.
Frainer and Kniivar nuzzled up close to him, the spirit-type creature latching onto the wood-type one's head to... Eat? Such a relationship would have been impossible to happen if it wasn't for the Spirit Contract they both had with Drake.
And so, while his companions slept, Drake slowly worked on his newest project. He was trying to carve a Ricianide - which in itself wasn't hard. The problem was he had no idea how to show the insides of the Iferes, which was what he really wanted.
He was very curious about how the Iferes... Worked, for the lack of another word. Unfortunately, Drake was the first to admit that in the last years of university, he was doing just enough to graduate. He didn't pay attention to anything, only thinking about how to get away from painful memories, and, as such, didn't know where to start studying the Ricianides.
Slowly, with his mind full of random thoughts, Drake drifted into a hazy sleep. Neither he nor his companions noticed the red streaks of lightning flashing across his closed eyes.
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To no one's surprise, the storm was still going on the next day. Soaked, Drake got up and mounted his Yscalent. By his side, Kniivar was growling sadly, her green fur stuck to her body. Only Frainer seemed unaffected, the raindrops passing through his body pretty much without any visible effect.
They spent the next two hours riding away from main roads and habitable centers. That's where Drake supposed it would be easier to find certain... Unsavory individuals committing illegal deeds.
And so, when he saw black smoke in the air, which seemed to persist even through the storm, Drake felt both excited and reproachful. Excited because he hadn't wasted a whole day getting soaked. Reproachful because the smoke meant trouble, and that someone was getting hurt. Well, a lot more someones, after he got there.
That thought brought a smile to his face. Urging his Yscalent to use Boost, Drake followed the small road until he saw the source of the smoke. It angered him.
A dead Rootler was laying in the middle of the road. Drake knew the wood-type Ifere was dead not only because it was on fire, but also because the countless vines that composed it's body had withered away.
It was a brutal scene. One thing was to watch normal wood burn, and another was to see a creature face this same end. The whole thing was made worse by the fact that there were two corpses next to it, of a woman and a young teenager. A small distance away was a third body, this one holding a gun. And, next to it were their killers, three men and one woman.
Drake didn't need much to guess their identities. They were rummaging through the belongings of the trio they killed, throwing clothes on the ground, and searching for cash, jewels, and anything that could be sold.
Sadly, Drake had arrived too late to save the poor victims, but he could at least avenge them. The thunderous rain covered the sound of his arrival for a short while, but the criminals soon discovered him.
They didn't even say anything, instead reaching for their firearms right away. Drake's intended threat got stuck in his throat as he slid down the side of his mount, rifle in hand.
Two bullets whistled past his head, and he returned fire, hitting an outlaw in the chest. Almost at the same time, two vines emerged from the ground, constricting around a second man's neck, which broke with a sickening crack.
Rolling to the side to avoid another volley of bullets, Drake watched as Frainer used Telekinesis to lift the woman off the ground, and pretty much launch her away. Screaming, she smashed against a tree, and fell silent.
The fourth criminal faltered after seeing how quickly his three friends were dispatched, but it was too late for him to surrender, as Drake's rifle was already spewing death in the form of metallic projectiles.
Wiping the mud from his clothes, Drake got up. He had not expected things to end so fast. Not at all. It appeared that Frainer's and Kniivar's coordination and synergy had gotten better over the last few days.
"Ugh..."
Looking over his shoulder to the direction of the groan, Drake discovered that the woman Frainer had thrown around was surprisingly still alive. She wasn't in condition to pose any threat, however.
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With raised eyebrows, Drake crouched next to her, rifle still in hand. She had a broken arm, and a few broken ribs - he was getting very good at recognizing those.
"Bet you are regretting it now, aren't you?"
"Who are you, f*cker?!"
Deciding the question wasn't worth answering Drake pulled the woman up by grabbing her good shoulder, and - not very gently - dragged her towards a tree, to which he then tied her. Next, he sat down on the ground, and just stared at the criminal.
She stared back for a while, until Kniivar started playing around with Wood Realm, manipulating the vegetation nearby. She clearly remembered how the seemingly inoffensive Ifere had murdered one of her companions, and that unsettled her.
"What do you want?!"
"These people you killed, where were they coming from?"
"Like hell if I know, a*shole!"
No sooner than she said that, she felt a sharp pang of pain on her cheek as a vine lashed out at her. Drake continued staring coldly at her, and the criminal shuddered.
"People don't just drive around in Rootlers in the middle of nowhere. Where were they coming from?"
"Calduk Farm! Happy?!"
"How do I get there?"
Disgruntled, the woman gestured towards a fork on the road. Leaving her behind, he mounted his Yscalent and left. Whether she managed to escape or, and how far she would manage to go wounded as she was didn't concern him. If, after he returned, she was still there, he would decide what to do with her.
The moment he had seen the dead Rootler, the three poor souls that had been murdered, and how organized the criminals were, Drake understood this was more than just a roadside assault. He guessed that the woman and child were the family of Calduk Farm's owner, and the man with them their escort. Unfortunately, they were caught by the four outlaws, who presumably belonged to a bigger gang that was attacking the property.
Shaking his head, Drake urged his mount to go faster. Unfortunately, he had already made the Yscalent use Boost - which turned out to be a waste, since the victims were already dead - meaning the Ifere was tired.
It took him half an hour to arrive at what looked like the entrance to a farm. A very dilapidated entrance, but one nonetheless. From there, it took another ten minutes of crossing fields - almost swamps now - to reach the actual farm.
It wasn't looking good. A couple of buildings, including a large and old house, were surrounded by a group of people, who kept shooting at it. From time to time someone inside the house would return fire, but it was clear they were in a bad situation.
From where he was, Drake could see many bodies laying on the mud. Two or three were wearing overalls and capes - workers. Another was wearing fine clothes, now dirty with mud and blood. One of the owners, maybe.
The ten or so criminals that put the farm under siege weren't without casualties, however. Two of them, as well as a few Yscalents, had been killed, and Drake spotted another hiding behind a fence, holding up a wounded arm for another to bandage.
Deciding the situation was clear enough, Drake dismounted, and approached the outlaws on foot. He would have been more careful if he was alone, but with Frainer and Kniivar by his side, he felt invincible.
The first two criminals did not see what hit them. A small pebble controlled with Telekinesis got their attention, and then Uproot sent them flying - alive, but wishing they were not.
By the time the others noticed what was happening, Drake already had them under his aim. The first shot he fired was to catch their attention - he still was against the idea of shooting people in the back. The second not so much.
Even as one outlaw fell with blood spouting from his neck, the others had yet to completely turn around, the noise of the storm covering Drake's shots.
By the time the third criminal died, the rest of the group finally spotted him. Sensing that he shouldn't stay on the same spot for too long, Drake bolted for a better position. He needed to get closer to the opponents anyways, because Kniivar's and Frainer's skills required a closer range.
The assailants, although well organized, had surprisingly bad aim. Or maybe it was the raging storm that was at fault. All Drake knew was that their bullets missed him by meters, while his were on point.
In the next minute, two other outlaws died. Very quickly, Drake realized that they weren't anywhere near as good as Lapidum's Cleaners had been. Maybe after that near-death experience, his standards were set too high, which was why he found the fight so easy.
No, it wasn't easy. It was... Challenge-less, if that was even a word. At least that was the only way Drake could describe it. He took down the criminals with agonizing ease. That worried him.
At some moment during the battle, the people inside the house had stopped firing. Maybe they thought it was a trick by their attackers, or maybe they were all dead. He would discover the reason soon enough.
With heavy steps, Drake approached the surviving criminals. There were three of them. The two Kniivar's Uproot had knocked unconscious, and a third who had a bullet in his leg. The other members of the gang were all dead, some having been shot or impaled, others looking like broken puppets after being thrown around by Telekinesis.
He didn't even bother tying up the criminals. Injured as they were, it would be a miracle if they could move. Instead, he walked towards the house. Even through the rain he could see the barrel of a gun in the window, aiming at him.
"Hey! I'm a friend! Please don't shoot me..."
These last few words were muttered quietly, so there was no way the occupants of the house heard him. They did understand he was an ally, however, since the door opened and an old man appeared, holding a gun, but not aiming at him.
"Who are you?"
"A friend. I saw you were in trouble, so..."
The old man eyed the several bodies - some of which had very obviously been killed by non-humans - and then looked at the Iferes next to Drake. He probably had a ton of questions, but he was too tired to ask them.
"Come on in. And thanks."
Drake waved it off, more focused on the people inside the house. Apart from the old man, there were also two workers, a woman wearing an apron, and, unfortunately, another body. One of the two workers was wounded too, although it didn't seem too serious.
"I'm glad I arrived in time to help you out. Sorry I didn't get here quick enough for them."
As he said that, Drake gestured towards the dead man on the floor. The people inside shook their heads, seemingly not over the attack yet.
"Did... Did you meet someone on the way here? A Rootler? My daughter and her husband left an hour before these bastards arrived, with little Nora, their daughter. Did you see them?"
It was the old man asking. Drake turned to him slowly, weighing his thoughts, and considering how he should say it. His expression, however, must have been enough, because the man collapsed to the floor, tears in his eyes.
"No... No, please! No, no, no..."
He didn't know what to say as he watched the old man crumble. His grandfather once said the worse thing a parent could live through was the death of their child. While Drake didn't know if that was true or not, he was inclined to believe it, as he watched the man cry silently, holding his face in his hands. The workers and the woman gave him space, clearly shaken.
"I'm sorry. When I found them, it was already too late. But they were avenged. The ones who killed your daughter won't harm anyone ever again."
Drake just stood there. There was no reaction to his words apart from the old man's shoulders shaking. Kniivar tried to nuzzle up to him, but even that did nothing to help. So Drake just stood, staring as the man cried in utter agony. What else could he do?