Chapter 11:
50 Days After Winter’s Beginning
256 Days After The Ra’tok Attack Amia Village
The Valley of Ivory
The Siege of Tarna
I wake from my trance of cycling to the sound of bells. They echo through the town, bouncing off walls and rousing everyone.
I rush to the window over my desk, peering out of it.
Lanterns are lit, lighting up the streets and pushing back the creeping darkness as night falls. Many armored figures rush from their homes, guiding people into the main Talri clan building.
I grab everything Vicar gave me last night, laying it out on the table. There is a gabeson, belt with dagger, greaves and a very important item.
Opening the case on my desk, I quickly put together my spear. Locking the pieces in place, I don my wool gambeson. It won’t protect from blunt force damage, but it should do enough to stop me from being sliced to ribbons.
Flexing my arms, I test my movement range.
Not very restricting.
The gambeson is a dark blue, almost black. Vicar gave it to me the night before, after he met with the other Elders, along with a few other items. It’s as good or even better than leather armor, while also not limiting movement and providing full torso protection.
I tie the yellow ribbon that marks me as a messenger around my right bicep.
Equipping my padded greaves and belt with knife strapped to the back for easy access, I twirl my spear.
It’s lighter than the weighted practice spear, but it should be easy enough to adjust to.
The bells ring periodically, sending a resounding boom and chime through Tarna.
Looking at the stuff spread out on the table, I strap a second knife to my leg incase I lose my first one. Then I grab up the most important item Vicar gave me.
I hold it near the candle light. It is a thick, glass bottle. Inside a syrupy, light yellow color swirls with a few splotches of black.
One Greater Healing potion.
I admire it for a second.
This potion could heal just about everything short of mutilated and severed limbs. It had healing katra imbued in it, if I drank it and directed that katra to the part of my body that was damaged, in a moderately short time it would heal almost completely.
Of course, it was not a fool proof thing. I couldn’t just hold the katra inside me, or it would dispel into my body. With the nature of my katra, I can’t hold it in my core as well.
Vicar had said to keep it hidden.
Something like this could go for at least 10 zeni! If I don’t need to use this, maybe I can sell it.
I put the bottle in a throng on my belt, protecting and concealing it in a small, wine pouch. It should like to anyone, that I am carrying around alcohol on my belt, instead of a incredibly valuable potion.
It's the aki up my sleeve. I think, quoting a famous player of the popular card game Sanuka. It is a complex game, that requires you to out play and mislead your opponent. Or that's how I understand it.
Stretching, I grab my spear and head to my assigned post.
The next day after I told Vicar about the monsters, the Elders sent out assignments and positions to all guards, and trainees.
The trainees were mostly positioned in the Clan keep, there to both help defend, keep the peace, and stay out of the way of the other warriors.
A few were the exception to this rule. The trainees that were close to graduating, were positioned on the walls. Ready to help the town guard defend Tarna.
But they were not the only exceptions. Technically, im still a beginning trainee. The clan is short handed on messengers and supply crews, so they recruited a few of the trainees to help transport and move messages around the town.
I was one of the messengers.
It has to be the doing of the people Vicar warned me about. They probably couldn’t get me up on the walls fighting, so this is as close as they could get me to the action, and my likely death.
I make note to keep an eye out for any ploys to draw me into the battle or hurt me.
Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind.
God, have I really become this paranoid?
Looking back, 8 or so months ago I was nothing but a cripple, scraping together whatever he could for meals. I was content then, happy at the good position I had fallen in, something like an outcast, but still accepted. The villagers were kind to me and allowed me to do manual labor and other jobs for them, paying me as much as they could afford.
Now though, it seems like a far away dream. It had been a better life than I should have had, toiling mindlessly away to make enough money. Hoping that I could one day get to Highbronze.
Now I’m Highbronze, have training, and a unique katra. I hold vastly more power than I deserve, I should be in the charred remains of Amia, rotting away.
Shaking my head of my self reflection, I focus on the here and now.
I find myself standing near the walls, watching soldiers bustle up and down the stairs. They carry boxes of ammunition and weapons, with barrels of tar or other items.
The air is filled with the deafening clank of armor and weapons, shouts echoing over the walls. Everyone is preparing the coming assault.
I follow the stream of soldiers up the walls, slowly making my way to the top.
As I push my way through the press of bodies up to the top of the walls, I see a middle aged man sitting at a small table. He is looking over a map of Tarna, with figurines set up along the wall.
A sturdy, wooden construction is above him, to probably protect from enemy fire and provide him with cover.
I make my way over to him.
He looks to a soldier in front of him. “Move your squad over here, to the western part of the wall. Keep your eyes peeled for a possible second attack force.” The colonel points at the west side of the wall, moving a wooden soldier statuette to it.
“Kria per tamus Talri!” The soldier says, putting a fist to his breast and the turning. He starts yelling at the group of soldiers around him, they swiftly move down the wall.
I approach the man, putting my fist to my breast and say, “Messenger Kardin Amia reporting for duty, sir!”
The man looks up. His hair is a dark brown, frown lines etched into his face. He wears a distasteful look upon his face, and I can see contempt in his eyes. Rubbing his stubble covered chin he says, “The cripple?”
I nod once, hiding my grimace at the word.
He glances at my right, black bandaged hand, but looks back at me a second latter.
The man motions dismissively to behind him with a armored hand, “Stand behind me with the other messengers till I have need of you.”
I bow my head and say, “Kria per tamus Talri.” Moving behind the table, I join the group of three other lightly armored boys. They wear gambesons like me, with a yellow ribbon tied to their arms.
Unlike me though, their gambesons are a light blue, swords at their hips. They carry no shield though, because it would slow them down too much.
Lightly armored, no shield. Running around the city at fast speeds. It’s the perfect recipe to get killed. I think grimly, standing at attention in the line of boys.
I eye the rushing soldiers around me, trying to pick out any possible attack.
Looking past the soldiers, I can see the sun slowly starting to set behind the forested walls of the valley we are in. It is already 3 quarters of the way down and deep shadows crawl across the valley floor.
I have a clear view of the wall and past it of the empty fields that surround Tarna. I keep my eyes scanning for any possible movement, looking for when the creatures attack.
The alarm went off, so that must mean that the lookouts they left out there must have seen the horde.
I stand there, watching as the colonel gives orders to the various battalions of warriors. They rush about as he calmly positions them along this section of the wall.
A young man with the yellow messenger band around his arm runs up and hands the colonel a scroll. He unrools it, looking at it.
Nodding at the messenger, the boy runs off.
The man then starts scratching on a piece of parchment with a charcoal pencil.
“Cripple!” The colonel shouts over his shoulder as he rolls the parchment up.
Hiding my glare, I come up behind his right shoulder. “Yes, sir?”
“Deliver this message to Elder Esta in the Main Hall,” He hands me a scroll bound loosely by a blue ribbon. “Make haste!”
I grab the scroll and slip it in a loop on my belt. “Yes, sir!”
Sprinting, I push my way through the mass of soldiers coming up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
Bursting out of the mass of armored warriors, I run down the main road towards the main clan building. The streets are empty except for a few bands of soldiers moving to the gates.
I can get there faster.
Moving swiftly through the alleyways, I conserve my Gray katra incase I have need of it.
Bursting from the alleyways, I’m only a few feet from the main gates of the talri clan building.
Moving pushing my way through the mass of people streaming in, I run into the main hall, where the Elders and talking with their Generals. They are looking over a massive map of the valley, It is filled with an incredible amount of detail.
“I have a message for Elder Esta,” I say out of breath, taking the scroll from the loop of my belt. Taking deep gulps of air, cooling my burning lungs, I kneel before Esta.
Holding the scroll out and above my head, I look at the floor.
Taking the message from my hands, she unfurls it. Her eyes scan over it, then she nods, her face stony.
I glance up at her, she looks down at me with embers of hatred in her eyes.
I think I found one of the people who hate me.
She walks over to the table and scrawls something on the message, then ties it back up. “Take this back to Colonel Clace.”
She hands me the scroll and I bow my head.
Glancing at the other people around the table, I meet eye contact with Vicar. He gives a curt nod in my direction and turns back to the map.
Standing up, I start my exhausting run back.
I run into an alley, hoping to cut my run shorter like I did before. Sprinting down the dirty, filth and trash ridden alley, a figure appears at the end.
I slow my run, coming to the stop.
The person wears a brown cloak, and a half mask that obscures their mouth. With a rustle of cloth, a jagged blade appear in their gloved hand form their cloak. They point the tip of the sword at me.
I feel sweat forming on the back of my neck.
Turning around, I am confronted by two more figures, both dressed similarly. One holds a two handed axe at his side and the other a sword and shield. The shield is embossed with the Talri clan symbol.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, moving my back against the stone brick wall of the alley. My foot hits a pile of trash and a rat chitters, scurrying out.
The first figure with the jagged sword speaks, “You can make this painless and drop your weapons now, or you can make this entertaining.”
This isn’t good.
They surround me in a half circle, staying out of my spears reach.
I bring up my spear, squaring off against the sword wielder. He gives a deep, throaty chuckle. Then he takes a quick step forward and stabs with his sword.
I easily knock it the the side and send a stab back at him.
The man parries it with ease.
Pushing the attack, I send a swipe at his shoulder. He brings his sword up for a block.
Feinting, I unsheath my dagger from my belt with my right hand, pushing in close. Stabbing at his side, I attempt to get under his guard.
The man takes a step back, trying to put distance between us to use his sword.
My dagger nears his rib cage, but a lightning fast hand catches my wrist.
The others.
The axe wielder holds my wrist, he starts to tighten his grip, crushing my wrist.
I try and pull my hand from the steel grip, but can’t manage it. I swing around, kicking the axe wielder in the chest. I empower the kick with Gray katra.
My foot connects with his chest and he grunts, stumbling back and letting go of my hand.
Swinging my spear around, I keep the swordsman back with my spear. Taking a step towards the axeman, I lance my dagger at him.
He just recovered from my blow, and is trying to bring his heavy battle axe in for an over head swing.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
I plunge my dagger into his gut, twisting it.
The man screams, dropping his axe.
I push my advantage. Pulling my dagger out with a wet squelch, I bring my fist into the man’s chin. There is the sound of bone on bone as my empowered uppercut connects solidly with the man’s jaw.
He stumbles back and falls on the ground, clutching his stomach.
Two more.
The swordsman sends a stab at my back, but I twist around it, the sword grazing my side and slicing a bit of my gambeson.
I grab my spear with two hand, holding the dagger’s handle to the shaft. I lance my spear at the swordsman. He steps to the side of my stab and reaches out with lightning fast speed to grab it.
Empowering my muscles, I pull my spear down, so he misses his grab. Then I bring my spear around, connecting with he man’s knee. It buckles from the sudden hit, but he manages to keep his balance.
I sense movement behind me and try and move out of the way.
But a shield connects with the back of my head, clanging loudly. Pain explodes from the back of my head, disorienting me.
I take a step forward, trying to regain my balance. But the pommel of a sword smashes into my cheek bone with a crack and I fall backwards.
Looking up at the dark sky, only a few wispy clouds are highlighted and even as I watch now, they slowly start to darken.
I try and scramble to my feet, but a boot kicks me in the side of the head. Hard.
I splay on the ground, groaning.
“Bastard!” The swordsman says, kicking me in the ribs this time. Air is forced out of my lungs as my diaphragm constricts.
I feel hands grabbing my spare dagger out of the sheath on my leg along with the one I hold and my spear is ripped from my left hand.
No. I… can’t die here.
Forcing myself, I look up. The axe wielder is standing again, but he is clutching his bleeding stomach. He glares at me from under his hood, then his boot connects with my face, sending waves of pain down my spine.
“You think your special?” Another kick, this time in my bruised ribs. “Just because you found an artifact? Just because the elders let you in the clan?!” This time a kick from the shield and sword wielder connect with my collarbone. Something pops in my shoulder and I scream.
“You’re nothing but a cripple! A mutt! Now die like one!” They kick me onto my back. This time a boot stomps down on my hand, crushing my fingers.
I watch as the swordsman reverses his grip on his sword and stabs downward.
Not… like this.
I draw on my core, pulling a massive amount of Gray katra into my body. It surges with power.
I’ve come too far to die now!
I bring my right hand up, pushing katra into it. The silvery runes flash and the bone gauntlet forms around my hand. My clawed fingers curl around the blade, as it cuts through the cloth.
But it stops an inch from my eye.
Blood drips down the blade, splattering on my face. My blood.
With the surge of energy through my body, I crush the blade in my hand. The metal twists and lets out a dying squeal as the sword shatters.
I roll, swiftly getting to my feet.
The sword wielder stares dumbly at his broken blade. “Wha-”
My empowered right fist smashes into his face with lightning speed. The bone plates connect with his nose, a resounding crunch from the impact running up my arm.
Aim for the weak spots.
Kicking out, my boot crashes into the side of the screaming man’s knee. There is another crack as the leg buckles. He starts to fall.
I grab his head in both of my hands and smash his nose into my knee, breaking it even further.
Disable them.
Pain shoots up my leg, but I ignore it. Inflict as much pain as possible.
Twisting around, I avoid a jab from the other swordsman, barely. I send a flying fist at the man, but he brings his shield up and my armored hand hits with a reverbating clang.
There is a dent in the metal where my knuckles connected.
I back off.
There’s no time like now to use it.
For the entire day I have been practicing imprinting parts of my katra with different elements. They were more like a facsimile of the real thing, something bordering on real, yet not.
I send Gray katra to my hands, pushing it out and around them.
Looking down at my fists, a gray mist flows out of them. I then push the image of flame into the pools of Gray in my hands.
The mist ignites, my hands turning into blazing balls of ghostly fire. The fire licks at the air with gray tips, the center burning dark red.
I bring them up to my face, readying my guard.
The axe wielder, who is now holding his battle axe in one hand, the other trying to stanch the flow of blood from his stomach, mutters, “What the hell?”
With a grimace at my aching sides, I burst forward at the shield wielder. I bring my left fist up for a punch.
The man moves his shield to intercept my punch, lashing out with his sword.
Be unpredictable.
I suddenly crouch, rolling past the shield wielder and under his guard. My fist hits the man in the shin, connecting solidly. Fire bursts from my fist, rolling across the man’s pant leg.
Moving past him, I reach the axe wielder.
The man takes a step back in surprise, but brings his war axe in for a slash.
I duck under it, tackling the man around the waist. We tumble to the ground with me on top of him.
Bringing my arm back, I smash a flaming fist into the side of the man’s head, disorientating him. Then I bring my left fist down on the man’s forehead, right in the center.
There is a crack, from both my hand, and the man’s forehead.
He lets out a gurgling scream and stills as I push off of him.
Before I can get out of the way, a slash from the sword and shield wielder cuts into my back.
Most of the force of the blade is stopped by the gambeson, but it tears through it, raking a line of burning pain across my back. I bite on a scream, rolling away.
I turn around, facing the shielder welder.
His paint leg is singed and blackened. Looking past him, I can see the other man whose nose I broke recovering.
He glares at me, tears pouring from his eyes as he clutches the bloody fabric that obscures the lower half of his face.
Their Steels at least. Tough.
I can already feel my Gray katra starting to hit the bottom. I won’t be able to keep up this for long.
What if I run? No, they’d still be able to catch me.
I look at the swordsman who is clutching at his nose. His leg is bent and he’s putting weight on his good one.
Looking down at the unconscious man below me. Or at least I hope he’s unconscious.
I only have to disable them enough so they can’t chase after me.
Glancing around the alleyway, I can see my dagger and spear thrown off to the side.
The shield wielder speaks out loud in disbelief as if it would change something, “You’re supposed to be a cripple!”
I flash a grin, then rush him.
The man doesn’t fall for my trick like last time. This time he takes a step back and brings his sword in for a stab. Electricity sparks along the blade.
I twist around it, bringing my flaming fist into his shield. It connects with a bang, but I grab the top edge of it. Then I push down.
The man resists, but I have the right leverage angle, and I’m able to expose him enough to crash my flaming right hand into his nose.
He screams as the flames splatter across his face, setting the cloth covering it up alight.
The man stumbles backwards, batting at his eyes.
I push my assault, bringing a flaming fist into the side of his knee. The flames crawl onto his pant leg and his knee is popped out of place.
Ducking, I avoid his wild slash.
Scrambling backwards, I roll towards where my weapons have been discarded.
Grabbing my spear and dagger with hands slick with blood, I make a rush for the end of the alley.
I reach the end and don’t even glance over my shoulder.
Cutting the last trickle of my katra to my hands, I send the remaining few drops into my legs and spine, strengthening them.
With a burst of speed, I sprint down the main road.
After a few minutes, my katra run out. I come to a stumbling stop, gasping for breath.
I just… barely made it… out of there.
Glancing over my shoulder, I check to see if the men are pursuing. The street is empty, and I see no sign of them.
Coming off my adrenaline rush, I groan. Feeling my aching side, I wince. Something’s definitely broken.
My hand is stiff from when it was crushed, and my skull feels like it has been cracked open.
So much for selling it.
I sit down, resting my back against a brick wall. Fumbling along my belt, I open the bag I put the healing potion in.
With shaking and stiff hands, I uncork the bottle and look at the liquid inside.
What?
I can see me reflection. My green eyes are gone, replaced by Gray irises. They pulsate slightly, giving off a dim light.
Worry about it later.
I put the bottle to my lips and take two long swigs of the liquid. It tastes incredibly bitter and I can’t help but make a face.
There is about half the bottle left, but I cork it. I don’t think I need all of it right now. Best to save some.
Closing my eyes, I can feel an odd bundle of katra in my stomach. Pulling it into myself, I split it and guide it to my head, right side, back and collarbone, letting the soothing gold energy start to repair my injuries.
Some of it is eaten by the crystals, but most of it stays intact.
Opening my eyes, I scan for my would be assasins. Nothing.
Looking to the walls, I can hear shouts and the clang of metal. Darkness has completely fallen now.
With a groan, I stand and start limping my way down the street. A few grueling minutes later, I reach the gate and walls of Tarna.
“Fire!” A voice shouts and there is the sound of bow strings being realised, arrows whistling through the air.
As I hobble up the stairs, pushing through the rushing soldiers who are moving around, I can hear chirping screeches.
With a crack of sound, I watch as a massive yellow glowing ball of energy flys over my head and into the streets below. It explodes in a flash of searing light.
Once I blink the spots out of my eyes, I can see where a house once used to be, is molten slag.
What the-?
There are shouts and screeches filling the night air, and I can’t see anything beyond the wall. Just a carpet of shifting shadows, all different sizes.
There must hundreds!
In the far back I think I can make out two large forms lumbering about. A second later, on of them lights up with a acidic yellow light. Then there is a sound breaking screech and another ball of crackling, yellow energy flys from the monster, launching over my head.
Unholy gods!
I duck instinctively.
Soldiers with long spears stand in front of the row of archers, jabbing down the sides of the walls.
“Reload!” A man dressed in light armor screams. The archers all dip their arrows in barrels of tar, lighting them on fire with torches nearby.
“Aim!” The archers pull their bow strings taut.
The instructor raises his hand then drops it, screaming, “FIRE!”
With the sound of arrows whistling through the wind, the flaming projectiles land in the mass of shadows, lightening parts of the horde on fire.
Elbowing my way past soldiers, I come to the command structure. The colonel is standing now. He is glaring over the wall, and talking with a soldier.
I can’t hear what they are saying over the shouts.
Making my way to them, I hold out the scroll to Colonel Clace.
He looks at me surprise, staring into my eyes. He flinches visibly. He opens his mouth in surprise, “You’re still alive?”
He helped orchestrate that attack. I know it now. I can feel the blaze of anger in me grow brighter. I feel the need to punch the colonel in the face, but refrain from it.
I’d most undoubtedly be sentenced for something. Maybe even killed. I can’t play into their hands now.
Throwing the scroll in his face, I glare at him. “I’m good at surviving.”
Then I push my way through the crowd of soldiers and down the stairs. I can’t stay here. What should I do?
I consider staying on the walls with the other warriors, but dismiss the idea. I wouldn’t be much help, just another body.
Moving down the stairs, I look at the wood gate that is creaking with the weight of bodies pressing against it. I can hear chirping roars from the other side.
There is a pile of large, heavy crate in front of the steel barred gate, blocking it. A large group of warriors stand around it in a half circle, shields out in front with spears.
I can help with this.
Moving into the back of the group of warriors, where there are people wielding swords and other close range weapons.
I stand there, looking at the gate tensely.
All the soldiers are more heavily armored than me, but they still wear gambesons under their plated metal armor.
“Kardin?” A voice calls from my left. I look over the heads of the soldiers to see one waving at me. He moves his way through the crowd, reaching me. “It’s me, Karter!”
For a second I’m confused. Then I remember him from Vicar’s band of warriors.
Karter smiles from under his metal helmet, patting my shoulder. I wince at the pain, but look at him. He asks, “What are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to respond, but can’t say anything. I don’t no how to describe what has happened.
The warrior looks me in the eyes, “What happened to your eyes?”
“I-I don’t know,” I say dumbly, trying to formulate some response.
Karter laughs, “Well whatever it is, it’s creepy as the 4 hells! Ahahah.” Then he looks me up and down. “Good gods! Is that your’s?”
I look down at myself. My hands are covered in dark red blood, my gambeson smeared with it liberly. “They tried to kill me,” I say, unsure how to explain to him that I was nearly assassinated.
How did I not notice this?
As I look at my right hand, I shake it and the blood flys off, leaving pristine black cloth. Liquid still doesn’t stick to it.
Karter opens his mouth to speak again, but there is a loud chirping roar and a crack from the gate. A large portion of the planks crack, sending splinters flying, but the gate holds.
“Go to the infirmary, now!” Karter says as he rushes back to his place in the lines of soldiers.
I stare dumbly at the gate. My thoughts feel sluggish. I think I have a concussion.
Moving away from the group of soldiers, I feel something painful snap into place in my chest. I gasp for air, when I catch my breath, I test my side. It is still tender, but the bone seems to have snapped back into place.
Maybe I should drink the rest of the potion.
I fumble with it on my belt, and eventually get it uncorked. Downing the last of the bitter liquid, I guide the katra to my skull.
As I walk, I look at the bottle. My warped reflection looks back at me. The irises of my eyes are completely colorless, pulsing with Gray katra. I guess this brings a new meaning to the phrase “The eyes are the window to the soul”.
I chuckle slightly, trying to make light of my situation.
Hobbling up the street I make it to the Clan House. Now the walls are being manned, and there are wooden spikes set out front of them. The place looks like a fortress.
Moving my way to the open gates, a messenger brushes past me at a high sprint.
I make my way into the main hall, which is now bustling with the townspeople. They lean against the walls and are scattered across the floor. There is fearful chatter in the air, and I can hear a baby crying somewhere in the back.
Weaving my way through all the people, many balk at my bloody appearance. Some shift as far away as they can get in the press of bodies.
Moving into the hall, I head to the trainee quarters. Unlocking my door, I stumble into my room.
I can’t stay here. Everyone wants to kill me.
Moving over to the dresser, I a ugly brown tunic and wipe my blood stained hand on it, smearing the blood on it, but ridding my hand of most of it. Discarding the ruined tunic, I start shoving my worldly possessions into my bag.
It's not much, only taking me a few minutes. My parchment and writing utensils go in first. Then the large mutated beast core, followed by two others that I haven’t drained. Shoving my clothes in with it, I finish packing in my belongings.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I look out in the hall.
I need to find some place to hide. They probably won’t look for me, hopefully thinking I died in the attack.
Throwing a green travel cloak over myself, I conceal my bloody gambeson. Pulling the hood up, I hope it’s enough to stop people from recognizing me.
Moving through the clan hallways, make my way past the gate.
The guards look at me funny, but I just show my yellow band and they let me pass.
To keep up the image that I’m a messenger, I start running.
After I curve out of their sight, I stop in an alley. I can hear the sounds of a distant battle, and the screeching of the monsters. Glancing out of the alley at the walls, I can see shapes moving on top of them.
The creatures are already on the walls!
To my horror, I watch as the main gate explodes in a ball of yellow light. Bits of the brick go fling, filling the air with dust as the wood and iron of the gate is melted. I am still a great distance away, but I can still hear the commotion.
Not good!
I dash across the street, barging my way into a random house. I have to break down the door with the last of my empowered strength.
Slamming the door closed behind me, I make my way up the stairs. Opening a door to what I can presume is a bedroom.
A large, four post bed sits in the corner, with a dresser next to it. The room is rather bland, but there are a few knicks and knacks about.
Moving to the window, I peer out into the street.
Soldiers are shouting and I can hear chirping screeches. There is a lang of metal on metal.
The creatures must already be past the gate.
I feel guilty hiding like this.
But what choice do I have, the people here want to kill me!
The guilt is relentless. I should be out there, trying to help. Instead, I’m hiding inside a house, waiting to make my escape.
Am I a coward?
No.
Getting up, I look out into the street. It is empty, but the sounds of battle are not far off.
What do I know about the creatures?
They are like some kind of hive. Controlled by that bigger slime.
That's what I would do then, I’ll try and find the bigger slime. I’m still not sure how I am connected to these creatures, but I can’t deny that I am.
Securing my bag, I lean on my spear. I’m pretty much healed now. But I’m running low on katra.
I close my eyes and start up my cycling technique, pressing the image to go faster.
The cyclone picks up speed, lashing at the edges of my core.
Faster.
The tornado of Gray spins even faster, drawing in more and more vital aura. It rushes through my body as it reaches my core, it is converted. But the feeling of suffocating is too much, so I stop.
Gasping, I look at my core. It is about a tenth full. Not much, but it’ll have to do.
I grip my spear and head down the creaky wooden stairs. All I need to do now is find the big one and… What? Kill it? Scare it?
I know I stand no chance, but I’m not a coward, even if I want to be one. I feel inexplicably like these monsters are my fault, and that I have to at least try and fix it.
Pushing open the door, I rush into hell.