His eyes were closed shut. His eyelids felt too heavy to open, but he could tell that it was the dead of night. He was unable to move, his hands were pulled back, tied back around a rough surface that scratched him every time he wiggled his arms. He shivered after a cold gale stung his naked upper body.

He finally mustered up the strength to open his eyes, but there was nothing. It was pitch black, and that's when he realized that something covered his eyes. He tried to call out for help, but his mouth was gagged with, from what he could tell, a smooth surface—most likely a cloth. The only thing he could do was listen, but all he could hear was the whistling of the wind and the buzzing and crawling of insects around him. However, he couldn't shake off this sickening feeling that someone—or something—was watching him.

Suddenly, he felt his face sting with a burning ache. His nose, his jaw, his eye, it's as if he fell face-first into a pile of rocks. Regardless, he could care less about the pain, for he had one thought bugging his mind—where the hell was he?

And that's when he heard:

"Take the blindfold off."

That sound was enough to send shivers down his spine, he recognized it all too well. He dreaded it, he had nightmares of it, and it haunted him wherever he went. It was the voice of the leader of the Templars—spoken in a cold, menacing tone.

And as the blindfold came off, he was finally able to see. In front of him stood—in a circular formation—a dozen men wearing white surcoats with a red 'X' sewn on the front, dressed in white cloaks and clad in armor. Directly in front of him stood the most familiar face, staring back at him with a chilling glare—the leader of the Templars.

He quickly glanced behind him only to realize that his arms were tied back onto a tree, so tightly that he couldn't wiggle out of them or break free. He turned towards the Templar's leader, his eyes widened in fear, and his body trembled uncontrollably as he whimpered—for that was all he could do due to his mouth being gagged.

"Well, if it isn't lucky Luke…you've been well, I can tell." The leader said, "So, you found yourself a new batch to hide with, eh? A bunch of slit-eyed cunts, a red-haired fucker, and a banshee bitch. Quite a choice, eh?"

Luke couldn't answer.

"You thought you could run away from us, eh? Honestly, we didn't care for you much. You were always a pathetic coward, not worth the time. But going out with those cunts, helping them to escape from us? That's a poor, poor choice, Lukey."

Once again, Luke couldn't answer.

"You know what happens to anyone who goes against us, don't ya, Lukey?" The leader said. A smug crept up his face before he reached for his pocket, pulling something out before showing it to Luke. "You know what this is, don'tcha?"

His blood ran cold, his eyes widened once again as he shivered intensely. The leader held in front of his face a dark-skinned human ear. He recognized it too well, it was the ear of one of the victims of the Templars, whom Luke bear witnessed—which gave him the courage to abandon the faction for good.

"It's old Uncle Tom, you remember Uncle Tom, don'tcha?"

Unfortunately, he did. The screams of agony, the blood-curdling screams of the old black man echoed in Luke's mind as he averted his gaze from the ear—it was too painful to look at. Images of the unspeakable horror of the night of Tom's torture and murder flashed before his eyes.

The leader grabbed onto Luke's bruised face, holding him by the jaw. He fixed his eyes at the ear before the Templar leaned closer and whispered to him.

"You will be just like Uncle Tom when I'm done with ya."

Luke shivered, tears welling up in his eyes immediately. His mind raced, and all the horrible thoughts of what they will do to him came flooding to his mind all at once—all the memories of the torture the Templars subjected their victims to come crashing onto him. He was petrified.

"I don't think the lads I've sent to take care of your buddies have succeeded, those are a bunch of strong cunts alright. But they can wait, we will get them eventually. I only wanted you, I wanted to finish up everything with you before we move on to the others. You're a traitor, aye. But a traitor that loves slopes and bastards? That just makes you worse than them, doesn't it?" The leader said, "Now…let's begin."

The leader shoved the ear back into his pocket before he stood back, gesturing for the Templars to commence the torture. Two Templars raised Luke onto his feet, the skin of his arms aching with burning pain from the friction with the tree. Another Templar wrapped a rope from behind Luke's throat and tightly tied it to the tree. He then grabbed onto Luke's ear before drawing a dagger.

"Wait!" The leader ordered, "Not yet. Go slowly."

The Templar nodded before sheathing the dagger. He stood in front of Luke, rolled up his sleeves, and cracked his knuckles. For a long, agonizing few minutes, Luke withstood the relentless beating of the Templar. His face, chest, abdomen, kidneys, shoulders, barely any part of his upper body wasn't bruised.

"Enough." The leader ordered, "Bring the whip."

Luke's eyes widened in fear upon hearing the leader's orders, but he was far too weak to act. His body was limp as the Templars untied the ropes binding his arms and neck. They spun the boy around, his back facing the Templars as they tied his arms once again to the tree.

The others stepped back before one of the Templars stepped forward, facing Luke's exposed back. The boy began sweating nervously, beads of sweat mixed with tears as they trickled down his bruised face.

CRACK!

The boy released a muffled scream of agony as the whip struck his back, a sharp burning sensation that made him writhe in pain and desperately try to break out from the ropes despite his weakness.

CRACK!

Another whip struck him. And another, and another, dozens of times, if not a few dozen times. His back was bleeding and bruised, his face was completely washed in tears, and the spit leaking from his mouth. His bloodied back, and the red 'X' simply deliberately caused by the whipping garnered sickening mockery and snickers from the despicable Templars.

As if that weren't enough, some of the Templars occasionally threw salt or squeezed lemons dry on Luke's open wounds. He winced in pain, yet could do nothing but endure it in the hope that someone would save him.

When the ropes were finally loosened, after who knows how many minutes of whipping and beating he took, Luke collapsed to the ground, conscious but completely drained of strength. His gaze pleaded for mercy as he locked eyes with the leader of the Templars. In response, four of them spat in his face, their spiteful glares fueling his despair.

But some couldn't contain their hatred and stomped his face onto the dirt, kicked him around, and dragged him by the hair onto a tiny puddle of mud. But that wasn't enough. One Templar grabbed onto Luke's hand before breaking his index and middle finger in a spine-chilling crunch of the broken bone, before another wrapped a rope around his neck and dragged him over the dirt, nearly choking him out of life.

"I guess this is enough." The leader said, "Cut off his ear, then we can move on to the better things."

One Templar nodded before he knelt towards Luke and drew a dagger. He grabbed onto his ear, pulling it before placing the cold surface of the blade on it. At this moment, Luke thought of one thing. He knew that this was the end, this was the death of him. Yet, he couldn't help but think:

'I didn't pay Joel and the others for the escort…I wish I could tell them sorry.'

Before the Templar could hack at Luke's ear, a scream resonated from the same Templar. As the boy turned his head, his eyes fell upon the Templar quivering as he held onto his shoulder—an arrow pierced through it.

Suddenly, a large figure of a man dashed from behind the trees and towards the Templars, smashing through them and launching them away with his shoulder. There he stood—Killian, with a smirk on his face.

The leader stared in shock, his eyes shifted into a murderous glare as he stood up.

"YOU!" He shouted, "YOU BAST—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a rustle resonated from the tree behind the leader. As he turned his head around, his eyes were met with Mik jumping down towards him—diving with his fist first, aimed at the Templar.

"MUTHAFUCKA!" Mik shouted.

His fist struck Temlar's face, his knuckles smashing into his nose. Mik stood on his two feet while the leader tumbled to the ground. Mik turned towards Killian, the two exchanging a look of approval with a thumbs up.

Suddenly, Luke lunged at Mik, pushing him away and knocking him down. Mik looked up, ready to curse at the boy—until he saw the sword that was aiming for him, slashing through a tree and knocking it down completely with ease. It was a terrifying feat of strength, performed by one of the Templars.

"Their swords…beware…" Luke weakly whispered.

Dolisia sprinted out of the treeline and towards Mik, who was lying on the ground with Luke next to him.

"What the hell happened?!" She asked.

"Shit, looks like their blades are super sharp, that fucker just cut down an entire tree." Mik replied.

"Well, as long as we dodge the blades, then it's a-okay!" Killian responded, "I guess I could handle this alone, you guys should meet up with Joel and Sumiko."

"Don't mind me!" Dolisia said.

She snatched Luke from the ground and wrapped his arms around her neck as she carried him on her back.

"Mik, you coming?" She asked.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"You kidding?! I finally got the opportunity to let off some steam. As long as I dodge the blades, then it's fucking party time!"

"Crazy bastard, I forgot you're insane." Dolisia sighed, "Well, suit yourself. I'm going."

Dolisia then ran as fast as she could while carrying Luke. Meanwhile, Killian and Mik were cracking their knuckles, and ready to light the candle on fire. But before they could, the leader of the Templars stood up, unsheathing his sword.

"I WILL SLIT YOUR THRO—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the leader was interrupted by a devastating kick to the testicles from Mik. As the leader stood unfaltering—yet whimpering—Killian and Mik took it as their queue to begin.

They beat him together. Killian swung a right hook to his face, Mik punching him in the abdomen, Killian followed up with a jab to the jaw, Mik with an uppercut to the chin. And thus it went, every strike alternating between the two. A punch to the nose, a right hook to the kidney, another kick to the testicles, a cross to the chest, a punch to the heart, a roundhouse kick to the jaw, a front kick to the crotch, a low kick to the knees, an axe kick to the head, a flying kick to the back, a hail of blows to the spine, and a front kick to the knee, and finally a downward punch to the head.

The leader was knocked down, whimpering in pain and foaming in the mouth as Killian and Mik stood tall over him, shooting a smug smile at the other Templars who stood up and drew their swords.

The first Templar swung at Mik. The latter ducked before Killian followed with a cross to the face and a right hook to the jaw. Mik then kicked him in the crotch before dropping the sword from his hand and following up with yet another kick to the private parts before throwing him at the next Templar.

Mik dodged, to and fro from side to side, occasionally following with a kick to the jaw and unarming the Templars. Killian rarely dodged as he beat the Templars to the initiative, his vigorous blows striking the Templars with overwhelming power repeatedly, at times launching them a distance away.

Despite the strength of the Templars—and their overly sharp, lethal blades—they were no match to Mik's agility and precise blows, and Killian's range of strikes and overwhelming power. They would at times come close to landing a decisive slash, but it would be dodged and diverted to the trees instead.

They were simply overpowered in experience, strength, and battle intellect.

Meanwhile, Dolisia was running while carrying Luke on her back. She was sprinting out of the forest, towards the dirt track where Joel and Sumiko waited for her. She was running as fast as she could, while Luke was mumbling incoherently.

"Huh?" Dolisia uttered, "What is it, Luke?"

Luke mumbled again but was still incoherent.

"Luke, just relax now, you're alright. You'll be safely back in cam—"

But before she could finish her sentence, Dolisia spotted from the corner of her eye an object dashing at her. As she turned her head to dodge it, the object grazed her cheek—its sharp metallic surface ripping a tiny wound on her face.

Dolisia stood petrified before she saw the leader of the Templars lunging at her with his sword aiming for her. She dodged at the last second, the blade of the Templar striking down the tree behind her. Dolisia glanced at the Templar before she sprinted at a greater speed towards the dirt track.

But the Templar was not done. He quickly raised his sword and followed after Dolisia. The latter ran without looking back, it was far too dangerous to waste time. However, as she ran away, she heard Luke mumbling once again. This time she was able to understand him.

"Sword…from the left."

Then it clicked in her mind. Upon hearing him, she quickly dodged to the right. She saw the blade swinging downwards to her left—so close that she felt the wind that came with it. She ran away with greater speed, but the Templar was soon back to chasing her.

"Your neck…"

Dolisia instantly ducked. She felt the wind of the blade passing over her before she stood up once again and ran faster. She was getting closer, she was almost at the dirt track.

"…Jump forward."

Dolisia did as she was told, and jumped forward. She felt the tip of the blade graze her thigh—luckily ripping through the leather armor only. But as her feet landed on the ground, her ankle twisted and she came tumbling to the ground. She fell face first as Luke dropped down on his back, causing him to whimper in pain.

Dolisia turned around, facing the Templar who stood tall over her. He raised his sword above his head, the tip aiming for Dolisia's torso. But before he could pierce through Dolisia, a rock came hurdling toward the Templar, striking him in the ear. The rock shattered, and the pebbles grazed through the man's eye.

In response, he held onto his eye and the side of his head, grunting and screaming in pain as he shouted slurs.

"Fuck! You fucking cunt!" He shouted, "I will rip your fucking eyes off!"

Dolisia took the chance and quickly ran towards Luke before picking him up once again. She glanced at him, noticing the rock that he dropped out of his hand. She smiled approvingly before she sprinted towards the dirt track.

She finally fled the forest, now standing on the dirt track where Sumiko and Joel waited for her on a wagon. Joel sat on the wagon—the one that belonged to Sumiko—while the latter was riding a horse, carrying a bow and a set of arrows.

"Dolisia, you made it!" Sumiko cheered, "One hell of a fast runner you are!"

"One hell of a sharpshooter you are as well." She replied, "Joel, help me get Luke onto the wagon."

Joel hopped down from the wagon and hurried towards Dolisia. His eyes widened upon facing Luke, who was bruised on the face and bleeding from his back.

"What the hell happened to him?!" He questioned.

"I don't know, we found him this way." Dolisia responded, "But don't worry about that now, Joel. Get Luke out of here, get as fast as you can to camp! You'll be safe with Tatsuo!"

"But what about you guys?"

"We can't leave the boys out there with those bastards alone." Sumiko replied, "Killy is a strong boy, but he himself needs help every now and then. Go, we can handle it."

"Alright, I'll be counting on you." Joel finished.

Dolisia and Joel carried Luke gently onto the wagon—which was emptied beforehand. They slowly placed him on his side, covering him with a blanket before they hopped out of the wagon. Dolisia then mounted onto Sumiko's horse while Joel hopped onto the driver's box. They exchanged a nod before Joel galloped down the dirt track while the two raced around the forest, for it was too dense to run inside of it.

With a swing from the reins, the single horse dragging the wagon hurried down the road. However, it was still running around the forest. The camp wasn't far, but every second he spent near the woods he risked a Templar ambushing him. They had no idea how big were their numbers, hence why their threat lingered everywhere.

"J-…Joel-…" Luke choked up.

Upon hearing him, Joel turned his head to face the boy.

"Luke, you'll be alright, buddy. Just hang in there."

"I'm-…I'm sor-…"

"Luke, it's fine! You can relax, you're alrig—"

From the corner of his eye, Joel spotted a dark figure rushing out from the forest and towards the wagon. He quickly turned around, ready to pull on the reins and deviate from his route, but it was too late.

The figure suddenly drew a sword from his waist before he flung the blade at the horse. The sword stabbed through the horse, knocking it down just as it was turning to the left. In response, the wagon turned over on its side and crashed down, sending Joel hurdling toward the ground. Fortunately, he quickly put his hands in front of him to cushion his fall.

Joel smacked onto the soil harshly. His nose was bleeding and his ear was ringing as he struggled to stand up. As he was on his knees, Joel felt a cold, sharp surface land on his neck. It sent shivers down his spine as a voice followed.

"You're the one who insulted me, aren'tcha?" He spoke in a murderous tone.

He recognized the voice, it was the leader of the Templars. Joel stood motionless, he could do nothing but anticipate the next plan of action. Suddenly, a kick to the back sent Joel plummeting to the ground. A boot then stomped onto his face, pinning him down.

"I want to kill you so fucking much! But no…I need to enjoy it first."

The Templar flipped Joel on his back and sat on his chest, his knees pinning the boy's arms to the ground. He held him by the jaw before he let go of his sword, drawing a dagger instead. Joel was horrified as his eyes locked with the Templar. His right eye was bleeding, and the sickening grimace on his face oozed with blood lust. Joel had to save himself, quickly!

But he couldn't, the Templar overpowered him. The only thing he could do was helplessly stretch his hand in hopes of grabbing the Templar's sword. However, seeing how Joel averted his gaze from him, the man was enraged.

"Look at me!" He said, pulling Joel's hair. "LOOK AT ME!"

Powerless, Joel unwillingly obeyed. As his eyes locked with the Templar's, the latter's grimace grew wider.

"You have beautiful eyes…I will enjoy ripping them out of your fucking skull."

The Templar lowered the dagger, the tip of which touching the corner down to his eyebrow. He slowly pressed on the knife, the edge tearing through the skin bit by bit. But before he could cause a horrid injury, the Templar turned around upon hearing a pair of footsteps walk behind him.

His eyes fell upon Luke standing tall, a rock raised above his head. Before he could react, Luke swung his fist at the Templar with the rock smashing into the latter's face, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Luke knelt down on top of the Templar. He glared at him in contempt before smashing the rock into the man's other eye. The Templar kicked and screamed as the rock penetrated through his eye, gushing out a small waterfall of blood.

Luke let go of the rock before he raised his fist and punched the Templar with all the strength he could muster. With each punch, his rage grew and tears trickled down his face. He rained a barrage of punches at the Templar, each one carrying all the strength he could muster. Although his blows weren't much powerful, the amount of which left the man no opportunity to fight back.

Finally, Luke pulled the rock out of the Templar's eye before—in a final effort—swung it with all his might and smashed it on the man's forehead. At last, the Templar was finally knocked out, bleeding from his head.

As he stared at the motionless body, Luke felt a relief wash over him, followed by all the pain of the injuries that he sustained. Yet, he couldn't care less. The feeling of salvation and redemption was overwhelming. His tears trickled down his eyes like a waterfall as he screamed, screamed in fear, anger, salvation, in the relief of redemption.

As he cried, the fatigue settled in. His eyes closed shut. The only sound resonating from him were the inhales and exhales of his faint breathing. He struggled to stay conscious, wobbling from side to side. Finally, he gave up and collapsed to the ground. But before he could fall, Joel caught him and raised him to his feet before lifting him and carrying him on his back.

"You are one hell of a guy, Luke." Joel said, "Rest easy, you're safe now."

"I'm…sorry." Luke cried, "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Joel wondered, wiping the blood leaking from the tiny wound under his eyebrow. "You're a hero, Luke. You saved my life."

"I'm sorry…I didn't pay you."

Upon hearing his response, Joel couldn't help but chuckle at how ridiculous the reason for his apology was.

"It's alright, Luke. Think of it as a special service for a friend, alright?"

Luke cracked a smile. He was happy to hear that word that he oh so longed to hear. He rested his head on Joel's shoulder before he closed his eyes shut, finally drifting into a much-deserved, and much-needed sleep.

…

Near the campsite, there waited Killian, Mik, and Dolisia. The three were sitting down, visibly anxious as they waited for Joel. Meanwhile, Sumiko was riding her horse, her eyes darting around the forest.

"He's taking too long," Dolisia said.

"Not too long, if he was coming by foot," Killian argued.

"Two minutes. If he doesn't arrive in two minutes, we'll search for him." Mik interrupted.

Suddenly, Sumiko broke into a chuckle before she interrupted.

"Welp, no need for that anymore."

In response, Mik, Dolisia, and Killian turned around upon hearing the rustling of leaves behind them. And there he stood—Joel, carrying Luke on his back. A smile was plastered on his face as he waved at the four. Mik and Dolisia rushed towards Joel as Killian hurried to fetch Luke and carry him on his back.

"What the hell happened to you?! What took you so long?!" Dolisia reprimanded.

"Who did that to you?" Mik asked, referring to the wound under his eyebrow.

"Well, I crashed the wagon. That fucking Templar leader killed the horse and tried to kill me too. But…" He said as he glanced at Luke, "Luke saved me. He beat the shit out of the guy. And, yeah. I had to come by foot 'cause of the wagon."

"Told ya!" Killian stated.

The four then made their way back to camp.

"What about you guys? How did it go?" Joel wondered.

"Oh, it was a waste of time riding back to help the boys." Sumiko replied.

"Mhm, turns out they were just fine on their own." Dolisia followed, "Actually, by the time we got there, Mik was kicking the holy hell out of some Templar's balls."

"Yikes." Joel shivered.

"I think I even spotted some blood drops leaking from his crotch." Mik added.

"YIKES!" Joel exclaimed, "God, enough. Last I wanna hear now is how some guy got his balls smashed to a bloody pulp."

"Tch, ungrateful prick." Mik retorted.

As they entered the camp, the four were awestruck as their eyes fell upon Tatsuo, who was sitting calmly as he held a bowl of rice, chewing on a spoonful he just ate.

"Tatsuo…what the hell?" Killian questioned.

"Piss off, moron. I want to enjoy my food in peace." Tatsuo retaliated.

"Uh, Tatsuo." Sumiko interrupted, pointing under him. "I think he means that."

Tatsuo did indeed sit calmly while eating his second dinner. But what had startled the gang was not what was Tatsuo doing, but where he was sitting. He was sat on top of a pile of unconscious Templars, two dozen of them in fact. Moreover, some of the trees behind him were smashed and knocked down, and some of the soil around him was burnt and dug out.

"They interrupted my dinner." Tatsuo explained.

There had clearly been a fight in here, a vicious battle between Tatsuo and the two dozen Templars. However, none dared to question what had happened as they let the man resume eating from his bowl of rice in peace—far too intimidated to interrupt him.