Squeezed out a chap. There was a plan to add another segment but I don't have time. ch 10 has been completed.

About a few queries

1- the dream> I would suggest not to take the dream at face value. It has its significance but it is a dream after all. Things can change.

2- yin-yang, chi etc.> I have no plans for yang yet. Chi in this world is a mixture of Will and mana. So there you have it.

3- as for Boris being weak, see my rant in suggestions thread.

Also, I plan to edit out ch 4-last if/when I get time. Any comments/questions are welcome. I would also like a (short) name for the technique Boris is using in this chap. Thanks...

______________

11. Hints of darkness

Diana breathed the cold air with satisfaction. Winter was here, it was time to conclude things. Things were going well. The boy had shown considerable improvement. He was sensitive to the surroundings and had demonstrated a striking resistance to her Will. Diana had to keep increasing her killing intent everyday to subdue him. Her own search had also paid off.

Ever since the incident of Jinor, Diana was suspicious of the involvement of less savory individuals. She had scouted while she travelled across the forest and discovered a weak trail of weapons, some of which she had salvaged. It indicated the involvement of bandits. And from the few corpses she discovered intermittently, something rather sinister was going on. Sikata had also expressed his worries at the same time.

It was highly probable that these same people had collapsed the Turtleback nest and killed the scout, directing attention elsewhere. Diana disliked it when someone desecrated the forests. They were high in Elven regard.

She also didn’t like loose ends.

She had pursued the matter deep and only yesterday known of their lair. Wards and camouflages sat upon it. A few sentries too. She returned to spend part of the night in preparation, revising a few strategies while sharpening her weapons. She still hadn’t decided whether to bring Boris along. Even with his progress, the boy could prove a hindrance to her and a danger to himself.

She shook her head lightly as she approached the sleeping Boris. ‘I will see how he does today before deciding.’

Boris abandoned his sleep sharply as Diana approached. He clambered to his feet, throwing away the blanket to stand full attention. It was a reflexive maneuver.

Blinking his eyes a few times in the grey light, he brushed the drowsiness away. It was too early a morning.

“Is there a situation?” he asked Diana curiously, “I still have some time to sleep.”

“I have decided,” Diana replied, “it’s time for your initiation test. Eat and prepare yourself. Then we begin.”

Boris swapped his loose robes for proper attire as Diana left. A leather jacket over long sleeved tunic and a wide belt over thick pants. He cleaned up fast. Then equipped the usual weapons and promptly went to hunt, returning within minutes with the first rabbit he found. It would be enough for now, and he could always hunt more later. He skinned and cooked it himself. Diana did not look hungry and she wouldn’t cook just for him. He gulped down the bland meal in his own thoughts.

“So,” he finally asked Diana, “what does this test entail?”

“This is the initiation test. If you pass it, you can call yourself a disciple of Diana Silverdeen, a rare honor.”

“Really,” Boris asked with feigned interest, honor was not much use to him. “How do I pass?” he enquired nonetheless, because he could not refuse.

“You need to land one successful hit, capable of killing me. Not that you can possibly kill me, but you must convey the intent and ability to do so. Surely you understand what I mean by that?” Diana elaborated.

It was a difficult condition. “What can I use?”

“Anything you want, arrows, stones, or even your distracting contraptions. Keep in mind though, if you use weapons so will I. I would advise you to stick to your fists.” Diana offered serious advice.

“That’s what I intend to do,” Boris accepted. He had a hidden card now, and he was dying to use it. His fist pulsed slightly as he squeezed at the mana vessels there, supporting his thoughts.

Boris walked into the open clearing once again. He had changed back into loose clothing, a sash over his tunic and pants. He took the free form before Diana. She nodded, “Come.”

The air whirred as Boris shifted into diversion, trying to attack her blind point. His fists tore through empty air and he found himself flung back immediately. A sharp blow to his forehead and a flawless throw had merged. Diana had shifted into spiral. Boris spun back and skidded to his feet while Diana rushed at him. He felt a momentary shock as he regained.

The air shivered and he dodged Diana’s kick, shifting to his left. Diana spun towards him, a palm thrust aimed at his abdomen. He caught her arm midway with his right, trying to twist it into a throw. She bent it away, turning the thrust into an elbow blow. Boris deflected it with his left, his right arm now free to push her shoulder down. She bent and swept her legs below him. He jumped to direct his knee at her face and was thrown again. He landed on threes, his left arm held forward in defense while his right pushed him aloft again.  

A moment of calm ushered in while Diana waited. Boris stood up cautiously and stooped low. This was it. He decided he would use it now. His mana tree or whatever it was. Boris exerted upon the mana vessels in his feet. His heart thudded, his feet cringed and a burst of strength emerged as he pushed against the ground.

Boris spurted fast, prompting a slight surprise from Diana. He broke into her guard and thrust his palm in. Diana recovered sharply, deflecting his thrust while directing a blow at his abdomen. Boris gripped her arm as he exerted his left hand, it cramped tight around hers. He felt his heart pump harder as he spun slightly, directing Diana’s right arm over his left shoulder.

Stepping in, he squeezed his vessels harder. His shoulder deflected Diana’s left arm and she showed the first opening ever. Her chest, unguarded.

Boris twisted, shifting into inversion. His palm spun outwards into an audible thrust at her sternum. A vital point, one of the only nine points that could ensure death. He squeezed the vessels in his arms as his palm met Diana’s chest. A burst of power surged into a small boom that erupted.

Boris was flung back at the same time as Diana. Her kick had caught him the same moment his thrust caught her. He had been too engrossed to notice and landed awkwardly on his back. Diana landed awkwardly herself, skidding back to gain balance.

“That- huff- was-huff- a killing strike,” Boris panted victoriously from his position. His heart was thudding madly and his body sweated beyond normal. But there was joy in his voice, and a great sense of accomplishment. His mana tree was not useless, it just had other uses.

“How did you do that?” Diana enquired, walking over to him, “That was a surprise.” She helped Boris up as he placed another hand on his chest, calming it down.

“My mana vessels, when I exert on them my muscles squirm and heart bursts. So I thought—

“You overstrained your heart and muscles,” Diana cut in, “relying on them for momentary bursts of power.”

Boris nodded. Diana looked down sharply, “Smart. That was quite some strength. However, you do understand the risk it carries, don’t you?”

“I can’t use it for long durations, and it leaves me over exhausted,” Boris answered.

“And it can kill you,” Diana added simply, pondering a little to add, “But it is a good weapon, especially for you. Develop your physique and it will be capable to enduring the most of overexertion while adding to your strength. Never use it too long or too often, for now.”

Boris pondered her words, devising a few ways to realize his newfound power.

“I did pass right?” he asked finally.

“Yes you did. Congratulations, you can now formally call yourself my disciple.”

“And what was I till now?” Boris added dryly.

“My experimental toy,” Diana replied with the subtlest of sarcasm.

“Very well,” he sighed, “what next, master?”

“That depends,” Diana replied, looking towards the east, “you can either accompany me or you can have—

“I am coming with you.”

“Are you sure?” Diana asked with her arms across her chest, “I was about to give you a day of rest.”

“No. I would like to come. I want to see where you were gone all these evenings, while I was being chased by fimberhounds.”

“Alright,” Diana decided, “Pack up your gear, we need to pay some bandits a visit.”

“Bandits?” Boris asked. They were inside the Laur forest. There was no civilization for miles and nothing worth looting. This was the wrong place for bandits.

“Hurry up. We don’t have time.”

______________

(Two weeks ago)

The bandits’ fortress was a ruin, a mess of patched up walls and fallen towers. Mounds of dirt sat on most of the structures and added to the image of dilapidation. Makeshift palisadings of spiked wood and interspersed iron barbs stood as defense. Smaller shacks had been erected near the outer walls. Straw padded cushions with small fire mounds for guards.

The guards were dead, a bloodied arrow stuck in their vitals. Claire had been growing more accurate with her arrows. Ray examined the last of guards, making sure he was dead before proceeding into the fortress.

“Claire,” he hissed behind her, “any sign of other bandits?”

Claire raised a finger to her lips and gestured for the others to take cover. She sat down and engaged ranging, sweeping for nearby enemies. There were six, remarkably less than expected. She raised a suspicious eyebrow. Was this a trap?

“Claire?”

“There are three to the right, one on left, one over that tower and the other hiding behind the bridge.”

“Alright,” Ray answered, “I’ll take the three to the right, Sylvia takes the one on left, and Claire takes the two at range. Violet, hmm, support us.”

“We should take them one at a time.” Sylvia did not like Ray’s proposition much. Ray had started taking greater risks, killing more foes by himself.

“No,” Ray decided, “we take them all by surprise.” He rushed out to the right, giving them little chance to deny.

An arrow drifted into the tilted tower window, killing the first one before Ray could pull out his sword. Ray ambushed the three bandits, each carrying a heavy sword, with a roar. His sword swept in slash the first one and he continued arc towards the second who could barely guard, toppling him unconscious.

“You bastards!” the third one growled. His cruel face twisted in anger as he drew his broadsword. It ignited in flames, ready to burn while slashing.

Towards the left, Sylvia had already shocked a bandit by showering him with lightning. He collapsed to the ground as an arrow swished past her towards the bridge. The arrow embedded itself into the railing and exploded into flames, exposing the bandit in hiding.

The bandit emerged, growling out his vengeance as another arrow found his forehead. Claire went around swiftly killing every guard on watch, before an alarm could be raised.

The swords clanged as Ray clashed with the bandit holding a flaming sword. His opponent had a massive built and used augmentation to repel his blows, making it difficult. He clad his own sword with wind magic, creating gashes of air in opposition. An opening emerged as the opponent jumped sideways. Ray followed eagerly, trying to finish him mid air. His feet froze however, caught by the bandit who was supposed to be unconscious.

Ray glowered at the momentary distraction, swinging his sword down upon the culprit who broke away instantly. It was the moment Ray was left open, and the flaming sword came for him viciously. Wind exploded before Ray could uphold his shield, throwing away the bandits in shock. They collapsed hard against the ground.

“Thanks,” Ray glanced back at Violet who held her staff aloft, air billowing from it.

They rounded up a few more bandits inside, and tied them up for interrogation. Sadly, there was nothing like mind-reading magic in this world. There were a total of twelve bandits in the outer fortress. A paltry number. An alarming one.

The interrogation revealed little. They were too afraid. Two of them even committed suicide by biting their tongues. It was a gruesome act.

“There are too few of them,” Violet spoke, “where are the rest?”

“Probably waiting inside,” Ray replied, “They have yet to realize we are here.”

“This is a trap,” Sylvia opinioned, “we cannot go in.”

“They have hostages Sylvia. How do you propose we save them now?” Claire asked.

“We were supposed to infiltrate quietly and I think we have already raised an alarm. We need to retreat, frame up a new plan,” Sylvia remarked with concern.

“It is too late for that. If they know, then the hostages are dead. But I found no sign of alarm, we dispatched them fairly fast and I took out all those on watch. We need to get in before they discover the corpses and raise an alarm,” Claire told her.

They looked at each other and nodded. They sneaked in.

The corridors were dusty and webs covered half the corners and walls, creating pockets of cover crawling with spiders and insects. The main routes had been cleared and were manned by bandits, each lying down leisurely against his chair. The heroes crept behind pillars and walls, silently dispatching away the foes.

Claire took out most of them easily. There was no alarm raised while the whole fortress was scouted out. By the time the first corpse was discovered, every bandit on the ground floor and above was either dead or in custody. There was just one problem. There were no hostages here. No prisons either.

“Where are they keeping the prisoners?” Ray was confused.

“Below the ground,” Claire replied. She shifted a slab in the pedestal that supported a flame tower. A soft rumble emerged as the pedestal tilted, revealing a curved flight of stone stairs. She smiled confidently as she stepped in, scanning for enemies. Then she poked her head out, “It should be safe down the stairs. What do we do?”

“I think one of us should stand watch,” Sylvia spoke.

“I searched every crevice of this wreck Sylvia, there is no other threat. The only thing you would need to watch against would be ghosts.”

“Or traps,” Violet add.

“I searched for traps,” Claire reminded them with much chagrin.

“You searched for the traps above,” Violet countered, “If there are any below that trap you in, we will need someone outside to help.”

“Fair enough,” Ray conceded, “Violet, you will stand guard here. Sylvia will send up a flare if we need help, or if it takes too long, seek us yourself.”

The descended quietly down the stairs and into a small, scraggly chamber that emptied into a poorly lit corridor. There were few flickering torches along the sides and doors to prison cells stood in between. Claire detected no signs of life beyond the door, creeping softly through the shadows. There was large wooden door at the end. Iron bolts and chains fastened across it and two heavily armored bandit guards stood on each side.

Claire motioned towards them. A blast of air pummeled them against the walls, Sylvia holding her staff towards them in offence. Ray took advantage of their surprise and darted in. His sword found purchase through the gaps in their armor, killing them before they could retaliate.

He stooped down to confirm their deaths as Claire pressed against the door, using ranging to detect for signs of life. There were thirty-four people inside, some short and some taller ones. She could not detect much more, unless she opened the door.

“What is it?” Ray asked her.

“There are a good thirty-four people inside. Too many by my count. Now either we have a whole lot more hostages or we have an ambush mixed within,” she warned. An ambush was unlikely though. The door was locked firmly and guarded well. There should have been prisoners inside.

“There is only one way to find out,” Ray responded. He augmented strength and bashed the door open, tearing its wooden splinters against metal restraints. The door creaked, then fell in dramatically, revealing a dark, dank dungeon with little to no light.

Sylvia lit up a bright fireball, casting a circle of light around them. Dark, curious figures emerged into the light, their eyes were hidden by the shadows but their features were inhuman. Some were weak, scraggly with long hair and disproportionate arms. Some were large, fat and had bald heads and proganthic jaws. Some looked to be in between.

There was moment of shocked silence.

“What are they?” Ray asked.

“Demons!” Sylvia exclaimed as loud angry roars erupted. Chaos burst as the demons scrambled across the room, each howling their own twisted screams.

“Retreat! We need a healer!” Ray shouted at his companions. They obeyed gladly, running back as each of them fired a shot into the crowd. A few bows pierced the shorter ones and bolts of lightning crashed against the larger monsters. The demons advanced without regard. More cries and roars resounded.

“Goddammit! Where are the hostages?!” Ray growled as he activated a shielding barrier, preventing the demons from getting too close.

The corridor lit up with random blasts of fire and lighting. The demons smacked against the shield shouting as they tried to kill him. Some of them blew up gales of air from their mouths, making moats of dust and fragments of stone crumble into the passage.

“Get back faster! It will collapse!”

They found comfortable ground on the stairs. Claire felled the demons from above as Sylvia froze the stairs, ice restraining the legs of some demons while others cut through it. Ray slashed at those advancing, while shouting for Violet at the top of his voice. He could no longer support the barrier shield. He received wounds on his arms and flanks. Sharp claws had torn through the leather armor he wore, wind magic overwhelming the defensive enchantments.

Violet had already received a message when Sylvia had sent a flare through the stairs. She was descending the stairs rapidly, a spell already prepared in advance. Surprise took its toll on her though. The heroes were fighting a horde of demons. Goblins and orcs filled with raging blood thirst pounced upon them. ‘Where did they come from?’ she found no time to ponder. She healed Ray while considering the situation.

This was a disaster. They could not allow the demons to escape outside. Violet prepared a large-scale spell while the others held the demons back.

“Get back,” she cautioned heavily as she let the spell loose. The stairs collapsed, beginning from the lowest rung upon the ground and crumpling away like a landslide. The heroes climbed faster, leaving the demons to fate. Ray shut the pedestal back heavily, closing the entrance to the stairway.

They waited a while, ready for any demon to spring the pedestal back. None came. A heavy gasp escaped each of their lips as they slumped. A loud rumble followed, possibly the result of the whole underground collapsing. Everyone looked to everyone else with worry and shock.

There were questions on every mind. How did the demons infiltrate this far inland? Where did they come from? What did the bandits have to do with this? And where exactly were the hostages?

The plan was a wreck.

______________

(Current time)

It was a long and tedious trek. With each mile east, the forest grew denser, harsher and colder. Boris almost expected it to freeze over as they continued. The cold however, was not an issue. Not if you spent hours thrashing about in horrid, cold rapids every day. The density was.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Boris was not very good with darkness. His nose and ears roamed about the shadowed regions, trying to pick up hostile monsters. Every so often, a bright slab of sunlight would blind him abruptly, leaving his vision spotty. He scrunched his eyes, shading them under his hands to get a little of the view. Diana brushed his hands away.

“What?” Boris asked.

“Learn to rely more on your other senses, as if you were hunting. People often trust their sight more than they should.”

Boris realized what she meant. From what he had experienced, especially after seeing illusory magic, it was no doubt he needed other senses. And he had developed sharp senses. He just needed to put them to better use. He exhaled softly against the air, stepping cautiously among the mounds of grass. His ears scanned for the rustles and noises. His nose tried to pick up the scents mixed within the air. Winter decay overwhelmed a few ripe fruits that had escaped the fall. A few kiris ant mounds here and there drafted the familiar air with sharp acidic smell.

Boris directed his eyes away, only paying attention to other senses.

It felt slightly different now. As if his eyes were freed for simpler tasks. There was faint chirping of birds in the distance and a few cries of critters among the trees ahead. But there was nothing else. He brushed aside another blade of grass softly, eagerly following Diana’s footsteps. They were quiet, phantom brushes of her shoes upon rough ground. She left no traces at all, something Boris had always marveled. No matter how much he tried to hide his own trail the fimberhounds had always found him. Boris tried to imitate her way of stepping through grass. The almost dainty way she slipped through made her seem ghostly.

“There is a trick to this,” Diana replied after seeing Boris hawking at her steps, “on hard ground you find small exposed footholds and balance on your toes. On softer ground, seek wider footholds and spread the weight. Try to tread close to the roots but never step over them. Keep your body relaxed at all times and avoid jumping through obstacles.”

“I already tried most of that, it’s not that simple,” Boris replied from his own point.

“No you didn’t.” Diana replied while slipping through the foliage, “The biggest issue here is balance. I will teach you about that in due time.”

Boris crept away behind her, turning his attention back to the surroundings. They were strangely silent, the liveliness subdued by an undercurrent of fear. It was fear that radiated over the breeze and prickled his skin cold. There were no larger animals nearby. No hounds, no wolves, no bears—Wait, bears would be hibernating. Regardless, no predators and no monsters. The few squirrels and lizards scurried away long before Boris could reach them. He felt a hint of caution in their actions, driven by the all too familiar sense of fear. ‘Strange? No.’

“You are driving them away!” Boris realized as he pointed to Diana.

Diana raised an eyebrow in question.

“The monsters and animals, you are making them feel afraid and uneasy. It is exactly the opposite of what you did to the fimberhounds.” Boris gesticulated.

“What makes you think that?” Diana asked curiously.

“I can feel it clearly. It is similar to how you release that massive killing intent every time you attack. Is this how an empathizer works?” Boris asked curiously.

“That, is a good observation,” Diana replied as they passed through the thicket of trees. A stretch of brook emerged between them. The soil smelled wet and tantalizing, and the shrubs became fresh and bright. A slim, soft stream of water cascaded over rocks in a transparent sparkle. Boris hid his eyes in the glaring open light.

“Let us a take a small break here.” Diana said.

Boris immediately laid down his knapsack and stripped off his tunic and jacket. He approached the shore, ready to jump in.

“What are you doing?” Diana stopped him just before he took the plunge.

“Breathing exercises,” Boris replied innocently, “Isn’t that why you stopped here?”

There was soft chortle that Boris could not understand. “No,” Diana spoke in amusement, “when I said a break, I meant a break.” She perched on the soft grassy slope that led to the shore and tapped the ground beside her. “Come, sit here,” she gestured to Boris.

Boris re-dressed and sat down stiffly beside her, alert to the surroundings. In his mind, there were only three reasons for a break. To hunt, to eat or to rest. And he didn’t need any of them right now.

“Why are we taking a break?” he asked in partial surprise.

“We are waiting.”

“For whom?” Boris was even more curious now.

“You will see. For now, don’t you want to know about empathy?”

“Oh, sure I do.” His ears perked up as Diana offered to teach him about the curious magic.

“Do you remember what I said about elves and arcane magic?” Diana asked as she peered into the sky. Cold breeze brushed across her face, lapping a few golden strands of hair against her cheeks.

“That it lies in your blood?” Boris remembered.

“Right. Now, you are always poking into arcane magic and theories so tell me this: what separates arcane magic from others?”

Boris made a confused expression at the seemingly bland question. “That it is… arcane? As in we don’t really know how it works but it works, as in some confusing jumble of chants that just makes magic happen.”

“Not wrong,” Diana answered, “but hardly correct. You know, arcane magic is not some mysterious cure all solution. It is not even that elusive or amazing, not all of it I mean… We stole arcane magic from lost civilizations and tried to adapt it in. Some of it proved amazing, some of it was dreadful and some was purely useless. There are needlessly complicated arcane spells for simple tasks that can be achieved by basic magic or small cantrips.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that arcane magic is just something that was devised by lost generations. We can chant their spells but we have little idea what sense they convey. And just like every other magic, it has its own peculiarities and problems. It is not all powerful, there are just places where it works better.”

“It can summon people from a different world, Diana. I don’t know how much more powerful you want it to be.”

“There are restrictions,” Diana explained, “the alignment of stars, the completion of cycles, the runes, the base components… it needs a lot of preparations.”

“You know about summoning magic?!” Boris asked in astonishment. The ritual for summoning heroes was a closely guarded secret of Cumaria. Violet had even told him that no other nation, not even Sumaria, possessed the ritual in full detail.

“I know about common summoning magic,” Diana clarified, “It is very different from what summoned you. Even then, summoning something large or something living requires a lot. Anyway, that was not the issue I wanted to discuss. I wanted to discuss about the singularity that arcane magic possesses.”

Boris shuffled his thoughts about summoning magic to the background, paying attention to Diana’s lecture. “And what is that? What makes arcane magic singularly different?”

“The Will,” Diana impressed, “the Will of the caster. No other magic takes in the Will of a mage into account.”

“What the heck is that?”

“It is what you experienced, the killing intent, the fear, the dread. It is an expression of desires and thoughts strong enough to influence the world outside. The elves are blessed with a strong Will. It is the boon of fairies. That is what I mean when I say arcane magic dwells in our blood. That is also what makes me an empathizer. I can feel the Will of others and soothe or threaten them with my own.”

Boris plunged headfirst into this revelation, trying to piece it together. The Will was something that could influence the world outside by mere desire. What Diana had said essentially meant that there were two components to drive arcane magic—the Will and the mana. It added a completely new dimension to arcane magic. This was why arcane magic was so difficult to understand. It differed from person to person, to what they willed of it. But then he had never heard Violet speak about the Will. The books never mentioned it either. ‘Could it be?’

“Is this an Elven secret?” Boris asked Diana.

“Hardly,” she replied, “the other races are just too ignorant to realize it. As far as I know, only those despicable pixars know of this well enough.” Her voice seemed to turn dark as she spoke.

Boris did not probe into the matter of pixars. He was interested in something else. “Then,” he asked, “do I have a Will as well?”

“Of course,” Diana replied, “every person has one. It is just that elves are particularly blessed in this regard. Your own is plenty strong though, few people can oppose my Will like you do.”

This was a pleasant surprise. If he had a Will, Boris could probably give off killing intent like Diana. It was formidable, he could have others cowering in fear or tame monsters. This was something that he needed to train.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he felt a few monsters approaching. Most monsters, unlike animals, had a slightly more dangerous aura to them. Boris had become keen on this sense over time. The ones approaching felt more dangerous than ever. He stood up vigilantly, placing a hand upon his bow.

“Stand down,” Diana put a hand on his shoulder, “they are not a threat.”

The trees shook and three of them emerged, strolling leisurely towards him. Boris watched agape as the one in front walked up to him, lowered its snout to smell him suspiciously and turned to face Diana.

‘A human kid?’ a voice resonated crudely through the air, barely making sense.

“It speaks?!” Boris exclaimed wildly, prompting a glare from both Diana and the wolf. He lowered his pointed fingers politely while turning inquisitive eyes on the monster. It was almost seven feet tall and heavy, sturdily built. Grey metallic fur coursed smoothly over its body taking a grizzled look over the ears, the eyes and the tail. Sharp brown eyes rested within grey sclera and a regal snout emerged between them. A small crescent like birthmark in black sat upon its forehead, glowing faintly.

‘Yes, I speak. Rude as always, you humans,’ the wolf spoke in gruff masculine voice. His voice seemed clearer, more coherent with every word.

“I apologize,” Boris answered, “I have never witnessed something like you… uh, um, do you have a name?” He could feel the monster annoyed, but not hostile, unlike the fang rabbits and the screechwings.

‘My name is Sikata,’ the voice resonated harshly, ‘I am a spirit guardian of this forest.’ He turned to Boris stiffly, eyes rooting him down. Boris watched him curiously, feeling a hint of pressure that he felt from Diana. He guessed that this was the Will.

“Well,” Boris coughed, “nice to meet you Sikata. I am Boris Debron, Diana’s disciple.” He extended his hand in a friendly gesture then realized he could not possibly shake hands with a wolf. He looked at Sikata’s paws and found them a bit too large and deadly. So he silently settled for a small nod of his head.

Sikata did not acknowledge him and turned to Diana. ‘Child of the fairies, you have brought a particularly annoying one,’ he grumbled.

“He is interesting isn’t he? How many humans could withstand your Will, much less talk to you?” Diana talked with frivolity.

Sikata grumbled a little and this time, a real growl emerged from his exposed canines. The two smaller wolves behind him came forward. They were as large as the fimberhounds but looked puny in comparison to Sikata. Boris could now feel their hostility clearly. He tensed his body in reflex.

“Stop,” Diana warned him, “They are silverpelts, you cannot take them on.”

‘They are silverpelts?’ Boris could not help but curse the knowledge of humans. Silverpelts were supposed to be white and smaller than this. This world had a skewed sense of size, often hanging on the larger side.

“The ones most people observe,” Diana clarified for him, “are the weaker ones that meander away during the snowfalls. Thus the misconception.” She stood up to face Sikata, her eyes now looking down on his. “He comes with me. You asked a favor, you should bear with it.”

‘Alright,’ Sikata harrumphed as the two wolves receded back.

“Boris, try not to cross him,” Diana ordered, “he is like a king of the forest and our safest method to reach the destination. He does not like the humans much.”

“You could have told me beforehand,” Boris replied.

“Learn to deal with surprises kid, it helps in survival.” Diana blurted.

Boris swallowed the words with cynicism. Everything was surprise these days. “So, where are we going now?”

‘East,’ Sikata replied, ‘near the foothills.’

_______________

(Two weeks ago)

The sky had turned sordid gray, smoke ruining the serenity of blue with a botched curtain of shoddy black. It smelled disgusting, repugnant. But the flames liked it, licking through the remains of charred buildings with wicked tenacity. They whirled as people shrieked and scrambled. Cries of help resounded, breaking the morbid silence that dominated the skies. Monsters skittered through the remains, creating havoc.

Showers of water fell here and there, fighting a reckless war. The flames would still creep up and down, finding purchase in petty remains of straw and logs. Tabin was burning, and everything had backfired.

“Ray!” Claire cried as she shot down a bandit that was about to stun him, a flaming arrow piercing through his chest. “Get a hold of yourself! We need to stop this before it gets worse.”

‘We made it worse.’ Ray realized in a daze. ‘We made it worse!’

A loud slap resounded across his face, throwing him awake. Sylvia stood sternly before him. Sweat dripped from her brow from exhaustion. She had been firing spells left and right, trying to get rid of the monsters and bandits tearing away at the town.

“We need to take responsibility Ray! We need to clean up this mess! And we need you,” she spoke as she fired a spell of wind, blowing away a collapsing pillar before it could kill a child. She darted in towards the girl and threw a thick blanket over her.

“Run north child, and keep away from the fire.” The monsters and bandits had yet to cross into the northern part of the village’s safety. Violet had been restraining the fire hard and some volunteers had been helping. There were very few guards and even fewer were alive.

Ray hefted his sword heavily, swallowing his guilt and despair to plunge into the fray. There were hardly two dozen bandits here, but they had proved ruthless beyond measure.

When Ray and party had returned from the fortress they found the village burning. A shocking sight. Violet had immediately run inside to help and screamed curses. Giant turtlebacks and fang-rats plagued the residents. Each of these monsters had an ominous spiked collar around their necks. Sylvia took these on with her spells when new enemies had emerged. A small band of bandits had started killing people left and right. This was probably a surprise attempt at vengeance. And ironically, it had coincided with the surprise assault the heroes had launched on the fortress.

“Claire!” Ray shouted as he spotted a large Scythian in their midst, probably the boss, “Cover me.” He augmented strength and pushed hard against the ground. The maneuver flung him straight at the scythian. Ray roared as he clashed his sword against the Scythian.

The Scythian braced the impact well, pushing his sword aside. Ray bashed his shield at another nearby bandit, sending him sprawling in surprise.

The Scythian looked him up and down for slight moment, sneering at his face, “Are you the leader of heroes?”

Ray answered him with his sword, dashing straight and thrusting into his chest. The Scythian parried his thrust with a huge claymore. “Know this brat, you don’t mess with Sodor,” he spoke in a wicked laugh.

Ray augmented strength again, pummeling his shield into Sodor, pushing him back for a spinning slash. He spun as the Scythian brought his claymore back, clanging it loudly against Ray’s slash. Sparks emerged in a screech as both were pushed back a little. Sodor narrowed his eyes at the boy who looked too weak for that much strength. Then he laughed hysterically, “Let me show you the real augmentation.”

The tattoo on his neck pulsed heavily, sending rippling waves across his body. His muscles bulged, clothes pulling taut against his chest and thighs, as he almost increased in size. “This,” he roared, “is real augmentation.”

Ray grimaced. Strength against strength was a bad match, the opponent seemed much stronger than usual. He readied his own sword with a large cast of wind magic. His remaining mana would barely support this for an hour at most, if he did not use the any other magic. But he needed this.

He swung fast, rapid strikes against Sodor’s onslaught of slow, heavy blows. A few caught Sodor with an increased range, slicing small gashes up his rippled body. Ray dodged Sodor’s blows well, but his own blows were dealing little damage. Behind him, Claire deterred the other bandits from getting close. She shot rapid, imprecise arrows, harming one or two occasionally.

Ray circled Sodor, attacking from different angles as he dodged. His shield parried the claymore in practiced strokes and his longsword emerged in stabbing motions. Sodor hacked against his legs and he dodged, stabbing against his neck. Sodor shifted as the stab scraped against his own shoulder guards, drawing a line of blood. He swiped his claymore vertically up and Ray retreated, spinning back to stab at him from the side. The longsword’s thrust was received with the claymore’s pommel, driving it away.

Ray bashed his shield against the hilt, preventing a slash from Sodor. He shifted in, trying to stab the enemy’s flank while Sodor pushed his elbow in guard. The wind cut through his guard and Ray marched further, twisting the sword to aim at his abdomen. Sodor let go of the claymore, receiving Ray’s blow full force. His armor yielded and the longsword pierced, drawing fresh blood. The muscles turned taut and restrained the longsword, creating an opening.

A huge force pummeled at Ray, whose half-raised shield dented, and sent him ground borne in a loud howl. His elbow was broken and his face distorted in pain. He pulled his sword free as Sodor prepared to smash him. They roared at each other, eager to kill.

Then Sodor twitched, his teeth gritted and eyes grew wide as he fell. An arrow was stuck below his occiput, shelved deep enough to kill. Claire smiled satisfactorily behind him, launching another flaming arrow to kill the last remaining bandit.

“Is it over?” Violet came running onto them, gasping when she saw bruises and wounds littered over their bodies. The fire had been doused and corpses lay littered about the ground. Monsters, bandits and villagers, death did not discriminate.

“Is it?” Ray asked as he ran his sight about. Black tarred remains of houses and belongings, collapsed walls and scarred floors. All marred by the disaster he could not repel. Children wailed and adults shrieked in the distance. This was the same village that celebrated their arrival with a feast, honored them and fed them. Now it wept in loss.

“Have I failed my duty?” he asked himself.

“That is yet to be seen,” Violet answered for him.

There was a lot of work to be done. The village needed help. The kingdom needed an urgent report about demons. And they needed some rest.

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