Will woke to a sharp pain in his left leg, something was tugging at him, trying to rip leg from body. Trying to tear the joints and muscles in two. A crunch resonated through the cave replaying itself after every echo. He suppressed a scream. The fire was extinguished and the cold lingered. The cave was covered in shadows, but Will was more focused on the largest shadow, stalking in front of him. He reached down to tend to his leg. The smell of blood and dirt loitered in the air, sweat too mixed with something else wholly foul. As the pain registered, Will knew something was wrong. He sent out his sensory ability, a behemoth of a bear was towering over him, its teeth and claws were covered in gooey liquid. It had a wild look to it, with strange foam curdling from its mouth. Its paw was swooping down for another hit. Will kicked out with his good leg hitting the colossus bear in the stomach and sending it back a few feet. His sensory ability didn't give him eyes that could see in the dark or visions that could see through walls, he would have if he took the Seer’s advice, sometimes he wish he did and now was one of those times. However, his father didn’t just choose any random technique for the ability. Without light it was much harder, but he was still able to see vague outlines almost as if the world had been drawn with pencil and coloured black. With a force of effort, he locked onto the bear with his sensory ability. His mouth opened slightly, there was only one way to put the bear:

massive.

It wasn’t the size that surprised Will, many elemental beasts grow to this size and more, but those animals’ harness and feed on their element to help them increase in mass. Will could sense the bear's power or lack of it, he was fighting just another wild animal that doesn’t have any extraordinary powers. If his synergy wasn’t being affected this fight would only have lasted seconds. This was just a mundane animal. But his synergy was affected, and he was injured a great deal. He was able to get a decent outline of the beast’s massive shape. The beast stood twice as high as Will almost scraping the rugged ceiling of the cave and its body was as thick as three of him. It would have been a mystery in itself how the bear managed to squeeze into the cave. Will's injuries continued to hurt, his leg dangled awkwardly, and flares of pain started to creep from other parts of his body. Without his synergy running freely through his body, his injuries wouldn’t heal.

The bear growled, attacked, and forced Will to dodge right, out of the way of its massive paw ornamented with dagger-like claws. The bear threw its paw again, Will ducked left placing his body's weight onto his left leg. he crumpled to the floor. The bear pounced sensing the weakness in the prey. Will pushed the bear off just missing a claw to the eye by inches. He plucked his cloak from the floor and retrieved his dagger; the blade was a smooth almost crystal-like white intricated with purple veins that glowed faintly. It was small; only the size of his hand from the tip of his middle finger down to his wrist, supported by an even smaller handle carved from a different gold-looking metal, with a line of strange symbols uniformly twisting around the middle. He threw the fancy dagger at astonishing speed towards the bear. His consciousness was on the brink of failing.

It made contact almost instantly ripping away a chunk of the beast’s side. Blood splattered against everything like a painter throwing a bucket of paint on a canvas. The dagger flew out the rear of the bear plunging inches into the opposite wall of the cave. This was an unnecessary fight he thought, unnecessary death, and yet he couldn't convince the bear, it couldn't speak, it wouldn't listen, and his own life was worth more than trying to save the wild thing. The bear let out an anger-filled scream and charged again. Will cursed at his poor aim, he may have taken a hand-sized chuck out of the bear's left stomach, but he missed all organs. The bear would die, there is no chance about that, but through his failure, a window of opportunity allowed the bear time to make devesting blows. Now weaponless and to the mercy of the bear. Will started to sweat. It was funny how life worked like that, considered the greatest warrior, even with his own statue in the Zouloo isles. And his hardest battle was with a bear. The bear lunged again swiping with its left then right paws, Will stopped the first with both hands, leaning all his weight on the right leg. it forced him to duck under the second awkwardly. With the combined strain from his injuries, the power of the attack itself, and the mysterious force that veiled his powers, he was almost having to work for the win. He pushed the bear's paw away with his hands, Will grunted, the beast was heavy. The bear stumbled left, leaving its grotesque wound open. Blood spurted with the rhythm of the beasts heart, bone exposed and stood jagged like sharp teeth, muscle hung from threads like decoration. Will lashed forward a right hook into the bear's mangled side. He left his grip open and pulled one of the sharp bones away with his hand's exit. It was a rib, curved and sharp at the top where it broke from the rest of the bone. He twisted and stabbed the bone deep into the bears chest. The beast screamed a dying scream, a scream that meant it knew its life was over. There was no holding back from the bear now. The animal knew it will die, but it will make sure the human dies as well. Will didn’t slow down his relentless assault, punching and kicking the bear all while half-hoping on his good leg. The bear doubled over in a mix of pain and exhaustion, but Will wasn't allowing the bear a second to itself, sending a flying knee right into its head. The knee connected with a devastating thud, sending the bear toppling over. The ground shook like an earthquake as the beast thumped the ground. The bear screamed angrily at the air, thumping its hands against its head like a war cry. It turned to face Will again, ready for the final assault. Will wasn’t there, and the fight was over. Will had collected his dagger from the deep crack it had been lodged into. As he lounged against the wall, flipping the blade over in his hand, a small smile crept up his face. This had been a good fight, he thought. It was a lesson in humility, fighting for your life with only your raw strength and courage. He would have to recommended it to more Elemental Artists. The bear had been a right challenge and if there was one thing Will loved more than revenge, it was a good old challenge. Time had passed many moons since he had this much fun, all dark thoughts forgotten. Even as injured as he was it just made the whole dispute more thrilling. The bear screamed again and charged towards him, there was still some pity in Will. Taking a life even the life of a bear was something he wished to avoid. He waited patiently, waited for the right moment to strike, he won't make a mess of it like last time. The bear charged forward on its two hind legs, closing the small gap between them. The wild beast was two feet away when the moment had shown itself, in an attempt to grasp at Will to tear him into a mass of pieces, the bear overextended leaving his head open for an easy hit. Will threw the dagger at another astonishing speed right into the bear’s neck and out the other end. The head popped off easily, falling to the floor with a clunk. A larger thud followed almost like a miniature earthquake, thanks to the limp body crashing down.

Finally, Will relaxed, the smile that plastered his face changed to a frown. It wasn't as if he hadn't killed before, he was twenty summers old for Mazer’ath’s sake. He had killed game before and fewer humans than he could count on both hands. Both types of killing were necessary and unavoidable, but it didn't make him feel any better. His footsteps burbled in the low puddle of blood covering the floor. Blood from both man and beast. Reaching for his cloak he sighed, luck was on his side, the cloak had been safe from any bloodshed unlike the rest of his clothes. Will searched the pockets, his cloak was specially made, tens and tens of pockets big and small lined the inside, helping him store everything he needed. It only took him a second to find the right pocket. His hand came back with a small vile, capped with a pure white cloth made with the finest cotton from the Mitsubishi province in southern Greaterlands. The vial held the dull shine of many uses but the liquid inside carried all the attention. Bright green with a wisp of yellow streaked through, the yellow seemed to have a mind, as it twisted around almost as if swimming in the green. It was nature essence, he knew that much, and he also knew it would heal any wound. That was as far as his knowledge in essence and Alchemy went. Alchemy was never one of his fortes, he much preferred Artificing. Will ripped the cotton away with a soft pop and gulped down half the contents. The liquid squirmed in his mouth burning his tongue while simultaneously freezing his teeth. The liquid felt alive as it worked his way down his throat and into his stomach. He could already feel his forgotten cuts clotting and bruises swelling. He stretched down to his left leg. It was more hideous than he anticipated. A gaping hole subsided where the bear attacked his leg. Inside the hole, chunks of bone and muscle floated around in blood like a disgusting soup. He poured the rest of the healing potion into the mix. In two blinks the wound had healed fully over, reattaching bone to bone and muscle to muscle, any missing was grown anew, the only memory of the wound was in the stiffness of the leg. It would be hours before Will could walk properly on it again. He limped out of the cave, casually collecting his blood-soaked dagger on the way out. The purple veins glowed softly under the layers of red like a beating heart. His sore leg straggled behind his good one, ripping snow and dirt from the ground like a plough. The bear must have attacked a few hours into his sleep and tiredness ached in his bones. He still left without another rest.

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He hobbled away leaving the fresh bear meat to rot, such abundance of food wasted. All the fighting and blood had taken his appetite. The blood that doused him was sticky, but the harsh winds and snow helped to dry it that much quicker, enough so that when the sun was as high as midday and when the first sight of farms could be seen in the distance his clothes were completely dry. The snow had thawed away on his travels south hours ago, leaving only the dew and ice to catch people off guard. He had stumbled upon a travelled road, lodged nicely between walled-off fields, low, old, and weak the walls were. Carts rolled along led by horses, mules, and donkeys, their wagons stacked with merchandise. Other people also walked the road like him, carrying goods and travel bags. None walked close to him, for he had eyes too strange and lacked any goods besides his person. To the travellers on horse or on feet, he seemed dangerous. Will continued to walk. He walked as the clouds whirled in the sky. He walked as farmers watched mid-work with grains bags at their feet and forks held in hands. After another hour or so farms became less scarce, trees gave way to larger fields, and the roads became more travelled. Wattle and daub outhouses became cottages then stone buildings. His first sight of the port town came as the path peaked a hill; a plethora of buildings scattered around a huge wooden platform.

Each country and even regions in countries had its own style of buildings, its own culture, through causes only known to time. In the Hillands, people built houses into the mountains. In southern Island nations, dwellings have white roofs used to collect the rainwater for later uses. Here however, it seemed bland, no specialty, no culture. Building made from grey stone or dirty wood, some a few stories high, most squat and small. With roofs made from more wood that slanted down. It was underwhelming.

Beyond the platform was an endless sight of dark blue, glistening like sapphires in the sunlight. The ocean. Will continued towards the port at a brisk pace. He kept walking not even glancing at the strangers that gave him odd stares. Will didn’t care though, he only needed to stay for a few hours, enough time for him to find a boat. The closer he got to the port and heart of the town the more stares he got. He closed his cloak attempting to hide the bloodstains, there was little value in starting a ruckus, it would just make things more awkward. Little luck it did, it seemed he was the only one to find comfort in a cloak, everyone else wore a woollen coat stuffed thick to sway the cold. In the distance, a large wall thirty feet or so in height divided the outlaying town from the rich. It was made with the same cobblestone material as the houses on this side of the wall with the only way to pass is through a giant opening for a gate. Very few shops waited this side of the wall, he passed an inn too rundown to be called an inn and shops with metal grates covering windows. The odd owner stood by their doors calling to passers-by, shouting at them to have a look at their wares. None shouted at Will. He passed a guard's post that seemed much cleaner than the buildings around it. He passed old warehouses with hidden ally-ways where men slept unaware of the harsh cold. When Will got to the gate, he was even more disappointed. The wall was barely five feet thick, there was no space for bowmen to guard the top, no watchtowers that broke the wall. The wooden gates were left completely open. If there was no restriction on his synergy, he could have destroyed the wall with a flick of his wrist. If only he thought morosely, no, he needed to stop these dark views of violence. Besides the abysmal defences of the wall and gate, two guards in green coats and short chipped swords stood at attention within the tiny space of where the gate would go. Town guards Will muttered to himself, by the lack of armour, a poor excuse of a weapon he knew they won’t be an issue. The guards were too busy straining their necks to gaze at something on the inside. When they did notice him, the guards gave wary looks but allowed him past without contest. Inside the walls, even the sunshine couldn't suppress the sombre mood. The people wore fine fur-lined coats, quality ten times better than the woollen coats outside the wall, but each wearer's pale face was heavy and sullen. The coats were a snow-white colour, worn by people with black hair, everyone here seemed to have black hair and grey eyes. He saw different coloured coats as well, blacks, blues, and more greens signifying the guards. When a person was not wearing anything that hinted towards money they were looked down upon, just like him. Shops of all types lined the street inside the walls, no one shouted from their doorsteps, it seemed they were too dignified for that. All the shops and buildings on the inside were made from the same grey stone but with black slate roofs that curved down, it was an improvement. Signs were creatively crafted into the stone or on wooden boards that hung off the buildings. They creaked with the wind's tune, swaying on hinges. One sign caught his eye. He felt drawn towards it like a dehydrated man drawn to water. A large red vertical sign hung off a two-story building, words in the old language were painted on in black. ‘Seaside inn,’ it said. On the sign under the words was a picture of a small outhouse camped by the sea. Will walked towards the two giant doors that rested in the middle of the building. The doors were painted red like the sign, but parts of the colour had been worn away from overuse. He grasped the frozen handle and gently pulled it down. He heard a faint click.