Chapter 1

“Even the finest sword plunged into salt water will eventually rust.”

Will hated the north. As he walked, snow and ice gripped onto the bottom of his black, worn boots attacking his balance. The frosty wind incessantly gnawed at his exposed skin. Even his pockets didn't grant protection to his blue-tipped fingers. Cold and depressing. He wasn’t able to use his synergy effectively in this northern territory for some unknown reason, which just irritated him further. He never knew why that was the case, many theorists believe it has something to do with the Infers living here or some divine power just created it that way. Will knew the latter wasn’t the answer, gods roam the land they live on, and he met some himself, none are powerful enough to force something like this. He had no time to think about that now, his mind was too focused on the constant ache in his muscles and the low rumble in his stomach. He continued trudging through the harsh landscape that once could have been a road or something of that calibre. Now as the end of winter neared, the path was more a miniature valley, dented in the snow with the only way to navigate it is to follow the pairs of shoe marks left by others. And hidden shoe marks they were, the snow pounding down from the skies had layered over most tracks, tracks soon to be forgotten. Forgotten as he was. Will didn’t mind walking helplessly into the unknown. His whole life had been one mystery into another. The latest one being his two months crossing of the Daliean mountains further north, the same mountains that now loomed behind him. Will had been speeding steadily along, using his abundance of synergy to pump power into his legs, but his privilege was cut short. As soon as he was deep into the mountain range, his synergy had started to deteriorate, dwindling down until he had only enough to walk and live. It was painful for the first week, adapting to something so life-changing would excite anyone. But Will had tasks to do and revenge to dish out. People to destroy. The restrictions made him more curious about the enchantment or whatever it was on these lands. Maybe it was the mountain ranges on either end of this continent. Both ranges were the largest he had ever seen. When he was ten, he saw the Cathin mountains with his father, right at the border between the Flames and the Infer populations. He didn’t know what to make of them at the time; he could barely see the top. His younger self was more interested in the Elemental Arts, not some mountains. Now having tackled the Daliean mountains he presented more respect to them. More respect than he would give to most people. He caught that thought and shoved it to the back of his mind. He could wonder later, now he needed to continue, a foot in front of the other. Step after step. He was almost where he needed to be, he felt it, sensed it even. His senses were attuned to new unthinkable levels when he last advanced and for reasons unknown, it was one of the abilities that was largely unaffected. He continued to use this ability to guide him, he was getting closer. Voices weren’t in a whisper, he could smell more scents now, he still wasn’t able to see much through the snow and giant pine trees that blocked his view. They grew in such abundance this far north that their trunks, mahogany brown and waxy, joined together like some giant palisade. But with the ability active, he didn't need eyes to see, not really. The dark green pine leaves blocked out the light like a heavy blanket. Any light that did pass through was cut into millions of shapes, casting ominous glows that dared not be disturbed. And yet, Will twisted and turned down the path as if he had walked it his whole life. He continued walking only wandering when the path was not visible or when he found a preferable shortcut.

His first sight of life came when the pine trees grew less bold, and the afternoon light shone its red glow. A man, his jet-black hair that dropped to his shoulders waved in the wind and a small goatee covered his square chin. He was cutting wood with a worn axe; made from the same wood that he was chopping and iron twenty years past its prime. His clothes were multiple layers of brown material and fur. Very dirty, very worn. Clearly designed to keep the cold at bay. Will was jealous. The man's face was twisted with strain, struggling from the cutting. It made his already ugly features look nasty. He brought the axe down on waiting wood. The axe dug halfway before stopping, the man groaned and readied for another swing. Maybe it was the axe's fault for being blunt or maybe he was too tired from trivial work. Either or, it made Will value him less. He looked just past forty, something like cutting wood shouldn't wear him out. As Will walked closer and closer, the man looked up, spooked from the sounds of an increasing footstep crunching in the snow. His face twisted again, eyes widened, swelling with despair.

He was afraid. A natural thing to be, Will was different, an unusual type of person to be this far north. In little hidden villages, probably like the one this man lived his whole life in, different sparked fear. And Will sparked a lot of it. Will's sensory ability gave him all this, the increased breathing, the twitch of a hand that would inevitably help the man swing the axe easier if a fight did break out. The sensory ability, it was called. He trained and mastered the ability to increase all his mundane senses, to function as amplifiers, a secret technique passed down to him by his father. Will had known people who trained the ability to only increase hearing or reaction time, they had their uses, but nothing compared to complete improvement in every sense, and those people were long dead now. The ability also, as a side effect, boosted his bloodline legacy, his skill to identify people’s emotions and thoughts to extreme extents. He was able to tell if someone was afraid, happy, angry, and even know if someone was telling the truth or attempting to stab him in the back. At that moment Will knew the man to be terrified. Will himself didn’t believe he was too terrifying; his hair was hazel brown kept short and his beard was well you couldn’t even call it a beard, just tiny brown hairs that covered the lower half of his face. His eyes usually sparked curiosity in most people, purple eyes were extremely rare, especially if they were as purple as his. If someone wasn’t paying attention, they might have thought he replaced his eyes with amethyst crystals. His eyes aren't always purple. Most people who deal in the Elemental arts only had a singular element, a singular synergy. But for Will, he had access to many, and each element changed the colour of his eyes. Today however, his eyes stayed purple. He was also tall. Probably taller than average, but not too tall that it should scare someone. His outfit likewise wasn't worthy enough to scare someone, a plain black cloak with dark purple threads going through the hems like outlines. His pants and boots were the same shade of black. His father once told him that the only people who seek attention are fools and royalty, both always die early. Will continued to walk forward, after a few seconds the man shifted emotions again. Despair replaced with mischief, and he smiled.

‘Good-ay sir it ain’t no norm to see a traveller come from the north.' His voice was thick and horse, almost like a growl.

From the way he looked, dressed, and spoke one could think he was trying to imitate a bear. A weak bear. Will stopped feet in front of the bear-like man and spoke.

‘Where will I find the nearest port.' Will's voice was cold as if he had already lost interest in the conversation.

The man was taken back by the lack of respect. He wrestled mentally with himself for a moment, deciding whether to attack the stranger for lack of respect or to continue and pretend not to notice, he chose the latter. A smart move for someone that sounded so feeble-minded.

‘Don’t accept my greetin then, never mind that now. Nearist port ain't too far, trek southwest past my lil old village of Norpen till you get to Rosen, big ol port town can’t miss it.'

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While he was speaking, he lifted his axe to his shoulder casually, the edge side pointing towards Will.

‘Thank you.'

Will turned away from the man, giving him no more attention than he would give a passing squirrel. He walked back onto the snow-covered path. The man growled his response, but that wasn’t what Will was pushing his attention towards. In the few seconds it took to walk away the bear-like man had cocked his axe back ready to swing at Will's head. An instant later he swung. That was his last mistake. Will had prepared for it, even a child with the element of surprise could kill a warrior. Will would never allow himself to be so easily surprised. When the axe was inches away from his neck he dropped down into a bow. The axe passed over where his head once was. As the axe swung air, it carried the momentum felling the man to one knee. Will stood up, twisted around, and sent a kick towards the left side of the man's head. Will stared at the man’s eyes as the foot made contact, only horror and regret filled them, he knew it was his end. He didn’t hit him hard enough to kill the Infer with the one blow, he could just as easily. His body had been remade and reborn from synergy multiple times, his physical strength was leaps and bounds above almost all. But Will wanted to taunt him, make him understand his mistake, make him understand the monster he attacked. The man was sent flying into a pine tree ten feet away with a sickening crunch that challenged any other sound for command. The tree was bent and broken; shards of bark went scattering into the snow. Covered over by leaves that had fallen from the impact. The man, however, was much worse. His legs twisted grotesquely in ways legs shouldn't twist. His femur had torn the skin and now lay open to the air. His head dazed, consciousness fizzing in and out. He couldn’t stand and flee, just watch as Will slowly ambled over to him. A dagger was in Will's hand now, supplemented by a hidden strap in his jacket.

‘Tis only a joke my friend, foolish of me, I…I only a poor farmer, my family they’d be lost without me,' he whimpered, shifting further and further back into the broken tree.

‘You're lying.'

Will threw the dagger towards the man; it flew so quick the air rippled as it passed. The man squawked with fear, eyes widened once more, witnessing his execution getting closer. He tried getting his hands in front of his face, but they only got to his shoulders when the dagger passed by his head and struck the broken tree.

‘Pathetic fool,' mutter Will quietly. 'I almost lost control again.'

He sauntered over and plucked the knife out of the tree. Dribbles of sap poured from the tree's wound down onto the shoulder of the bear-like man. he had fainted from fear, glassy eyes staring at nothing. He was even weaker than Will thought. Will tucked the tiny weapon away and swiftly examined all the unconscious man’s pockets for any spoils. Out of one pocket, he obtained a small water skin, and proceed to throw it behind him. He did not need it for he had his own, which was worth ten times more. Out of another small pocket, he withdrew a tiny pouch that clinked and clanked as it moved. He had no knowledge of Infer money. He took it anyway. Will walked away, continuing his travel southwest into more unknown lands. He hoped to travel a fair bit before other villagers found the man, if more fighting does break out, he doesn’t know if he could stay in control. Another dead person on his conscious would burden him greatly. His wasn't the greatest conscious, it was cracking, he was barely able to carry what troubles he already had. He activated his sensory ability; a thought of his mind was all it took. To his demise, two more black-haired fur wearers were running towards him, they must have heard the screams. Will took a sharp left, striding away from the newcomers. He had travelled non stop from sun down to sun down, and a camp was very much needed. Sleep even more so. It would be for the best if it wasn’t near angry Infers. He remained off the path for miles until he couldn’t hear the distant whispers from his sensory ability. The sky was pitch black now with only the multitude of stars casting any light. Millions and millions of them staring down like heavenly eyes. A few more miles later and he stumbled upon a large opening into a cliff face. The cliff wasn't anything unusual, a face with edges jutting out, stone eroded away, wet and slick from melted snow. A piece of land that jutted upwards from the land below. Will walked into the opening. The opening led him into a large cave, large enough to hide cracks and crevices and make shadows look like demons. He continued trudging through until the sharp wind was a breeze and the only sound came from inside the walls. Will muttered to himself about warmth and sleep, sliding down into a seating position against one of the walls. Warmth was a luxury granted to him only by the power in his pocket. He had filled a bottle with fire essence, a substance of fire purified and condensed that would start a fire at a moment's notice. Will had used it sparsely, since coming into Infer territory he hasn’t been able to forge any fire essence. Food and drink weren’t a priority. He never went anywhere without his waterskin, a masterpiece made from the fur of a Yetice, and from the abundance of rivers he crossed, it always stayed full. Food was even easier to come by, with his sensory ability catching prey was easier than stepping on snow, and there was no place where the snow didn't fall. Even if the wild animals cowered away and hid, Will had his Scatoi rations. Thick strips made and harvested in the Scatoi region. Special grains and meat infused with rare herbs. A pound of it was worth two crowns, more than most families made in a month. He left the stirps alone; he didn't feel hungry. His stomach would shout otherwise. Will sat on the silent floor staring at nothing until nothing reigned. Until the wind died, and he finally felt alone. One couldn't really be alone with the wind around. Its soft ever playing music was harmony to Will's ears. When the wind cascaded through the leaves and brambles creating the symphony of rustles you couldn't be alone. The wind had been his only real companion on his vengeful journey, a crutch, a reminder that the world wasn't so empty and lifeless. Now with the wind gone and only silence to keep him company, dark thoughts, as dark as the shadows waiting in the cracks, were all he could think. He pulled out the fire essence from the inside of his cloak, the cold was starting to gnaw him raw, and he had no plans of freezing today, death was too far down his list. It was a small bottle only the size of his thumb filled with a swirling mist of red-orange and tinted with yellow. It was like a miniature fire had been burning away endlessly within. Will pulled off the wooden stopper, it popped, the mist didn’t sway as mist should, instead heat and steam gushed out crashing against his frozen face. He let out a sigh of relief. Fire essence didn’t need any fuel to keep burning, it was called the lesser magic for that reason. There was some philosophy to it, but Will, without any training in alchemy, had no idea why or how it was so. It did have a time limit; he knew that for certain. The more of an essence you use, the longer the fire would stay alight and the bigger it would be. He also knew it was a great weapon, in peculiar situations. Will tipped the open bottle into his left hand, slowly, as slow as a snail's pace, the fiery mist started to crawl out. After a few more agonising seconds the fire essence poked out from the tip of the bottle. Will tore the end off. It felt like a warm cloud. The essence ripped easily, like ripping a loaf of bread, or like the strange foamy candy from the Eversummer Isles. The essence split into the two parts not losing the form as a mist of red and orange. He clenched the mist and pumped as much of his synergy into it. The mist started to grow sporadically. Sweat started to bead on his forehead while pouring the small amount of synergy he was able to muster. As the essence grew denser and larger, almost the size of an apple, Will threw it to the other side of the cave. It burst into a giant fire, flicking flames at the moss-covered walls and damp ceiling, to areas that had never felt the touch of a flame before. The fire radiated blistering heat. Perfection. It was lucky essence hadn't been affected like his synergy. The fire was five to six feet away, but Will felt the fury from it. He returned his gaze down to the rest of the fire essence in the open bottle, there was enough left for a few more fires if they ever are needed. But he was contempt with the one he made. Will placed the stopper back on before returning it to his pocket. While the flame continued to burn, Will drank. He drank as if it was alcohol, chugging it down without regret. He drank, hoping it was alcohol, to gain the feeling of numbness, and to forget. Yet he drank and the only taste he got was water. Will left the fire to dwindle down on its own accord, full of liquid and heat, he set up a makeshift bed, which was just him using his cloak as a pillow and sought a few hours of sleep. As his head hit the cloak, he silently hoped that no nightmares waited for him on the other side, a wishful hope. Soon the elusive state of sleep was found.