Chapter 314: A Dream of Home

  The angry, guttural laughter echoed from upstairs.

  Stryg stared at the staircase with caution, “What was that?”

  “A berserker who’s lost control,” Tauri said grimly.

  Stryg laughed shakily, “When you say ‘berserker’ are you referring to–?”

  “Berserker magic. Brown’s true spell-form,” Tauri said.

  “Our father is a True Brown mage.” Elena shivered and rubbed her shoulders, “He rarely falls this far. But it never ends well…”

  “What does she mean?” Stryg glanced at Tauri.

  She sighed, “Berserker magic grants its casters incredible strength, resilience, and speed. In a way, it's almost as if the caster was using Orange’s Agility, Yellow’s Durability, and Brown’s Vigor magic all at once. Sort of.”

  Stryg eyes widened in awe, “That sounds incredible.”

  “Mm, it can be,” Tauri lamented. “Except Berserker magic has one enormous drawback…”

  “Which is what exactly?” Stryg asked.

  “You go fucking batshit crazy!” Elena yelled frustratedly.

  “What?” Stryg frowned.

  Tauri nodded glumly, “Berserker magic erodes the mind and increases one’s bloodlust. Without careful moderation, the caster loses sense of themselves. In other words…”

  “They attack everyone on sight. My father’s killed good men on his rampages before,” Elena said bitterly. “He almost killed our half-brother once. Our mother somehow stopped him from hurting anyone else, but our half-brother was still left in a coma for 5 months.”

  “So you’re saying…” Stryg muttered slowly with cold wide eyes. “...right now, your father could try to kill my family?”

  Tauri bit her lip, “That’s…!”

  Stryg ran past the two women and up the stairs, four steps at a time. He froze the moment he walked into the 3rd floor. The hallway’s candles were dim, but his lilac eyes could see the gruesome scene perfectly. Splatters of blood covered the walls. Tens of mutilated bodies, Katag guards and Valley tribesmen alike, were strewn about the floor.

  Krall Katag stood hunched over at the end of the hall. Or at least it was a semblance of the orc warlord. His brawny physique had somehow grown even larger, corded muscles straining taut against his red skin. Waves of bronze energy undulated across his skin in a refracting-like pattern.

  The berserker held a dead tribeswoman by the throat with one hand while he punched her corpse with his other hand heedlessly. The woman’s face had already caved in from the force, bits of bone and brain fell through the ripped bloodied skin. And yet Krall did not stop his fist, instead, he laughed maniacally.

  Stryg stared warily at the unhinged giant of an orc and then glanced at the other end of the hall where he could smell the faint scent of his wife from their bedroom. While keeping an eye on the berserker, Stryg softly stepped towards the bedroom.

  Krall’s head snapped up at the sound. His bloodshot eyes stared right at Stryg. His lips stretched wide, “Hehehe…”

  Stryg channeled yellow mana into his arms without hesitation. Krall slowly leaned forward and suddenly dashed at him. Yellow durability scales wrapped around Stryg’s arms as he raised them to block. Krall’s fist smashed into his arms and sent him flying backward. Stryg’s body crashed through the wall and fell into the next room in a hard tumble.

  Plaster and splinters of wood covered Stryg’s body. He groaned, it was hard to breathe. He couldn’t remember the last time the wind had been knocked out of him, but the feeling was still all too familiar. He pushed himself to his feet with a slight stumble and shook his head, the plaster dust falling off his hair in a puff of white haze.

  Krall laughed with an excited giggle from the hall. Stryg stared at the madman from the large hole in the wall he had left behind, then he glanced at the broken yellow scales across his arms.

  Those could have been my actual arms… Stryg thought.

  The thought of broken bones should have terrified him, but all Stryg felt was a mixture of anger and… strange excitement?

  Stryg’s shoulders shook as he laughed maliciously and bared his teeth. “What are you waiting for, you damn giant bastard?!”

  Krall snarled with an angry smile and barreled at him. His giant frame ripped through the wall as if it was mere paper. Krall’s long arms reached out and went for Stryg’s throat. Stryg ducked underneath him and channeled brown mana into his arm, a shimmering bronze wrapping around his hand. He clenched his fist tight and punched the giant orc in the center of his sternum with a satisfying crack. Krall’s body flew back across the hall and crashed into the corpses all over the ground.

  Stryg wrung his hand with a mild grimace. His fingers stung with pain; it reminded him of the time he had tried punching a boulder. The orc’s body was tougher than he thought.

  Krall coughed up a mouthful of blood and spit, and then abruptly laughed merrily. “Finally!” he shouted. The orc jumped to his feet and cracked his neck from side to side. “~It’ll be fun killing you!~”

  “...Fuck,” Stryg said under his breath. I’m not strong enough to restrain him. If I don’t try to kill him, he’ll kill me instead. She’ll hate me…

  Plum’s screams of pain echoed in his mind. The image of her tear-stained face haunted his memories. He hadn’t hesitated to commend Byrel to death and he had lost his best friend for it.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Stryg whispered.

  “Stop!” Tauri yelled.

  “Huh…?” Stryg blinked.

  Tauri ran into the hall and stood between Krall and Stryg. “Dad, stop! Just please, STOP!”

  Krall pulled his head back and frowned, “Stop…? You want to… stop me?” Krall clenched his hands tightly and growled, “I’ll kill you!”

  “Tauri, run!” Elena screamed from the staircase.

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  “Shit!” Tauri turned around and dashed down the hall.

  “Run little girl, run!” Krall giggled and chased after her.

  “KRALL KATAG!” a powerful voice pierced through the hall.

  Krall jerked to a stop and turned around.

  Lady Evelyn stood at the other end of the hall. Her silky hair was disheveled and flecks of blood decorated her nightgown, but the look of steel determination in her eyes held Krall still.

  “Enough, Krall. Our enemy is NOT HERE,” Evelyn said coolly.

  “E-Evelyn…?” Krall said strangely. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “Yes, it’s me, your wife,” Evelyn said softly and walked towards him. “We need to protect our children, we need to fight SOMEWHERE ELSE.”

  “Fight…?” Krall mumbled.

  “Aspirant,” Evelyn called out to Stryg quietly, though she kept her eyes on Krall. “Your people are safe, Miss Gale moved them to the basement. Go with Tauri and Elena to the basement, you’ll be safe there.”

  “But what about him?” Stryg stared cautiously at Krall.

  “Lord Krall and I will be fine. My husband has far more control over his berserker state than most true Brown mages. The fact that he can speak and understand speech whatsoever is a testament to that. Just go, I’ll handle things here.”

  Stryg nodded reluctantly, “Understood.” He glanced out the window and shook his head, “But I can’t go.”

  “What?” Evelyn frowned.

  Tauri’s eyes widened in realization, “Stryg, don’t!”

  Stryg gritted his teeth and whispered, “For Clypeus.” He spun around, sprinted towards the window, and jumped out.

~~~

  The Black Amber spell coursed through Vaughn’s veins, dyeing them black. His speed was beyond what any orange mage could ever hope to achieve. Few arch-mages could handle the Agility spell, let alone use it to its full potential, and yet despite his overwhelming speed, Vaughn couldn’t close the gap.

  Every time Vaughn tried to get close to Ismene, multiple bolts of lightning stretched out from her hands and struck out at him like deadly vipers. Even with his speed, Vaughn found himself struggling to dodge her attacks.

  The horns of Undergrowth’s armies blared in the distance. Lady Thorn’s armies had finally arrived from all around the forest.

  Vaughn jumped backward and made some distance from Ismene. The terrifying old woman did not chase, she simply stood at the gate and held her ground.

  Vaughn glanced around at the mound of scorched bodies surrounding the gate and shook his head in amazement. They had been fighting for hours. All five of his colors were almost completely drained, he barely had any orange mana left. He was sweating profusely and his chest burned from the overheating of all his spell-casting. And yet… And yet the damn old woman was still standing.

   “The Tempest Arch-Mage truly lives up to her name,” Vaughn admitted with a sigh.

  “You should have seen me… in my prime,” Ismene said between labored breaths.

  Vaughn glanced at her cane and her leg that trembled ever so slightly, “Is that why you stay on the defensive? Or is it because it helps conserve energy?”

  “Why did you come here?”

  Vaughn looked up at the sky thoughtfully, “...I wonder.”

  The sun’s golden light was beginning to peak over the horizon, dyeing the dawn sky in orange hues.

  “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Vaughn smiled politely.

  “Scared of what Lady Thorn will do to you when she catches you?” Ismene glared at him.

  “I can’t say I’m not a tad worried,” Vaughn said wryly. “But it’s best if you don’t try to stop me. We’re both at our limits– don’t try to deny it. Besides, I have a feeling we’ll see each other again.”

  Ismene wiped the sweat off her brow and slammed her cane into the ground, “That’s it? You come here and kill our people and expect to just walk away as if nothing happened?”

  Vaughn ignored her words and looked past Ismene, at the small blue silhouette in the distance.

  The goblin was small, yet he cut through a swathe of tribesmen by himself. Several Katag guards fought by his side, following his movements and covering his back.

  “He’s grown…” Vaughn whispered. He turned to Ismene and bowed his head, “I have a message for the Aspirant.”

  “From whom…?” she asked suspiciously.

  “From me.”

  “And who are you exactly?”

  Vaughn raised his head and smiled, “Tell him Nokti, the vampiress whose throat he tore apart, still lives. He’ll understand.”

  “You think I’ll just let you go?”

  “I think you care more about your students than killing me,” Vaughn turned around and walked away.

  “...Dammit,” Ismene sighed and headed back to the mansion.

~~~

  The sun peeked out from the horizon, bathing Undergrowth in warm colors of light. Black smoke rose from countless scorched homes and the rubble that was left behind. The valley army had successfully retreated into Glimmer Grove forest, though Undergrowth’s larger armies were giving chase.

  Stryg sat at the edge of the hill, his arms curled around his huddled legs, and his chin resting on his knees. Blood leaked from a dozen small cuts on his body. He felt almost none of it. He felt numb, distant, as if he really wasn’t here, but somewhere very far away.

  His tired lilac eyes looked down at the city that stretched across the horizon. He had no idea how many had died, nor how those deaths might affect the city. He knew few Undergrowthers, but they had families who must have loved them, people who cared for them.

  He wondered what the Blood Fang Tribe thought when they had heard of his death and the others who had gone on the damned quest with the shaman Crovor. Did they think he had died bravely fighting against the lamias of the fabled cave? Did they even care? Did they even remember him?

  All he could think of were the deaths of the ones he failed. The voices of the ones he had lost screamed clearly in his mind. Srixa, Bril, Ostroz, Second Mother, Clypeus…

  Stryg looked out past the city and stared at the treeline to the south. He couldn’t see what lay beyond, but he remembered it well. The ashen trees and scarlet leaves that covered the canopy. He could almost smell the scent of the grey bark and hear the echoing calls of the dire vultures.

  Most of all it was blood. The blood that dripped from his claws and dried on his fingers. It was the blood that stained his lips and the iron taste it left on his tongue. It was the blood that evoked the memories of the past, of things left unfinished.

  “There you are!” Tauri called out.

  Stryg heard her voice, but he did not answer, did not move, he simply stared out past the horizon of trees.

  Tauri surveyed the corpses strewn across the grass all around Stryg and covered her mouth with disgust. The stench of death was thick in the air and it made her nauseous. With careful steps, she walked around the bodies and made her way to Stryg.

  “What are you doing over here? Feli and the others are worried sick. They’re looking all over for you–!” Tauri froze in her steps and her face paled, “My gods! How much of that blood is yours!?”

  Stryg slowly looked up in acknowledgement, “Not a lot…”

  “Dammit, Stryg, that’s why I told you not to leave! You could have died! Why are you always so fucking stubborn!?” Tauri knelt down next to him and ripped a strip of cloth off the edge of her skirt. “Let me see your arm.”

  Stryg stayed quiet, but he raised his arm.

  Tauri quickly bandaged the gash over his forearm with the deftness of a trained soldier. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, your skin is freezing,” she bit her lip worriedly. “You need to see a proper healer soon.”

  Stryg said nothing, he didn’t even look at her or his bandaged arm. His eyes seemed almost lifeless.

  “Are you okay? Can you stand?” Tauri asked gently.

  “...I want to go home,” he whispered.

  “Tell me about it,” Tauri sighed. “No army would ever dare attack our shade walls.” She gently grabbed his shoulder, “Don’t worry, soon we’ll be back in Hollow Shade and everything will be okay.”

  “...I wasn’t talking about Hollow Shade,” he muttered.

  “Huh?” Tauri cocked her head to the side.

  “STRYYYYG!” Feli yelled from a distance.

  Rhian carried Feli on her back and galloped towards them.

  A small glimmer of life returned to Stryg’s lilac eyes and his tense shoulders relaxed. He smiled tiredly.