Six Years Ago

It was an ambush under the cover of night. It was brutal. Most importantly it was far too effective for mere farmers to have planned and carried it out. We had just almost gotten to the bottom of a steep hill as our rear troops had crested the hill when the figures rose from the sand. As soon as their figures had submerged into the open air the sound of their crossbow bolts filled the silent atmosphere.

It was a massacre, far too many of the crossbow bolts found their targets vulnerable. The Fearless Mercenary Group consisted of a hundred and fifty members, after this surprise volley we had maybe half of that.

The figures were all ragged farmers. However, they were well-built and adorned with black long-sleeved chainmail, but this armor was juxtaposed against ripped-up trousers and scarves. They didn't seem to possess quivers and immediately dropped their crossbows while unsheathing swords. This mercenary group might have recently been formed but everyone had fast reflexes, mercenaries bellowed out rallying cries as they aroused from their surprised stupor and promptly engaged the enemies.

I frantically scanned my surroundings to better see the bland dunes we had blocked out. Our mercenaries might be new, but they have all had experience with some form of real-life combat which resulted in a fierce counterattack. However, we were outnumbered, badly.

Then almost immediately, the whole battlefield heard a single word, "Group!" It was the most basic command they had practiced dozens of times. Marcus was elected their leader due to his booming voice and charismatic personality. The soldiers that had bellowed in anger while engaging alone started slowly grouping into bloody gatherings ranging from three to seven people: resulting in the battlefield becoming a cluster of small skirmishes.

I was in the forefront of the caravan and was forced to retreat backward, uphill, due to me being the sole survivor of the front three wagons. However, I didn't get very far. I was promptly swarmed by dozens of these farmers looking to eliminate an easy target. Unluckily for them though I am probably the last one they want isolated.

My whole body heated up as I pooled the maximum amount of Myst possible. After about a quarter of a second, the heat got to an uncomfortable level, which was the signal for me to transfer it all to my right hand. As I started transferring it, I began spinning with my arm outstretched. The heat escaped from my fingertips as a steady stream of orange fire.

I spun and spun, ignoring the screams, until my whole body grew uncomfortably cold and dizziness beset me. Nothing, there was no movement around me anymore. I couldn't help but marvel at my handiwork, as that was just a spur-of-the-moment decision, and stopped counting when I hit thirty charred corpses. Due to my unnaturally enormous compatibility with Myst, I was spinning for a few minutes. The only beings with comparable compatibility to mine are Rufus the Ragged, the entity in Scarlet Cove, and my younger brother.

Sadly, I burned the wagon I was in front of, but it gave me a good view of the battlefield. Looking up I could see we were winning somehow. Since the initial death volley, we have only lost a few groups. But still, the number of deaths was noticeable. Every little cluster of soldiers was surrounded at this point and men in bloodied chainmail fought back-to-back against the small horde that beset us.

These farmers were too efficient with these swords. However, their lack of coordination was noticeable, and was actively being exploited. As farmers would approach and assault these clusters, they would be blocked by the mercenary closest to them and stabbed by another available mercenary from the cluster. However, this strategy caused the soldier counter-attacking. to be vulnerable. But they would then be defended by another comrade.

This only worked for the bigger clusters of men. Other, smaller, groups were just tests of individual skill with no coordination and were slowly, but steadily, dropping. Meanwhile, a lone fighter was atop the hill. It was Marcus.

He had the smallest piece of a bolt's shaft sticking out of his bulging right bicep, and he looked like he had a cut above his left eye bleeding profusely. His unique snow-white hair was also noticeably red in the moonlight. Even still, he mesmerizingly glided between fast blades and bludgeoned them with his fists.

But this was not the time to be worried about Marcus, the farmers besieging my companions had noticed me and were rallying to charge me. I rushed forward, the dizziness long forgotten, feeling all over myself making sure my crisp leather armor wasn't compromised. I was perfectly fine: unscathed, still had my knives, and feeling good. Well, I was feeling good until the smell of blood hit my nostrils.

It hit me hard and fast like a sledgehammer... but in a good way. I no longer felt good, I felt amazing. I was feeling more and more euphoric every millisecond. It just kept getting better and better, the sweet metallic scent just makes me exponentially more light-headed and giddy the more I inhale. With this huge rush of energy, I charged forward.

I drew my long dagger from the sheath at the back of my belt and went to work. Everything was a blur now, but I was also semi-conscious of my methodical actions.

I slipped past the swinging sword.

Slashed the first man's throat while spinning my body.

While spinning I used the momentum to kick the next man in the chest with my left foot in a sidekick. He fell back a few feet and knocked into three of his men. This unexpected action caused them to trip over themselves and fall.

I rushed them wildly slashing and stabbing before they had a chance to recover.

When I finished, I looked up to see a large grouping of these men beginning to charge me. I took one final deep inhale of the intoxicating scent and smiled. Oh, this feels fantastic.

The next two hours were a red blur of pure euphoria. Slipping past swords to exterminate one or two at a time. Running past wagons and large groupings of my acquaintances forming into ranks for methodical butchering. Stabbing men from behind and smelling the sweet scent exuding from their necks. Getting higher and higher the longer this battle drags on. At some point, I started laughing and couldn't bring myself to stop. Because it was fun.

By the time I had come to, I was atop the hill Marcus had begun the battle on. He was now fifty feet or so below cleaning up the remaining assailants. Looking up in front of me I saw a lone unscathed, and clean, man. He wore simple white robes with a hood. The robe had a vibrant red flame insignia taking up the entire Torso. His middle-aged face under the robe stared at me in complete shock.

"It is you!" The man shouted while pointing at me. He started to say something but I needed to make sure he said nothing else. So, I used some Myst in my legs for a simple Vim spell to lunge at him which cleared the twenty or so feet between us in an instant. Simultaneously I used some Myst in my fingers for another Vim spell and shoved my hand at his throat.

His eyes opened wide as my fingers pierced his flesh and wrapped around his windpipe. I pulled it clean out and dropped it. Before I could be taken by the scent, I must finish this for sure. In the next split second, I stepped forward with my left leg, while grabbing him again with my right hand, and rotated my entire body in order to slam him into the ground. He reacted fast though, and his face burned with Myst which caused his skull not to pop from the impact that left a small crater in the solid hill. As he hit the ground he inhaled sharply.

His last words were ripe and strained through gurgling, but he still somehow managed them all in one breath without a windpipe. "But you were one of us, why..." He couldn't muster it anymore and simply stared at me. The light faded from his eyes. His dead eyes stared at me in an incredulous look of betrayal. I had to stand there for a few seconds looking down at him feeling hollow, because well I was one of them.

Looking to my right I saw Marcus narrowing his eyes while running up to me not even twenty feet away. I really hope he did not hear that.

"How many are left?" I questioned as Marcus caught up. Sighing he answered, "Bloody thirty-three men. Thirty-Three! We started with fucking One hundred and fifty." He was staring me right in the eyes now. "I've worked for two years building up this Fearless Mercenary Group, accepting any and every request. And it is just gone. Poof! Gone, just like that! Slaughtered by some farmers driven to banditry because they chose to farm in a desert." He looked away from my eyes finally and shook his head. I took that as my cue to join him in walking toward the survivors.

The men looked at me with a look I could only describe as horrified. However, that was only for a split second as Marcus was right next to me, and well, I was his best friend. Bill, an older man in his forties, squatted down examining the sword of a dead farmer.

"These were no ordinary farmers boss." Bill dully noted in his monotone voice. "I suspect that man up there on the hill that Galen er... took care of, was some big shot from some group."

"I think so too." I agreed. Unfortunately, Marcus was smarter, "No I suspect that the man was definitely part of some group. But I think he would be a lower-level agent due to how easily he was dispatched." Everyone was looking at me expectantly now. I raised my hand meekly and agreed.

Next was time for the cleanup. We methodically went through our dead companions and scavenged all valuables. Whether it be copper, silver, or even a gold coin they were looted. Additionally, the other job of a mercenary is to make sure to bring back any heirlooms or "lucky charms" back to the families of their comrades. It was dirty work and was definitely always a hit to everyone's morale, but it was necessary. Everyone took belongings from those they knew, except me of course. I was simply asked to tag along due to the request smelling fishy to Marcus.

We didn't lose many wagons, but we lost some horses. Probably about half had died from stray bolts or had run off in the ensuing chaos. But we didn't have as many supplies and people to haul. We decided to camp for the night and make our way back the next day due to everyone being smothered in blood.

The horrified expressions from earlier never resurfaced and the soldiers treated me with newfound respect. Most notably I was being called 'sir' in my few interactions with them. But it was a silent night and my interactions with them were few and far between. I gave it my all to try to lift the morale, but who knew a hundred and twenty dead comrades really can get to you?

The next morning, we set off. I did not try to talk with them, and they did not try to talk either. Marcus himself was also unusually quiet. This ride would be a long one.

The next few days were a silent cycle with some murmuring around supper. The scenery was just sand dune after sand dune, there wasn't much out here, hence why it was considered a lawless land.

But there wasn't a lot of thought to be done. No meaningful conversations, no cool scenery, and nothing interesting in general. Even Marcus didn't want to talk to me. Well, that one is fair, he had built this mercenary troupe up from the ground and knew almost every man personally. And he wasn't even thirty.

But this lack of meaningful thought made me think about the only thing I could think about. And that was the ambush. I was a part of the group that orchestrated it, but that robed man threw on a different insignia than our religion's insignia. The real insignia was a green snake with a single red eye, I had it tattooed on my lower back, as we were all required to engrave it somewhere on our body.

Even though me and that man, Ivan was his name, were comrades. We were not "real" comrades, I felt no guilt over killing him. But as we trek on through this bland scenery, I can't help but feel guilty for the death of Marcus' subordinates.

I didn't directly kill them, but I was the one who introduced Ivan to a skilled blacksmith. I was the one who pointed out the area hit by the unprecedented dust storms. I was the one who pointed out the oasis just north of the Scarlet Cove he could set up shop in due to people being too cautious of the area. In summary, I gave him ample access to manipulate a mass of people that he could easily manipulate into his own private company. If he hadn't started attacking the slavers that travel through this desert, he would've been able to build up quite the force without being detected. I don't even want to know what they could have done with even just a few more months.

The farmers were extremely proficient in the straight swords they carried. Even some of the veteran soldiers were bested in single combat. The crossbow strategy was extremely effective, and it took some serious training to convince the farmers to drop them and charge at superior opponents. I don't know who he could have gotten those crossbows from though, I don't know any carpenters who would be willing to make that many for an individual. The fact that we have only a fifth of our starting number attests to that

After about nine days we finally crested the final dune where we could see Sunhaven. There were no cheers from the others though like I had assumed there would be. The prior night we had all agreed we would drink at the tavern tonight once we collect our reward. The mud brick and sandstone houses were honestly a nice welcome change of pace, compared to bland desert dunes. Granted the place we had fought was just dusty grassland.

Even though there were no cheers, everyone had smiles on their faces. I hopped off one of the five wagons we brought back and noticed Marcus wasn't smiling. Then as I started walking up to him off to the right side, he caught me and then finally forced a smile. He's brooding over this request most likely, and rightfully so as this troupe was his baby.

We set off; took us about an hour to get to the town. And from there we went to the local branch of the Mercenary League to collect our reward. As we made our way to the center of the city, we were getting a lot of looks. Almost all of them were horrified. The Fearless Mercenary Group was recognized across pretty much the whole town. And word gets around when Marcus and his people get out. They probably understand what happened due to how few people came back. People were also shooting me dirty looks, maybe they think I had something to do with the massacre. Well, I had a big hand in it.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Finally, we got to the center where the local dictator had his mansion as well as all the nicer businesses located around this large plaza. This plaza was a sore thumb but in a good way. The floor was carved stone bricks, not sandstone, with a large square fountain in the middle. The fountain had sculpted sandworms that shot out sand instead of water.

The building that Marcus went into was the blandest looking one around this plaza. Every other building was marbled sandstone or cut stone bricks, meanwhile, the Mercenary League branch was a simple wooden building.

We waited for a good hour or so, a lot of the soldiers were getting restless. Groups passed us by giving us the same looks we were getting on our way back. Over time the looks were getting me really angry honestly. But alas, right when I was about to say something to a random woman, Marcus came out shaking his head.

"They gave us half of the reward." He announced. Immediately everyone started clamoring. "Quiet!" He shouted. Even passersby pedestrians stopped talking.

"The original mission was to scout out the area around the oasis just north of Scarlet Cove as there have been some unusual happenings in the area. However, we didn't make it all the way there but brought back a strong lead to what has been happening. Additionally, because of our long-lasting relationship, they gave us half of the reward. Well, we'll all get much more individually than we would have originally got anyway." He said that last part bitterly.

That seemed enough to brighten everyone's moods and we eagerly set off towards the Golden Tankard on the western side of Sunhaven. On the way there everyone's spirits seemed to have brightened up significantly and jokes were being made as well as there was, well actual talking. Just two days ago nobody was saying a word to each other.

We left the wagons at the branch office because they were the League's property, and we were simply renting as usual. The way that works is they're providing wagons, and some complimentary rations while keeping ten percent of each request's compensation. On top of that ten percent for "equipment rental", they also keep ten percent as operating expenses.

It wasn't that long of a walk, maybe about an hour, but we finally made it around sunset and waltzed right on in. We were given a hero's welcome. The innkeeper, Robin, greeted us at the door. He was a big burly man, had a large fluffy brown beard, as well as some gnarly sideburns which curled up and ended in a point right next to his eyelids. His eyes were a deep gold which inspired his Tavern's name. Hearing him talk to Marcus and getting my friend to start to genuinely make jokes and have fun was a good feeling.

The dining room was perfect for all types of folks. You had red wallpaper with a yellow embroidery lining around the edges. The bar was spacious with a man and a woman behind the bar as bartenders and you always had four or five servers in the dining area. The tables and chairs were dark brown while the floor was a gray stone brick similar to the central plaza.

We were treated like kings here; Marcus and his group were regulars and knew all the others not within his group. Of course, as usual two mercenaries were up at the bar trying to impress some young ladies. They were just telling them everything, from how we were ambushed, to me fighting like a monster, as well as Marcus fighting like a wisp and going through the enemies' blades. Now that he mentions it Marcus fought extremely well, the only injuries he sustained were from the beginning of battle, which was a deep cut above his left eye as well as that crossbow bolt in his right bicep.

I chose to sit alone and just enjoy the atmosphere. I was tucked into a large round table in the corner. At the next table over, they were gambling with cards and dice playing War. Marcus was opposite the room drinking with the monotone Bill as well as two of his right-hand men. Bernard and Roschard were fat brothers and had been with Marcus since the beginning, they were also excellent in their swordsmanship. Well, now that I look closer Marcus wasn't drinking the famous Golden Ale that was sold here. Instead, he was drinking their other famous drink, it was a purple berry mix sold in the same tankards as ale.

It was a nice bustling atmosphere; other people would come in and join the soldiers as they drank, and stories were flying around everywhere. The stories greatly exaggerated my prowess, I think, while also underexaggerating Marcus' barehanded slaughter. Well, it probably isn't all that special to them because they witness it often. Besides that, the stories were about the same, but then I heard the self-proclaimed storyteller, Samuel, say a specific line. "Galen was amazing I tell you guys. He slaughtered the enemies at the front of the wagon with a fire spell and then saved a few of our asses with his insane dagger skills. Without him, I don't know how many of us would be here." Samuel said it almost giddy.

But a sharp guilty pain started growing inside of me the more I mulled that line over. Without me being in the equation, they would have never even heard of this request because it simply wouldn't have existed. I stared down at the dark brown stained table and just mulled that whole idea over kind of tuning everyone out.

I don't know how long I sat there just mulling the entire situation over, but I was interrupted by a hand slamming down on the table in my face. Looking up I saw it was Marcus and he was frowning at me. Behind him, his drinking buddies were eagerly waiting for something. "Let's talk," Marcus said quietly. "Just me and you, they'll stay out of earshot. But we can't talk here."

I looked at him for a second before I was able to force a soft "ok" from my lips. Did he know something? I thought he was too far for him to hear Ivan's last words. Why is he just wanting to talk about it now, we had nine whole fucking days? Ok let's just hear what he has to say first. I got up and went to follow him.

He bid farewell to Robin at the door, and we set off through the streets. Marcus held a frown the whole time a step ahead of me. The entire walk he didn't utter a single word. Bill, Bernard, and Roschard all wore confused expressions also not saying anything. We went through the western market and went around the nice housing area right outside of it. I smelt our destination before we hit our destination. It was the local dump, there were bags piled high of trash. There was also a burning fire in the middle of a crater in the middle of these piles of bags. The point was to burn everything flammable, and mages would come once a week to dispose of the others.

"Don't let anyone enter while we talk." Marcus ordered the other three. They saluted and took up squatting poses at the gate like some typical thugs. I followed Marcus inside of a clearing near the crater. We just stared at the flame for a few minutes before he spoke, because I was too nervous to start.

"That guy knew you."

"He must have had me confused with someone else." I laughed nervously.

"Bull shit, I heard what he said before he died. 'But you were one of us.' I believe it was."

I sighed. "I don't know how to respond to that."

"Just tell me what he meant by 'one of us', I have a right to know."

"I don't know what you mean." I said firmly, looking him in his eyes. He was pissed, I could tell by the look he was giving me.

"Stop it with the bullshit, I thought we were closer than this. It makes perfect sense why you killed him so fast, its because you didn't want him to say anything that would give your relationship away. Just tell me what group you belong to, that's all I want to know."

I looked at him for a minute and then tentatively said "I still don't know what you're talking about."

He looked at me for a good solid minute with a look that said he was thinking about something. Then he punched me in my chest, it was so fast and so hard I was sent flying a few feet.

"That is for dodging my questions, Galen."

I looked up at him from my back. "Are you trying to interrogate me right now?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "You were with the guy that killed the mercenary troupe I've been raising from the ground up. I deserve answers and you don't want to tell me them."

"We're best friends man, you shouldn't be doing this. I don't know what you're talking about." If I am still denying it vehemently, it'll look like I'm telling the truth.

He let out a long deep sigh and looked me in the eyes. Then he said very softly, "We were best friends, all the way until you just said that sentence. Now you're acting like an enemy. I heard what that cloaked man said right before he died. Dying men usually don't give that look of betrayal as well."

I tried to get up and realized the alcohol I had earlier has me stumbling to my feet rather than gracefully getting up. It's impairing my movement.

He walked up and planted a front kick right on my chest. I was ready for it and had already hopped into a fighting stance. The kick made me step back and most definitely hurt. But it also sobered me up a fair bit.

"You piece of shit." I gasped. "I guess we're doing this then."

"I guess so," he said softly.

That last kick had sobered me up enough to where I was feeling much better than two seconds ago. The more I mulled this over the more it made me angry; this was a methodical plan. He didn't drink at all, didn't stop me from drinking, and his three "guards" didn't drink much. Additionally, and most importantly, this escalated into a fight way too quickly. I guess we really weren't friends anymore.

He came at me very cautiously, as he should, and threw a jab to test my reaction speed. I purposely was more sluggish than usual as I used my leading hand to parry it away. He immediately followed up with an overhand right and this was my chance. I stepped in with my left leg and dropped low with my knees noticeably bent. He rotated his body and a knee came flying at me from the right. I brought my elbow straight down with a little bit of Myst running through it and his knee met my elbow perfectly. He let out a yelp of pain and I continued by letting out my own right uppercut directly into his stomach.

I still had some Myst exuding from my arm still and it sent him back a few feet. I did some damage but not a lot, Marcus was much better than me at Vim spells. He started circling me and I countered his circle, we both knew what each other was capable of and we didn't want to be the ones taking the risk.

"You could just simply tell me, Galen. Just tell me what group you and that guy were a part of and we don't have to fight." He said almost pleadingly.

I ignored him and pulled in some Myst. I sent it all to my right hand and threw a large clump of fire at him. His eyes widened and he quickly glowed with Myst and he swiped it away. He was immediately in my face hurling a punch at me glowing with Myst. I first used the remaining Myst and spat a small fireball at his face, over his arm. Then I tried bringing my other arm up to deflect his punch, but it was already too late, and it sent me flying. I was sent back a good distance and landed on my side.

I quickly corrected myself to see him swatting at his face putting out the flames. He looked up and I saw his cut had started bleeding again. This time I charged him, I decided to risk it and went low for a tackle. The risk did not pay off. He hit me with a fast and perfect knee which hit me so hard it straightened me up from the knockback and I recoiled from the pain. He followed that up with a swift combo. A hard hook on my left ribs, an uppercut to my chin which knocked me off my feet, and lastly a hard straight to my stomach which sent me flying two or three dozen feet into a pile of trash bags.

I crawled my way out of the trash expecting him to be upon me, however he was standing where he had sent me flying. I guess I should really treat him like an enemy. I quickly scanned the surroundings. The three mercenaries were still at the gate and hadn't seemed to notice us yet. I looked over at Marcus and resigned myself. I slowly approached him. We were both in the basic stance we had learned for unarmed combat: our legs were at an almost ninety-degree angle, with our left feet forward and our right ones in the back, our hands were up almost touching our chin, and our chins were tucked to protect our throats.

There was one difference between mine and his stance and that was our arms. His were at an angle where his torso was exposed, while mine were stiff straight down. He had done some serious damage with his previous blows and my body ached. Luckily, we've trained enough to where we can unconsciously keep pulling in Myst with our ragged breathing. I had the upper hand in a drawn-out fight as I had extraordinary compatibility with Myst. However, I do not want a drawn-out fight with Marcus, he was probably the best around with Vim spells and each blow we exchange will deal significantly more damage to me than mine will to him.

"Haha! Let's get this show on the road" I shouted laughing.

We charged straight at each other.

He threw a triple jab. I weaved to the sides each time and planted my right foot hard.

I threw a straight. He ducked down.

I shifted all my weight to my left foot and threw a roundhouse with my right.

He threw up his guard, and the kick sent him flying.

I lunged right at him as he landed. I got ready to drop an axe kick on his head, over his guard, but as I raised my right foot, I saw he was watching intently. A counter.

He jumped up quickly going for my left leg. In the span of a few milliseconds, I had already started spraying fire out of my left hand.

I couldn't see him for that split second. His fist emerged above me out of the blazing fire in front of me and hit me clean on my nose. It hurt and sent me flying downwards toward the ground. I bounced off the hard solid ground.

Marcus had landed by now and threw a knee straight up into the center of my back. My whole body arched, and I let out a loud gasp as all the air escaped from my lungs.

He brought up an elbow and dropped it straight down toward my chest. He's really trying to kill me huh?

I reacted quickly by bringing my right hand straight up and catching it. I looked right into his eyes at that second and saw only pure unfiltered anger across his face as I was now falling the three feet down to the floor. You're the one angry?? You calculatedly set up the perfect scenario to kill me out here. My whole body was smoldering with anger as I sucked in Myst.

I released it all in the elbow I grasped firmly with my arm outstretched. Rather than the usual fire I have commonly used I released an unusually bright vibrant green fire. Marcus screamed with pain as the tsunami of flames hit his entire side.

He stumbled back.

I looked to the gate and saw his goons running at us shouting something and drawing their weapons.

Looking back at Marcus, he was doing the stop drop and roll tactic but extremely fast.

I used Vim and lunged at the goons. I landed right in front of Bill.

His aged eyes widened as he swung his sword upwards.

I flung my body to the side to dodge, now perpendicular to him, and shoved my hand right into his throat just as I did with Ivan.

As I pulled my left hand out of Bill's throat, Bernard was about a singular foot out of his sword's range.

At that moment I dropped my right hand into my right pocket and pulled out the emergency knife. I flung it from my waist with a flick of my arm and it landed right in his left eye. I whipped it fast enough to where it went cleanly through his head. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

I had completely forgotten about Roschard but was reminded of his presence by a sword dropping down onto my left shoulder. I screamed in pain. He tried pulling his sword out but it simply wiggled and sent more pain through me. I gritted my teeth and spun at him. I grabbed his head with my right hand as I twirled on my left foot. Then I enacted my vengeance.

I sent out a slow steady stream of fire out of my right palm. He screamed a long manly scream, and I started laughing as he was squirming to get out, with both of his hands on my arm trying to pry it off.

When he stopped wiggling, I went to get up but was greeted with a powerful kick in my back. The exact same spot as Marcus' knee from earlier. It sent me tumbling forward, and thankfully made the lodged sword drop out of my shoulder at last.

I flipped onto my back and observed Marcus slowly walking at me. He was still on fire.

His entire left side was exuding the green flames from earlier. And I could smell the rancid flesh being melted away. He was slowly walking toward me dragging his left foot, and his left arm hanging, while his left eye was completely caked with blood from that cut earlier.

I slowly got up with extreme difficulty. My left arm was limp due to Roschard's cut, as well as me not being able to control everything properly. It was all sluggish, that knee and kick together probably screwed up something with my spine.

The fire was slowly making its way up to his head, it was about halfway up his neck. He looked at me with his one good eye and gasped out a single word, "Bastard.". And then fell forward with the fire quickly fading away.

Looking down at his charred body it felt surreal. Just three weeks ago we were joking and laughing with my little brother before we set off for the mission. But some guy says a few words and suddenly he tries to kill me. Well, I can't go home now, Marcus was very dear to my brother, and I'll feel too guilty looking at him.

I got up and went to work. I started dragging the bodies to the blazing fire in the crater. It took about a good hour as I had to keep stopping and catching my breath. But eventually, I got to drag Marcus' corpse and it made me feel disgusted.

Afterward, I sat with my legs hanging over the crater and staring up into the night sky. I could only think about one thing. What now? I had to leave Sunhaven, but where do I go now? So I sat and pondered for what felt like forever, but in actuality, it was only a few minutes, until I came to a conclusion.

I'll go and be a priest. The group that I and Ivan belonged to was actually a religion. Not some shady organization, but a benevolent religion that helped those in desperate need. I had been given the offer when I went to the initiation ceremony and received my tattoo. But I told them to let me dwell on it.

I got up and started walking. I'd have to walk until I made it to Praetoria. We were already at the edges of town, so it didn't take too terribly long for me to hit the overarching sand dune that wrapped around the city.

I took one last look. I'm sorry guys, I'll come back to pick you two up. I promise. And I started walking into the pitch-black desert.