Walking in itself required an extraordinary amount of effort. The world seemed to spin and swirl, and a sharp pain throbbed in Tyrus' head, making it a remarkable achievement for him to walk even a short distance without tripping. His movements weren’t quick, far from it, and moving just sent another stabbing pang at the base of his neck as if someone was deliberately smacking him with a club.

Today was one of the most unfortunate days he's had, easily ranking among the top three worst experiences. Why did it feel like the exam was taking forever? Felt as if he'd overstayed his welcome.

Someone pulled on his arm and hoisted it up; walking then felt less difficult. When Tyrus peered to the side, he saw his arm wrapped around Igneal’s shoulder. Igneal frowned at the action, but he avoided eye contact with Tyrus.

“Thank you,” Tyrus muttered. “For coming back. I would’ve died if you hadn’t stepped in.”

Igneal remained silent and kept moving ahead. Tyrus replicated the behavior, steadily moving forward one step at a time. When they reached the stairs, they carefully walked down and reached the ground floor.

The hostages from before took the lead, with the man at the front clutching onto a blade. A grim expression appeared on his face, and his knuckles were stained with dirt and blood. Sporting dirty blonde hair in a bun, the man's attire was typical except for the leather armor he wore on his chest and knees. Similarly, the woman wore leather, but it provided protection only for her chest and arms. Her mahogany locks were in a neat bun, tightly secured. Attached to her hip was a small sheathe, while on her back she carried a bow and quiver.

The four of them made to the bottom floor with relatively no issue. As they inched towards the exit, the smell of smoke became stronger and more pervasive. Alongside the pungent smell, there was a blare of shouting coming from beyond the door. Judging by the increase in pitch, the fire wasn’t a natural one, or one that happened naturally, for that matter.

As the thought left him, the door bursted open, and a man came running in.

“J-Jericho! It’s an emergen—”

An arrow immediately impaled the poor man's head, preventing him from finishing the full sentence. His body slumped to the floor while the bow lady lowered her weapon. Tyrus couldn’t help but stare at her.

“Mitha, the archer at your service,” she said with a sly smile. Mitha beckoned them towards her. When Tyrus finally got a good look at what laid past the entrance, he couldn’t help but suck in his breath.

Flames danced and devoured every building in sight. Tall flames, reaching the same height as the huts, billowed dark clouds and ash into the sky. Bandits scurried across bridges, frantically looking for ways to stop the fire. Some were tearing down wooden walls while some even punched parts of the building that weren’t on fire, causing the burning parts to die off. Screaming and shouts accompanied the scenery, and none of them sounded like words of encouragement. A lot of them decided that saving the village wasn’t worth it and bounded for the only exits: the bridges.

To their horror, the majority of the exits were sealed off by lizardmen. Sounding off a shrill cry and more whistles, a dozen or so flocked the bridges while the rest swam through the lake, only to jump out like fish and skewer the Scourge members with spears. The lizardmen did the best they could to avoid the flames, which was expected given what Igneal had told him about heat and such.

Chaos was the perfect word to describe the scene before him. Tyrus couldn’t tell who was winning or losing. However, they were all reduced to lifeless bodies. At least the enemies’ numbers were dwindling.

“This was definitely not what I was expecting when we freed ourselves, but this works to our advantage,” Mitha said, grabbing another arrow. “With the bandits preoccupied, it’s time for us to evacuate.”

“How did you guys escape? And how did you set fire to the entire village?” Tyrus asked, releasing the breath he was holding.

Mitha laughed. “It was easy, actually, and your friend over there was the biggest help. Thank Budarh for sending you two toward us! Without him sending Fire Bolts to serve as a distraction, I wouldn’t have had the time to break our restraints.“

Tyrus followed Mitha’s line of sight, setting his gaze on Igneal‘s face. The moment Mitha called out his name, Igneal grumbled.

"Leave the pointless conversation until after we leave this accursed village."

She flinched and nodded. “Right you are, My Lord. Wyford, lead the way.”

“On it,” the man said, nodding to the group. Wyford brandished a sword and ushered everyone to the side. With most of Scourge’s attention on the infiltrators, no one was keeping watch for survivors.

Weaving through the burning village, Wyford pressed forward. A quick glance revealed the archer and the swordsman were ready to fend off any threats. They expected to encounter at least one enemy during their retreat, and their worries proved to be right.

A Scourge member that had been launching arrows at the lizardmen caught sight of the four and turned. Just as he was about to notch an arrow their way, Mitha was already a step ahead and already let one fly. An arrow struck him straight in the heart, sending him careening into the lake. Mitha gestured the others forward.

Using cover, they dashed through the smoking village, navigating around wheel barrels and shattered carts. Because the crevices were too tight for the whole group, they resorted to entering the huts with no doors and coming out the other way. Instead, there was a piece of cloth hanging where a door should have been.

Tyus felt his balance wavering and almost collapsed had Igneal not caught him. The pain in his chest was getting worse and his head felt like it was going to burst any second now. Fatigue and the blows he suffered were finally settling in. Just thinking about Jericho kicking him through a floorboard made his temple tingle. Who thinks of stomping on a person’s head with no hesitation?

Black spots flooded his vision once again, so he closed his eyes to ease the sensation. Listening to all the commotion all around him didn’t help at all, what with constant shouting and crashing—namely, burning—of things. Not only that, his sense of smell was suffering now as well. Smoke and charred meat were the primary aroma in the air, overpowering everything else.

“Almost there,” Wyford said. Then came the sound of flesh being pierced and the thump of a body meeting the ground.

“Wyford, on your left!”

Shortly after, a sickening crunch echoed through the alley, followed by a grunt from the swordsman and the clank of a steel weapon hitting the floor. When Tyrus propped one eye open, the visage of a lizardman, tongue sticking out, blew by him.

Before long, they arrived at the bridge Tyrus used to sneak under from. The bison weren’t there, but the carriages and cages remained. What replaced them were a few beasts that were attracted to the noise. Sniffing around were more of those nasty swamp imps and a couple of new creatures with swamp-drenched fur and long limbs.

Wyford cursed. “Damn it, those sons of bitches are blocking out our only path! Mitha, I don’t suppose you got enough arrows in that quiver of yours to decimate them all?”

She rolled her eyes. “Now’s not the time for jokes. We can handle them no problem. Better to push through them than let us be stuck in a burning town. Stick close and don’t die. I’ll cover the rear.”

They trudged along the bridge, careful with their steps so as to not to send everyone plummeting into the lake. From the immense weight of four people, the bridge swayed a lot more than usual. The splitting headache and nausea only got worse the further they ventured.

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Stupid Jericho. Perhaps he should have blasted him to bits instead of attempting to gather more information when they first met. Finishing him early would’ve been the wiser decision if he was going to sustain such damage in the end. All that and for what? Just to be ridiculed and learn absolutely nothing?

To make matters worse, Igneal was much more help to them than he was. Because he set off a diversion that caught most of the camp’s attention, Mitha was able to free her and Wyford quickly. He was their Savior, not him. All Tyrus did was fight a blood-hungry man and had to be saved like a helpless child. Seriously, how did he lose to a mere bandit when he fought things like drakes and rock spiders!?

Thinking about his folly had him groaning and clutching the back of his skull. Through his hazy vision, he peeked over his shoulder, just to see whether there was anyone following them. He soon found that to be a terrible mistake.

A lizardman with a familiar-looking bone helmet cut down a screaming Scourge member. It licked the blood splatter off its maw and chuckled deviously. Then came out yet another lanky yet shorter lizardmen, wearing attire strikingly different from its brethren. Black paint masked its light appearance, and it wore a feathered garb over its head alongside a necklace of various bones. In its hand was a bone staff with an amber-colored ball on the tip.

“We must cleanse Mashulahs’ land from the ga’tha! Only then will the plague end!” the bone-helmet roared.

Whoops and hollers from the surrounding lizardmen rose in response as they raised their weapons to the sky. Their tenacity grew alongside the amount of bodies that piled up around their feet, and they pursued the Scourge survivors further and further, murderous intent radiating from their bodies.

Mitha sucked in her breath. “Pick it up Wyford! Once they're done over there, they’ll come after us too!”

“We’re almost there,” he retorted. “Running will only make things worse.”

It was true. Running only generated more pressure on an already weak bridge, so much to where it was difficult for Tyrus to stay standing with all the swaying. Moving carefully was the only option unless someone wanted to take a dip.

Fortunately, they made it across with relatively no problems. Unfortunately, those problems appeared almost instantly when a beast popped up from behind a carriage. A swamp imp snarled and lunged for Wyford. The man was ready for the attack and split the creature in two with a mighty swing. His gaze narrowed when he saw the same abomination from before flying towards him.

“Damn swamp imps are like sewer rats!” he cried, killing the other as well. Wyford turned to Tyrus. “You two get out of here while you still can. Mitha and I will deal with the beasts here. Can’t fight all that well protecting an injured kid and all.”

Tyrus looked up, face contorted. “Are you... sure?”

Mitha notched an arrow and nodded. “This much is no problem for me. We’ll catch up to you once we’re in the clear.”

Tyrus pursed his lips and muttered an ‘okay’ before Igneal pressed on, his face glistening with sweat. Tyrus almost felt sorry for pushing Igneal this much, but that feeling wavered quickly when he remembered their conversation before. This was the least he could do for being difficult.

From the corner of his eye, Mitha began her slaughter. With pinpoint accuracy, every arrow that she fired punctured a body. After she released an arrow, another would replace it in mere seconds.

Wyford was also quick on his feet as he dodged numerous attacks and sidestepped his way towards each opponent, the blade ready to remove an arm and a leg. Whenever a swamp imp was too high, he would jump on top of a carriage and stab it in its chest. And if a swamp imp tried to attack his blindside, Mitha was there to save him.

Their cooperation amazed Tyrus, like a stream flowing and weaving itself through various rocks and branches. Even without mana or magic by their side, they were efficient in taking down the monsters, relying only on their skills and physical prowess.

Were those the skills necessary to become an explorer? If so, then he really was out of his league compared to them. Upon that realization, Tyrus couldn’t help but think about how the other applicants were doing and if they were just as good, if not better than Wyford and Mitha.

In his contemplation, Igneal and Tyrus reached the forest. Tyrus looked over the battling duo and set one strained eye on bone-helmet. The lizardmen had just killed the last Scourge member in the village, each one whistling and whooping their victory. Briefly, bone-helmet locked eyes with Tyrus, sending a shiver down his spine. It then barked a few orders at the others, pointing at the bridge leading to Wyford and Mitha.

“They’re going after Mitha and Wyford next,” Tyrus mumbled.

He pushed himself off of Igneal, hoping that he could stand on his own now, but that only made his condition worse. Not only was his head spinning faster, his legs turned into slime, threatening to drop him to the floor.

Igneal grumbled and grabbed Tyrus again. “A sorcerer beaten by an unblessed is nothing short of sad, if I say so myself.”

Tyrus stayed silent. He had no excuse for his pitiful performance. If only he focused on beating Jericho instead of letting his curiosity about the situation take hold, then he wouldn’t be carried like a helpless elder.

“S-Sorry about that,” was all Tyrus could muster.

Might as well save his energy and focus on refilling his mana heart. The aftertaste of smoke still lingered in his throat alongside metal and a few strands of hair. If only he had a mirror, he’d be able to check just how ugly his face looked from all the cuts and bruises. The back of his head felt sticky, as if sweat and blood blended together, and a large knot was gradually forming.

Basically, Tyrus felt like shit, as one would call it.

Healing Touch would heal most of his superficial wounds, but in order for that to happen, he needed mana and focus. Two things he desperately needed. Maybe he should ask Igneal to heal him instead. Surely he learned Healing Touch as well; he used Light Bolt after all.

Tyrus looked at Igneal, a bit touched the noble was helping him along instead of letting go. After their argument, Tyrus didn’t expect Igneal to come to his rescue. He was someone who only thought about his well-being and how he would benefit from others. Yet here he was, acting the total opposite of what Tyrus thought of him.

“Why are you smiling?” Igneal snapped with a hint of exhaustion in his tone.

Tyrus tried to chuckle, but only a cough accompanied it. “Was thinking about how you came to their rescue. That was nice of you to do, despite what you said about them.”

“I did not arrive at the village to save them,” Igneal said coldly. “I wouldn't have gone to such lengths for them without expecting some sort of benefit in return, regardless of any positive feelings I may have had towards them. My goal was to assist you, not them. They cleverly took advantage of my distraction, which was smart of them to do.”

“So?” Tyrus retorted. “You still helped them, intentionally or not. That’s good enough for me. I was... wrong. You aren’t as heartless as I thought.”

Silence reigned over the two, neither side not uttering a word. But through that silence, an understanding formed between them. At least, that’s what Tyrus thought. Perhaps their short verbal battle convinced Igneal of something as well? Tyrus hoped so, anyway.

Rather than running, he returned and help. Although his primary intention was to assist Tyrus, he ended up helping Mitha and Wyford as well. It all worked out in the end, no matter what he claims. Tyrus was granted the opportunity to finish the exam, even though he came back late. Thanks to Igneal, and even Wyford and Mitha, an overseer didn’t need to intervene.

As if he had been doused with cold water, Tyrus head snapped upward. The overseers! He had forgotten all about them in his battle against Jericho. Shouldn’t they have saved him when he was literally about to die? Or saved him when he was getting attacked and chased by crocodiles. Selena boasted about safety being their top priority, yet no actions to show for it.

There was seriously something wrong, yet Tyrus hadn’t the faintest clue.

Tyrus felt movement next to him. Alerted, he snapped out of his thoughts and saw Igneal raising his arm near a tree. A well of mana sprouted from his hand, and he unleashed a Fire Bolt at a mud toad on the verge of spitting some kind of green ooze out at them. The green, slime covered amphibian recoiled in shock, but not after taking a direct hit to its head. With one final breath, the toad’s eyes rolled to the back of its head as its tongue fell lifelessly out of its mouth.

Sadly, it wasn’t the only one. More bounded over, each one emitting a wail that had Tyrus cringing from the added noise, adding to his already painful headache. A few were ready to spit, the sacs on their bodies glistening.

His temple tingling once more, Tyrus didn’t know where to turn. His limbs didn’t work at their full capacity and it would take too much time and effort for him to heal his body. Magic was out of the question too as he was recovering his mana heart. If he pushed it even more, he would surely experience the effects Fiona had mentioned about mana deprivation.

Well, he already has with the rapid heart rate and splitting headache. But Tyrus didn’t think it was exactly mana deprivation, but something more troublesome. The words were difficult to conjure, the more his head pounded. Even breathing and blinking, the most mundane things became difficult to perform.

Igneal scanned the beasts with a frown. “Tch. Now they want to swarm us when I’m lugging you around? The commotion must’ve attracted them. Like moths to a flame...”

Tyrus squirmed. “Let me fight alongside you. I’ll fight through the pain.”

“You’ll just slow me down. Now pipe down and let me handle this.”

Tyrus would’ve argued, would’ve talked back just like they would do with each other, but didn’t. Maybe it was because of what he saw next.

Igneal hurried to a nearby tree and set Tyrus beside it. Tyrus couldn’t lie and say he felt at his best, but at least it was better than trying to run around the forest. But from his spot, he could see Igneal unsheathing his sword with a smile. More beasts other than toads appeared, just as nasty and ugly.

“I will prove to you why joining me is a wise choice. This time, you will no longer entertain the idea of turning down my offer.”