Sett collapsed heavily on his hands and knees on the cobblestone street just beyond the park’s broken gate. He almost collapsed completely, but something deep within himself told him that this was not the time to do so.

He was by far not out of danger and he still needed to find out where Jess was.

With newfound conviction, Sett slowly and with quivering breath got up from all four. He was in a really bad state. He was fatigued and dizzy, but that was not the worst of it. All over his body, he found small lacerations. The vines had failed to hit him, but their thorns had still caught him in many places. In addition, he had countless bruises from his flight through the air after the eruption.

But worst of them all was his new wound on his thigh. It was deep and gruesome, sending pain radiating through his body at any moment. Luckily, it was not bleeding yet. Though that was only because of the remnant of the vine which was still inside of the wound.

Sett knew that time was running out. Even if he did not die from blood loss, the wound would soon fester. A rotting wound would surely mean the end of him. He had to figure out a way to treat the wound and quickly.

Although he did not visit the town all too often, Sett still knew of some of the more important locations and stores within the city.

The first option that sprung into his mind was the guardsman’s post. It was the place where the guardsmen and local militia gathered. There was no doubt in Sett’s mind that they would have the necessary things to treat him.

The only problem was that it was too far away. On the other side of the city, in fact. Even in his normal state, it would take almost ten minutes to pass the entirety of the town. Now, with Sett’s barely functioning leg, he did not have much confidence in getting there before anything worse happened.

Another option was the herbalist’s store. It was a place where you could find many different herbs and flowers that were useful for the body. Both exotic and common plant life could be found here. The herbalist was even able to concoct some of the herbs into alchemical potions.

Some years past, he had visited the store when he and his mother found a rare species of flower in the forest. They had traded the flower for a compound which his mother still used in her daily work as a healer.

It was said that the herbalist oversaw maintaining the gardens. This naturally meant that the store was located very close to where Sett currently was.

Though the herbalist worked with the illness of the body and not with wounds, Sett nonetheless decided to go there. Even if she did not have any kind of herbs that could help him, she would surely have some bandages.

Looking around, Sett found the town of Lark had descended even further into chaos. Somehow, the lightning strikes had gotten worse. They struck twice as often and with much more force than before. Even the earth had begun to shake with noticeable tremors. In only a matter of minutes, the severity of the situation had turned way grimmer, and it was only getting worse.

As for the tree that had almost taken his life only a few moments ago, it was the only thing in the town that looked untouched. The tree had turned back into just that, a tree. It no longer moved. Not a vine was out of place. One could not be faulted for thinking that it was a completely normal tree, albeit strangely coloured.

Sett finally got onto two legs again and began to plot his direction.

He was well aware that Lark was no longer safe. The lightning he could deal with. This was not the first lightning storm he had weathered. Although it was far more deadly than a normal lightning storm, Sett had no doubt that the same rules still counted. Just do not stand in the open, or on top of things. At least that was what he had been told by his mother.

The real problem stemmed from those strange demonic-looking dogs. Although he had only seen the one hound that had been devoured by the tree earlier. There was no doubt in Sett’s mind that more of them would appear.

Sett did not think that he stood a chance against such a creature, much less with his heavily wounded leg. He would have to avoid them at all cost.

In short, he would have to move with caution.

Sett immediately moved to the nearest building to seek shelter. Then he began to move slowly. Moving from hiding place to hiding place. From boxed crate filled with goods to merchant’s stand filled with fresh produce.

In his attempt to not expand his wound, it took a very long time just to cover a very small distance. Much longer than he had wanted to, but there was not much he could do.

Fifteen minutes later, Sett had reached the halfway point. It was then that the town, which had somewhat managed to quiet down from the hysterics, erupted with sound again. This time it came from the centre of the city. Specifically, the baron’s manor.

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The ironbound wooden door that had been locked throughout the whole ordeal suddenly swung open with a great force.

The leading man, a knight clad entirely in plate mail save from his head, walked out. In the knight’s clenched hand were a great sword of enormous proportions. A normal sword, which the guardsmen would use, would look like a children’s toy in comparison.

This knight was no normal human. Every moment he made was powerful and perfect. Even from afar, Sett could feel an invisible aura radiating from the imposing knight. It made any person who looked upon him, feel as if he were justice incarnate.

The knight looked poised and ready. His eyes darting to-and-fro, never pausing on a single point.

More than likely, this knight had to be the famed Sir. Karwood. The locally famed champion of house Lark and one of the few people gifted with an arcane talent in the region.

Behind the famed knight, there was a convoy of different people.

Moving on the outskirts of the formation, were a great number of soldiers and knights. All of these were wearing gear that would make the local guardsmen drool in envy. The soldiers and knights that counted in the thirties were more than likely to be the baron’s private army. Combined, they accounted for almost all of the fighting power of the local area.

In the middle of the formation and just behind Sir. Karwood was a group of seven people dressed in extravagant clothes. Two adults, three teenagers, and two children which looked a little younger than Sett.

At the forefront of the extravagantly dressed group was a man. His clothes were most lavish and in his hand, he held a highly decorated staff inlaid with a slightly glowing gem in the end.

Though the man did not exude an intimidating aura like his knight, Sett nonetheless still felt that this man was powerful and was not to be crossed.

It did not take a genius to figure out that this extraordinary group was Baron Lark and his family.

The house of Lark had been locally known as a mage’s household. As such, Baron Lark was naturally a mage. Between his knight and himself, although the two would fight in very different ways, it was unclear to the populace rumour mill which of them was the strongest.

The remaining people in the tail’s end of the formation were likely to be the servants of the house. All of them moved with uneasy steps as they hastily followed the formation and their lord.

Sett looked at this group of people and fell into thought. This was the first time he had seen the baron in person. Why had he moved such a huge group of people out of his manor? Had he decided to gather all of his forces and purge the strange lightning from the city?

Surely that was what he would do. After all, it was the charge of the nobles of the world to safeguard those under his protection.

“Lord Lark! Please save my husband! He is trapped under a piece of fallen wood! Please!”

From nearby, a woman who had fallen into hysterics, yelled out in relief when she saw the baron.

“Baron Lark! Help my wife is trapped!

“Your lordship… Please… Save us!”

“Please help!”

With the first woman’s yell as a catalyst, multiple people suddenly began to shower their local ruling lord with pleads of help. Even Sett yelled out for help in inspiration.

The formation moved forward on the main street and soon arrived before the house of the first woman. Sir. Karwood scanned her with his eyes and then turned to look at his lord. No words were exchanged but the baron lightly moved his head from side to side. No emotion was visible on either of their faces.

The formation began to move once again amidst the loud yells of the panicking town folks. The people of the town had quickly realized that the lord was not going to help them, and their yells quickly turned into insults. The respect they had once held for their lord was gone after a single decision.

Sett too had his mind shaken by this display of heartlessness.

His mother had had many different opinions on nobles. In his early life, Sett could vividly remember great stories of kings and dukes valiantly standing before their people and listening to their plight. He had heard stories of compassionate princes and noble sons who entered the lives of their peasant subordinates and improved their lives for the better. She had spoken of them with such gleeful delight and a sparkle in her eyes.

Yet, as he grew older, his mother’s opinion of nobles changed drastically. The woman who had once been a staunch supporter of anything noble began to inwardly curse them. Calling them cowards. It had started slowly with the lower-ranked nobles and knights, but eventually, even royalty had become a target for her scorn. She said that they were not fit for their position. That they were unworthy. At that time, the only sparkle in her eyes was one of disdain.

Until this day, Sett had been incredibly conflicted about what he should think of nobles. Luckily, until today, it had not mattered what he thought of them.

But now, he saw them for what they were. They were lower than dirt. They fled at the first sight of danger, leaving the pained peasantry in the dust. He saw the way that the baron did not even deign to look at the people he was meant to protect.

Even the children of the baron, those that should have been filled with emotion, walked away without as if they did not have care in the world. Their eyes were filled with disdain for all those that were around them.

Only the youngest of the group, a child which Sett thought to be half a year his junior, were different. As she walked, she clutched a teddy bear tightly into her chest and cried. Though Sett doubted that the tears she shed were for the people who would not be saved rather than because of the horrendous lightning strikes that were all around them.

Sett’s fingernails bore into the palms of his hands as he watched the departing formation. This was unforgivable.

‘Cowards… They deserve death.’

A dark voice whispered to him from within his subconsciousness. What made them more deserving of life than everyone else. No, they did not deserve to live. Those that would cast others away in their moment of need deserved death.

This day, Sett felt his heart grow a little colder and a budding hatred for anything noble emerged.

Sett suppressed his hatred with clenched teeth. He had seen how the soldiers looked at those who threw insults their way. It would do no good, even if it would alleviate some of his feelings.

When he saw the formation disappear into the distance near the town’s gate, Sett began to move once more.