“Come on!” Thorne exclaimed. Sweat ran putridly down his face, and his entire body stank from labor and exercise. Thorne had been endlessly practicing the first technique, The Phantom Leap, for the past two weeks. It was grueling and even more dangerous than the book described.
His body nearly broke down on many occasions, causing him to feint from pure exhaustion. It was even not so rare for blood to rush in droves out of his nose and ears when he failed. Yet Thorne still persevered.
“I can do this,” Thorn muttered to himself quietly. A severe expression clouded his face as he closed his eyes and concentrated to his full capability.
“ARG!” He grunted lowly. His red energy began to shift and move like ants. They were being forcefully agitated by Thorne, forced to be jittery and agitated. The energy moved fervently throughout Thorne’s body as he continued to force them to be in a state of high stress. His own energy’s stress naturally transmitted to himself, and thus Thorne was shaking while standing, his mind full of self-doubt and worry.
Finally, when there seemed to be nothing more to give, Thorne freed the energy! It erupted as if a dam was finally let loose! He leaped forward clunkily and did it! Thorne found himself traveling so incredibly fast that he could not even see his surroundings while moving. It was as if he became a speck of light for one instant and felt what the true pinnacle of speed was.
Thorne reappeared from his short leap and almost toppled over due to the highly volatile momentum, but he did not care. He rebalanced himself and jumped in joy, pumping his fists wildly!
“Yes! I fucking did it!”
He wiped off some of his sweat and smiled wide. He had wholly cut hunting out of his schedule for the sole purpose of training this technique. Thorne knew it would likely be his most critical tool in his upcoming assassination.
Thorne’s smile dimmed slightly as he remembered why he was learning the technique in the first place, but he soon wiped that dejection from his mind and only focused on more training.
‘I need to continue training this technique,’ He planned, ‘It will be difficult, but if I focus solely on it, I should be able to use it In battles by the end of the month.’
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Thorne’s next few weeks of life were tortuous. The only moments of respite were the times when he was knocked unconscious due to the severity of the training.
He consistently practiced The Phantom Leap until it was impossible to go on further. Yet results were found in this brutal method of training.
Thorne could use the technique three times, one after another, before he passed out. He was confident in landing his first leap with accuracy while strength still remained in his body. The second was where it became difficult. By then, he would have already used up so much energy in the two leaps and would contain barely any energy left for fighting or running. The third jump made the second look tame; a red tsunami of blood seeped from his nose and ears when he performed the technique for the third time. His skin would dry up, and his legs would become weak and unusable. The worst of all was the consequence to his energy; it would be totally depleted. One hundred percent gone. No red energy would be left inside him.
Thorne had only performed the technique three times in a row, once, and that was only to test his limits. After that day, he swore that he would only use the technique to such an extent if his life was sure to be ended otherwise.
Standing shirtless in a forest learning, Thorne sighed as he witnessed the sun go down; the day of reckoning was almost here.
‘I should be prepared in terms of ability, but I should still scout and learn the patterns of the group.’ Thorne determined. He was no assassin, but even he knew that information always reigned supreme.
For the first time in three weeks, Thorne finally abandoned his rigorous training. Bluey sat comfortably on his shoulder as they marched towards the grasslands.
The bird had been initially terrified by Thorne and his training. But through constant reassurance on Thorne’s part, the bird calmed slightly and did not bother Thorne, even when he was seemingly in great peril.
Casting a look over to the bird, Thorne had an idea. The two of them had established an effective, although a bit obtuse, method of communication.
Thorne withdrew food and a red robe before speaking to his partner. “Can you.” He pointed at Bluey, “Find the people in this robe.” Thorne held the robe to the bird, “If you do.” He held up the final most exciting object, “Food.”
Bluey’s eyes lit up in excitement, and immediately started chirping rapidly.
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Thorne shook his head, chagrined, “Yes, yes, stop being so noisy and go find them.”
The bird nodded its small head up and down, likely something it had picked up from Thorne. Bluey then promptly hopped off his shoulder and took flight!
Sitting down against a tree, Thorne planned out the kill.
‘If there is a chance today, I should take it, but only if it’s perfect.’ Thorne thought solemnly. ‘Realistically, I should only scout them for today. After all, I still have time left before the end of the month.’
Thorne continued to think through his makeshift plan, and by the time Bluey returned, he had discovered a clear course of action.
‘All right, Bluey, lead me there, quietly.” Thorne said lowly as the bird enthusiastically landed on his shoulder.
In response, Bluey began flying a few feet ahead of Thorne, slowly leading him out of the forest and into the bright grasslands.
Thorne noticed something vital while walking: ' The grass is getting higher.’ Sure enough, it was getting taller. When the pair had just left the forest to enter the grasslands, the wavy grass fields only stood at ankle height, but now, the grass stems were enormous; they reached all the way up to Thorne’s chest and were still rising.
“Ree.” Bluey chirped quietly as he motioned with his beak toward a direction in front of them.
Thorne nodded at the bird and gave him a piece of meat, “Good job, Bluey.”
‘There they are.’ Thorne thought darkly, ‘And it looks like this might be the day after all.’
The group of red cultivators were currently embroiled in brutal combat. They were fighting what looked to be massive centipedes. They were horrible creatures that were the length of humans, with dozens of sharp, fast-moving legs. Their mandibles were coated with a white liquid, likely a dangerous venom. Only five cultivators remained from the original seven, likely having died earlier in the month. The remaining students looked worn out and hollow. Their eyes showed no grit, no fire, only acceptance of their current situation. Their clothes were torn and battered; dirt and blood covered the raggedy robes in clear remembrance of their struggles throughout the month.
Imelda, for her part, was furiously swinging her massive axe. She appeared like a true barbarian. Imelda hopped through the thick grass, swinging down heavily. Red energy coated her blade, and with some slight resistance, it cut through the carapace of the centipede she was battling.
It was not enough, though. There were only five students, after all, and at least fifteen of the beasts. Someone was bound to die.
More and more beasts began to charge at the students. They used the grass to their advantage and crawled quietly up to the students. They only made their presence known after viciously attacking. Thorne was surprised that no one had been killed yet.
The emergence of such a vast number of powerful beasts split up the students. For every three centipedes, there was one student, and the small group was nowhere near organized enough to regroup.
Imelda stood at least a dozen feet from the nearest student. Still, she was faring relatively well compared to the others. She was embroiled in a relentless struggle against five of the dangerous critters. Thorne was slightly impressed with her fighting so many beasts was not an easy feat, ‘It seems that the grassland has done her well. Until today, at least.’
Thorne knew that today was the day an opportunity such as this would not come again. He only had one task.
He slowly reached over his shoulder and picked up Bluey, “Fly back to the forest where our tree is and wait there for me. Be careful, though.”
The bird seemed to understand, and before flying away, he cast Thorne a mournful and low chirp.
“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he said, waving the bird off.
Thorne watched sadly as Bluey flew away. He would not, under any circumstances, endanger the bird, but it still was a bit strange to be without him.
‘Well, now is the time.’
Thorne inched forward slightly. He crouched deeply in the tall grass and surprisingly did not wield any weapon. Through crouch-walking, Thone eventually found himself ten feet away from Imelda, who was still viciously fighting the centipedes.
‘This is the perfect distance.’ Thorne thought, a mask of expressionlessness hiding his true thoughts.
Imelda hurriedly stepped back to avoid being brutally mauled by one of the attacking centipedes. The five beasts surrounded her in a tight semi-circle formation. One wrong step from Imelda was all they would need to utterly devour her. Or one wrong push.
Thorne did not smile or gloat, but he did his job and kept his word. Quickly agitating his energy, he entered the state of lightspeed. He traveled noiselessly right behind the struggling Imelda. Then he kicked. It was not too forceful or aggressive, but it was enough.
“ARGH!” She screamed in chilling terror. The noise cut through the grassland like a cool knife, but help would not arrive.
She toppled over right into the beast’s tight area of control. Her back hit the ground as they began to tear into her. They ravaged her with thrill and excitement, hurriedly devouring her corpse.
Right before they started to eat her, Imelda saw her last ever being in the world of mortals. Her eyes widened in dread-ridden panic as she saw Thorne’s crouching figure. The assassin, the executioner, the harbinger of death. Before she could scream anymore, she was brutally devoured.
Thorne watched this all. Her skin was first, then the beasts ate into her organs and innards. Blood flew in a cascading whirlwind, but only a speck reached Thorne, one drop falling right on his nose. He did not bother to wipe it off. He simply observed with glazed eyes as he observed the consequences of his actions.
“Is it worth it?” He thought again, but to his fortune or misfortune, this was not the time to have such philosophical thoughts.
Thorne quickly ran back through the grasslands, but before he left the crime scene, he saw something else, or rather someone else: Tolak.
He stood tall, an elegant gold rapier in his hands, a true noble knight here to save the day. The two locked eyes before he winked at Thorne with a horrible smile running across his face. Then Tolak charged toward the battlefield, his golden rapier shining majestically in the radiant sunlight.
‘So that was his plan.’ Thorne thought dully, ‘Kill off Imelda, then save the day and take charge.’
“Ingenious.” He muttered flatly. He wiped off the blood from his nose and hurriedly returned to the forest. Vowing vehemently to never interact with the demon Tolak ever again.