His eyes were wide as a panting Thorne scanned the horde of enemies charging at him. With a quick mind, Thorne calculated the possible outcomes in his head: ‘I'm too low on energy, and I'm exhausted.’ He realized, ‘I must escape…. But…how?’
With erratic leaps, Thorne dodged the outpouring of bullets as he thought of a way to escape. ‘What,’ Thorne’s mind froze as he thought of a method, ‘There must be something else; he grimaced but from pain. ‘Shit, I have to do it, there's nothing else.’ Gritting his teeth, Thorne made his way closer to the edge of the hall. While hoarse and tired, his voice still had volume and magnitude when he shouted, “ZAL IF YOU'RE DOWN THERE, THROW UP A SHIELD. I'M JUMPING!”
As he jumped, he heard a strange ding in his head but opted to ignore it. The soldiers behind him were fluttering with panic as they tried to stop him.
“HE'S GONNA ESCAPE! KILL HIM!” Thorne heard one of the cultivators shout out.
WHIZ! WHIZ! WHIZ! WHIZ!
The whole army released bullets en masse, and only through his limited supply of amber energy and his high proficiency in agility could Thorne stay unwounded. “I'm going now!” Thorne screamed as he threw himself off the wall. His cloak—floating behind him in the air—was peppered with bullets, but Thorne made it out unscathed, for now!
‘Come on, Zal,’ Thorne prayed as he felt the air rushing past him. ‘Come on, Zal.’ Thorne came crashing down from the massive wall. While not enormous, his frame was quite heavy due to the denseness of his muscles, and thus, moved through the air like a falling truck. The wind flew into his eyes and disrupted his vision. His blood pumped fast, and his stomach dropped as Thorne plummeted down to the street below. ‘I'm dead.’ Thorne thought. His face was creased with the hallmarks of a man who knew he was going to die; he closed his eyes and let out a breath as he realized it, ‘I've been falling for too long... I’m dead.’
“OPEN YOUR EYES THORNE.” Thorne suddenly heard. With a start, he flashed his eyes open, wiping the wind-caused tears away. ‘I’m…safe.’ He grinned. “Zal, you fucking bastard, you did it.” He beamed for the first time in weeks. “You fucking did it!”
Thorne was currently floating through a slimy, cloud-like net of amber energy. He sank slowly and was only a couple dozen feet above the ground. With a jolt, Thorne realized that he and Thorne weren’t alone. “Who are these people?” Thorne frowned.
Zal, crossing his arms below him, beamed up at Thorne; “They're our allies. They're the people who want to help us, help the people in need.”
Zal pointed at the crowd, “All of us worked together to recruit them. Me, Moravian, and Procka. It was a tough task.” He said with a proud but tired smile.
“Wow.” Thorne gasped as he scanned everyone. There were hundreds of them, regular soldiers, non-human soldiers, non-human cultivators, and even a decent number of human cultivators. All of them were working in tandem to do one thing; charge the farm!
“Well damn.” Thorne smiled as he finally plopped down to the ground, “You guys all actually did it.”
Zal strode toward Thorne before stopping only a few feet before him, “We did our job, yes. But you did your job, and it was the deadliest job,” He smiled at Thorne while holding his hand outstretched. “Good job, brother.” Zal muttered as the two men collapsed hands, and entered a quick hug. “Thanks’” Thorne smiled as he looked back up at the wall, “But the job's not done.”
Placing his hand on Thorne’s shoulder, Zal stared at him with an intense glower, “You’ve already done enough; we can handle this,” he said.
Thorne opened his mouth to rebut the man, but he was quickly shut down by Zal’s raised hand; “You need to rest. This won't be our last battle, and you know it.”
Thorne grimaced, “Fine.” he muttered, slinking away to a building, where he leaned himself up against. Zal, following the rest, nodded at him before rushing into the farm. ‘I guess I can't do anything more.’ Thorne chuckled as he watched his departing allies.
The ring of gunshots and spectrum abilities rang as Thorne sat down and leaned against the wall. ‘Peace at last.’ He smiled, closing his eyes and simply enjoying the rest. It was the last respite he was likely to get for a while. After all, killing a grade-two cultivator is no simple task.
Thorne opened his interface as soon as he sat down. He remembered that when he was escaping, a loud ding had rung out inside his mind. ‘Was it related to the system?’
Congratulations! The skill—The Phantom Leap—has leveled up! Current level: 6/10.
Thorne whistled as he saw the notification. ‘incredi-’
“Uhm, excuse me.”
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Thorne opened his eyes and stared up at the shadowed figure. His previously closed eyes were forced to reacclimatize to the sun’s light, and Thorne blinked rapidly to see who was talking to me. “Yes.” Thorne grumbled, still unable to properly gaze at his disturber.
“May I sit down?” The man, no, boy, asked with a rather high-pitched voice. ‘What is that…’
Thorne peered up and squinted at the figure before realizing he knew the boy; it was his student! “It's you Aral…take a seat. Thorne motioned sloppily. “Thank you, teacher.” The boy said as he sat down. “No need for that,” Thorne waved, “I'm not a teacher anymore, you know that.”
“I guess,” the boy said, picking at his fingernails. But even though it's been only a month, I've learned so much from you.” He murmured while looking down at the ground.
Thorne nodded at him, “I'm glad I did my job well then.”
“Yes, well, that’s the thing,” Aral said, gathering the confidence to look Thorne in the eyes. “Why?” he asked, his face scrunching in emotions. “Why do… all this?” He waved franticly with a quivering lip.
Thorne looked at Aral before averting his eyes to the sandstone road. “Do you know what most people would say to that? Most of…my allies?” Thorne asked, still looking at the ground.
“That it's done to help people and stop the regime.” Aral answered instantly, “But there has to be something better…something not so…full of death.” The boy sputtered out, on the verge of tears.
Thorne sighed as he finally found the courage to look at the boy. Aral stared at him intensely. Emotions played across his eyes: grief, sadness, helplessness, confusion. The teacher-student pair looked at each other for a time. The wind blew against their robes, and the sound of battle served as a background to their conversation. Suddenly, Aral tentatively reached out and rubbed his hand on Thorne’s cheek.
Confused, Thorne frowned at the boy until he saw Aral’s palm. It was painted red. No sign of his usual tanned color shone through. No, there was only a morbid crimson. “Whose blood is that?” the boy asked with a trembling hand.
Thorne stared at him, his gaze going blank. He could lie and say it was his own blood; who would be hurt if he lied? No one. “It’s from men I killed,” Thorne stated. His mask of expressionlessness took over as Thorne gazed at the clearly terrified young boy. “I don’t know who,” Thorne continued in a soft voice, “But I do know it is from someone—or many someone’s—that I, myself, killed.”
Aral gaped at him, before gulping and nodding rapidly. “All right.” He murmured, avoiding Thorne’s eyes, “Thank you for…your teachings.” The boy said as he stood up and nearly sprinted away from Thorne.
‘Fucking hell.’ Thorne sighed. He leaned back against the wall, silence, and peace once again returned to him, but this time, when he shut his eyes, he was not greeted by darkness. Instead, a mesmerizing view of faces greeted him. Dozens of pale, bloody faces. Faces of the men he had killed.
----------------------------------------
Her eyes flashing open, Lyra shot upward; ‘Where am I? What happened?’ she panted, looking around. ‘I’m…outside.’ she realized, squinting as her eyes adjusted to waking up. Eyes widening, Lyra’s heart froze as she saw a small group of people standing before her. ‘Is it them.’ Her lips quivered as she averted her eyes from the group.
Lyra groaned as her body was assaulted by the desire for food. ‘Footsteps. Oh no, if the punisher finds me….’ Lyra instantly shut her eyes, hoping that the person walking toward her would ignore her. ‘It cannot be…I did not see the punisher.’ she thought with knitted brows as she mulled over her brief glance at the group before her.
‘No, I cannot think like that.’ She grimaced as the footsteps advanced. ‘I must play dead. I have not worked since…’ Lyra’s thoughts trailed off as she tried to remember the last time she had worked on the farm. ‘I don’t know.’ She realized, ‘I do not remember. I was working and almost falling unconscious, and then…nothing.’ Lyra grimaced; if the punisher was here, she would not be having a good day.
The footsteps grew closer until she could feel someone’s breath on her neck. Lyra’s neck hairs tingled, and she couldn’t help but tremble as she felt the person above her.
“Hey.” She heard a deep voice say. It was emotionless and blank in tone, and Lyra could barely recognize it. But despite her time away, she would never forget this particular voice.
With hesitation, Lyra fluttered her eyes open and peered at the man above her. “Thorne.” She croaked. She smiled wide as a warm feeling gushed over her heart. “Is this...” She looked around, motioning weakly with her hands.
“No, It’s not the farm.” He said with a small smile, but there was no luster to his multicolored eyes. Heavy bags caused Thorne’s eyes to sag. Lyra could see his robe was completely red; ‘is that all blood.’ She gasped, ‘It cannot be, this is…too much.’ Thorne’s face, while usually deadpan and unresponsive, was even more so than what Lyra remembered. Wrinkles and creases dotted his face, and a thick, gnarly beard covered his face. It looked like he had aged a decade. As he looked down at her, Lyra noticed a tired sigh escaped him, as he smiled. “You are free.”
----------------------------------------
“So, all that happened while I was imprisoned!” Lyra said with an incredulous expression. Immediately upon waking up, Thorne brought the rest of the team over to explain what had happened; Lyra had been gone for over a month, after all.
Zal smiled upon seeing Lyra’s surprise, “Yeah, and while we’re waiting, one of my men is doing the most important job.” Zal grinned.
Eyes widening, Lyra—who was sitting—looked up at Zal, “What?” She asked, “What Is this job?”
Thorne wiped the blood off his hands as he bent down and helped Lyra up; “Getting the outskirters on our side. The common folk.”
Lyra smiled as she staggered to her feet. Blood and sweat still coated her skin, and her odorous stench dominated the environment. “That’s good," She said, exhaling with a small smile, “So, what next.”
…
Thorne grimaced as he looked down at the wind-pushed sand. Moravian growled slightly and kicked at the ground, while Zal just smiled helplessly while looking at Lyra; “Next….” Zal mused, scratching his chin, “Next, we have to fight the lord of this city.” he muttered.
Lyra, still grinning, looked over at Thorne and the others. “Well, that should not be difficult.” She grinned while upturning her nose, “You all captured the farm with ease, so what is some backwater city lord.” She scoffed.
Thorne glared at her, the setting sun shining down harshly; “He’s grade two.” Thorne stated. “Go wash up.” Thorne muttered as he turned his back on the team, “After you don’t smell like donkey shit you can fight that lord with ease.”