Amidst plains and hills that stretched as far as the eye could see, there sat a campsite filled with men, each of them a hardened veteran. Inside of a large tent, a brawny man with a thick beard was seated in a wooden chair. Before him lay a messy desk, covered in scattered papers and letters, some were even crumpled and torn. In his hands were several documents, in which he had buried his stern face. His dark eyes were fixed on them, with furrowed brows and a subtle frown. A sudden knock interrupted his reading, causing his eyebrows to set even lower. After a moment, he lowered the papers and rested his arms upon the desk.

“Enter,” he called out towards his unexpected visitor. Shortly after, the door opened and revealed a young squire, who bowed after entering. 

“Commander, we’ve found him,” the squire said. “The mage Jonah has been found. The Mage Hunter Unit is driving him towards us as we speak.” The squire’s voice was loud, and it trembled slightly, likely born of a mixture of fear and excitement. His quickened breath served as a testament to the fact that he had rushed over to make his report.

The bear-like man stood up at once, suppressing an urge to laugh loudly. “Finally, after weeks of planning,” the commander said, clenching his fists. “I’ve got you now, Jonah. Your days of terrorism are over,” he muttered. His original grimness had long since blossomed into excitement. He ushered the squire out and quickly got prepared for combat. The commander exited the building that had been serving as his group’s headquarters for the past few weeks.

“What direction was he spotted in?” asked the commander as he looked out towards the horizon. His gaze drifted towards the north, frowning as he spotted a small town in the distance. “Is the town in his path?”

“No, Commander. He will be coming from the south-east, so the town should be out of the way. However, I’ve taken the liberty to already inform the villagers to take shelter, sir. As a precaution,” the squire answered as he followed the commander like a shadow. He seemed content just standing behind the grizzled man. The squire watched his every move with a respectful gleam in his eyes.

The commander gave a low grunt of approval before turning to look at the south-east with a subtle grin on his weathered and tanned face. Without even bothering to glance backward, he barked out to the squire, “Convey my orders. We’re setting out!”

Within minutes, his subordinates began to file into an orderly formation, all but completely prepared. They stood in rows, armed to the teeth. The forefront rows were composed of the largest and most heavily armored units, serving as living shields for the more vulnerable members. The further back in the line, the more lightly armored individuals were present. At the very back stood a row of men and women, their eyes lifeless and their gaunt faces devoid of any expression. Around the neck of each one of these strange, ghastly individuals was a choker with a single gem inlaid. It hummed and shone with an unearthly green hue. 

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

At the very front of these mass of warriors stood a single man, his silhouette standing tall and proud against the setting sun. He stood, his broad back and shoulders facing his subordinates, as he cried out, “Tonight, we end this hunt. With the death of Jonah the Merciless, we Mage Hunters will redeem ourselves in the eyes of our King, and take back the reputation that Jonah has so viciously mocked. Tonight, we shall retake our names! Tonight, we kill a mage!”

In response to their commander’s rallying speech, the hundred-odd soldiers roared like wild beasts. Their voices shook with emotion, their red hot blood spurred through their veins by the legend that is Commander Warren. And then, they marched.

…

An angry mob cut across the grasslands in a desperate chase. They were exhausted, but they ran on relentlessly. They had long since begun this game of cat and mouse, chasing the lone and unwavering man across plains and hills alike.

The man occasionally glanced back at his would-be captors. They were no strangers to him, or rather, the power behind them was familiar to him. The individuals themselves were of no great importance. Who they represented, however, served as a constant thorn in his side, for he was a mage, and they were Mage Hunters.

His name was Jonah, a man who was once a faithful commoner of the Kingdom of Illarya. After Awakening to his potential as a mage as a young teenager, Jonah’s life as a commoner ended, and his life as public enemy number one began. Thanks to the Kingdom’s promise of a reward for any reported magical activity, Jonah’s own family turned on him, not only abandoning him but outright throwing him to the wolves. 

And so his pathetic existence began; constantly cautious, constantly moving. Destined to never settle down. From a young age, Jonah was forced to eradicate his childish fantasies of love and family, forced into maturity. Loveless, heartless, and cold. At times, he was even forced to abandon his humanity, forced to commit heinous and horrific acts to maintain his life that could be snuffed out at any moment, like a candle in the wind.

The wind, of course, was the very Mage Hunters behind him. For years and years now, he has been one of their most zealously pursued targets. They would often find him, and run him out of town or city, only for him to make his escape and migrate elsewhere. Jonah was convinced that this time, it would go just like any other. He had no idea what was waiting in store for him.