A swift kick was all that was needed to push the last of the three corpses into the latrine. Thanks to a quick casting of an armor spell, it didn’t hurt his foot this time. It still ached, everything did, but it was now dull enough to easily ignore.
Besides, it was dark enough on the outskirts of the army camp that nobody would have to see it. Just as well, nobody who came out there would likely see the corpses either.
Artyom turned towards the bonfires at the camp’s center, where all the other soldiers were partying. He took a step towards them, but felt his heart literally skip a beat, and he began to fall.
“Shit, I overdid it and put too much magic into those spells,” Artyom whispered as he quickly caught and uprighted himself. “But even when I’m careful they can cost too much, and I need some levels to offset that. Why haven’t I gotten any yet?”
The man from Earth focused his frustration on the almost forty soldiers still left standing. He’d have to take them all out by sunrise; that was non-negotiable. With about half of his magic left, Artyom knew he’d have to be clever. He had more time than magic afterall, so why not take things slowly?
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“Come on, quit being lazy and come with me!”
“Quit being a coward and go yourself!”
A pair of soldiers standing at the edge of the fires argued. The first was half-crouched and jumping from foot to foot while the other simply looked at him with annoyance.
“But it’s so dark out there, what if I get attacked by a monster?”
“Seriously, where was all that bravery you had when we were attacking that village? Even they weren’t as scared as you are right now when you were killing them.”
“Please?”
After a few seconds, the second soldier sighed and began walking ahead of his compatriot into the darkness. The first followed with a smile until they were by the latrines.
Snap
Aryom let out a breath as he dropped the next pair of corpses into the latrine. There were two of the holes in the camp, but the number of bodies in them was starting to add up. It wouldn’t be long before someone noticed.
“Hey, have you seen Kon or Dai?” came a loud voice from the center of camp. “It’s been over an hour since they went to the bathroom.”
“No, but they’re not the only ones missing. Could’ve sworn the camp was a lot more full when we started celebrating…”
Artyom shook his head. “One and a half hours, and a quarter of their soldiers missing; I’ve even recovered all of my spent magic. Completely sloshed warbands have been more attentive, and none of these idiots are even drunk.”
The talk amongst the soldiers grew more harried, louder.
“All the better.”
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“Okay, now even the guy we sent to look for the others is gone! Should we get the commander?”
“We tried, but the person we sent to get him also disappeared. W-what should we do?”
The entire crowd was beginning to descend into a full-blown panic. The cheers and boisterous excitement of the party made way for a loud clamoring, where everyone spoke nervously, trying to shout louder than the person next to them to have their worries or thoughts heard.
As the din reached its crescendo, a sudden burst of heat and light made everyone go silent. One of the tents farther out in the camp burst into flames.
“So… does anyone want to check that out?” asked one of the soldiers.
Nobody volunteered.
“What if we went as a group? We’re an army, after all. That’s what makes us so strong.”
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Still nothing.
“Come on, that’s my tent! I bet you’d change your tune if it was your tent burning.”
And then another tent burst into flames next to the first. A second soldier hurriedly stepped forwards, but the pair still didn’t go.
And after that, a third burst into flame. And another, and another, until five of them were on fire.
“I think that’s enough, let’s go,” said the soldier to the others at his side.
Seeing the numbers they had, the quintet walked into the darkness with their chests puffed out and weapons drawn, ready to investigate the threat. Not to mention they had an even better light source to work with. They were confident they’d find the source of this disturbance and… they didn’t stop to think whether the five of them would be able to stop whatever had made over a dozen of their number disappear.
The other soldiers waited in the center of camp, content not to leave the illuminating presence of the bonfires they’d lit, or their armed compatriots. Seconds felt like minutes as they waited with bated breath, hoping for a good answer. They were met with silence that lasted much too long. And then…
It started off as a high pitched whine. As it got closer, it became lighter and louder. Soon, they could make it out as a voice, one belonging to the soldier who’d tried to gather a group to investigate the fires in the first place. He was screaming his lungs out.
“Help! Help! Help! They’re all dead, he’s killing them!” the soldier shouted, his voice running hoarse as adrenaline masked the pain in both his vocal chords and legs.
The members of the camp all began to talk at once, either asking questions or singing doom.
Eventually one of the soldiers, the biggest of the group in both height and muscle, shouted loud enough to speak over the others. “How many? Who’s killing them?”
“All of them! We found a ton of ours thrown into the latrine, or just lying on the floor. Some of them had holes in their chest, but others just had their heads turned further than they should go. That… that kills people!”
“But who did it, did you see? And where are the others?”
“He killed them too!”
“Who?!”
“Me.”
The entire camp had their heads collectively wrenched towards the newcomer in fear and surprise as soon as he announced himself.
But as they drank in their current biggest threat, their shaky and wound up muscles began to settle. Shoulders sagged and worried frowns turned into mocking smiles filled with relief.
“It’s just one of the peasants we hadn’t gotten to,” said the largest of the soldiers with a booming laugh. “What’s wrong, little man? We were going to come back in the morning to finish you all off, did you get impatient?”
Many expected to see the telltale signs of fear, wide eyes and a cowering posture, just like in the villagers they had slaughtered. The soldiers who’d faced someone with enough courage to fight back expected a different signature look; a determined frown with a strong look set in stone.
What the troops were met with was a man who walked with a loose gait, and held a gaze that stared both through their souls and past them all. One that had seen more bloodshed in his lifetime than all of them combined.
The existence of such a person was unthinkable to the soldiers, who each needed a whole two hands to count how many battles they’d been in.
Which was why they mistakened his look for one of a lost and tired boy trying to find his way home.
“Don’t worry, we’ll send you back to your parents. Or if they’re not there, we’ll reunite you all in the morning,” said one of the soldiers, stepping forward with his sword drawn.
Artyom looked both at and through him, before quickly moving to the others. He counted twenty six soldiers, twenty six threats to what he cared about. Twenty six soon-to-be corpses.
He slowly inhaled and channeled his magic, and with a quick exhale, sent his spells flying across the camp.
Basic Weakness, Basic Slowness.
As implied by the names the spells were incredibly weak and cheap to cast. But they were cast against an inexperienced group, and on the entire group. Artyom saw many of his enemies suddenly weighed down by their armor, and those who tried to rush up to meet him moved as if submerged in molasses.
Olympian’s Speed, Tungsten Body.
Artyom ran to the nearest soldier, the one who had most recently taunted him, and buried his fist in the man’s chest. Links of his chainmail snapped as the armor tried to absorb the impact, but while it saved his life from the singular blow, it didn’t stop several of his ribs from shattering, or his sword from slipping out of his grip.
The man from Earth quickly grabbed the weapon with his free hand while it was still in mid-air and immediately swung it in the soldier’s neck. Blood spurted out of an artery as the man fell over, a familiar lifeless surprise plastered across his face.
The rest of the soldiers went silent as they processed the sheer speed and brutality of the attack. The fact that they were being outperformed in the sort of bloodshed they thought they’d monopolized, all by a complete nobody, shocked them still.
That complete nobody was unphased by the single act of violence however, and appeared before his next victim to perform an encore.
The scream that followed as the target’s leg was broken at the femur, followed by the gurgling, snapped the soldiers out of it. They lifted their weapons and charged.
Artyom looked at them with dead eyes without saying a word, and simply channeled his magic.