The men finally made it to the nearest carriage. Their clothes were soaking cold from the rain but their blood was boiling hot from the adrenaline. Bave yelled through the chaos, ordering his mates to void most of the carriages off of the horses and tame one stallion for each. They needed to fight off the mud as the slippery grounds could play a funny joke on their feet!

Kal and Koh charged, following his orders. The first carriage was taken down. They freed the horse and it ran off, letting the carriage rolled over. The wooden pavilion crashed on the ground and dried hay spilled around but the men paid no attention to it. They had more carriages to conquer.

The idea was to immobilize the enemy or whoever it was from running off with the carriages. Moreover, less than half of them have been transported beyond the border. Bave could not ignore that!

The young leader drew his sword out and slashed the bridle off of a horse connected to a carriage and despite the animal's anxiety and fierce kicking, the man hopped on. The longer he took to get on it, the worse it could become. Therefore, he nestled on the stallion's back as soon as he managed to get a hold of its mane. He held tight onto the horsehair, tugging now and then to control it as much as possible.

Bave managed to reach the big gates of the checkpoint. Several guards swung their swords at the man but he kept his torso lowered. There was no opening for the blade to pierce through; the only thing he had to be careful of not getting stabbed was his face.

It wasn't about ruining his face but losing his eyes. He has seen countless of men lose their eyesight on the battlefield. It was disheartening and could render any man useless.

His own sword clashed with theirs, feeling the pressure in his wrist though also trying to balance on the horse. Fighting on a fierce stallion was no joke! Besides, he also had to divert any swing that was aimed at the animal.

The hunter groaned as he felt his wrist being twisted from the uncomfortable angle which his hand happened to be as he clashed swords with the guards. It was hard but he managed to get past them. Besides, the mission wasn't about killing the men but getting the Nominalia!

Therefore, even if a guard was left alive, it was of no big deal. If anyone happened to be a threat, he would be killed. It was that simple. The stallion was also wild enough to throw kicks and assist the hunter, so he wasn't completely alone on the offense. The animal was directed to pass through the gates that acted as border control.

The three hunters did not know where the Nominalia was, and they could not take any chances to bet that it hasn't yet been transported over to southern Vlarik. The only thing Bave could do was to void every single carriage off its horse and then rejoin his guild on Balhkaran land.

The man was cutting bridles left and right. He slashed and forced some of the carriages to topple over. Although the horses ran chaotically around, they kept the border guards from Vlarik busy. Chaos assisted the young hunter and he hurried to savor the moment! If he missed these golden minutes, there was no telling how the tables could turn.

It felt just like he has jinxed it. The moment he thought that he had to hurry before his luck run out, a flash of light, which was shot his way, took the young man off the horse. His chest hurt as if a hammer was slammed into his lungs. What the heck did just hit him? A thunderbolt or something?

Was the storm so bad?!

Bave had dropped his sword midway flying backward off his horse. He landed onto one of the toppled-over carriages. He was lucky that the dried hay was spilled and his back was brutally nailed into it. If it happened to be a stone wall or the muddy ground, he would have probably broken a rib.

The young hunter was coughing, trying to catch his breath whilst legs struggled to push him up. Was he pulverized miserably onto the ground like an insignificant piece of trash? It felt like his experience and strength could not stand a chance against whatever took him down.

Just as his back finally straightened despite the bone-cracking pain, he felt a strong grip slam him back down by the neck. He was pushed down by a man whose eyes were glowing aqua, like the dangerous waters of the ocean he glared down at Bave whilst holding him down by the neck, threatening to crack his bones.

The hunter fought for air but it was straight so inhumane, so foreign! Was that man even a human?! The stranger was covered by a long mantle and despite the inability to see well in the small hours of the night, Bave could not miss the glowing orbits. His eyes were intimidating.

Bave had to do something if he wanted to survive. The man was slowly strangling him, looking him straight in the eye. Was he taking pleasure from watching people dying? He could just end it quickly and move on. However, it seemed that he hesitated.

That moment of hesitation was the opportunity Bave sought. The staring contest between the men ended as the young hunter forced his knee straight into the man's stomach. It gained him freedom!

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The hunter was finally able to breathe but the nasty feeling around his neck was still keeping his airways tight. He coughed but wasted no time, he had to reach for his sword and fight him!

Alas, just as he wondered what had taken him off the horse, another bolt of light was shot his way. Bave's keen sense of hearing aided him and he barely dodged it. He wasn't sure who he had to thank, gods or goddesses, but if that light ball hit him – he'd be the one burning instead of that wooden carriage behind him!

The young man looked from the fire to the man who was standing calm in readiness to attack. Bave had heard of them before.

The sorcerers.

Although most people brushed them off as some lore, like many other things, Bave knew they existed. His job as a hunter had him encounter many things, irrational and rational but sorcerers – he had never encountered them.

The hunter did not know how to fight them. He had no magic tricks up his sleeves, just his bare hands and a sword. Probably several daggers as well. That was about it. He also doubted that he could counter the light balls with his sword.

He could try but if he judged by the speed and force, it would be a miracle if he could match the throw and reflect it back – if it could be reflected at all. There was no guarantee that the light ball would be sent back to the sorcerer.

Bluffing was another strategy he used in fights but that man before him looked like he wasted no words. He was a man of action and random philosophical statements could only enrage him. Was that checkmate? There was nothing to do but just run off like a rabbit on the snow hills?

Bave watched the man stand tall and outstretch his hand once more. A murmur in a foreign language escaped his lips. Was he chanting a spell or cursing the hunter? What was he doing? Bave was bewildered, he did not know a single thing about magic, let alone about fighting a mage.

The man charged at the sorcerer, thinking that he would be occupied with his chant to react and wouldn't deter the attack. Alas, the man easily titled his torso and swung a kick from the side.

'How lovely', thought Bave. So not only was he a sorcerer but he could use martial arts as well?

The hunter did not halt. His offense was deterred but he attacked again. He would keep attacking and keeping a close-range. He thought that similar to archers, the sorcerer needed some distance to shoot his thunderbolts. So far, his theory worked!

The men kept switching from offense to defense, one attacks then the other blocks and again, vice versa. There was no ending to the muddy fight but none of them showed any sign of exhaustion. How long have they been fighting? It was just several minutes but it felt like they were at it for days. Was the sorcerer casting a spell on Bave? Like time-manipulation or something – why did it feel so prolonged?

The hunter swung his sword again but the sorcerer jumped high onto a small pavement wall from the sideway of the inner gates' pathway. He avoided the clash skillfully but Bave was too experienced with the blade. He managed to scrape the mage's shoulder, tearing part of the mantle. However, the sorcerer had secretly scraped Bave's shoulder top as well.

It was too dark to notice blood and Bave's excitement was too high to feel anything or check his surroundings but the storm lightings illuminated now and then the arena. Besides, the burning carriage in the background could cast some dim light as well.

The rest of the carriages were on the ground, the stallions have long runoff and no soul seemed to bother these two who were fighting to the death.

Bave truly felt like he was fighting to the death. The sorcerer seemed composed but now and then his own punches or kicks seemed to slip off the correct aim. The hunter took advantage of one of such slips and pulled the other by the mantle just to dart his sword, hoping he could pierce the sorcerer through the chest.

However, he had probably forgotten that it was no warrior. It was a wicked mind of a sorcerer. The stranger chuckled audibly as his mantle was pulled. His hand successfully grabbed the blade and stopped the attack with his bare hand. The sword shattered in his grip as if an icicle crumbled to pieces.

The young man's eyes widened and he wasted no time. His hand retreated and reached for a dagger. Alas, he felt the burning sensation down his nerve-endings. What was the sorcerer doing? It felt like he tugged one by one his nerves and played them like a guitar string. It was painful.

The hunter fell on his knees and held his arm that was about to pull a dagger. It was pulsating but he could also see glowing strings spiraling underneath his skin. Did the sorcerer inject him with something? When did he do it? What was happening!?

Bave couldn't bear that pain. He preferred being slashed than his nerves being played like a string-instrument. The tugging sensation grew stronger and he rolled onto his back, surrounded by the mud and rainwater. His senses were sealed off. He could not hear, could not feel – all that mattered was that pain.

The hunter didn't even notice the mage closing by, drawing out his own dagger and getting ready to stab him in the chest. He could not distinguish anything. No cold from hot, loud from quiet, dark from bright. Everything blurred together under the painful spell that had been running throughout Bave's veins from the moment the mage scraped his shoulder.

It was just a matter of time before the spell worked. What the sorcerer has been doing was stalling.

The inexperienced hunter had never fought a sorcerer and did not know how to fight one. He only knew how to charge and swing his sword, and so he did! But now he regretted it. He had to retreat when he had the chance.

The dagger was pointed downwards and the sorcerer gestured with precision. Bave had to die, he had to die! The thought of seeing that man dead shaded the mage's eyes. One could read the bloodthirst. He had to die! He had to die!

He looked like he was to accomplish a mission of sorts, he looked like he was happy.

The hunter was partially unconscious of his surroundings. He was holding his arm, his eyes shut by reflex. Someone had to make that pain stop. He was going insane!

At that moment, the starless night granted Bave his wish.

A golden stripe rippled through the dark and attacked like a snake. The dagger flew off of the mage's hands as soon as that golden light hit him. The stranger stepped back and looked to his left.

The golden snake-like stripe swirled around in a wild spiraling motion and calmed gradually as it connected around a slender, beautiful arm. The flow of golden energy looked like silk slipping off the smooth pale skin like an undergarment just about to be taken off.

Someone interrupted. Someone heard Bave's soundless cry.