Chapter 12:

Rine hobbled his way towards the old man’s gravestone. He felt empty inside as if the core of his personality was slowly being snuffed out. His thoughts kept revolving around the first person he had ever killed. He kept thinking about the last slap she gave him, hating him to the very end. Earlier in the day, her existence meant nothing to him. Yet now, it challenged his very being.

‘Did I do the right thing?’ Rine truly did not know.

With each step he took, he felt his wounds open more as fresh blood painted the ground beneath him. The slash across his chest drilled searing pain into his bones. And his gnawed on hand now looked swollen and red.

But Rine paid no heed to such matters and simply kept walking. His one solace being the fact that he felt his origin reserves replenishing at a surprising rate and even advancing to some degree.

His footsteps grew more firm as he began to clear his mind of useless thoughts. His heart that told him to end this all tonight. His hand curled around Silva’s sword tightly.

After some time he made it back to the grave, where he saw the old man leisurely sitting on the tombstone.

“Welcome back boyo, nice job with the lass. Now I’m sure you’re tired and all but we’ve still got a job to do.”

Rine shifted his gaze towards the only other person there.

“Don’t forget our deal senior, as soon as I’m done dealing with them, I’m free,” William said as he placed his hand over his ring. A flash of light came and went as a sword appeared on William’s hand.

“Yeah, whatever. Just remember the rules.”

“Naturally.”

Rine did not fully understand their conversation. Nor did he care to.

“Why? Why did you kill them?”

William finally looked at the youth’s eyes. “You’re still asking that? Fine, if you must know I did it because it was convenient. After that bastard of a Guildmaster grew suspicious of us, he stuck his best team on our tail. So I had to take care of them appropriately.”

His words rang within Rine’s ears. ‘Convenience…… so much death for convenience’s sake.”

Silva, Cinder, Rock, Elma, Luna.

Rine began to unconsciously mutter the chant of his only spell, and a surprising amount of origin began to accumulate around him.

‘And her….’ He thought back to the girl’s hollow eyes.

Never in his short life had Rine so effortlessly and efficiently began to refine origin, plumes of the refined power began to gather around his good hand as he expelled a guttural roar.

“You bastard!!!” “{Fireball}!”

A ball of fire so epic in proportions it dwarfed the stature of the child who spawned it ejected from Rine’s hand.

A sphere of concentrated fury descended upon William as impossibly hot tendrils scorched the nearby land. In the spell’s wake, the ground was engraved with a deep line that represented the spell’s unrelenting charge towards its target.

Shock filled William’s face as he watched this.

“This power. It’s nearing the level of core formation. How? How could a child barely over 13 be able to pull this off?” But William was a magician of the 9th grade. How could he be flustered by the spell of a child?

Even without Origin, the body of a Core refiner was comparable to that of low mid-tier warriors. William sneered as he dodged away from the fireball’s trajectory. The furious ball of fire made its way through the forest leaving only scorched wood in its wake.

William then appeared directly before Rine with a wide grin. Choosing not to waste any more time, he asked a single question as his blade let loose a dangerous gleam.

“Any last words?”

The youth said nothing and calmly continued to chant the spell once more with steeled eyes.

William paused slightly as he stared into the youth's eyes. Remembering how awry this entire mission had gone, remembering the old man’s smirk throughout their talks, and finally remembering the embarrassment of having to fight for his life against two ants he would have never paid attention to in the first place. Something deep within his mind snapped as he changed the direction of his sword. He mashed the pummel against the young one’s fragile face.

A malicious desire grew within him. The desire to break this young hero’s very soul, his essence. He wanted to imprint terror within his heart and scar his psyche.

The boy fell to his ass at the force of the blow, but miraculously he still maintained the spell’s casting. Even as William dug his hand into the boy’s freshly wounded chest he continued to cast. The pain was immeasurable but Rine did not care. He was lost within the creation of his strongest spell.

And thus as both child and man sunk deeper into their respective dazed state, the horrifying scene of an adult gauging out the innards of a child grew ever more visceral. William had long since discarded his sword and resorted to using his bare hands to punish the child.

The old man watched the savage scene with detached eyes as he continued to stroke his beard.

A few minutes pass and Rine was now on the ground breathing shallow breaths. Every now and then he would spit out a tooth or two. Both his arms were broken, and his legs were bent at odd angles. His face was now reduced to a mass of flesh that leaked blood in droves.

William looked down upon the boy with glaring eyes as anger welled up within him.

‘Those eyes. Those damn eyes.’ He spat venomously in his head.

Despite his wretched appearance, the youth's eyes were still ablaze with fury and will. To this very second his mouth was still moving as if to complete the spell.

William grew even more frustrated. Had he the use of his magic, he could force unimaginable horrors onto the boy, but now he was powerless.

Too lazy to recollect his sword, he summoned a new one from his ring. “Fine. You win.”He said before bringing his sword downwards.

Rine stared at the descending sword with swollen eyes. Reflecting on the past few hours, it all felt like a crazy dream. ‘Am I actually asleep?’ He wondered vaguely as the guillotine drew closer ‘Is this all fake? Perhaps I’m really at grandpa’s place and all this is just a nightmare caused by me drinking too much wine from his poorly hidden stash.’

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

But seeing the furious face of the magician, he knew how real the situation was. Still, he did achieve a small victory against him. For whatever that’s worth.

Rine closed his eyes as the faces of his new friends, and sole enemy flashed through his mind.

“I...I’m….sorry” He squeaked with a smile, before closing his eyes.

But the blade did not descend as expected, and a large explosion bellowed in its stead.

Rine agonizingly pushed his heavy eyelids open and saw the man who so easily destroyed him stagger backward. A wound was now present on his previously pristine robes. From the small hole, fresh blood trickled out.

But before he could savor the taste of the magician’s surprised face, a voice speaking a foreign language broke him out of his daze. The voice was calm, cold, and direct. And Rine could sense the mockery loaded within it.

Moving his throbbing head to the side, he saw the figure of a young man. He was leaning against a tree lazily as he pointed a weird object at the magician.

The seed of hope within his heart, despite being stepped on mercilessly, began to grow again. He moved his broken jaw and began chanting his final spell of the night.

…………………………………………

“Hey. You old fart, tell that son of a bitch that picking on kids is a childish thing to do. No. Y’know what? That would be hypocritical after all am I not about to do the same?” Raising his handgun once more, Cort issued another three shots.

Using his speed as a mid-ranked fighter, William was able to dodge the first bullet with ease. But as if knowing how he’d move the second bullet targeted right where he appeared. Luckily, he managed to raise his sword right on time to block the object. An obscene amount of force transmitted itself from his blade into his arms. During his staggered state, the third object dug itself firmly into his right kneecap. William grit his teeth as he prevented the howl of pain from escaping his lips.

Cort watched his dance with apathetic eyes.

“Why isn’t he using his magic?” He asked the old man.

“Cause then it wouldn't be fun.” He replied casually.

“As supposed to this farce?”

“You act brave for someone on the very brink of death. What? A minute?”

Cort scoffed. “Even that is more than enough.” He said as he reloaded his gun with the final regular magazine.

William watched the boy's nonchalant actions and his blood began to boil 'Is he looking down on me? ME?'

He forcefully took a breath and attempted to remain relatively calm before throwing his sword to the side. A soft light shone as he materialized another weapon from his ring. But before he could properly equip it, he was faced with another round of projectiles that barreled towards him in blinding g speeds.

Having more experience in the matter, he was able to barely dodge them as he pulled out of his ring arrows that went along nicely with the previously summoned bow.

Pulling the bow slightly he fired off an arrow in the direction of the brat.

Cort snickered as he watched the arrow. Pulling out his dagger, he knocked it out of the air with ease.

Yet William was unfazed as he merely maintained his rapid pace of summoning and firing arrows.

Corts dagger flashed as it moved around his body busily. The sound of steel briefly meeting steel was so continuous it almost sounded like rain.

'He is stalling for time' He thought as he continued to parry shots. Running low on just about every resource, Cort began to grow exhausted. With a limited amount of bullets, he could not freely experiment with the timing of his attacks, besides the constant pressure from the foe provided him no chance.

'How should I handle thi-' An insane force pushed his frail body backward as he dug into the tree. Immediately, he opened his eyes wide as time slowed to a crawl. Every detail within the battlefield grew clear as crystal.

His eyes were drawn to the magician as he noticed an astonishing fact. The entire time, the magician had only drawn the bow lightly as he fired off arrows en masse. But now the bow's string was taut and its body arched so drastically, he thought it would snap. The arrow's barely quivering tip was a testament to the unreleased tension of the weapon.

Cort must have been successful at ever so slightly altering the course of the previous arrow, allowing him to only suffer the aftereffects.

"Shit" He exclaimed as he Flung his body to the side. He fell pathetically to the ground awhile holding back a grunt. Like a hot knife through butter, the arrow pierced through the tree's trunk leaving a large hole in its body.

'What kind of bow is that?' He had never seen such a powerful bow before. He knew of no material resilient yet flexible enough to withstand the pressure that bow must give off.

For the second time that night, he felt true fear. Quickly standing to his feet he strained the only resource he had left.

His eyes grew bloodshot as he struggled to perceive everything.

The third arrow split the wind apart as it made its way towards him. He knew he would not be able to fully parry this attack, but he did not need to.

"I need to end this fast."

As the arrow reached his strike zone, he met the head with his dagger. Immediately feeling the overwhelming pressure of the arrow, he gave everything he had left in the hopes of barely changing its course.

The dagger he stole from the guardian began to shatter from the pressure, but he did not care. Deciding he could not alter it any further, he laboriously moved his body to the side. The arrow left a deep gash in his right arm, but he ignored the pain and squeezed the trigger twice angrily and in rapid succession.

William calmly dodged the first bullet and prepared to parry the second one, but oddly enough, he found that the bullet was not heading in his direction.

'Did he miss?' He thought with amusement before his face turned pale. 'NO!' He screamed as he attempted to move his bow but alas. The bullet grazed the bow's string, causing it to snap.

The barrel of Cort's gun exploded once again, but William did not care as he frantically reached for his ring. Unfortunately for him, Cort had already thought of such a situation happening, The bullet pierced into the magician's finger as it severed it from his hand.

William screamed in pain as he watched his finger fall to the ground, along with his ring.

"You You son of a bitch do you know who I am?"

William’s mind grew even more demented as he felt the pain coming from his hand. Never in his noble life had he been reduced to such a state. Unconsciously he began to draw upon the last of his origin.

Noticing this, Cort sent another bullet towards the man, but alas the bullet disintegrated into a fine dust as it made contact with the swirling mass of energy.

His lost aura of nobility returned as vigor filled his muscles once more. ‘Yes! This is a magician! A man so close to being a god, he becomes feared by even the heavens. Yet the more the heavens protest, the stronger he becomes.’ William laughed a mighty laugh as he defied the very skies he lived under.

Cort’s already near-death body was pushed even further down by the man’s mere presence. He felt like a maggot staring down a whale’s open maw. No matter how much it tried to scurry away, he could never escape.

“Well shit, maybe a minute’s not enough after all.”

William looked at the figure’s sorry state. Now that origin enhanced his senses he could see the figure’s true appearance. A mere child ever so close to death that he was practically a push away.

“You god damned ant!” William materialized a giant hand from his origin. The hand was so large, Cort thought it could cup the moon. The hazy hand came at him in blinding speeds. Even If Cort was in top condition and buffed with every concoction Root had in their inventory, he knew he would be no match for that hand. This transcended a gap in strength, this was a gap in existence itself. Why would a whale care for the existence of a worm? Why would a lion care for the existence of an ant? Yet here he was, facing its ire.

Time slowed as his head began to scream in pain. Raising his handgun high, he shot nearly all of his remaining bullets limpidly at the hand. The bullets made no reaction as they simply disappeared silently into it.

Looking at this scene, he sighed before opening his mouth to speak. “Fine, you proved your point.”

The old man waved his hand at the attack as he instantly broke it apart.

Cort watched with bitter eyes as the awe-inspiring attack was dealt with so easily.

“Hey look on the bright side, at least you won.” The old man’s mocking tone caused him to grit his teeth.

William fell to his knees as the last bit of his power was stripped away by the old man’s laws.

“Any last words?” The old man’s voice sounded within his ears.

“I’ll die taking pride in the fact it took a creationist level magician to kill me.”

“And two boys.” The old man remarked.

Cort drew his gun for the final time that night. And just as his hand was about to put an end to this, a feeble ball of fire struck it, causing him to drop the gun.

He felt no pain from the attack, if anything it just warmed his skin. Momentarily staring at the gun on the floor, he turned towards the attacker.

“Don’t…..Don’t kill him...please. Enough...death.”

“He says that yo-” The old man’s translation was stopped in its tracks by Cort’s cold voice.

“I know what he’s saying.”

Cort looked at the boy’s pleading eyes. He knew more about this boy than probably the boy himself. ‘He’s a hero.’ Cort thought with a frigid tone. ‘He has his role, and I have mine.’

“You’re a fool.” Cort said as he used the last of his strength to throw the guardian’s half-broken knife at the magician, killing him instantly.

“W-Why…” Rine said before finally fainting.

Cort said nothing, as he too fell to the ground.

The old man sat there as minutes flew by. Finally, he looked up at the moon as it reached the zenith of its rotation.

“This is going to be interesting.”

…………………………………………