Chapter 32: An expected ambush

I sprint over the plains under the starry sky. The brown robe I still wear flutters behind me. On my left Sairal easily keeps up with my speed. In my mind, I go over the skill levels I gained during my time at the Bazaar. Identify gained some good levels, bringing it to 15. No other skill levels beyond that sadly.

“Tell me again why we still need to wear these robes? I thought you only had to wear them in the city,” I ask.

The hood that covers the dryad’s face constantly shifts as he looks all around us, “Because we are being tailed and we want to hide our identities. Normally it won’t matter much but you are a mandrake. We can’t have them know that.” He keeps running as he flawlessly turns his back towards me, searching for anything odd on the grassy plains.

We left the Bazaar hours ago, and with the sun beginning to rise, casting daylight over everything, it’s near impossible for anyone to remain unseen.

I let out a painful puff of air as he forces me to sprint as fast as I can, “Are you sure they are trailing us? You used six different tactics to get rid of them.”

Sairal turns around and faces me. I stare into the inky blackness that masks his face, “No. I’m not certain. Better be careful and alive rather than careless and dead, don’t you think?”

I roll my eyes and push myself further to follow him.

***

Half an hour later, Sairal lets out an audible sigh, “They are following us. Must have some strong artefact to track us.”

I feel myself slow and then catch up to him again, “How many?” I ask.

“Two. One tracker with an artefact the other is a hunter.” He replies.

“How do you know?” I ask while scanning everything in view. I don’t see anything.

Sairal takes a moment before replying, “The way they move. Their motions are fluid. They are experienced, though not strong. Their speed is merely average.” He pauses for a long time before continuing, “The artefact they wield isn’t strong either. I think they are in middle G grade. If they were stronger, they would’ve attacked already.”

I stare in puzzlement at him. “You can figure that out all by looking at something they have and how they run?” I ask disbelieving.

“Not exactly. Back in the Bazaar a human tried to identify me, but a skill of mine blocked it. And you are G grade, so I bet they thought I am in the same grade too.” He shrugs, “Anyway, we have to kill them.”

“Are you sure?” I say with bitterness. I came here to save a life and now I have to take two in return again?

“Yes. I don’t want them to be on our trail, weak as they might be, it makes me feel uneasy. When they engage, I will have to play down my strength since they might send out stronger forces when they discover that I’m an (E) grade. I will take on the hunter. You’ll take the other. Green, consider this to be a valuable lesson. Sooner than later you will be forced to fight more humans and as you know, they are a difficult foe even at lower levels.”

I shake my head at him. Of course, he wants to turn killing two people into some kind of training. Not wanting to underestimate the two humans, I come up with a plan to make everything easier. After having gone over it in my mind a few times, I tell it to Sairal.

I feel Sairal grin below his hood as I explain, “I like it. Let’s do that.”

***

We kept running a few more kilometres and set up camp. Sairal set up some basic defences that contain some hidden failsafe if the plan should go awry.

While he spends his time working on something like a fairy ring, I try to get a campfire going.

In my previous life, I built a campfire once or twice when I went out camping with my dad. All that I remember of it, is that fire is dangerous and that you need to be careful. Being a mandrake you need to be extra careful.

I wave my hand in the air and slam it onto the ground, patting the clingy flames out on the grass. Even with Fire Resistance, it seems like I burn like a dead tree doused with gasoline.

It may be a bit psychopathic, however, I should look into training my skills. Setting myself on fire should be a good start.

Sairal and I have some idle talk while completing the trap we set for them.

Barely half an hour later the trap is sprung. The two pursuers enter the mushroom ring.

Sairal snaps his fingers and a bright barrier made out of orange light traps us all. The hunter draws their bow and aims for me. Before they can loose an arrow, a glass vial hits them in the face. The glass breaks and the spores burst outwards in a cloud. The orange clouds comes alive like a swarm of wasps and cling to the hunter, making them yell out in a mix of pain and panic,

The other one has not been idle. Two black daggers are in their hands. They run forwards crossing the distance between us almost instantly. Bindweed grows out of the ground, trying to trip them. They jump over it and slash at me.

I step back and dodge the first blow. The second is parried by my claws. Stamina flows through them, making them more durable and preventing the dagger from cutting deep into my flesh.

The robed figure, presumably an assassin, pushes on the blade, making it cut into my skin. With their other dagger, they swing at me, forcing me to backpedal.

Not a moment later they are right on top of me again. With each attack they push me back, not giving me any opening to take advantage of. Behind me, I can feel the air hum with the magic that seals us in this place.

Getting pushed into a corner, I take a risk. I duck under the next swipe of his dagger and lash out with my claw.

The assassin backflips making me only graze their robe. The robed individual takes a moment to size me up again. I can almost feel the smile on their face, “you’re pretty good.” The tone is distorted by the brown robe. Even so far away from the Bazaar, the skill of the owner still holds power. Truly, how strong can someone become in this world?

“Shouldn’t you be concerned with taking me down? Your friend there isn’t faring that well.” I reply while focusing on the ground below him. Just below the surface bindweed grows, ready to spring out like a trap.

They twirl a dagger in their hands and give an exaggerated shrug, “Two-on-one would be fun.”

Sensing the end of the conversation, I let the bindweed beneath his feet spring. The ground erupts as if a landmine has been sprung. Ropes of bindweed curve up into the sky. Stamina leaves me as I take control of them.

The green ropes curve down and wrap around their form. I make the vines knit together giving credit to their name.

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

A new idea pops into my mind. More stamina is pushed into the bindweed and it begins to shift. The stems turn darker and begin to sprout thorns. Pain throbs in my head. That took far more Stamina than I thought. Then again, as I look at the still-growing thorns that pierce the assassin’s form like a thousand tiny needles, it seems to be very effective.

Surely that assassin can’t survive that. I wait for a notification or for anything to change.

Something flickers and the assassin appears. Unscathed. The robe is tattered to shreds and I can almost see their face. But when I focus on it, I feel the information slip from my mind every time I look at…him.

“Woah! That’s brutal. They said that dryads never play around,” he looks at the makeshift iron maiden. “Guess, they were right. Then it is time for me to get serious as well.”

The black daggers start to smoke, giving me a hard time making out where the edge of the blade ends. The weird smoke starts to travel up the assassin's arms.

I don’t give them the time to fully activate his skill. More bindweed erupts from the ground, shooting towards him like snakes.

Before they can wrap around any limbs, the vines are cut apart. Wherever he cuts with the dagger smoke emanates from the bindweed. I make a promise to myself to not get cut by those daggers.

The smoke starts to roll over the robe, covering more of the assassin’s figure.

The assassin flashes towards me. I feel Mandrake Scream build up in the back of my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sairal pummel the hunter with his fist.

Not wanting to stun them too, I push the scream back down.

Daggers cut air apart just above my head as I duck. The black smoke wafts from his dagger. It stays in the air like a suffocating miasma that actively begins to burn my skin.

The other dagger plunges towards my arm. Just in time, I pull back. I keep dancing around him, evading every blow. With that smoke in the way I can’t parry. I bet I would even get hurt if I touched that robe.

More vines grow on the ground, making the footing unsteady. It is all I can do. Surely he is going through his resources rapidly. I can only hold on long enough for them to run out.

I backpedal as a blow comes for my neck. The smokey edge cuts into the robe. I twist out of the way, just in time. Cold sweat forms on my head. My cover was almost blown. Sairal said that this field didn’t just serve as a trap, it also made scrying us difficult, though it doesn’t block it.

The assassin speeds up. Below their feet, the bindweed doesn’t do anything. Every time they move it’s just torn up.

The blade thrusts forward and almost plunges into my eye. I jerk my head to the side. The other dagger buries itself into my stomach. The smoke burns my eyes.

With my leg I swipe his left leg out under him, making the assassin almost stumble. With a follow-up, my claws, thrumming with stamina, plunge through the robe into the side of his chest.

“A blow for a blow,” I rasp out.

The assassin twists the blade in my stomach. I hiss in pain and grab his other arm's wrist that still hangs next to my shoulder. Another hiss escapes my lips as the smoke eats into my hand. I squeeze with all my strength until he finally lets the blade drop to the ground.

In a stalemate we both look at each other, piercing the enchantments of the tattered, brown robes.

“…you.” The assassin says.

I don’t respond. In that moment of shock, he has after seeing what I am, I hit him in the stomach, making him double over. I sweep the legs out under him and he collapses to the ground.

My Stamina dwindles even more as Bindweed starts to grow out of the ground all around him. Before he can regain his senses the green vines wrap him up like a Christmas present.

A searing pain distracts me from the fight. The wound is smoking. The same goes for my right hand.

Finally, the assassin regains his senses, only to realise that he is tied up and that there is no escape.

“Wait. Wait! Wait!” he yells, “Why don’t you sell me back to the general? I am worth much more than that weak (H) grade soldier,” he says. “I am special.”

“I sold that human as an act of kindness.” I look down at the smoking wound in my stomach, “I won’t be kind to you.”

I move towards him for the kill.

Sensing his end, smoke erupts all around him like an oily miasma. He starts to cough and wheeze. He rasps out a few more ragged breaths before only silence hangs in the air along with acidic black smoke. Slowly, the smoke spreads outwards.

Not wanting to touch it, I move backwards.

There is a glint of something deep in the smoke. Before I can realise what it is the assassin jumps out.

The robe that hid his Identity has been eaten away by the smoke. Patches of hair are missing and he has burn wounds all over his body.

“I- I will kill you.” Before he finishes the sentence he blurs before my eyes.

Instinctively I let my body fall to the ground.

Something appears in front of me. Metal glints in the sun that has fully risen. Sairal stands before me, blocking the assassin’s dagger with a short sword.

The assassin looks just as surprised as I am. I take advantage of it and use the last bits of my stamina creating more bindweed. It wraps around his legs in less than a second. And for just that single moment the human is distracted.

Sairal takes advantage of it and slams the dagger away with his spare hand. The next thing I see is the human stumbling to the ground, the short sword having pierced his heart.

A second later the notification dings in my mind.

*Congratulations. You have slain [Human: Shadowstalker] lvl 6/20 G

*Congratulations. You have gained a level. You are now level 2.

+10 HP +15 SP +2 Strength +2 Agility +1 Perception +2 Constitution +2 Endurance +2 Mind +4 Unallocated stat points.

*Claw Infusion (C) lvl 3/20 -> Claw Infusion (C) lvl 4/20.

*Bindweed Manipulation (R) lvl 3/20 -> Bindweed Manipulation (R) lvl 5/20.

*Bindweed Conjuration (R) lvl 2/20 -> Bindweed Conjuration (R) lvl 4/20.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask looking at the corpse of the assassin.

“The smoke? Probably just a variation of a corrosion element. For his level, he was quite strong. I apologise for not intervening earlier, I was having fun testing some new things on that human. And it looked like you could hold your own for a while so I continued my act,” Sairal says dismissively. His eyes fall on the dagger that is laying on the ground.

No longer smoke escapes from it. I look down at the hole in my stomach that the human carved. The smoke is still eating away at it, “Any idea how to fix it?”

The dryad shrugs, “Just let your Constitution work on it.”

“I am so done with humans for a while. These past few days have been a whole mess.”

“On that, I can agree. But at least we have gained something. I have enough spores to create new mushroom guardians and you have that bindweed and that book we bought.”

I nod, “Can I take the robe off now? It probably doesn’t work anymore,” I whine. This thing just feels so uncomfortable, especially now that that assassin has torn it to shreds with his attacks.

“No,” Sairal replies. “When we enter Luxia you can take it off. Let’s just rest up.”

I move towards the campfire while Sairal looks over the Shadowstalker. I hear him mutter to himself for several minutes, occasionally saying things like ‘interesting’ or ‘fascinating’.

Having nothing to do I move over to the hunter, wanting to see how Sairal took them down.

Halfway towards the corpse, I decide to turn around, already having seen enough. I used to think that my days in (I) and (H) grade were bloody. The dryad of moss and decay brings a whole new meaning to the word.

Back at the campfire, I stare into the flames. I came here to save a human, yet in the end, I killed another one I crossed paths with. Have I done any good?

Who knows. Who knows what the human I saved will do from now on? Maybe as we speak he’s being tortured by that general thinking that he is a spy sent by the dryads. Perhaps he has told them of our identity and there are already multiple parties converging on this spot.

Either way, the results remain to be seen.

I pull my eyes off the flames and look at Sairal. He’s humming a gentle song to himself while searching the corpse of the Shadowstalker. I want to know his past. When I get back to Luxia, I should look for Purple. Maybe she knows something.

A few minutes later Sairal joins me at the campfire. I can feel the way he is looking at me. Right when he is opening his mouth to say something comforting a chime of a system notification resounds.

I wait for something to appear in my mind. Nothing does.

The system chimes again, this time louder. Then I realise it. The sound isn’t in my head. It's resounding all around us. It reverberates through the ground and makes the air shiver with anticipation.

The world seems to come to a stop. The ocean of grass all around stops rustling as the wind completely vanishes. Far in the distance, I can hear panicked screams from birds who flee the ground and rise upwards in the sky, already sensing the trouble that is to come.

With the third, louder, chime, a notification pops into my mind.

*Congratulations. Due to your efforts a system event has been generated. Participate for stats, skills, titles, and other rewards!

*System event: The Luxian conflict has started.

I roll my eyes and let out a sigh.

In front of me, the dryad starts to curse, “By her damn roots. Of. Course. Fucking. Now.” Then he too sighs.

“I am so done with this all.” He finally says to which I respond with a nod.