Once he stepped inside the shack, James noted how dark everything was. He had to blink twice before his vision adjusted to the low light. There were no windows inside the shack or openings outside the door. The only source of light inside was the fireplace in the living room, which flickered and cast a weak flame.
“Sit,” the old man said. He placed his bow and quiver nearby before gesturing toward what looked like an old couch made of wood and fur. James obliged, and Dahlia and Seamus followed his lead and sat down with him.
“We saw your ‘decorations’ on the way here,” James mentioned, unsure what to call them. The old man made a gruff sound and shifted in his seat.
“It keeps wolves away. It works on people, too—the smart ones, of course. The dumb ones always find their way here,” he stated clearly. While the darkness of the shack covered his gaze, James could swear the old man was staring right at him.
“Explain to me what happened. Tell me everything,” the stranger said. It was more of an order rather than a question. James looked at Dahlia and Seamus, who seemed just as unsettled as him.
“All right,” James started, looking back at the old man. He would go on to explain their entire story to the hermit, starting from the beginning. Dahlia and Seamus would chime in, retelling their perspectives and recounting events. One thing was sure, they all left out the part about James being from another world, instead focusing on explaining the current situation.
The old veteran listened to every word but remained silent throughout the whole thing. James wasn’t even sure if he was entirely focused on their story.
“So we headed here hoping you could help us,” James finally finished. He watched the man silently mull it over, his heartbeat making itself present in his ears. Everything they had gone through was to find another way out of this hellish situation. This was their last attempt at finding a third option.
“Can’t help you,” the hermit said. He stroked his beard as he laid back on his chair. “Sorry you came all this way to hear this. I can’t help with your situation.”
“What?” James asked, standing up in surprise. “Why?”
“Because we’ll die if we try fighting back,” the hermit said simply, as if it were just the way of life. Judging from your story, you’re dealing with a group of dangerous men who know nothing about the concept of mercy. I’d say your only option is to send that kid to them and hope they don’t cheat you over.” The veteran gestured towards Seamus, who stiffened at the suggestion.
“They’ll kill me…” Seamus protested, but the old man waved that away.
“And they’ll kill you if you try to fight back. Face the facts; you’re going to die no matter what your friends do. At least try to take the reasonable way out,” he muttered before standing up.
James shook his head. “We didn’t come out here for nothing! You realize that giving in to these bastards is suicide!” He argued, stepping towards the veteran as he pointed at him. “You don’t know these assholes. They’ll kill us all! They–” James couldn’t finish his sentence as the older man grabbed his wrist, twisting it so that it made James shift and quickly drop onto a knee.
“You don’t know shit,” the veteran growled, looking down at James. “Don’t think you’re some hero because you want to save one life over others. Do the rational thing and give up. You’ll save more lives that way.” He let go of James’ hand, pushing him back onto his ass.
“You really don’t know these marauders… Do you?” James gritted his teeth as he got right back onto his feet. “They’re beyond reason. Beyond thinking rationally.” He stared at the old veteran, who glared back silently. They both stood silently before James felt Dahlia’s hand on his shoulder.
“James. Let’s go,” she whispered softly. James turned back to look at the shaman. He saw how tired she looked, her eyes filled with worry.
‘No… she looks defeated.’
He could see how Seamus had the same look on his face. James slowly relaxed, feeling his shoulders sag as the feeling of defeat slowly hit him. He sighed, swallowing his anger as he turned his back on the old man, who stayed silent.
“Fine,” James muttered in defeat before he followed the two out of the shack. Just as James reached the doorway, however, he heard the veteran's gruff voice again.
“Wait,” he called out, causing James to turn around to look at the man. The old man walked up to James, his teeth grinding a bit before he stopped a couple of feet away. “If what you’re saying is true, then I’ll help you. Teach you what I know,” the old man stated, catching James off guard.
‘What made him change his mind?’
“All right. We’ll listen,” James responded regardless. Whatever the veteran's reason, it didn’t matter right now. They had a deadline, and it was about to end soon.
“Well, first things first. Come inside.” The veteran turned his back to the three, walking back into his shack as James called out.
“What’s your name?”
“Call me Harald,” the man answered, not skipping a beat as he returned inside.
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Less than one day. That was all they had until the marauders came to Yorktown and killed everyone on the island. Despite the short time they had, James was currently ‘training’ with Harald, who was kicking his ass.
The otherworldly man rolled on the cold, hard ground, which he was already getting used to tasting. He could feel his lungs burning as he tried to catch his breath.
‘Seamus just needs to hold him off for a bit until I can—’
James watched the young man roll on the ground immediately after that thought. A feeling of dread washed over him as he knew Dahlia was the only thing between him and Harald. His hope was soon crushed when he watched the shaman land on her ass, clutching her ‘sword’ as she panted in exhaustion.
‘Never mind, then.’
James clutched the branch that was his ‘sword.’ He brushed the sweat from his eyes before standing up to meet Harald’s advance. James didn’t stand a chance, his branch barely blocking Harald’s own. James felt the impact of the branches sending vibrations to his wrist, rattling him a little. He soon felt Harald’s foot sweep his own, making the young man land on his ass for the fifteenth time.
“Sloppy,” Harald said simply, a hint of amusement in his voice as he lightly kicked James’ side. “Your stance is unrefined, your footwork is atrocious, and you have obviously never used a sword before,” he stated before moving to Dahlia.
“You obviously know how to use a blade, yet your attacks are wild. It’s like you haven’t been in an actual fight before.”
Harald finally walked over to Seamus, who was panting heavily as he lay on his back.
“Strangely enough, you’re the only one who knows how to fight, and your footwork isn’t half bad. The problem is, your attacks lack conviction.” He rubbed his beard, seemingly in thought. “You’re going to need to fix that soon… otherwise, you’ll end up dead sooner than you think.”
Harald turned to all of them, addressing everyone, “At this rate, you’ll all die if you take on a full assault by yourselves.”
James sighed as he sat up, slowly catching his breath.
‘He’s right. We can’t turn into soldiers and fighters in a day. We need an alternative.’
James looked at Dahlia and Seamus, who seemed to realize the same thing.
“Guerrilla tactics…” James thought aloud. He remembered the term back on Earth and how he had learned about it in his high-school history class. It was one of the few interesting things he had paid attention to back then.
“What?” Dahlia asked, confused.
“It’s a strategy back on Earth. We hit them hard and fast, run away, repeat.” His old teacher wouldn’t have approved of such a half-assed explanation, but it was enough to catch Harald’s attention.
“I think I know what you’re talking about, and it might be enough for those marauders,” the old man murmured as he rubbed his chin.
Harald asked everyone to stand up again, even though they were tired from the brief sparring match. This had all begun back when the veteran inquired about their fighting skills. His simple question had turned into a practice session, where Harald wanted to know if they knew how to fight at all. The short answer was ‘Not really.’
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“What do you know about setting traps?” The veteran asked, his eyes scanning the three.
Dahlia raised her hand slightly. “I know how to trap animals. Deer, rabbits, the animals you need to eat to survive,” she explained.
“Good. Do you know how to adjust them to humans?” Harald asked.
Dahlia raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Do you really think they’ll be dumb enough to fall for traps?” she asked.
The veteran gave her a smile. “You really think they wouldn’t? Every man makes mistakes, even if they are careful about everything.”
Harald looked up at the sky, which was still blanketed by clouds. James was unsure of how much time had passed since sunrise but knew they had to prepare quickly before the day was over.
“I can teach you three how to effectively place the traps you need to pull off a proper defense. But it probably won’t be enough…” Harald stroked his beard in thought, grumbling something to himself.
‘I remember doing something like this… I think?’
The sight was familiar to James, which surprised him. He could feel a headache coming on as he tried to figure out what it was. Just then, a sudden sharp pain coursed through James’ head and body, detaching himself from reality.
‘No…’
Both spirit and man realized as they fell to a knee, their hands clutching at their heads. James and Faust's collective minds were now one, their memories merging.
‘It’s not James’ memory. It’s Faust’s.’
Both their voices rang out just as their body lost consciousness.
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It was hazy, like a dream. Faust looked around the blurred memory, barely making out anything as he walked slowly. It was like wading through thick mist, every part of his body heavy and tired. It didn’t last long, however. The world slowly cleared up around him, showcasing his surroundings. He soon spotted the Legate, stroking his beard as he briefed the surrounding soldiers.
“We’ll hit the bastards from the side, hiding in the town buildings as our spellcasters summon a fog spell. We’ll have traps set up throughout the town. Hit those bastards quick and hard.” The Legate gestured towards Faust, who was standing behind the group of grunts who were being addressed.
“Centurion Faust! You will be with me. Your job is to ensure none of those knight bastards try to escape from our ambush. They must be positioned in the way we have discussed, understood?”
“They will know the true wrath of the Legion,” Faust responded with a nod. He looked around the camp, his fist impacting his chest. “Tonight, those Lumen bastards will learn our empire’s name!” he shouted, his fist raising to the sky. “Aye, true to Cyrus!”
Just as the rest of his fellow legionnaires joined the cheer, the memory shifted in waves. The visage of the Legate faded away, along with the rest of the grunts. Visages of a town passed through before being replaced by that of a field. Before he knew it, Faust was suddenly in the middle of a battle that had awaited him. Bodies littered the ground, their colors ranging from Legion green to Lumen blue.
The Centurion barely had time to analyze the situation before a spear was thrust at him. He dodged the attack from a pikeman desperately trying to stab him. Faust waited for an opening, raising his foot before he finally countered.
He stomped on the enemy’s spearhead, leaving the pikeman open. Without hesitation, he swiftly lopped off the bastard’s head with his gladius. As the man fell to the ground, bloodied and headless, Faust turned to meet a wounded knight, who was in mid-swing with his claymore. Faust dodged the attack, barely missing the blade as it cut through his helmet’s mane.
Faust used his free hand to grab the man’s shoulder before swiftly planting his knee into his gut, knocking the air out of him and making the knight drop his claymore. Faust grabbed the knight’s breastplate, pulling him in so he could look into the helmet’s visor.
“Your first mistake wasn’t running from this battle,” Faust bashed the man’s helmet in with the pommel of his gladius, feeling the man struggle against his attacks. “Nor was it then when you missed my neck,” he muttered. Faust plunged his gladius’ blade into an opening in the knight’s armor, piercing the man’s gut. He twisted the hilt, making it so the knight could feel it.
“Your mistake was when you fought and opposed Emperor Cyrus,” Faust growled. He stared into the knight’s dying eyes. “Rest in hel, Lumen bastard,” he spoke before dropping the dying body to the bloodied ground.
The memory shifted again, the scene blurring into something different. Instead of an open battlefield, he was now in the middle of a battle-ridden street, surrounded by dilapidated buildings. Faust was inside the town where the actual battle was supposed to be.
Buildings were on fire, and bodies were everywhere. Faust didn't seem fazed, even though he was injured and had a bleeding wound on his side. He had lost his helmet, his black hair soaked with sweat as it stuck to his forehead and eyes. He brushed it aside, only focused on one target. In the distance, standing in the middle of the destruction, was the man who had started it all.
“Kord,” Faust growled, his hand gripping his sword tightly.
The man named Kord was in his full set of steel plate armor, and his white cloak showed the emblem of his house, a Phoenix.
“Kord! Come and fight me!” Faust shouted. He spat out blood onto the ground, his lungs and chest feeling as if they were burning. It was clear that he was on his last legs. It didn’t matter to Faust, however. He only cared about finishing his business with Kord.
Kord stared at the Centurion, his posture still as he did nothing to acknowledge Faust. It only angered the injured man, who raised his gladius in challenge.
“Come and fight me, coward! At least the other one gave me a challenge!”
The two knights next to Kord reacted to the taunt. They moved towards the battered Centurion but were stopped by their leader, who raised his arm. The two men stepped back, allowing Kord to unsheathe his longsword. Its entire length was engraved with runes, which glowed a soft blue and radiated with serious magic. Kord slowly took his stance against Faust, his feet positioned strangely.
“I suppose you’re too much of a bastard to actually approach me, eh?” Faust chuckled. He took his own position, his gladius at the ready.
With no more words, the Centurion charged ahead, knowing that all he had to do was to kill this man. To kill the Golden Goddess’ favorite. After that, he could die in peace.
Faust would finally reach Kord, his gladius positioning for an attack. While it looked like he was going for a wide slash, the Centurion was planning to feint his strike to bait the younger man. If successful, he could finish this fight in mere seconds.
‘He’s mine…’
The thought had run through Faust’s head so clearly.
“Flash Strike.”
Before he knew it, Kord was nothing but a blur. The knight had only uttered a phrase before Faust felt something cold and biting cut through his neck.
‘Impossible. No man can move that fast…’
Blood soon filled his mouth, the world around Faust turning slowly as he fell. He watched the ground turn up before focusing on his body, which had no head. The world spun slowly before darkness.
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James gasped as he awoke, the cold water waking him up so violently that he couldn’t breathe for a solid few seconds. He immediately clutched at his neck out of fear and instinct, relief flooding into his chest as he felt its intact state.
“Too hot,” James panted out. His body was overheating despite being soaked in cold water. He turned to see a worried Dahlia and Seamus, Harald, standing behind them with a curious look. “How… How long was I out?”
“About an hour,” Harald responded, crossing his arms. “We only used the cold water after you started to toss and turn violently. You even yelled in an unfamiliar language.”
“What happened?” Dahlia asked before she sat down next to James. “Your eyes glowed again. Then, we watched you fall down unconscious… Is it the spirit?” She looked worried sick.
James winced as he placed his hand near his temple, feeling it pulse painfully as he tried to remember what had happened. He remembered the vision of the battle, remembering how it had felt when he killed those two men. It was a horrible experience that James wished he hadn’t seen.
‘Faust… What the fuck happened?! That was your memory! Why was I experiencing it?!’ James cursed out the spirit, who finally made himself heard.
‘You think I have any control over what I remember?’ The spirit shot back, his anger flaring throughout James’ body. ‘It just happened! I can’t control whether you can see my memories… Something must have triggered it… Forced us both into my memories.’
Faust sounded distressed. Like he was experiencing the same headache James had right now.
“I guess watching Harald triggered a memory,” James said, talking to Faust and Dahlia. “Faust’s memory,” he clarified as he slowly stood up.
“Faust? Spirit? What’s going on here?” Harald asked with a raised eyebrow.
James grimaced, remembering that Harald did not know his situation. “It’s a long story, actually…”
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Dahlia did most of the explaining, telling Harald about James’ situation, like how he was from another world called Earth and how he had been accidentally summoned to Valenfrost. She told him about how James, quote-unquote, ‘decided to be a fucking idiot’ and attacked the marauders’ leader, resulting in him getting a sword through his chest.
While James drank cold water from a waterskin, Dahlia explained the ritual to Harald and how they summoned Faust into James' body. She even admitted that she herself didn’t know about James’ current condition and how Faust’s spirit would affect him. Harald listened to the whole thing with a straight face, paying attention to every word. Once Dahlia finished, the veteran glanced at James, who was doing his best to cool off.
“That’s one hell of a story. I’m not even sure if I believe any of it. But I know one thing. You all meddled with something you shouldn’t have. First, it was the travel between worlds, then the marauders, and now.” He looked at Dahlia, giving her what seemed like a scolding look. “Now, you disturbed the nature of life itself. And danced on the line between life and death.”
Dahlia stood, gesturing towards James. “I couldn’t have let him die! You have to understand. I’m the reason he’s here! I’m responsible for his safety, whether or not he likes it.”
“Dahlia…” James started, but Harald cut him off, his hands raised in defense.
“I’m not saying your intentions are bad. Just make sure you know that these actions have consequences. Who knows what would’ve happened if your ritual failed,” Harald pointed out. “Hell, James is already feeling the effects of this spirit. Who knows if it’ll get worse?”
“It won’t,” James countered, slowly standing up as everyone looked at him. His headache had gone away already, his body not overheating anymore. “Faust’s spirit will keep me alive. At least until I can heal my original wound.”
‘You think it’s possible?’ Faust asked. James nodded, taking in the cold air as he smiled confidently.
“Let’s just focus on what’s important right now: Saving this island from those bastards. I might know how to deal with them, too. Call it requisitioning another plan.”