The dark, smoke-like shadows faded out of existence as soon as her body hit the ground. Around him, arrows and spells continued to fly back and forth between the soldiers of the Empire and their attackers, with the 70 or so members of the crew below in complete disarray as they lacked any meaningful defenses or ability to respond. Alar looked around, surprised, to see that despite the Empire’s forces being entirely preoccupied by the attackers, that no one from around the pods had even attempted to escape. Even more surprising, a large portion of those who had been transported in the wagons seemed to have not moved at all, and those that had finally jumped out were moving towards the pods and their captors. Alar stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before turning back towards the man holding his knife. The man was staring at him bewildered, not at all focused on the corpse below him or the battle surrounding them as his gaze remained transfixed on Alar. After a long second, he spoke.
“Thank you,” he muttered, his own words causing him to finally look down at the body of his attacker.
“Don’t mention it,” Alar said back with a slight shrug, not sure how else to respond. He still wasn’t quite sure why he had chosen to help the man, and he didn’t see the need to mention that choosing to fight the woman hadn’t really been about saving him at all, but the man nodded back appreciatively, nonetheless.
"We just killed an Empiric Official. You can’t stay here," the man said, his voice edged with disbelief, like he was still trying to reconcile what he had just seen. But beneath the shock, there was a tone of certainty.
“Wasn’t planning to,” Alar said, turning back towards the battle. He had no idea where he was, where to go, or what he intended to do next, but he had been certain long before the man spoke that he couldn’t stay here. In fact, he had been certain of that fact before he had attacked Teara, or even boarded the wagon. Alar did not know why his fellow crew members did not seem to share his instincts, or why they seemed to become more docile as the fighting around them intensified, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
“Come with me, I can take you somewhere safe,” the man said, his tone of bewilderment unchanged.
Alar again turned back to the man, not sure how to respond. He did not know who this man was, and he had no reason to trust him. He knew the man had to be associated with the attackers, but he did not know who those attackers were, or what their motivations were for doing so. He had just watched the “Dravash Empire” capture, attempt to enslave, and casually execute his crew mates with cruelty and casual indifference, but that did not automatically make those in conflict with them any better. But, looking at the man in front of him, he did not sense the same viciousness that he did in the woman in crimson, or in Garren. What he sensed in the man was an almost reluctant drive, like someone who was forced to push back or be crushed. He had a hesitant strength in his gaze, and Alar couldn’t help but trust that whoever he was associated with would at least be a better option than heading off on his own or staying put.
“Where are we going?” Alar still asked, despite his mind being mostly made up and the answer not particularly mattering.
“The hills,” he pointed Southeast, away from the battle but not quite back in the direction they had come from. “There is a town beyond them, and a safehouse there that will shelter us.” He said the last word shakily, but Alar did not have time to extricate meaning from the man’s tone as a large blast shook the ground a few dozen paces away from where they stood.
“Let’s go then,” Alar said hurriedly. The man nodded in return and began crouching and moving behind the wagon and away from the battle. He had gotten only a few paces when he turned back towards Alar.
“I’m Renik,” the man said.
“Alar,” he nodded back.
The man gave a pained smile before turning away from him and looking south of the wagons. “We need to get to that treeline,” he pointed, indicating a small grouping of trees to the south of the plowed field, “if any who follow us are bound to the physical forms, then we stand no chance of out pacing them. Our only chance is to get to the trees, and break line of sight before they realize we’re gone."
Alar scanned the battlefield. The fighting was still fierce, but the Empire’s soldiers were regaining their footing. The initial shock of the attack had worn off, and they were forming defensive lines. Several of the attackers had fallen, their bodies sprawled amidst the pock-marked lines in the field and shattered debris. The crew members, still unarmed and dazed, remained huddled near the pods in a strange heap, only moving to find cover or avoid stray shots that flew in their direction.
“We’ll have to move fast,” Alar said, eyes flicking between the open stretch of land they needed to cross and the chaos surrounding them.
Renik nodded. “Stay low and keep moving. Don’t stop for anything.”
Without another word, they ran.
Alar didn’t know for how long. The chaos of the battlefield blurred behind them, fading beneath the pounding of his heart and the sharp burn in his lungs. He didn’t look back. There was no need. They had reached the tree-line without issue, but both men clearly felt the prickling sensation of potential pursuers. They did not know if they had been spotted, or if someone had given chase, and they did not want to find out. They ran, unyielding to the rough terrain as the forest and hills became denser the further south they travelled. But they weren’t caught.
Now, what felt like hours later, the trees stretched around them, thinner than when they were in the midst of the forest and uneven, clinging to the rising slopes of the hills as they climbed. The ground was rough, the dirt loose beneath their steps, forcing them to slow their pace. The sky overhead had shifted to deep violet, the larger of the two suns dipping toward the horizon, its light casting jagged shadows through the sparse canopy.
Alar pulled himself up onto a flat stretch of rock, pausing at the top to catch his breath. Renik wasn’t far ahead, and jogged back to him quickly after he had stopped.
They hadn’t spoken much since escaping the battlefield. No need for words when every thought was focused on keeping ahead of whoever might be following. But now, as the sounds of battle and pursuit had long ago faded, Renik finally exhaled and turned to him.
“We should be clear,” he said, his voice tired. “At least for now.”
Alar gave a small nod, gaze sweeping the terrain ahead. “Where is the town?” he asked.
The man pointed toward the ridgeline ahead. “We get over that and we’re close.”
Alar nodded again, taking in another deep breath as he did. He was about to step forward and continue their hike towards the safehouse when his foot wavered beneath him. It felt weak and empty, like he had been sitting on it for hours and numbness had overtaken it. He paused, breathing deeply again. He and Renik had fought Teara and then almost immediately afterward began sprinting. They had not stopped for at least an hour, but probably much longer. He was most likely exhausted. He had felt his inexplicably strengthened muscles and body working to keep up with Renik, who compared to any other human he had ever met, seemed to be faster, stronger and have greater endurance, despite his unimpressive appearance, but Alar had managed.
“Hang on,” Alar grumbled out, the feeling in his leg spreading and causing his head to spin, “I just need a second.”
“Sure, sure, no problem,” Renik responded, turning towards Alar and appraising him as he did, his look becoming a bit more concerned after he had taken Alar in fully. “Maybe sit for a minute and catch your breath?”
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“Yeah, ok, thanks,” Alar said, heeding the man’s advice and finding a larger chunk of the rock to rest on. By now, the numbness had fully engulfed him, and he was having trouble concentrating.
“Probably my fault, I had heard bits and pieces of what you and the Mage were discussing. You and those you landed with, you aren’t bound to any forms?” he asked, his tone a mix of inquiry and concern.
“No, we uh, aren’t,” Alar said back, his head spinning as he tried, but failed, to focus on the man, “we don’t have those where I am from, no forms or anything like that.”
“A world without forms?” Renik said, exhaling in a low whistle as he did, “fascinating… and your levels, they seem low, but the way you fought…” he paused in thought for a moment “I tried to keep our pace to what I thought your level was, but I think I pushed you a bit too hard.”
Levels. This wasn’t the first time Alar had heard the term used, but he still had no idea what the man meant. He wanted to know more, but he was too tired to formulate the words to ask.
“What.. what levels?” he mumbled, his head spinning as he spoke, before he felt himself falling to the side. Then everything went black.
--
“Captain, the secondary imaging scans have been completed and have been cross checked by the reasoning models,” a clear male voice shot over the hum of the Bridge.
“Pull it up on the central screen if you would, Sergeant” the Captain said back immediately, stress clear in his voice. He had not left his seat on the bridge since the descent crew had departed, and had watched helplessly as three of their pods had been pulled off course and crash landed, then encircled by an apparently hostile military force. The fourth pod, despite landing in a different location, had been immediately brought to the crash site of the others, implying that the planet’s long-range communication capabilities had been severely underestimated, before some sort of skirmish had broken out between their captors and an unknown third party. Now, after this third party had been apparently dealt with, the hostile force appeared to have successfully captured his crew and was transporting them toward the main city, where their imaging technology would lose them and their heat signatures amongst the countless other inhabitants.
He sighed, the weight of his decisions feeling like a brick in his chest. His confidence in their success had been high. He had thought that assigning additional security forces would alleviate any issues that would potentially present themselves, given their understanding of the local populace. Instead, he had essentially sentenced two more teams to death. Any initial descent was risky, and he knew deep down that those involved were aware of the potential risks, but he still felt the guilt grip him thickly as he sat, waiting for the images to populate on the large screen in front of him.
The picture snapped up and into focus, grainy images overlaid with heat signatures and small colored boxes indicating individual crew members were visible. They were stretched in a long, winding column, and despite these only being still images that had been captured at lengthy intervals, it was clear that they were being marched in forced formation. Bright-red marks indicated mounted figures spaced sporadically around them, and chains, restraints, or some other form of containment was faintly visible.
To the side of the image, automated data scrolled down, calculating estimates.
“How many captured Sergeant?” the Captain asked, bracing for the answer.
“Ninety-one, sir” the Sergeant responded.
“Nine dead…” he half asked, half remarked, pain evident in his tone.
“Eight confirmed, sir” the man said back, clearly taking it as a question.
“Eight?” the Captain asked.
“Confirmed, yes sir, we suspect the other corpse isn’t visible, perhaps within one of the pods, or was otherwise obscured during the skirmish.”
The Captain nodded grimly. His entire descent crew dead or captured, the mission a complete and catastrophic failure. But that couldn’t be his focus. He still had tens of thousands of people relying on him, and limited resources aboard the ship.
“Retain observation of the captured crew for as long as possible. Begin analysis of alternative descent locations, prioritizing a lack of interaction with any local inhabitants.”
--
“Nothing Dain, I am getting nothing,” Alar thought he heard a female voice whisper, but his consciousness shifted in and out, confusing him.
“That doesn’t make any sense. What is his mana density?” a male voice responded, whispering as well.
“What part of the word nothing is unclear to you? I am getting nothing. No density. At all. His body has no mana storage or refinement whatsoever,” the woman retorted.
“So he’s dead?!” the man’s voice, now only half whispering, shot back.
“No he isn’t dead you moron, look at him. Also why would we need to whisper if he was dead? He is unconscious. He just doesn’t store mana. Renik says his planet doesn’t have forms. Maybe they don’t have mana either? Is that even possible?” the woman said back, her tone both exasperated and confused.
“But he…”
Alar lifted his head slightly, his eyes cracking opening as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He had heard their conversation like he had been halfway in a dream, but he had slowly been able to orient himself before finally having enough wherewithal to move and attempt look around.
His movement startled the room’s only other two occupants, who both jumped back slightly before the woman hurriedly leaned back over him, concern evident on her face as she examined him.
Alar looked back up at her. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. Despite genetic modification making almost any appearance back on earth possible, her eyes still struck him. They were a bright amber, almost glowing, with a depth that seemed to cut through the dim lighting. They were sharp and focused, yet carried a warmth that contrasted with the intensity of her expression. His gaze drifted to the rest of her features. Mahogany-colored hair framed her face in loose waves, strands falling forward as she leaned over him. It was long, reaching past her shoulders, but pulled back slightly by a cloth or ribbon. She wore robes of deep blue, open in the front and embroidered with silver symbols that covered the length of it down her slender frame.
“You’re awake,” she said, her voice softer now, though tinged with curiosity. “That’s... unexpected.”
Alar swallowed, his mind still hazy, but he caught the way her fingers hovered near his arm, as though she was checking for something.
“I…” his voice came out rough, throat dry. “Where am I?”
“How about you tell us who you are first?” The man standing a few steps back spoke, his voice not aggressive but laced with practiced skepticism.
Alar’s gaze shifted to him. He wasn’t dressed in robes like Seren, but instead wore light leather armor layered over practical clothing, a mix of protection and mobility. He was short, with a wiry but athletic frame, brown hair similar in shade to Alar’s own but darker eyes, and a clean-shaven face.
He shifted, trying to sit up, but the woman pressed a firm palm against his chest, gently but undeniably keeping him in place.
“Easy,” she murmured, then glanced back at the man, presumably Dain. “Give him a moment.”
Alar exhaled, still feeling weak, eyes flicking between the two of them before settling back on the woman. “And you are?”
Her amber eyes studied him for a beat before she answered.
“Seren.”
“Alar,” he said back.
“I’m Dain,” the man shot over, Alar already having guessed that from hearing their earlier conversation but nodding at the man nonetheless. “Where did you come from, Alar?” the man continued, maintaining the tone he had adopted earlier, clearly choosing to ignore Seren’s suggestion to give him time before beginning his questioning.
“Where is Renik?” Alar responded, ignoring the question temporarily, “Is he alright?”
“He is fine,” Seren said quickly, cutting of Dain before he could interject, “he’s upstairs with the others, talking about what happened before you got here. He carried you here just before nightfall, said you had collapsed after fleeing our attack on the Empire. Said you killed...” Whatever she had been about to say, she had clearly decided against finishing. It was an attempt to reassure Alar, to let him know he was safe, but she didn’t want to reveal too much. But Alar had not missed her words. Our attack.
“Yeah… he’s fine,” she continued, pivoting quickly. “So, where did you come from?”
His concerns about Renik and his location at least partially satiated, and feeling like he finally had the opportunity to get some actual answers, he explained. Starting from the beginning, he laid it all out, how they had descended from orbit, the crash landing, and their capture by the Empire. He described Teara and the shadows she had conjured, the way they had fled through the hills, and his unexpected collapse just outside of town.
When he finished, they didn’t respond right away. Instead, they exchanged a look, that same uncertain, bewildered expression he had seen more times than he could count since arriving. It wasn’t just skepticism, it was like they were trying to make sense of something that they couldn’t rationalize.
Alar exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before fixing them with a tired but pointed stare. He needed answers.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ve told you everything I know. I’m new to this planet. I don’t know your customs, your rules, or how things are supposed to work here. But every time I say anything, I get these looks like I’m saying something that doesn’t make sense. So if I’m missing something important, I’d really appreciate it if someone would just tell me what the hell is going on.”
Seren looked back at him, still confused, but with a bit of empathy present in her expression. She paused for a second, clearly thinking about her words carefully.
“Alar, back on your planet, what level are you?”
"Level?" Alar repeated, tired of the word at this point. "I don’t know what that means. You’re the third person to mention them today, but where I’m from, we don’t have levels. We don’t have mana. We just… are?"
Seren exchanged a glance with Dain before turning back to him.
“Alright. This… might take a moment to explain.”