We aren’t born cynical. Cynisim is a defensive trait earned through hard-won trials in life. It helps strip away the mask and reveal the beast beneath.
~Arawn, God of the Dead
The armed men were left flatfooted as they watched Crow dash toward the treeline. Only now noticing that the boy wasn’t wearing shoes. None of them knew what to make of the chaotic introduction of Crow into their conflict. Even stranger, no one stopped him, nor did they continue pointing their weapons toward him. The situation, from their perspective, was bizarre no matter how they looked at it. They weren’t sure what to make of him.
However, once the first dryad appeared, they became the professionals they were hired to be.
Crow swung Mor-Rioghain in an upward arc, a powerful strike that maximized his Body’s potential. The blade tore through the dryad and its bark skin shattered. Green viscous goo poured out from the wound, and the dryad fell back, nearly cleaved in half. Its bramble-like appendages scrabbled at the ground as it felt its vitality leaking out into the dirt below.
The slash surprised Crow. He hadn’t expected his Body to have improved that much from the Myriad of Beasts. It wasn’t his strength that had greatly improved, but his speed. Even with his armor and blade in hand, he felt light and nimble. Darting between his enemies, he struck down three more before taking his first wound.
Twig-like fingers raked across his exposed arm, but unlike twigs, they weren’t brittle or easily broken. The iron-like wood gouged flesh, and Crow hissed in pain. Almost without thinking, Crow summoned a bright orb of fire. It was so compact it was the size of ammo for a sling. Without hesitation, he threw it at the dryad’s face. Unable to react in time, the orb burned through the dryad’s eye socket and burrowed into its fibrous brain.
Blood continued to drip from his arm, but he could only ignore it for now. The burning sensation he felt from the wound wasn’t good because it was highly probable he’d been poisoned.
“Down,” a gruff voice commanded from behind Crow, and he dropped to his knee while his falcata kept attacking and defending. Above him, the air was displaced as an ax sliced through where his head had been. A dryad rushing from Crow’s side was cut in half and blown back by the force of the blow. The dryad became deadly toward the ones behind it, and just like that, the ambusher’s line was breached.
Blood flowed from a few scratches on his face and arms, but Crow kept up the pressure. As he passed through their line, he turned and attacked the Rootless from behind. The man with the ax followed him, and although they had never fought together before, no one would have suspected it.
Crow’s sudden appearance had disrupted the ambush. He really would have stayed out of the entire affair if it weren’t for the Rootless. The anger and revulsion toward this particular type of Rootless was due to his resentment from his childhood trauma. Crow knew it, too, but he didn’t lose himself to irrational behavior. It was one of the hardest lessons his father taught him—literally beat him until every action during combat was taken with a clear mind.
With no more dryads left, he turned back and dispatched those that were still alive. Not giving them a smidgen of mercy. Watching him, the guard with the ax chuckled and assisted him in the gruesome task. Once done, Crow took a moment to clean his blade and stow it.
“You will need to clean those wounds.”
Crow nodded weakly. “Guard me for a moment.”
“Sure.”
Night Fire was released into his body, and he gasped as it raged. The tainted mana in his body was purified, and black smoke came from his open wounds. The injuries on his body stopped bleeding as the fire slowly cauterized them, but Crow knew this method wouldn’t leave scars. His resistance toward fire was too high to leave burn wounds. It wasn’t the most ideal way to heal himself, but it was effective in a pinch. Later, he’d cultivate and heal the wounds properly.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Done?”
“For now.”
“I’m called Hodd,” the man said and held out his hand, which was covered with green blood.
“Crow,” he replied and shook the hand without hesitation.
“You fight well. Who taught you?”
“My father, uncle, and sometimes my grandfather.”
“Was it your choice to use a falcata?”
“It was. I’m fond of tradition, and it is a blade used by our clan as far back as can be documented.”
“If you are looking for work, find the Dead Men Mercenary group. You can find us in Rosdoe; just ask around. And take this,” Hodd tossed out a coin, but it wasn’t a currency. It felt like a Mana Crystal but had a strange symbol on one side, and on the other was a text he couldn’t read. “I’m one of the small bosses, so that token will allow you to join our missions and take part of the commission.”
Crow nodded, and the token disappeared into his Shield. Hodd’s approach toward recruiting him was soft, and it was the best way to get Crow’s interest. He wasn’t sure if this older guard accurately judged the situation or if that was just how he was. Crow felt Hodd was sincere because their synergy while fighting was not faked. Either they were natural allies, or Hodd was so powerful he could control the ebb and flow of the fight. There might be more sinister reasons, but Crow wouldn’t judge the man unjustly.
Both of them were surveying the situation and noticed a handful of people had been killed by the dryads. Crow had only attacked the area where the Rootless were the densest, but the wagon had truly been surrounded.
“I’ll find you in the future if we are fated,” Crow said but felt a little guilty mentioning fate.
“Either way, thank you for the warning. That could have been disastrous,” Hodd chuckled and clapped Crow on the shoulder. “You should really wear shoes on a battlefield.”
“Do you know what toxin those things used?” Crow asked, worried about his friends.
“It is called Plant Rot, and it was how they destroyed the wagon wheels. Don’t worry. For humans, it isn’t lethal. At worst, you’ll be weak or sick for a day. A simple ointment that can remove toxins in your body is enough to cure it.”
Crow noted that, and later, he’d find a library to read up on common tower maladies. Song Lin probably knew the necessary information, but it never hurt to be prepared.
“Thanks,” Crow replied while they both walked toward the road and group of injured mercenaries. There were already people tending to them, but the number of dryads that attacked wasn’t small. Crow really had inadvertently saved their lives.
He knew his journey would be dangerous enough as it was, so it was best to create his own luck or karma. Hiding what he could do seemed like one of the best ways to make people underestimate him, and rescuing people was a great way to sow karma. Today’s events pleased Crow, but he wasn’t about to stick around either. Especially since the two parties from before didn’t seem inclined to continue their fight.
“I’m taking off. I don’t know what you were fighting over earlier, but it’s best if I disappear before they order you to do something to silence me. Oh, and usually, if there are this many dryads in an area, there is an Elder Dryad. Don’t underestimate it.”
Hodd chuckled at Crow’s retreating back. “What an interesting brat…”
Everyone was so stunned by everything that happened that Crow’s actions were barely noticed. By the time they paid attention to the person who intruded on them, he was already disappearing around the bend of the road ahead. After rounding the bend, he used Ghost Steps and vanished into the forest. Without leaving a footprint or any other sign, it was nearly impossible to track him.
Crow worried about their lack of attention to their surroundings. Mercenaries should have been aware of the situation and suspected they were biding their time. The more he thought about the situation he just left, the more confused he became. Nothing about it seemed normal. Now that he was analyzing faces, he could see a bit of awkwardness and resentment among the group when he walked by them initially. Even after saving them, a few vicious gazes were cast in his direction.
It was also why he didn’t turn into the Silver-Eyed Crow and to Rosdoe. And because it felt like he missed something, Crow fled the scene and used every method he knew to avoid getting tracked. Whatever happened next had nothing to do with him. There was no way he would become a borrowed knife or an unwitting pawn.
Lily approached and directly entered his Soulscape.
“Anything?”
*Wagon was empty.*
“Sense anything weird?”
*Torn ropes. They looked like they’d been gnawed off. Maybe a prisoner?*
“Odd.”
*Want me to follow them and find out what they are up to?*
“No. Let’s not create any more karma between them and us. I’d rather not get implicated in whatever they are doing.”
*What now?*
“We go meet up with the others. Acco seems to have linked up with the Song sisters, and everyone else is now at Rosdoe. When we get there, help me find and watch the Dead Men Mercenaries.”
*Why? Thought you didn’t want to build karma with them.*
“No, I don’t want anything to do with Pencil and Meatball. Hodd is another story, he seems capable, and if it came down to just martial talent, I’m not his equal. It’d be good to learn from him, but I don’t want to participate in anything nefarious. I have enough problems.”
Lily giggled but agreed to assist him.