"I just want a chat."

"After all... You've done?!"

"I haven't done a thing. You've been kicking me down ever since I arrived, but that's on you." Thom put the blade back on his belt, his body still aching to cut the man's head off. "I will not hurt you, since I came here to talk. If you want this to go smoothly, you should probably go and search for your general. Wait, or should I say duke? You know, after he assassinated the entirety of his family for his own benefit."

"You...!"

Chamgue stood up and bashed at Thom, but he simply moved to a side. There was no point in keeping on playing with someone that didn't want to attend to your words.

"How long do you think he'll take?" He walked forward and directed his voice to the guards that had been pointing his piked at him for a long time. They did not answer, however, but only quivered and avoided meeting his gaze. They had seen him break plate mail with a sheathed sword, after all. Thom frowned lightly, and walked up to the barricades. "I'm short on patience today."

"Ku... There's no way general Miel will accept such a stupid demand." Chamgue slowly stood up from the ground. "A dirty outsider like you would never get anything out of the proud man that is Miel! Are you planning to die at his hands, this time for good?!"

"Hmph." Thom couldn't help but show a small smile, although the bigger man couldn't see it. How could he not know about the deep hatred that the general had for him? He had felt it in his flesh. There was no need for any further proof. He turned around and crossed his arms, saying: "I know very well what he thinks of me. But up until now, there has no issue I haven't been able to talk my way through. I'll stand here and convince him! I'll fight for a chance to make something from my presence in this world!"

"What are you babbling on about—!"

"I'm telling you right now!" Thom elevated his voice. His angered face turned neutral immediately after, only to turn into a smile. "Don't give me any more trouble. I'll patiently wait here for Miel, so don't interrupt me anymore."

The knight gritted his teeth and frowned, lowering his gaze. He didn't want to accept his loss, but he didn't want to die either. He had to accept that, at least in raw strength, the man in front of him had long surpassed even general Miel. He couldn't do anything about it. Indeed. In front of a monster that broke the limits of humanity, who would dare fight if not only heroes between men like the general? Wasn't it the wisest idea to wait for Miel to come by? After all, hadn't he already defeated this man once?

He slowly stood up without shame, and anger in his eyes. A signal from his hand was enough to let one of the guards know that they should go and look for Miel. The guard didn't hesitate, the man turned on a pivot and was about to run straight through the gates, when something suddenly stopped him. He took a few steps back, looked and Chamgue, and swallowed dry. There was clear fear in his face for being in the middle of such a dispute.

Everyone's eyes were turned towards the gate, except Thom's. He had already sensed the slick presence of that man, which had grown slightly since the last time they had seen each other, and the several dozens of men behind him. The black-haired man cleared his throat with a slight trembling in his hands, only to adopt a dignified pose while still giving his back to the gates. His crossed arms didn't mean he was waiting, he was simply trying to hide the trauma that made his hands shake.

Soon, that presence reached the outside. Thom felt a chill run down his spine. Maybe if he had been a little less attentive, he wouldn't have heard that man laugh. It was an imperceptible chuckle, inciting him to turn around. He bit down on his jaw with strength, gathered his courage, and slowly, but surely, turned around to face his greatest fear.

"Miel." He stated with a powerful and clean voice that did not reflect the fluttering anxiety in his heart.

"Hmph."

The blond man's face was covered behind a screen of white mist that seeped out of his mouth as he stopped, slowly showing his pale features in the cold air. His golden hair covered his neck just as much as the finely-made fur-coat hugged around his shoulder, drooping down towards his ankles. From his belt hung a beautiful golden sheathe that held in its leather a pitch-black sword, moving with every breath the man took. His smile was tarnished with the color of an arrogance that Thom could not withstand.

"Don't have greetings for me?" The shorter one asked in a low voice.

"... But of course. It's always a joy to see alive someone who had been given up for dead, hmm?" The general swept his hair back. "Did you forget to pack something up before stepping into the gates of hell?"

"What a cheesy line..." Thom smirked. "I'm here to negotiate."

"About...?"

"My liberty. And my ability to command." Thom stepped forward. "After a few months of going from here to there and thinking about a few things, I came to the conclusion that I am really no good as a servant. My talents would go unused, it would be a shame. After handling a small group of people, I really haven't been able to go back. I'm sure you understand the feeling, general?" Thom smiled.

"Can I consider this a threat, Thom Arburson?" Miel narrowed his eyes.

"Not in the slightest." The man unfurled his arms. "I am actually here to ask for cooperation. I don't want any of this to be one-sided, after all. You see, when I was talking about that small group of people, I was not speaking about any of your citizens. They're actually citizens of mine." Thom shrugged as he stepped a bit closer.

"Yours?" The golden-haired man raised his eyebrows. "So the outsider forms a group of unlawful villagers with a little hope, and then tries to convince me of forming an... accord of some sort? Sigh... Shameful, truly. Don't try anything funny, Arburson. I don't care how much you trust yourselves, your finest siege weapons wouldn't fare against our weakest walls." Miel also put one foot forward.

"You're not listening. I want dialogue, benefits! I will offer you what I can as long as you promise us a place in your dukedom!"

"Why would I provide for an outsider? You should have been long since dead, but now you suddenly appear and try to stand in equal ground with me? Haha! Presumptuous! This general is ashamed of...! Hold on a second." Miel stepped forward once more, getting close enough to peer into Thom's eyes. "Why are you coming to me? If you came all the way from your rotten place of rest towards here to talk to me, was it not because you knew of my position?"

Thom's heart skipped a beat.

His intentions of establishing a pact with Pontya had been determined well before he heard about Miel's succession. He was aware of Valta's crime and how she had struck the former duke, of course, but that had only further solidified his idea of talking to Miel. The general didn't know that, however. A slip at the moment could cause Miel to bring down any conversation and send assassins towards Valta.

"Position?" Thom smirked. "I was just searching for peace where there had been war. Isn't it common sense to brush away the ashes of a bonfire when it's quenched? I have no quarrel with your uncle or the officials of this city, but I have it with you. Aren't I supposed to solve this with you? Now that you know I'm alive..."

"You're making a big mistake." Miel threw back his coat and placed his leather covered hand on the pommel of the titite longsword. "Even if you came here for dialogue, I have no reason to concede you such a thing. The fact that we're speaking here outside of the city should have already made my intentions clear."

"Then my next step should be to bring you inside for a nice chat."

"Foolish." Miel scoffed. "I have no reason to keep you alive, Thom Arburson. Only my curiosity is keeping your head attached to your body right now, so tell me, what could you give to my city that could make me change opinions?"

Thom nervously swallowed. Everything the man had said felt somewhat harsh, but not the level that Thom had expected. Why was the general being so cooperative when it came to talking? Could it have been that, having subsided his anger, the devilish general wasn't as scary as he thought? If such was the case, Thom couldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

"I will make your farms produce just as much... No, I will make your farms produce twice as much than before, counting the winter too."

"Oh?"

"I will tend to them personally." Thom put his hand on his chest. "Your city will not hunger. Your people won't die off. Whatever you want to keep, keep it. Whatever you want to sell, that's all yours as well. I do not care what you do with it, but I'll hand it to you." He placed his foot firmly on the ground, showing a spark of determination between his eyebrows.

"..." Miel remained silent. Thom could feel a spark of curiosity behind those cold eyes of his. "How?" The general asked.

"Let's say I met some mages." The black-haired man smirked. "They're good at it, whatever it is they do. You know I've never been thrilled by magic, but I can guarantee it, your farms will be brimming with life, more than they have ever before."

"Hoh..." Miel reached for his chin. "Mages...? Tell me... About those people you found. The ones that you call your citizens, is it?"

"About that... I would rather not tell for the moment."

"Tsk. So you've got yourself an offer, and you want to share benefits. But as soon as I ask a simple question, you refuse to answer? I sensed your deceit from the beginning, but this is ridicul—"

"They're monsters."

"!"

"Goblins and orcs, they serve me. That's why I wanted a deal with you. I want to keep them safe and I want to keep my place. In exchange, I'll keep your people fed. Is that not good enough?"

"How dare...?" Miel's mouth contorted into an expression of absolute disgust. Then, he showed a wicked smile. "I see. You came here looking for the death I didn't grant you before, is that it, you filth?" He quickly drew the sword from his waist, creating a sharp sound that irritated Thom's soul as he heard it.

"That's not it! What is it with you people and monsters?!"

"Shut up and don't dare talk like it is normal! I see I wasn't wrong when I labeled you the filthy peasant outsider you are!"

"I just want to—!"

Clank!

A vibrant splash of sparks exploded as the general's dark blade glided against the crude broadside of Thom's iron scimitar. He had managed to unsheathe quickly enough. Thom parried the attack and let the other man tumble back, then pushed his feet against the ground to jump several feet away from him.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Thom's eyes were burning with ardent rage. "I came here to settle things up even when I'm this mad, and you're the one to attack me?! Has your brain rotted, Miel?!"

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"Talk all you want!" He pounced forward while pushing back his hair. "But this is the only way I can understand you, Arburson!"

Their swords clashed once more as Miel's attempt to attack the man's neck failed. He was pushed back again, and on his third attempt, he was blocked once more. A stab, stockade, slash, sweep— all his attacks were being intercepted by the man whose eyes were still candlelit. Their swordsmanship was on par, and the interweaving of their hilts made it clear. Although Thom was clearly subsiding, it was evident by his lack of movement that his hands were not trying to land a blow on the general. The black-haired swordsman was confused to the point of not being able to return any attack.

Could it be... that his attacks are so damn slow because he's using my titite sword?

The thought crossed his mind as he easily deflected yet another attack. The Miel he was fighting right now was not the man that had cruelly imprinted a mark of horror in his soul. It felt like he was fighting an entirely different person, a clone of the golden-haired general.

"What is it?!"

Miel suddenly yelled, immediately launching a firebolt towards Thom. He dashed out of the way just to meet with another attack from his left side, but he easily crouched and jumped back. He slid across the grass, careful not to trip, and narrowed his sight.

"I see... A normal man is still just that without his aura, is it?" Thom couldn't help but snicker. "Why are you hiding it? You think your regular-ass body can do shit to me if you're not pulling as hard as you can? Come on. You've sent me through the roof before. I know a seven-pound sword is not stopping you from hitting me."

"Very observant, almost took you less time than a child to figure it out." Miel put one foot forward and tucked a hand behind his back. "Isn't it obvious that I would simply get bored if I used it?"

"Hah?"

"That if I used my full capacity you'd get obliterated, I mean. Come on, I've done it before and I can do it now. Surely you won't be dumb enough to play a resistance fight with me again though? I'm still cleaning your blood off my shoes..."

"Tch!" Thom bit on his jaw. An explosion of crimson aura rose from beneath his feet and covered the perimeter like a raging fire that had been set loose. The earth shattered, the wind suddenly surging towards him and out of him. "I came here to offer my word and my labor, yet you turn me down like this?!"

"Hmm." Miel smiled as his clothes and blond hair danced in the turbulent wind. "I never truly understood how you did it. You know, have the same aura as a dragon... Yet your power is not a fiftieth of it. The world is a mysterious place indeed."

"Shut it!"

Boom!

Thom took off from the ground like impulsed by a spring, elevating to a dangerous height in nothing but a second. Miel almost dropped his sword as he saw a man elevating off the ground without a magic chant, his face showing genuine surprise while watching the other man run across the sky as if sliding above thin, invisible sky-blue ice. He quickly came back to his senses, however, as he saw an exaggerated amount of aura congealing around Thom's sword. "Oops-" Miel said as he stepped back with a grin, barely dodging a blood-colored half-moon that exploded against the earth with a loud crack.

He looked up to see a second one coming by, but was fast enough to dodge out of the way and evade it, letting the ground get shredded into pieces.

"Stand still and let me kill you!"

"Didn't you want a chat~?"

"Fuck you!"

A third slash of rapidly-accelerating gas rained down, finally forcing Miel to counter with his own aura. Orange in color, the mouth of a beast seemed to appear as he pressed the titite sword against the deep red half-moon, breaking it into pieces and sending the energy against the ground.

The debris flew around as the earth caved in, this time too much for him to dodge. Thom hadn't been slow either, and with the already-crumbling sword, he had sent a final slash against the general. The man's feet moved to dodge, but his stepping ground crumbled and he was rendered immobile as the final attack came raining down.

"Hoho." He chuckled. "Bitch."

Boom!

A cloud of dust covered the front entrance in dirt and grass, finally making the weak-minded guards fall down in fright. The platoon waiting just beyond the gates also halted, their eyes open and trembling.

"Why didn't you fire?!" They reproached the archers on the wall.

"I couldn't have hit him!! What do you think I am?!"

"Useless!" The guards nagged back at the archers.

Thom didn't waste the opportunity and immediately dropped down, landing between the mess he had created. He cleaned the dust away to find in front of him something that finally put a smile on his face— a maniacal grin, more or less.

Miel laid against the rocks, his clothes torn to tatters and his face in an unsightly manner. His blood-stained hair flowed to his chest, where a gaping wound had been created, sliding all the way from his left side to his shoulder. Splatter marks of the collision with his own aura had been created all over his body, drilling holes through his arms and legs like arrow wounds. Thom couldn't help but be reminded of how brittle real humans were as he set down his sight on this.

"Cough..." He seemed to throw up a mouthful of dust as his fingers let go of the heavy black sword. "And now you're able to fly... Isn't that a bit unfair, mister monster? Ahh... It all makes sense now. Friend of the monsters since you're not human, is it?"

"I bet you expected this to go differently." Thom pulled from the dark blade of Yorthand with his vines and brought it to his hand, then pointed it at Miel's neck. "Did you think I'd be the same?"

"Hmhm..." Miel giggled in a low, tired voice. "No... It was different this time... You feel... Calmer. Softer? Cautious, yes." He mumbled.

"Hmph." Thom didn't care to understand the man's low mutterings. "Stop talking and die already. Since you don't want to hear me, then I don't want to hear you say a wo—"

"I'll guarantee it." Miel raised his voice, an adamant resolve in his decaying eyes.

"You... What?" Thom's frown grew deeper.

"I'll guarantee the safety of the monsters you speak of, if that's what it takes for you not to kill me..." The general stated, looking up to the other man while trying to push himself out of the stone. "I'll be looking forward to the part about... Keeping us stocked, too..."

"So the coward kneels as he sees danger." Thom clicked his tongue. "Why did I think you'd die asking for your head to be cut to preserve your honor?"

"Maybe because you've got the wrong impressions of me, keke..." He laughed, but he could barely hold the pain back. "I thought I could win. Now I know I can't... So I'll accept your deal. Don't kill me, and I'll keep your people safe, provided... That you keep your part of the deal as well. Doesn't it sound reasonable? After all, if I die... There would be no one left to sign the accord, right?"

"Filthy." Thom stabbed at the rock beside Miel's head.

"But it'll keep me alive, and it'll keep you happy." He said. "The details do not matter. We're both— Cough... We're both looking forward to it, are we not?"

"How will you support us?"

"I'll keep you hidden from the church, I'll keep you hidden from the king. As long as you stay there in that forest and don't bother anyone else, you'll be safe. We can trade... As long as the merchants don't deal with the monsters. We'll give you advice if you need it. Sounds promising... Does it not?"

"What a sudden change of opinion."

"What about your part?" Miel stretched his neck slightly. "Mages? Where will you get enough to tend to our fields? And without my people seeing them?"

"...I'll do it on my own farms. We'll transport the goods. I'll bring it myself, so you won't have to worry about monsters getting inside your walls. Does that not sound good enough for you?"

"Hmph." The general looked down for a second. "Sure. If I get to live, then it does."

He stretched his gloved hand forward. It was shaking, weak, and covered in wounds. It didn't seem strong enough for a handshake, but perhaps a man like Miel would think of it as a way to seal the deal, even in such a situation. Was it really so simple? Was this all he had to do from the beginning to get Miel into place? Was the great general of Pontya's army, the same man who had murdered his uncle to claim the dukedom, and the same man who had turned Thom to a pulp, really that weak? Not physically, but mentally so fragile?

Although those questions popped up in the man's head for a second, the violent beating in his heart and the excitement of the fight from before had turned his thoughts into a mess. He had won, so he was entitled to a reward, was that not right? He had finally overcome his fear, so the only thing he could expect was for his enemy to fear him instead. Why was that hand extended forward such a tempting opportunity? Why was it calling him, saying: "come, and be a king"?

As soon as he pressed his own hand around the general's, his mind stabilized. Now the only thing he could pay attention to was to Miel's calm, relieved smile.

"Are you sure you can manage with the crops?" He asked. "Magic is just so hard to use... Even by experienced magic casters. Not only it takes a lot of energy, but it also takes a lot of time. Did you know that most third-tier spells require more than one magic-caster to be cast? It's just so horrible... And it usually takes minutes, too. Coordination is hard to achieve."

"I'm sure we can manage." Thom gripped even firmer on Miel's hand.

"Yeah, but earth spells specifically... There's something about them. Like that second-tier spell that takes about five minutes to cast at long distances? What was it called again...?" He sniffed and cleaned his mouth, then went silent for a second.

"...?"

"Ah, yes. Stalagmite." He snapped his finger. "My casters love it."

Splurt!!

Thom opened his eyes wide as a burning pain spread from his chest outwards. A fountain of blood oozed from his wound outwards, and as he felt his throat fill up with blood, the sudden urge to puke contracted his body forward, pulling him out of the crumbling rock.

"You..." Thom placed his hand on his chest, the wound slowly beginning to regenerate as blood clots quickly sealed the gaping hole between his ribs. His hand spasmed as he let go of his sword, and tumbled back towards the ground.

"Huff." Miel blew his hair upwards and swiftly stood up, casting a firebolt on his right hand as regained stability. "Good thing I always keep a bottle of this in my pocket. It's usually hard to use in battle, but thanks to your wonderful smoke-screen I had plenty of time." He pulled from his pocket a small bottle with an empty flask, which had probably contained a healing potion inside.

"Fuck..." Thom suffered to grasp his breath. He had come to learn that it was harder to breathe with pierced lungs. "A swindler... Swindled..." He gnashed his blood-colored teeth.

"How did you not see that coming? I guess farmers are as smart as a farmer can get. Maybe someone has let power go to their head." Miel sneered. "Well, you didn't have any to begin with. Your delusions, however, they drove you far."

"I'm so tired of you..." He went to grab his sword, but it was lightly kicked away.

"The feeling is mutual. I don't tend to use the same toy twice, but you've made it. Be proud of that." A distorted grin appeared on Miel's dirtied face. "But well... I've gotten bored already." His hand lit up in a whirlpool of flames as his words fell downl. He pointed his hand at Thom and was about to fire at his head, when his senses tingled and the world twisted on it's spot.

The general dived towards the ground and rolled, feeling a scorching light turn his coat into smithereens before it could catch on fire. He didn't waste his time as he figured someone had come to save his prey— and immediately shot his firebolt towards Thom's body without a split second of remorse. Although the hit connected and his body was, for a second, engulfed in flames, a pulse of light took the body away and soared towards the sky, trailing away into the forest.

"Tch." Miel turned in place and looked towards the forest, where he saw a small yellow light fade away. "So you've got some apt company, you fucking monster..."

"General, sir..." Chamgue came running beside Miel and handed him a small potion of healing. The general chugged it, then discarded the flask and sniffed the bitterness away.

"I should have asked him how many monsters are with him. But we confirmed he has magic casters. Well, we saw it with our own eyes. A spell like that... What do you say? Third-tier?"

"It could burn through a palisade in no time and invade an advanced cam. I'd say either third or fourth tier... That would be most probable."

"Did you see the caster?"

"They were too fast. To be able to cast such a powerful flight spell and use a battle-changing attack at the same time, I'd say... That caster is at least at the level of a grand wizard from the Chorus of Malik."

"Bah." Miel shrugged it off. "Unless it's another monster like Thom Arburson and Suu Dragontwist, it will still go down with an arrow." He cleaned his teeth with his tongue and spat on the ground.

"Talking about that... How did you...?"

"Hurt that man? I don't know. There was something different about him. Maybe it was because the earth used to cast the stalagmite was still coated with magic energy, or maybe it had to do with the fact that he was guarding my attacks so much instead of letting me hit him. Could it be he... Got weaker?"

"But the casters in the city..."

"I just told them to use an earth spell to distract him so I could shoot. I didn't expect it to go so well." Miel chuckled. "Enough of that. It seems like now I have to prepare for something even more troublesome than bribes for the counts... Hmph. Skirmishes with a fistful of mindless monsters sounds fun too."

They turned around and walked towards the city, leaving behind a prairie that saw in itself the marks of a battlefield.

In the distance, the crystal girl carried Thom's body on her arms, the man's body just barely healing. His arm and chest were burnt, but her biggest concern was the wound on his midriff. She needed to get him to safety quickly, but first, she needed to heal him. Her anxiety-ridden head could only think of where to land, too much to care about Thom's aura hastily raising as they got closer to the forest.

She quickly descended and set Thom between the fallen leaves, ready to begin casting her spell. Light shone between the shrouds as her angelical chant echoed in the balding forest, but not for long. As soon as she put her hands over him and the wound's regeneration accelerated, the man abruptly opened his eyes as if he had been struck by lightning. Although the girl thought he would suddenly start contorting in pain, the man's arm suddenly extended and grabbed onto the crystal girl's head, gripping it with not too much strength, but not lightly enough to be called a caressing touch.

"Do not overexert yourself. I will heal you quickly, so go back to rest."

Her words sounded calm although her heart was tremulous, shaking like the man's entire body as he tried to unearth the rage he was holding deep within. He showed his clackering, blood-stained teeth, and whispered some words that the girl could not make any sense of.

She leaned closer, and he repeated, this time lower. The language he spoke did not make any sense to her. She pulled herself closer this time, enough to feel the vibration of his voice and understand it. This time his voice reached her, and she listened to his bloodied, gargling use of angelical language, saying:

"I'll give..." He bit down on his lip. "I'll give you everything I have... So, please... Save me." A man pleading for his life.