It’d taken careful planning, several sleepless nights spent staring into a dwindling bonfire, and more luck than he’d care to admit, but Niko had done it! He’d beaten the bandits! Sure, he’d had some help, and he fully planned to give credit where credit was due, but victory was, in no small part, due to his brilliant plan.
First, he made a big show out of looking into the goblins, while covertly learning all he could about them from the locals. Sure enough, the attacks were totally out of character for the Hoblight tribe; they’d been peaceful for over a decade, and were on good terms with the townsfolk until the attacks began. That meant that something - or more likely, someone -had forced the matter.
Satisfied that there must be some sort of scheme at play, he set his trap, ready to challenge anyone shady who came looking to ‘help’ the townsfolk with their problem, and kept a keen eye out for anyone who seemed overly concerned at his suggestion for a more peaceful solution. Sure, he might catch a few assholes who were just plain greedy, but he’d almost certainly catch at least a couple of the real culprits, and if he didn’t catch the mastermind behind it all, he could just question the survivors. He even got the townsfolk in on it, having them bar the doors so the criminal’s couldn’t escape or hold anyone hostage, and making sure they were prepared to burn the whole place down if he managed to lose. Better to lose the inn than to lose more people!
With such careful preparations, he wasn’t surprised that he’d managed to catch the bandits in relatively short order. What did surprise him was the somewhat vicious attitude he got from the innkeeper.
“I should’ve charged double!” the crotchety innkeeper growled as he swept the bandit leader’s ashes into a dustpan. “Do you have any idea how much this cost me?!”
“Less than half of what I paid you, probably,” Niko grumbled as he channeled his magic through the floor, “and we both know you’ll be able to use this story to draw in customers for the next decade, so quit whining!” He wove his power in an intricate pattern, clearing up several pools of blood with the aid of the first spell he’d ever learned. ‘What kind of adventurer learned cleaning magic’, he’d scoffed when he first picked up the simple spell. Well, now he knew the answer; a guilty one. What he could clean in a minute or two would take anyone who couldn’t cast a basic cleaning spell hours, and frankly, while he’d never admit it aloud, he felt bad for the grumpy geezer. This place was his livelihood, after all!
“Don’t you get smart with me, whippersnapper!” the old man barked, his voice like the crack of a whip. “That’s the problem with you nameless types! No parents means no manners!”
Niko rather abruptly decided that he didn’t feel that bad. The fire that burned in his chest pulsed, begging to be released as his temper flared. Suppressing his fury through sheer force of will, he finished his spell and silently walked off. He might’ve missed a couple of spots, but that suddenly sounded like someone else’s problem.
Damn it all! He really hated that old man. It’d been years since he’d thought about his family, and now…
He felt his room upstairs calling him as the fatigue day’s events caught up to him all at once, but there was still one thing left to do, so he politely told the weary part of his brain to fuck off for a few more minutes.
“Hey,” he called, walking over to the trio that had helped him take down the bandits. “It’ll take a day or two before the town is willing to pay us. Pretty sure they ain’t about to scam us or anything, just that they gotta question their new prisoner and make sure the attacks really have stopped. You all good to wait?”
“Well, I’m not about to leave broke!” Lucy announced cheerfully. Ferris nodded his agreement.
“I would appreciate being paid as well,” Monika quietly agreed.
“Ok, lemme try that again,” Niko said, clearing his throat. “What I meant was, are you in a hurry? The pay’s not as much as it should be - I was telling the truth about that reward earlier - but it’s better than nothing, and I have just enough to cover your shares, if you got places to be.”
That seemed to surprise them. They all exchanged silent glances before answering in nearly perfect unison.
“We’ll wait.”
Satisfied, the weary pyromancer nodded. “Then I’ll check back in tomorrow. Tell the old bastard to put your drinks on my tab.” And with that, he turned and left. As soon as he reached his room, he launched himself onto the bed, groaning as his exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t sleep yet, though. He called a small flame to the tip of his finger and used it to light the candle on the nightstand.
He stared at the flickering flame, waiting for the familiar scene to appear. Sure enough, a face slowly formed in the tiny blaze.
His face.
En pyro, veritas. In fire, truth. The origin of pyromancy - true flame divination. His gift… and his curse.
He could see the fletching on the wooden shaft that slammed between his burning doppelganger's eyes, sending him toppling lifeless to the ground as the image expanded, pulling back to show a battlefield full of corpses before flickering out. For years, he’d seen it play out over and over again, the fiery prediction mocking him. The images dancing amidst the flames had been growing clearer lately, which typically meant they were getting closer, becoming more real.
He half expected it to be today. He wasn’t sure if he was happy that it wasn’t. Not even bothering to cover himself or change his clothes, he extinguished the candle with a thought.
Seconds later, he was fast asleep.
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It was the smell that woke him. Smoke, mixed with the scent of burning hair. He rolled out of bed, grabbing his pack before he even heard the screams. What the hell was going on?!
Darting to the door, he ripped it open, covering his mouth with one hand as he began to channel his basic cleaning spell. Another thing he’d discovered about the simple piece of magic - it counted airborne debris as ‘dirt’, which made it remarkably useful when it came to keeping smoke out of his lungs. It wouldn’t keep him completely safe, of course, but it was better than nothing.
Screams of terror and pain filled the air as he darted down the hall, opening every door he could and trying his best to beat down those he couldn’t. It was no use - he wasn’t strong enough to break through the doors without his magic, and all he had in his repertoire was more fire.
Then, the door he was knocking on swung open, revealing a half dressed elf. She gave him a sharp look and a quick nod as she pushed past him, bow in hand. He hoped it was just a precaution, but a part of him knew better.
Another scream and a pair of doors slamming open drew his attention as Monika and Ferris came out of their rooms, armed and armored as best they could manage on such short notice.
“What’s happening?” Ferris barked, shooting Lucy a questioning glance.
“I don’t think those bandits we fought were working alone,” she said darkly, cocking her head to one side and closing her eyes. “I hear… it’s too far, so I can’t be sure of their numbers, but there’s multiple voices laughing amongst the screams.”
Niko’s blood turned to ice in his veins. This was his fault. He’d told the town to prepare a means to burn the place down, he’d told them he had the bandits taken care of, and now… He ran down the stairs as fast as he could, his fellow adventurers blinking in shock as he threw himself through a window rather than take the front door. Cries of surprise poured through the shattered glass, followed by a fresh volley of screams and an explosion that blew the door off its hinges.
Two smoking corpses clad in mismatched leather armor greeted the trio as they darted through the now empty doorway. Monika didn’t even have a chance to question if they were truly bandits as a third man, half his body covered in burns, slammed into her shoulder first. She rolled to her feet and leapt back just in time to avoid a followup axe stroke that would’ve taken her head off if she’d been even a moment slower. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of further enemies - or the now missing pyromancer - even as she drew her blade.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The axeman swung wildly, shrieking as he charged blindly towards her. Child’s play, she thought, idly sidestepping his first swing and slipping her blade between his ribs.
He fell to the ground, unconscious as the pain overwhelmed him. She wished she’d had a more gentle way of handling the matter, but she’d already noticed two more bandits closing in, and time was of the essence. From where she stood, she could clearly see that the inn was far from the only building now burning.
The approaching bandits abruptly shifted from a slow, melodramatic walk to a dead sprint, each of them raising a sturdy looking club high as they grinned manically at the swordswoman, eager to take her down a peg or three.
An arrow caught one in the throat just as a bolt of golden light slammed into the other’s face. They were both dead before they hit the ground.
Monika turned towards her allies, her face stern. “Where is Niko?”
Most mages that studied fire magic knew spells to suppress, if not outright extinguish, out of control flames, which was exactly what they needed right now! If nothing else, he could’ve at least helped finish off the bandits, and yet he was nowhere to be found!
Did he run off, abandoning the villagers - and them - to their fates?! And after she’d voted to -
“Rude man ran that way.”
The words snapped Monika out of her mental rant. She blinked as Ferris pointed, not off into the woods, but towards the center of town. Lucy stared in the same direction, her eyes slowly going wide.
“Shit,” she half shouted, “that’s the orphanage!” Just then, a massive explosion in the distance illuminated the night, revealing a series of distant silhouettes standing in front of what looked to be an old house.
The silhouettes of three tall, armed men… and one snarling pyromancer, wreathed in flames.
----------------------------------------
Niko’s legs burned almost as much as his lungs as he pushed himself to move faster.
An arrow flew past his cheek.
Faster.
An axe missed his neck by less than an inch.
FASTER!
He had to keep moving, to keep the deadly trio in front of him busy for as long as he could!
He darted past the muscular, smirking bandits as they did their best to corner him, forcing himself not to stare at the worn down building behind him.
The old man's words from earlier that night rang in his head.
Nameless. Driftwood wasn't an ordinary name. Honestly, it wasn’t really a name at all - it was a title. A mark of shame. A name given to babies that dockside whores cast aside when they couldn’t afford to feed them, or the children that washed ashore after a shipwreck. Children like him, who'd lost everything. Orphans, like the dozen or so kids now watching him from within the worn down house behind him, their terrified faces peeking out from behind moth-eaten curtains.
More would come. More would die.
But these kids? They deserved better, and if there was one thing Niko Driftwood was good at, it was making sure everyone got what they deserved.
Rage and fear blended together as his heart thundered against his ribs, calling to the power burning in his chest. “Ashes to ashes,” the pyromancer muttered as the tallest of the 3 bandits leapt towards him, “return to dust!”
He slammed one open palm into the man’s gut, the force little more than slap to the outrageously muscular man. At least, until the burning started.
En cinis, unitatem. In ashes, unity.
It was the greatest mercy Niko could offer a dying man… and the most devastatingly monstrous way he had to kill a healthy one. It channeled his power, seared flesh and muscle, boiled blood, and reduced his foe to little more than dust.
It also drained him as much as a dozen fireballs would, making his head spin even as he leapt away from the now shrieking bandit.
It was a gamble, but he had no choice - if he couldn’t overwhelm the man quickly, he’d run out of strength before he ran out of foes. He turned to the two astonished bandits with a raised eyebrow and a vicious smirk, pushing down the guilt he felt as the first bandit’s skin crumbled into a fine gray ash.
“So, who’s next?”
If they called his bluff, he wouldn’t last long, but what other choice did he have? He eyed the arrows in the leader’s quiver cautiously. Was it today?
“Well,” He snapped at the pair, calling a flickering flame to each of his open palms as he took a half step towards them, “what’ll it be?! You feel like dying tonight?! Because I’ve had enough of your shit!”
The leader nodded once to his remaining bodyguard, nocking a gleaming arrow as the taller man leapt towards Niko, his greatsword held high.
If he dodged the blade, he’d surely be struck by the arrow. If he didn’t, he’d surely be split in half.
Or at least, that’s what they thought.
Niko didn’t move an inch, simply staring at the bandit chief with a mocking smile as the blade grew closer… and caught it.
In one hand.
The shimmering field of energy shielding his palm wavered under the strain of blocking the attack, but held strong long enough for Niko to capitalize on the pair’s astonishment. He shoved the blade aside and grabbed the swordsman’s face with both hands, pouring all the magic he had left into one final spell.
A beam of concentrated heat burst from his palm and pierced straight through the swordsman’s skull, slamming into the bowman’s arm. The latter screamed in surprise and pain as the former fell lifeless to the ground, but Niko didn’t have time to celebrate.
He knew the risks when he cast the spell, but damn if he hadn’t underestimated the impact of the mental backlash. He stumbled, a crippling headache blurring his vision as his body tried to provide him with energy he simply didn’t have. He was so close to winning, so fucking close, but close wasn’t good enough. He collapsed, his strength leaving him, and waited for the end to come.
But it never did. Instead, he heard a peculiar crunch sound, followed by a wet thump as something fell to the ground a few feet away. “Niko?” a worried woman’s voice said hesitantly. “Are you alive?” If memory served, this was the human swordswoman. What was her name? Ah, yes - Monika.
“Nope,” he said as sarcastically as he could manage. “Died just before you got here, Monika. Real shame. I put up a great fight, but alas, I lie here, cut down in my prime.”
“Ah,” the swordswoman sounded relieved, “thank goodness! I was worried I’d have to put up with what you seem to consider ‘witty remarks’ but if you’re dead, I can just take your gold and be on my way.” The muffled laughter from another direction told him that the elf had arrived as well.
“In all seriousness, anyone have a healing potion? I’ll pay you back, I swear, but I kinda… can’t see or move right now.”
“You overcharged spell like moron,” Ferris’ gruff voice scolded from nearby. The pyromancer felt a firm grip on his shoulder as a wave of fresh strength filled his body. “Do that again, and I will not heal you,” the grouchy dwarf continued as he forcibly pulled the taller man to his feet. “Is too dangerous. Could’ve burnt down whole village!”
Niko blinked at him, slowly raising one shaking arm to wave weakly at the catastrophe surrounding them. “I don’t see how I could possibly make this any worse.”
“Given how today’s gone, I’m sure you’d find a way,” Lucy snarked with a smirk. “You could’ve warned us before running off like that, y’know!”
“It would indeed be prudent if you spoke up next time,” Monika added, catching him as he stumbled.
“Next time?” He blinked at all of them, and the dwarf sighed.
“They vote to make team with you. For recording, I vote against. Because you’re rude, and waste good rum.”
“Thanks, half-pint,” the exhausted mage bit out, suppressing a yawn. “It’s so nice to be appreciated!”
“Let’s continue this conversation tomorrow,” Monika offered as she helped him back towards the smoldering ruins of the inn. Niko forced himself off her shoulder, stumbling for the first few steps as his head pounded before finally managing to catch his balance.
“Nah, let’s get this outta the way,” he said firmly, turning around to face them. “He’s right. I’m rude, abrasive, aggressive, reckless, bitter, angry, and all around kind of an asshole. Why in the actual fuck would you wanna work with me?”
Most of the traits he’d mentioned were one’s he’d specifically cultivated for the purpose of exactly this sort of situation. He was competent and clever; sooner or later, he knew someone would think to try and team up with him on a more long term basis.
But he’d seen his face in the moment of his death. It was young - not much older than he was now. While his bitterness was sincere, he wasn’t so caught up in his own problems that he was willing to drag a whole team down with him.
“You’re also self aware, pretty cute, good in a fight and surprisingly useful,” the elf countered cheerfully. “Hell, I’d put up with your attitude just for how convenient it’d be to have someone around with a cleaning spell, since a certain dwarf - who shall remain nameless - refuses to learn it.”
Ferris silently flipped the elf off as Monika took a step towards Niko, a gentle smile on her face.
“In times of strife, we show our true colors, and yours are brighter than I'd given you credit for. When the fire started, you hurried to wake others. When you realized the flames spread and bandits were responsible, you sought to protect the orphanage. I’ve met many polite adventurers who would’ve left the village to burn, and even a few who would’ve joined the bandits for a cut of the spoils. I’d side with you over them in a heartbeat.”
Niko flushed, unused to receiving any sort of praise. After a few moments of stunned silence, he muttered, “Fine. But there’s once condition!”
The others looked to him expectantly.
“I get to pick the team name!”