NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter-156 Meeting
The next daybreaks and the twilights repeated with no major change. The war still killed and drank its share of blood. Ewan still roamed the mountain and skirted the cave. And the shrinking survivors still partied, though the air of despair thickened among their cheers.
The third day brought Rain back. He came with a confident gait and a smirk on his face. After Ewan activated Norton’s seed and lay him down unconscious against a tree, tempering with his memories of Rain, they fought.
Ewan adopted his usual defense with Varos and Ryvia and bombarded Rain with his spells, leaving the Lightning Falcon to Orange, and Frost beside him for support. They exchanged attacks. The explosions rumbled in the forest. The fire spells singed the vibrant leaves and grass. The shockwaves shredded the vines. The icy wind of the next spell chilled the trunks and frosted their crevices.
Rain’s knives made their entrance, and Ewan dealt with them efficiently this time. They exploded halfway with his spell and his Ryvia. This was one of the assignments he settled in the last few days. He calculated the current damage area of the knives and any improvement it could accommodate. He rendered them useless in their tracks.
His progress shut down one of Rain’s methods, but he wasn’t alone. When Ewan’s <Fireflies> caught Rain, when he was about to explode again, he threw his hands to the side with a yell and cast a spell. A violet wave with lightning arcs blasted off from him, scattering most of the milky fireflies stuck on his body.
They erupted at a distance, pulverizing and macerating the vegetation around, igniting their remains. The shockwaves hammered the man, however, and a few fireflies still scorched his skin and burnt his clothes. The injury was considerable. His spell only limited the damage, it didn’t thwart it.
“I win,” Ewan said. Rain dismantled his <Fireflies>, but the spell still hurt him. His wounds were enough to fetter him for the rest of the battle until his death came to him. While he shut down his knives, not even its lingering lightning arcs touched him.
“Only this time, I’ll win when we meet again,” Rain said. “Don’t use that burden as an excuse then.” He glanced at Norton then stabbed his own throat with a dagger. The moment the tip of the blade broke his skin, his body warped and changed into a middle-aged man who had his throat punctured. He gurgled, clutching his neck. Blood gushed out from between his fingers. His gasps broke into whistles. Finally, he collapsed onto his knees and then to his death. His eyes oozed with confusion, and his expression conveyed the same. The man died without knowing where he was and why he was here, and more so, how he died.
Once Ewan dealt with the outcome, cleaned up the traces of battle, and checked the clues Rain might’ve left behind with the dead man, he woke Norton up and patrolled around the cave while studying what he could. His seed left Norton oblivious to the battle that just occurred, and he resumed his duty as Ewan’s ‘leash’.
This had become his norm, and the rest of the day passed away without any events.
……
The following week saw some ups and downs, but the days and the nights recurred for Ewan. The momentary relief from the storm had long passed away and the weather resumed baking the earth and parching the wind. The heat from the war didn’t help the situation either, and it only made things worse with the rotting and decaying bodies that no one tended to. They festered under the scorching sun. Their stench wafted throughout the city, reaching for the alleys that even touched the livable fringes of Drarith. It brought the flies and the risk of plague with it.
Most of them were the enemies’ corpses, and no one from Drarith gave them their funeral. They killed their families and destroyed their homes after all.
And so, Kiev called for a meeting, gathering all Ashevas in a tent, native and foreign alike, including Ewan. It was an unusual day, as the raid had halted in the middle of the afternoon. The enemies took a rest, and so did Drarith. Only the faint cries from afar and the songs of cicadas rang inside the tent with the occasional fluttering of the tent flaps accompanying the burst of hot breeze.
“Let’s hear some suggestions,” Kiev said, standing at the head of the table where everyone sat around. “If we leave it like this, things might get out of hand.”
“But what can we do?” A young foreign Asheva said, around Ewan’s age and at seventh or eighth awakening. “You don’t expect us to deal with the rotting dead bodies, do you?”
“How about we burn them all at once?” A female Asheva said, her legs crossed over, as she played with a few strands of her hazel hair.
“Who’ll gather them? Will you do it? ‘Cause I’m not going to touch them,” the previous young Asheva said. “By hand or by my Ryvia.”
“The corpses aren’t the main issue, let’s talk about the raids,” another Asheva with a sharp canine said. “Even a kid can see the problem, they’re cooking something up.”
“How is it not the main issue?” A curly blonde-haired native Asheva retorted, leaning forward, and glaring at the man who just spoke. “It’ll spread a plague if we let it be. We won't need the enemies to kill us then.”
“It shouldn’t affect the Ashevas, at best you’ll see a surge in dark and blood element,” Ewan said, leaning back with ease. “It might be even better for some who’re majoring in those.”
“We aren’t the only one living in this city!” The blonde man pounded the table and glowered at Ewan. The ice shards clinked in the glasses, and water spilled over.
Ewan shrugged. “Then you go and gather the corpses, I’ll send a fireball your way to help you burn them,” he said.
“Yeah,” Mize said. “If you’re so concerned about it, why don’t you do it yourself, why’re you here arguing with us.”
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