Cursed Explorer of the Arcana

As the years passed my memories of the night that changed my life forever slowly faded along with the fear and worry that things might repeat themselves one day. I was safe, I lived well, I was relatively happy… and I was naive.

The three combatants on our side are so powerful I can’t even fathom the end of their capabilities, a Warrior, a Rogue, and a Mage and yet they’re struggling, if not losing. Plus there’s the other fancy pants who woke up from his stupor not long ago and by some miracle decided to pick our side against the knight and his own colleague and fulfill his duties.

They are fighting sixteen to four and even if individually Bennett or Steve could best any of them it wouldn’t matter, that’s not what this race is about. It’s like a pack of wolves fighting against a family of bears with the cubs trying to escape and the wolves targeting the weakest ones.

Despite the fear gripping my throat and worry clouding my mind I still have to fight the urge to turn on my heels and just… do something, anything. I worked my ass off so I wouldn’t feel helpless and here I am again, just as scared.

Just to remind me of my place one of the shadows sails right past my face, skewered by a sword radiating a gentle golden light and followed by a ragged Bennett already wielding another weapon made of pure light. I might as well just be a fart in their battlefield but that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything to make my pursuers’ job harder.

Running faster would be nice because I’m already dead last and not by a small margin, but I was thinking of something else. What if… I made decoys. Not with light magic or anything fancy like actual illusions but just a few simple mirrors of water vapor to confuse the enemy even if just for a second.

So I give it a shot, running between trees and gathering moisture along my way, mostly my sweat until a blob large enough travels along with me and I spring my devious plan. It’s simple really, I jump behind a thinker tree, make a paper-thin layer of water with plenty of salt, repeat the same thing to my right, aligning things properly, and to finish it off, running left.

It sounds simple but pulling it off within a two-second timeframe isn’t, and despite that, the trick somehow still works. A shadow actually dives after the Elyssia fleeing in the mirror discovering the childish trick a little too late and getting splashed with water like an idiot.

I’d cackle victoriously if only someone actually killed him, and more importantly, if I didn’t just catch up to the others. We have only been running for five minutes or so with carnage hot on our heels and the terrain relatively easy to navigate, until now that is.

Similar to when Martha issued that hunting challenge years ago where I was the prey the ground here also takes a dip, a very, very steep one. The scenery is breathtaking now that the curtain of trees is lifted and we’re able to look down on the sprawling woodland with meadows and trees of various sizes and colors, but… it’s also our doom.

The cliff stretches left and right as far as the eye can see and although we’re not entirely stuck our pursuers can now catch up -

Oh yeah, just like that.

The mage lady who rescued Kayla and Victor bursts through the bushes, entangled with one of the shadows and covered in blood, before hurtling past us and right off the cliff. We gasp in fright as they fall to their death but forget about them a second later as a slash cuts through like twenty trees to our left and we’re forced to hug the ground if we value our lives.

“To the right!” Victor yells albeit hesitantly but I’ve learned to give credit to his words when it comes to difficult decisions.

The source of my trust is not just his Blessing giving him an edge but also his own foolish, and twisted qualities. He proved to be a capable leader time and time again and even though mistakes were made, as expected from a simple mortal like us, I counted how many times I would’ve picked a different path leading not to victory but embarrassing defeat.

And so we all jump to our feet and start sprinting right at the edge of the cliff like tiny people on a windowsill overlooking a garden of giants. Moments later an injured and exhausted Bennett is blown through a tree, landing about where we stood and pulling up his brilliant shield of light just in time to block the purple ball of flames that seem to suck in all the light around them.

As the vibrant purple and gentle gold touch the world around them shivers, almost as if reality itself had goosebumps, before the flames slowly reach out and morph the space wherever they move.

Spatial… flames?

Then all of the purple recedes into a tiny pea-sized spot, pulling reality along with it only to moments later erupt violently with a deep unnatural howl. Trees are wretched from the soil, cracks spread all across the ground and the winds revolt reaching even us while banishing the cliffside Bennett is standing on to the depths below.

As a last-ditch effort, I raise a shield of pure mana to mitigate the shockwave and maybe, just maybe protect the six of us from what’s about to come. For a second my barrier holds… then gets demolished by the raging forces sending us sprawling all over the ground.

With hands shaking and knees too weak to help me stand again I just watch through my hazy vision as the wounds on the ground creep closer and closer, too shocked to do anything after observing the purple fire with Mana Perception.

I saw mana grip the fabric of the world like some wet towel before crumpling it up dense enough to look like a gem… Even now my eyes and mind just can’t come to an agreement on what happened.

“Eli!” I hear a muddled voice call my name. “Get up, move!”

The words do reach me and I really am trying to but it’s just impossible. I feel like I’m underwater, in some cold, heavy, and repulsing type of water. The clangs of clashes, cries, and spells marring the land still make their way through to me and by the sound of things we’re not doing too hot.

I feel someone hurriedly picking me up and carrying me away and… throwing up… Every little movement sends sickening pulses through my body and every bob of my head messes up my vision in hard-to-explain ways.

If I had to guess what happened I’d point at my racial trait. I knew it might bite back at me one day after letting me control mana like no one else but this is just unfair, I’ve never felt this awful in my entire life.

Soon my vision clears, maybe because some time has passed, maybe because we have put some distance between us and that abomination of a spell someone unleashed. Seeing what I see I kinda hope it didn’t return.

It’s not Hugo carrying me, nor Victor or even August… it’s the last knight left of their detachment, the sole survivor of their betrayal. Along with the dozens of shadows but they’re not my concern right now.

I never actually tried hurting people before, like properly, however, right now I have no such concerns. I try to wiggle myself free first with little luck because he holds me firm in his arms, locking both my arms and raising me high enough so my feet can only dangle in the air. Not that it matters.

Mana can leave through my skin wherever it pleases be that my shoulder, toes, or even my butt. And yet for some reason I still turn my head, looking at him right in the eyes and opening my mouth. His eyes widen as a glimmer of blue appears on my tongue albeit a little too late as even his reflexes seem to be slower than the instant combustion of blazing blue fire.

The flames lick his helmet and more importantly, the crevices in the metal leading to his neck, nose, mouth and… the eyes. I do feel bad for causing someone pain but right now I’m way, way more scared for my life than his wellbeing so I’d do it again in a blink of an eye.

Weak points of the human body, areas less reinforced by Endurance were part of Martha’s basic curriculum. They include the throat, some organs I can’t remember, the boobs, the men’s junk and of course the eyes. Maybe it’s to keep their functionality, maybe just shitty design, don’t know, don’t care.

As if just waiting for this exact opportunity a dagger lodges itself into the knight’s chest while he’s busy roaring and trying to squash the flames eating away at his face and making his helmet glow red.

I know I can’t hurt him seriously and that my abilities are nowhere near enough to win this fight. With that said it was no coincidence Martha forced the extra training every week. A spell is one part Skill, one part stats, and one part knowledge. I might be lacking in the first two aspects but the third one I ace.

I quickly scamper off while the man is blinded and bleeding out trying to make some distance and more importantly look for someone to finish him off. As if answering my prayers Bennett descends falling from the sky like a judgment of the Gods and plunging his sword through the dying man’s chest.

The old man is a moron, as rigid and dense as his fighting style and I’m pretty sure he was just born a little stupid but I must give it to him, he can fight. Without wasting too much time on the pretty much done-for piece of dying armored meat he swerves around me and pulls up his trademark barrier, not to defend us from anything but rather hold the ground beginning to slide underneath our feet.

I know barriers are meant to keep things on the other side but this is getting a bit too much.

With a strained frown on his face the old man marches, the barrier clearly putting significant strain on him, yet there are still plenty of enemies to cut down and others in need of protection. As much as it pains me to admit, I feel much safer behind his back, a reliable wall standing between me and the sources of my nightmares.

Then I realize why he’s straining with the shield… my dumbass is still sitting on the broken edge of the cliff like a newborn chick.

Before I can move any further, however… something grabs my leg. I feel my heart skipping a beat, and not in the good way, as I turn back and see the terrifying visage of the same half-dead knight crawling towards me with a trail of blood in his wake.

Because of course burned eyes, a dagger still sticking out of his chest and a gaping wound I can almost see through aren’t enough to bring down the knight. Which in hindsight is plausible, with Endurance in the thousands he might even survive his wounds.

Equally scared of the sight and irked by his resilience I grab his helmeted face and give him another shower of incinerating blue fire. Sadly, unlike before he doesn’t release me, instead strengthening his grip on my legs to the point I feel like it’s gonna fall off.

My scream is quickly met with an equally loud roar as Milara arrives with a sword in hand as a burning ball of rage and slams it down on the arm trapping me. It simply bounces off the armor like a joke showing just how incredibly outclassed we are.

A second later a sword flies through the shoulder of the knight stopping only at the hilt with the disgusting noise of flesh being torn to shreds. It’s Bennett’s weapon.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the old man raising his arms to protect himself, weaponless and exposed, as an entire tree crashes into him with two shadows in its wake. The next moment the sound of something shattering like a massive wall of glass echoes from the cliffside and the ground begins to move again.

Through the deafening rumble of the ground collapsing under our feet, something bone-chilling reaches my ears. Laughter. The knight clinging to me with the last breath. Bloodied and burnt he cackles like a madman as he keeps hanging on to my leg and dragging me down with him.

Before I can try crawling away, reach for my magic, or even beg for anyone to save me the ground gives in. Despite falling to my death silence and peace welcome me when the cruel ever-present gravity of Aelion takes over. There’s only the sound of the wind, the world passing by in a blur and a feeling of relief in my mind telling me I don’t need to struggle anymore, it will all be over soon.

Savant can’t save me this time, nor will Bennett or Martha or even Wyatt swoop in to save the day… It’s only me, the knight, poor Milara, a small hill’s worth of soil, and the seemingly endless fall.

It’d be nice if I always had this little to worry about, if this peace could last forever… but I still have mana and breath in me.

A fractured arm, a few shattered ribs, and countless other minor injuries hinder Bennett in fulfilling his duty but none sting as bad as the result of his own failure. Countless of his comrades fell by his side throughout the years and he mourned all of them yet their loss, the pain and emptiness left by their parting was very different from the emotions swirling inside him.

Those men and women were trained, capable and knew what they signed up for, the two girls however were just children caught up in the storm. They weren’t fighting for glory, money, honor or anything able to motivate the willing, they weren’t fighting at all, and yet fate decided their journey ends today.

The fight has been going on for almost half an hour now with no end in sight even after reducing the enemy’s numbers to six. Bennett can barely hold his own now, Bellard lost an arm, the toff they looked down on is still going strong, although the signs of mana poisoning are already showing, and Reena is gone.

Their opponents, the six remaining black hounds sent by the nobles to retrieve their new toys aren’t doing that much better.

“Please, save them, please.” Bennett hears the sobbing pleas from the edge of the cliff for the umpteenth time. “We’ll be okay, just-”

“Be quiet!” He growls without looking the sobbing Kayla in the face. “They’re gone now, get running or you’ll be next!”

It might’ve come out a little harsh but he has neither the capacity nor the will to argue with the children. The fact that Reena did not come back after disappearing below the ledge tells him everything he needs to know about the fall and he’s determined to not let any more of the kids suffer the same fate.

***

After culling their numbers to four the shadows finally retreated, likely to regroup rather than giving up on their mission. The next few days were spent in misery with all of them either heavily wounded or exhausted beyond what even an entire day’s sleep could cure.

They moved at a breakneck pace through the woods, living off the land and heading toward the nearest city from where they continued their journey to Sereban. Only when arriving in the safe house operated by the Fist did they lower their guard and allow the emotions of the past days to break to the surface. Denial, rage, guilt… It was difficult to handle especially the young ones but there was still more to do.

Accusing a noble of treason is far from a simple matter and throwing the blame on the Academy wasn’t the most promising endeavor. Blackmail and rumors are the tools of the wise.

In just one day’s work, Bennett’s investigation bore fruit and revealed that the Academy had no hand in the attack. This was more or less clear already by the fact that only one of their representatives aided the shadows in their attacks but that didn’t mean the Chancellor and the institute as a whole was of no blame whatsoever. Negligence is also a crime.

Before making any rash decision like going on a revenge streak or besmirching anyone’s name, however, Bennett returned to Granhall, this time alone and in just days. This issue was way bigger than him and there was another task he dreaded even more than reporting this failure to the top brass. Someone he wished to avoid at all costs.

“Why the long face you old fart, you’re earlier than expected.” The voice of a woman who’s been by his side for almost two centuries now welcomes him even before entering Fort Karon.

He’s never been able to hide his emotions from Martha even without any perception Skills aiding her in reading people’s minds. That’s what decades of marriage does to a man.

Bennett silently curses before trying to move around the woman in hopes of avoiding this talk with little success. Reena’s loss is one thing, the woman was talented and ambitious but the kids, especially Elyssia… His reluctance becomes clear to Martha as her mocking smile fades, overtaken by worry.

“What happened?” She steps closer.

Bennett gulps and tries to avoid her. “Later. I need to report.”

Martha just stands in his way and pulls his face closer by his collar. “SPEAK!” She commands just like in the old days.

Unable to look her in the eyes Bennett turns his head before speaking with a muted voice. “We were ambushed. They were no pushovers and we were severely outnumbered…” Now comes the hard part. “We lost Reena, she fought well but lacked the experience to keep up.”

“May she find peace.” Martha whispers however she doesn’t leave it at that. "And…”

“We tried to flee,” The man stutters. “but-”

“WHO?” Martha yells.

“Milara and Elyssia didn't make it.” He blurts out.

At first, Martha seems frozen, expressionless, only her eyes moving from left to right flashing purple and blue like a reflection of the skies above her. Storm clouds begin to gather above Granhall, flashing purple and with increasing frequency. A single tear runs down her face, then she strikes the wall by the gate in rage.

She remains calm contrary to the outburst Bennett expected with her expression neutral and mouth shut tight yet her eyes betray the storm raging in her. The blue and purple flashes in her iris soon invite actual storm clouds above Granhall, gathering overhead and thundering with increasing frequency.

Just as the loud bangs reach their crescendo Martha slams her fist into the wall she was leaning against and a bolt of lighting thicker than a cow and lighter than Solaire itself runs across the sky.

“Tell me you did your best.” She hisses through clenched teeth and with storm in her eyes. “Tell me it's not your fault! Her ever-energetic visage now seems tired and ready to give up.

“I’m sorry, I fought with everything I had…” Bennett answers and envelops the now frail-looking woman.

They lost more than students, those kids are like grandchildren to them, raised, scolded, and guided by their hands and even though the two elderly fighters can’t stand each other ever since their divorce, this is an exception.

“I don’t play favorites,” Martha whispers. “but I-I, the little devil was…”

“She was so much like you.” Bennett finishes.

“They’ll pay!” Martha mutters words of vengeance. “Retirement? What a stupid joke. Nobility? Imperial Decree?” She huffs and wipes at the corner of her eyes. “They started it and we’ll sure as hell see it to the end!”

The Thunderous Magister and the Radiant Juggernaut. Quite the notorious combatants of their time who just vanished from the stage of warfare decades ago, fading into oblivion as the years went by.

As the saying goes; old but not obsolete.