Wolf howled like a madman. The soil turned into ceramic kept cracking under his blows. Each strike left a bloody mark on the hard soil as the boy wailed in despair.
Howls turned to sobs, which died down into weak whimpers. Wolf lost track of time, and the sun set without him noticing. In the dark night the diminutive boy hugged his knees as he lay on the side. He was in the most unsightly state he would ever be for the rest of his life.
After the body finally ran out of energy, the mind started working again.
I should search for it with magic, Wolf thought.
Breathing heavily, the boy closed his eyes and entered his Mind Hall. He prepared a Find Object filled with both hope and fear.
Finally, Wolf opened his eyes and gingerly chanted. He had never felt this nervous when casting a spell.
With the chant completed, Wolf felt a mental tug. Here! it seemed to say.
Wolf got up and ran frantically. He neared the ruin of the bridge, finally stopping before some charred splinters, which was all that remained of the wagons.
The boy dug at the hardened ground with his sword. After scratching the crystalized soil mere three times he found the Ring of Holding.
Wolf checked its contents to make sure, then started laughing maniacally. He had found it! He had finally found what he was looking for!
Wolf hugged the ring and rubbed his face against it. “Father, Father...” His mutterings kept echoing in the oppressive, unnatural silence of the night.
The boy couldn’t stop the tears that once more started running down his cheeks as his mind cracked. His father was gone.
***
Wolf spent yet another night in a dazed state. When the first rays of the morning sun brushed against his eyes a hint of sanity returned to them.
“I should get moving,” the boy mumbled. “Father wanted us to reach Silver City.”
Wolf moved in a dazed state, all the while muttering every wish of Archibald’s he could remember. Or at least his own interpretations of Archibald’s wishes. Eradicating bandits, restoring order to the Empire… Wolf had overheard his father lamenting about these when speaking with Red by the campfire. He wanted them to settle down in Silver City in a way that didn’t attract attention, and he wanted Wolf to attend the Mage Academy there.
All of these wishes were more or less the same as what Archibald really said, with the exception of eradicating bandits. Archibald actually wanted to eliminate banditry and its root cause. Meaning poverty and desperation of the common man. If you fail to solve the fundamental issues new bandits would appear no matter how many you killed.
However, not all of the things Wolf muttered were what his father really wanted. Some things Archibald deemed as necessary evil also found their way there, as well as some teases. For instance All great men are able to reap lives as if their enemies are grass. What Archibald meant to say was that Wolf shouldn’t flinch from killing whenever it was necessary, but that is not how the boy understood it.
Wolf trudged on, mumbling like a madman. Two days passed before he finally collapsed from fatigue.
Delirious, and staring at grass in his troubled state of mind, Wolf found the primary culprits of his father’s death. The main culprit was the Duke of Northshield. That man ordered soldiers to slaughter travelers. But there was one other man who was even guiltier. Wolf had already decided to kill these two. But that wasn’t enough. He fantasized about somehow finding a way to prevent them from reincarnating. If his father had lost the chance of enjoying a new future they didn’t deserve it either!
Wolf didn’t know anything about the Duke’s personal power, but he knew that he was wealthy, and that the man had an army.
Yet, compared to the other person, Duke Northshield was as harmless as a kitten. That man didn’t just have wealth and a powerful army. Most terrifying was the fact that he had personally slain the strongest man in the world, Lonely Eagle.
Wolf’s state of mind was an utter mess. Which was why when he’d lost consciousness, instead of appearing in his Mind Hall, Wolf dreamt. In his dreams Wolf relived the tragic day over and over before finally dreaming of something else.
***
A giant of a man stood proudly in front of Wolf. His ragged breathing sounded like that of a wild beast or a monster.
The barbarian emperor’s bulging muscles were slick with sweat, his bronze skin glistening. The savage had an ugly, desperate look as he stared at Wolf with hatred.
He tightly clenched a giant blade that looked like a naturally formed hunk of black metal. The muscles of the barbarian's legs slowly coiled like springs before he shot towards Wolf, sending a shower of gravel flying.
The man wildly swung his blade in one final desperate assault. The giant falchion was splitting the air, aiming at Wolf’s neck.
This looks familiar… Wolf thought as he effortlessly raised his sword to block the blade. For some reason he felt terror grip his heart.
I can block it easily. So, why? Why do I have a feeling that that saber will kill me?
As Wolf frowned, wondering about this weird feeling, it happened. A woman sneezed in an elegant fashion and his sword shattered like glass. The falchion moved towards his neck at a snail’s pace as time crawled.
“You bitch!” An enraged man shouted as the scene blurred.
***
Wolf woke up screaming, soaked in sweat and shaking with fear. He darted his eyes left and right, looking for the barbarian menace, or that woman.
What he found, however, was a bunch of startled bandits. These lowlives tried to sneak up on him, afraid it was some kind of a trap.
Back in the day, this used to be a peaceful land. It would be nice if someone could make it like that again. Wolf stared at the bandits with bloodshot eyes, remembering his father’s words.
“I’ll make it come true,” he croaked, his throat dry and lips cracked.
Wolf was filled with rage and hatred for days. The dream just now filled him with terror, despair and humiliation.
He was filled with negative emotions he needed to vent and these unlucky bastards were at the wrong place at just the right time. Wolf shrieked, sounding more like a monster than a manling.
He pounced on the nearest bandit, silvery sword appearing in his hand mid jump.
***
The carnage ended just as abruptly as it had started. Terrified screams were cut short, along with the bandits’ lives.
The disturbance lasted for less than a minute, then peace returned to the night. The only thing left behind were two dozen mangled bodies, their faces eternally frozen in horror. A testimony of them perishing to a demon.
Wolf didn’t spare the corpses a second glance. He continued towards Silver City. He didn’t even bother to clean up the blood from his face, or robes, or even his blade.
As if the world was unable to stand such filth, a fierce downpour started. The rain washed away the gore and grime, but couldn’t do anything about the hatred and loss the boy felt.
Wolf was parched and hungry, but didn’t notice it. If his body didn’t move on instinct to gulp down the rainwater, he might’ve succumbed to thirst. Wolf thought about fulfilling his father’s wishes, unknowingly disregarding the greatest one. What the big man wanted first and foremost was for his son to stay alive and grow up well.
Wolf trudged on. He ignored his growling stomach, his bleeding lips and his parched throat. If not for the occasional shower and Wolf’s body gulping down the water in an attempt to preserve itself, the useless brain piloting it would’ve died by now.
Even so, with every passing day Wolf waned. He barely noticed the bandits that came at him wielding shoddy weapons. Men with vicious looks attacked the seemingly weak child, only to meet their end in short, but hairraising explosions of violence.
Two weeks after the tragedy Wolf ran into a huge camp. He didn’t seem to notice it. The only reason Wolf approached them was because the group had erected their camp in the middle of the road. Except for things attacking him, Wolf barely noticed anything else.
***
Hugh, the guard on duty, noticed a beggar child walking towards him. The night’s sky was clear. The light of celestial bodies was enough for him to see the boy’s haunted look and even the tattered brown sack he was wearing.
What used to be a fancy crimson Mage robe two weeks ago was but a shoddy rag now. Even a person with the most vivid imagination could never guess that this was supposed to be a declaration that Wolf was a Mage.
The guard took pity on the boy, correctly assuming he was a survivor from a raided caravan. The boy had sunken cheeks and unseeing eyes. He hadn’t eaten in days and walked like a zombie.
Poor fellow, Hugh thought unaware that he pitied a mindless monster.
“Hey kid. Come over and eat a bit.” Hugh raised a bowl with what little was left of his dinner. It was basically scraps, but more than enough for the little guy not to starve tonight.
Wolf no longer registered what was happening around him.
Every day he walked until he collapsed. With his senses as dull as they were, he could only register murderous intent directed at him. When that happened, the boy burst with everything he had and killed everyone near him.
He didn’t feel any ill intent now. Acting on instinct, Wolf took the outstretched object. The scent of the leftover stew caught his body's attention.
Wolf downed the content of the bowl without even chewing. In a disgustingly animalistic display, soup ran down his face and neck, soaking the already ruined robe.
“Watch out little fellow,” Hugh warned worriedly. “There’s only broth there, but you can’t just swallow it like that, you’ll choke.”
Wolf ignored the good-natured warning. He licked the bowl clean, then curled up on the ground. A moment later he’d fallen asleep next to the guard that fed him. The disgraceful display made the boy look like a stray dog.
“Hey you can’t sleep there!” Hugh hissed, trying to wake up the child, but the boy slept like a log.
“Fine, sleep there until I’m done with my shift. But then you have to leave. Someone else might’ve killed you, saying that you’re a bandit spy,” Hugh muttered worriedly, picking up the bowl from the ground. After hesitating for a moment he left his post for a short while and returned with a blanket…
Wolf tossed and turned in his sleep. He whimpered and cried, eliciting even more pity from Hugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t do anything for the boy, save to give him some food and a safe place to rest tonight. He was a soldier and this was an army, not a charity.
At some point Wolf woke up with a gasp. He looked around with wide eyes that had a sign of intelligence in them.
Hugh thought the little guy was looking around, checking whether he was safe.
Even a child has to have that look nowadays, The man thought with pity.
As he was being sympathized with, Wolf searched for enemies to slay. His savage gaze finally landed on Hugh and the giant camp behind him.
“Here. Drink some water. Then you have to leave. My shift will end soon, and I can’t take you into the camp.” Hugh gave Wolf a water-skin and the boy greedily drank.
“We are here on official business, you know. We have to repair the guard posts and secure the old bridge. Have you passed that place? Did you see anything out of the ordinary there?” Hugh spoke quietly.
Wolf stopped swallowing. The lukewarm water splashed his face, running down his chin and soaking his clothes.
Seeing Wolf’s reaction, Hugh immediately knew something must have happened.
“Were you ambushed at the bridge?” he asked with interest.
Wolf clenched his teeth and looked around once more. The waterskin fell to the ground, water running out. Wolf saw a sea of tents before him. He could see carts with building materials and tools, as well as military insignia. He suddenly realized who these people were as his mind was roused from torpor.
“Where were you!?” Wolf shrieked. “Why now!? Why not two weeks ago!?” His shout came out as barely a croak as he considered whether or not he should slaughter these people.
They had failed him. They had failed his father. If only they had come sooner everything would’ve been fine. Archibald would’ve still been alive, and the Johns and Josh caravan would still be laughing as they moved ever closer towards their destination. Everything would have been fine if only…
Hugh was shaken by the murderous intent he felt from the creature he’d fed. The guard shuddered. With a trembling hand he reached for his sword. Luckily, he was too slow. By the time the weapon left its sheath, the demon had already run off shrieking.
It took a long while for Hugh to calm down. He was shaking a bit, his buttocks still clenched in the effort to not soil himself.
“Was that a vengeful spirit?” Hugh finally whispered in shock while his teeth clattered.
Author's note:
I'm going to start adding short teasers at the end of the chapter. Any thoughts?
Wolf howled like a madman. The soil turned into ceramic kept cracking under his blows. Each strike left a bloody mark on the hard soil as the boy wailed in despair.
Howls turned to sobs, which died down into weak whimpers. Wolf lost track of time, and the sun set without him noticing. In the dark night the diminutive boy hugged his knees as he lay on the side. He was in the most unsightly state he would ever be for the rest of his life.
After the body finally ran out of energy, the mind started working again.
I should search for it with magic, Wolf thought.
Breathing heavily, the boy closed his eyes and entered his Mind Hall. He prepared a Find Object filled with both hope and fear.
Finally, Wolf opened his eyes and gingerly chanted. He had never felt this nervous when casting a spell.
With the chant completed, Wolf felt a mental tug. Here! it seemed to say.
Wolf got up and ran frantically. He neared the ruin of the bridge, finally stopping before some charred splinters, which was all that remained of the wagons.
The boy dug at the hardened ground with his sword. After scratching the crystalized soil mere three times he found the Ring of Holding.
Wolf checked its contents to make sure, then started laughing maniacally. He had found it! He had finally found what he was looking for!
Wolf hugged the ring and rubbed his face against it. “Father, Father...” His mutterings kept echoing in the oppressive, unnatural silence of the night.
The boy couldn’t stop the tears that once more started running down his cheeks as his mind cracked. His father was gone.
***
Wolf spent yet another night in a dazed state. When the first rays of the morning sun brushed against his eyes a hint of sanity returned to them.
“I should get moving,” the boy mumbled. “Father wanted us to reach Silver City.”
Wolf moved in a dazed state, all the while muttering every wish of Archibald’s he could remember. Or at least his own interpretations of Archibald’s wishes. Eradicating bandits, restoring order to the Empire… Wolf had overheard his father lamenting about these when speaking with Red by the campfire. He wanted them to settle down in Silver City in a way that didn’t attract attention, and he wanted Wolf to attend the Mage Academy there.
All of these wishes were more or less the same as what Archibald really said, with the exception of eradicating bandits. Archibald actually wanted to eliminate banditry and its root cause. Meaning poverty and desperation of the common man. If you fail to solve the fundamental issues new bandits would appear no matter how many you killed.
However, not all of the things Wolf muttered were what his father really wanted. Some things Archibald deemed as necessary evil also found their way there, as well as some teases. For instance All great men are able to reap lives as if their enemies are grass. What Archibald meant to say was that Wolf shouldn’t flinch from killing whenever it was necessary, but that is not how the boy understood it.
Wolf trudged on, mumbling like a madman. Two days passed before he finally collapsed from fatigue.
Delirious, and staring at grass in his troubled state of mind, Wolf found the primary culprits of his father’s death. The main culprit was the Duke of Northshield. That man ordered soldiers to slaughter travelers. But there was one other man who was even guiltier. Wolf had already decided to kill these two. But that wasn’t enough. He fantasized about somehow finding a way to prevent them from reincarnating. If his father had lost the chance of enjoying a new future they didn’t deserve it either!
Wolf didn’t know anything about the Duke’s personal power, but he knew that he was wealthy, and that the man had an army.
Yet, compared to the other person, Duke Northshield was as harmless as a kitten. That man didn’t just have wealth and a powerful army. Most terrifying was the fact that he had personally slain the strongest man in the world, Lonely Eagle.
Wolf’s state of mind was an utter mess. Which was why when he’d lost consciousness, instead of appearing in his Mind Hall, Wolf dreamt. In his dreams Wolf relived the tragic day over and over before finally dreaming of something else.
***
A giant of a man stood proudly in front of Wolf. His ragged breathing sounded like that of a wild beast or a monster.
The barbarian emperor’s bulging muscles were slick with sweat, his bronze skin glistening. The savage had an ugly, desperate look as he stared at Wolf with hatred.
He tightly clenched a giant blade that looked like a naturally formed hunk of black metal. The muscles of the barbarian's legs slowly coiled like springs before he shot towards Wolf, sending a shower of gravel flying.
The man wildly swung his blade in one final desperate assault. The giant falchion was splitting the air, aiming at Wolf’s neck.
This looks familiar… Wolf thought as he effortlessly raised his sword to block the blade. For some reason he felt terror grip his heart.
I can block it easily. So, why? Why do I have a feeling that that saber will kill me?
As Wolf frowned, wondering about this weird feeling, it happened. A woman sneezed in an elegant fashion and his sword shattered like glass. The falchion moved towards his neck at a snail’s pace as time crawled.
“You bitch!” An enraged man shouted as the scene blurred.
***
Wolf woke up screaming, soaked in sweat and shaking with fear. He darted his eyes left and right, looking for the barbarian menace, or that woman.
What he found, however, was a bunch of startled bandits. These lowlives tried to sneak up on him, afraid it was some kind of a trap.
Back in the day, this used to be a peaceful land. It would be nice if someone could make it like that again. Wolf stared at the bandits with bloodshot eyes, remembering his father’s words.
“I’ll make it come true,” he croaked, his throat dry and lips cracked.
Wolf was filled with rage and hatred for days. The dream just now filled him with terror, despair and humiliation.
He was filled with negative emotions he needed to vent and these unlucky bastards were at the wrong place at just the right time. Wolf shrieked, sounding more like a monster than a manling.
He pounced on the nearest bandit, silvery sword appearing in his hand mid jump.
***
The carnage ended just as abruptly as it had started. Terrified screams were cut short, along with the bandits’ lives.
The disturbance lasted for less than a minute, then peace returned to the night. The only thing left behind were two dozen mangled bodies, their faces eternally frozen in horror. A testimony of them perishing to a demon.
Wolf didn’t spare the corpses a second glance. He continued towards Silver City. He didn’t even bother to clean up the blood from his face, or robes, or even his blade.
As if the world was unable to stand such filth, a fierce downpour started. The rain washed away the gore and grime, but couldn’t do anything about the hatred and loss the boy felt.
Wolf was parched and hungry, but didn’t notice it. If his body didn’t move on instinct to gulp down the rainwater, he might’ve succumbed to thirst. Wolf thought about fulfilling his father’s wishes, unknowingly disregarding the greatest one. What the big man wanted first and foremost was for his son to stay alive and grow up well.
Wolf trudged on. He ignored his growling stomach, his bleeding lips and his parched throat. If not for the occasional shower and Wolf’s body gulping down the water in an attempt to preserve itself, the useless brain piloting it would’ve died by now.
Even so, with every passing day Wolf waned. He barely noticed the bandits that came at him wielding shoddy weapons. Men with vicious looks attacked the seemingly weak child, only to meet their end in short, but hairraising explosions of violence.
Two weeks after the tragedy Wolf ran into a huge camp. He didn’t seem to notice it. The only reason Wolf approached them was because the group had erected their camp in the middle of the road. Except for things attacking him, Wolf barely noticed anything else.
***
Hugh, the guard on duty, noticed a beggar child walking towards him. The night’s sky was clear. The light of celestial bodies was enough for him to see the boy’s haunted look and even the tattered brown sack he was wearing.
What used to be a fancy crimson Mage robe two weeks ago was but a shoddy rag now. Even a person with the most vivid imagination could never guess that this was supposed to be a declaration that Wolf was a Mage.
The guard took pity on the boy, correctly assuming he was a survivor from a raided caravan. The boy had sunken cheeks and unseeing eyes. He hadn’t eaten in days and walked like a zombie.
Poor fellow, Hugh thought unaware that he pitied a mindless monster.
“Hey kid. Come over and eat a bit.” Hugh raised a bowl with what little was left of his dinner. It was basically scraps, but more than enough for the little guy not to starve tonight.
Wolf no longer registered what was happening around him.
Every day he walked until he collapsed. With his senses as dull as they were, he could only register murderous intent directed at him. When that happened, the boy burst with everything he had and killed everyone near him.
He didn’t feel any ill intent now. Acting on instinct, Wolf took the outstretched object. The scent of the leftover stew caught his body's attention.
Wolf downed the content of the bowl without even chewing. In a disgustingly animalistic display, soup ran down his face and neck, soaking the already ruined robe.
“Watch out little fellow,” Hugh warned worriedly. “There’s only broth there, but you can’t just swallow it like that, you’ll choke.”
Wolf ignored the good-natured warning. He licked the bowl clean, then curled up on the ground. A moment later he’d fallen asleep next to the guard that fed him. The disgraceful display made the boy look like a stray dog.
“Hey you can’t sleep there!” Hugh hissed, trying to wake up the child, but the boy slept like a log.
“Fine, sleep there until I’m done with my shift. But then you have to leave. Someone else might’ve killed you, saying that you’re a bandit spy,” Hugh muttered worriedly, picking up the bowl from the ground. After hesitating for a moment he left his post for a short while and returned with a blanket…
Wolf tossed and turned in his sleep. He whimpered and cried, eliciting even more pity from Hugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t do anything for the boy, save to give him some food and a safe place to rest tonight. He was a soldier and this was an army, not a charity.
At some point Wolf woke up with a gasp. He looked around with wide eyes that had a sign of intelligence in them.
Hugh thought the little guy was looking around, checking whether he was safe.
Even a child has to have that look nowadays, The man thought with pity.
As he was being sympathized with, Wolf searched for enemies to slay. His savage gaze finally landed on Hugh and the giant camp behind him.
“Here. Drink some water. Then you have to leave. My shift will end soon, and I can’t take you into the camp.” Hugh gave Wolf a water-skin and the boy greedily drank.
“We are here on official business, you know. We have to repair the guard posts and secure the old bridge. Have you passed that place? Did you see anything out of the ordinary there?” Hugh spoke quietly.
Wolf stopped swallowing. The lukewarm water splashed his face, running down his chin and soaking his clothes.
Seeing Wolf’s reaction, Hugh immediately knew something must have happened.
“Were you ambushed at the bridge?” he asked with interest.
Wolf clenched his teeth and looked around once more. The waterskin fell to the ground, water running out. Wolf saw a sea of tents before him. He could see carts with building materials and tools, as well as military insignia. He suddenly realized who these people were as his mind was roused from torpor.
“Where were you!?” Wolf shrieked. “Why now!? Why not two weeks ago!?” His shout came out as barely a croak as he considered whether or not he should slaughter these people.
They had failed him. They had failed his father. If only they had come sooner everything would’ve been fine. Archibald would’ve still been alive, and the Johns and Josh caravan would still be laughing as they moved ever closer towards their destination. Everything would have been fine if only…
Hugh was shaken by the murderous intent he felt from the creature he’d fed. The guard shuddered. With a trembling hand he reached for his sword. Luckily, he was too slow. By the time the weapon left its sheath, the demon had already run off shrieking.
It took a long while for Hugh to calm down. He was shaking a bit, his buttocks still clenched in the effort to not soil himself.
“Was that a vengeful spirit?” Hugh finally whispered in shock while his teeth clattered.
Author's note:
I'm going to start adding short teasers at the end of the chapter. Any thoughts?
