Chapter 19: Hunted.


    Three days. Nero had spent three days on the run. They had not been fun days, far from it in fact, he’d spent a great deal of them focused on survival.


    First he had to hunt, then he had to find a reliable source of water and lastly he had to make shelter from the elements of the Dark Forest.


    Almost all his tasks had been made easier by the knowledge and skills he had accrued throughout his stay in Hell. The beasts seemed less ferocious, the weather more forgiving.


    It was still horrible, yes but surviving was the easy part and it was easy because it was familiar.


    The horrible part of his days had been the unfamiliar parts. He was adrift, with nowhere to go and no anchor to hold onto. The only home he had begun to know was now the most dangerous place for him to be.


    And it was all his fault.


    Why did he have to fuck it up, why did he always have to fuck it up?


    The self loathing came in quick bursts, clouding his mind, stretching seconds into hours as he threaded his mind through every action he made that led up to this and finding all the places he went wrong.


    Attacking a guard and using his Light Breathing were perhaps the two major ones that kept coming up in his mind''s eye.


    Ember was in a worse state than him. She didn’t say anything, the poor girl probably didn’t want to plague Nero with more to worry about, but he could practically taste her sorrow.


    She didn’t want to leave Stradale, she’d grown to like the place and its people. He’d ruined that, he’d taken all of that away from her without even giving her a say in the matter.


    Much of his free time was then spent worrying.


    He knew he was being hunted, by his estimate Tommy must have told someone the truth within at least twelve hours of the incident and he very much doubted the chief would just let the Light Breather go.


    So that meant there would be people after him now.


    He estimated that when the time he’d spent being sneaky and covering his tracks was taken into account, he’d journeyed maybe a day’s distance from Stradale.


    In the dead of the night, he had seen them by their fires and after each night those fires grew ever closer to his. The bastards were gaining on him, there was very little he could do but wait, and that was what he was doing now.


    This morning Nero was tucked behind a particularly thick bush, just a few yards from his camp site. He knew they’d come to check it for any sign of him and if they didn’t notice him, that would give him the advantage of surprise to match theirs in numbers.


    For now however, there was only silence and a singular thought that plagued him.


    Did he regret his decision to leave?


    For the first time since getting here and probably for the first time in his life, he’d done something truly selfless. He’d expected, or at least hoped, to feel some satisfaction within, but all he was stuck with was the crushing weight that was the consequences of his own actions.


    The weight was interrupted by the sound of feet crunching against leaves and branches. Six figures emerged from the woods, half guards, half hunters.


    He recognised all as citizens of Stradale.


    “He was here.” A hunter said, eyes on the trails of smoke drifting up from where there used to be a fire.


    “How long ago.” A guard asked. They all had their backs turned to him now as they inspected his sleeping area.


    “Not long at a-”


    The hunter’s reply never came because Nero pounced first. He smacked the man with an elbow, sending him flying into a tree and bouncing off painfully from the impact.


    The others were still turning when his fist met another across the jaw, sending the man crumpling to the ground like folded paper.


    A hunter fired at him, he ducked and the arrow found bark instead of flesh.


    Nero dragged a sword from the downed man’s sheath and used it to block the next arrow that came flying his way. He managed, more from luck than speed.


    The hunters were moving backwards, trying to put distance between him and them, while the guards moved in to take him in melee.


    Four days ago it would have been a flawless tactic, but four days ago Nero had not learned a new Light Breathing technique. His free hand burned with light and he threw it at the closest hunter.


    The ball of light struck, picked him off his feet and cast him into the darkness of the woods.


    The battle seemed to halt in that very moment and the men’s jaws turned slack. “It’s true, he really is him.” One guard gasped, sword trembling in his palm.


    Nero met their eyes, he could see the fright within them, these men didn’t want to fight, and they certainly didn’t want to fight him. He reckoned that from their perspective it would be like fighting Jesus.


    He could use that. “Nobody here needs to die today.” Nero told them.


    The men’s eyes shifted between one another until finally an answer came. “You’re right.” A hunter said. “But if we don’t bring you in, we’re as good as dead.”


    Nero winced. “You’re right… but-” There was no buts, only the sound of flat of sword steel smacking a guard across the face as he capitalised with a surprise attack.


    Then the fight ensued, and it was a one sided affair.


    From what he’d been able to gather, any Mighty was at the very least as fast, resilient and strong as the most trained humans being back on earth could possibly be, and these were amongst the Mightiest men in all of Stradale.


    Before, Nero would not have been able to fend off men of this calibre, skill and composure while holding back, but a certain old hag had changed that. It wasn’t even due to his increase in Might, but more so the fact that she had taught Nero how to fight and try as they might, his pursuers could not match what he’d become.


    His steel smacked into men, then his fist and then his light. He had received a few nicks, scratches and cuts from poorly dodged attacks but when it was all said and done there were no casualties, only groaning men with bruised bodies.


    He looked at the group as they laid there on the floor, he let himself believe he hadn’t killed them. A lie, in truth all he’d done was procrastinate their deaths from today to tomorrow.


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    He caught a glint of something shooting through the air. Metal and sharp, glinting in the sun’s light. An arrow. An impossibly fast arrow.


    He dragged his body to the side as fast as his legs could take him. The projectile was faster, it bit into his shoulder and sunk into flesh and muscle. Hot pain erupted in his arm and it took everything Nero had not to yank out the arrow responsible.


    Doing such could spell the end of him.


    He caught another glint in his periphery, twisted, and this one met mud instead of skin.


    “It’s coming from that way.” Ember said hurriedly.


    Nero followed her pointing finger and found a hooded crouched figure at the end of it. They were atop a hill and far, far enough that they could let out three, maybe two shots before he got to them.


    Less than ideal then, but Nero had very limited options at the moment.


    Nero raced towards them. With dread, he watched the attacker nock their arrow, pull it back and fire sharp death straight at him.


    Nero ducked from this one, too late to avoid the steel but quick enough to get off with a graze to the side of his head. Warm blood trickled down his scalp, the archer freed another arrow from their quiver, and Nero kept on running.


    Nock, pull, release.


    The next shot came like lightning but Nero was fast enough to dodge, the third never came, he’d reached the archer already.


    Nero didn’t think, he only acted, his knee slammed into their face, and sent the attacker rolling down the hill with a grunt.


    They landed on their feet, crouched and with their hood fallen. Nero could see the attacker’s face now, her pale skin, even paler hair and furious indigo eyes.


    A river of blood ran down her broken nose where he’d hit her. He thought that was the source of the pain he saw etched into her face. Her words told him otherwise. “You lied to me.” The woman hissed.


    “Selvas, I-”


    “I told you you can keep your secrets, as long as it didn’t put the people I cared about in danger.” He’d never seen the woman angry before, he’d thought he had, during their jobs, when she scowled at beasts moments away from tearing her throat out, he’d thought that was fury. Today those emotions resembled mild annoyance compared to the dripping malice that she set upon him.


    “Selvas, I’m sorry.”


    “Sorry doesn’t cut it Nero.” She bit back. “Do you know what’s happening in Stradale? The Chieftain is getting ready to take heads for every day the Light Breather hasn’t been brought to him. Any heads, Nero, people who barely knew you, people who you never even said a word to, fuck, children.” She spat.


    The revelation twisted his gut, making him sick to his stomach. It was not in anyway surprising, he knew enough about Stradale’s Chieftain and Demons as a whole to find it completely within character, but to be confronted with the truth as a fact packed a new kind of punch.


    This world was cruel, it was unforgiving, it was everything people back on earth feared their own world becoming. The only difference was this time, he wasn’t part of the problem, it wasn’t his fault that the world was a nightmare and he didn’t contribute to it in any way.


    So if a horned bastard decided to murder children as punishment for not being brought his head, why should that be his cross to bear?


    “What did you expect me to do?!” Nero roared , angry suddenly, his hands were shaking, he found a fury within that he didn’t know was there, but it was, and had been for a while. Waiting, growing. “Since I got here I’ve been scared, alone and confused. I… I didn’t know who to trust, I didn’t know what to do, and it seemed like every time I star to understand something, everything gets turned upside down all over again. You.. You don’t know how that feels… It’s… It’s fucking suffocating.”


    Selvas’s eyes softened a shade, which stunned Nero because it was perhaps the most sudden change in emotion he had ever witnessed the woman show. “You should have told me.”


    “And then what?” He scoffed.


    “I would have helped you.” She replied.


    “I barely knew you, you couldn’t have expected me to trust you.”


    “I did.” Selvas said, and he could see the hurt resurface in her eyes again. “I trusted you.”


    Nero winced. “Look.. It doesn’t have to be this way, We can get away from Stradale, leave it all behind.”


    “You know I can’t do that Nero.” Selvas said, eyes flitting to her bow which she’d dropped while rolling. She was an archer, without a bow and in close range of a physically superior opponent. She stood no chance.


    “You don’t want to do this.” Nero told her. “We both know how this’ll end.”


    “I believe one of us does.” Selvas said defiantly. He’d thought it was pure stubbornness, and then his head began to spin and he noticed that his hands just wouldn’t stop shaking. “You… poisoned me?”


    Selvas’s reply was a drawn dagger and an arcing swing. Nero scrambled out of the way, only to catch a slash right beneath the ribs. His escape was blocked by a tree which his back slammed into. He groaned as the impact jostled the arrow in his shoulder.


    Selvas was intent on giving him no respite and came dashing at him again. With a roar he slashed widely at her, and that kept the woman at bay and gave Nero a moment to think.


    His movements were sluggish, arms fidgety. And he was facing off against Selvas. Nero had played the scenario out in his head of what would happen if they fought before, and he decided that it depended entirely on whether he could get to her before she stuffed him full of arrows.


    Even then, he’d been weary of her quickness. She was fast enough to match him on his best day, which meant that today, between the poison and the arrow in his arm, she had all the advantage.


    It was on him to figure out a way out of this.


    Selvas moved to grab her bow and Nero gave chase. Fast enough to reach her before she could grab it, too slow to pull back the moment he realised it was bait. The woman stopped suddenly and lashed her blade out at him once again.


    Again the runed weapon caught a fleeing Nero. This time in a slash across the chest. It burned like hot iron and Nero resisted the urge to take a glance at the river of blood running down his shirt.


    Through the pain, he tried to remember his training. Cain would probably be calling him a moron right now, but when wasn’t she. She’d also likely tell him to use his reach and strength to his advantage. Those were two things he still had over Selvas.


    Nero grit his teeth and came at her like a landslide. He swung violently, not being given the luxury of holding back. He was fighting for his life now, they both were.


    He stabbed, swung and slashed like there was no tomorrow, because if he didn’t then there might very well not be one for him.


    Catching Selvas with a blow however was a feat as impossible as catching the wind. For the first time since getting his might, Nero was the slower in a true battle and he could pay dearly for it.


    Selvas dodged the latest swing as easily as she did the first and slipped into his guard like a glove. The woman opened up her attack with her skull slamming into his nose with a painful crunch.


    It was broken, he could feel it in the way his face flared up in agony and tears leaked from his eyes. Nero stumbled back only to be caught by a sweeping leg from Selvas.


    Then he was on the ground, the last place a person should be in a fight.


    “Nero, she’s coming for you!” Ember warned.


    He forced his teary eyes open to see the hunter move in to put her knife through his neck.


    Nero willed his good arm to block it and found resistance, she’d pinned it beneath her knee by his elbow.


    Shit!


    Quickly, he raised his injured one instead. He held back his death by her wrist. Selvas looked surprised to have had her hand caught. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to still be this strong with both an arrow and poison inside him.


    The edge of her blade hung mere inches away from his jugular, and with every second that passed, Selvas strained to push it further, face twisted with an animalistic expression.


    Nero’s muscles were burning, his strength failing. He wouldn’t be able to hold her back for long.


    He struggled to lift his good arm up, roared, screamed and groaned but it still wasn’t enough to budge the woman.


    The steel was kissing his skin now, pricking the upper layer of his flesh and drawing a thin stream of blood.


    Can’t die, can’t die. can’t die.


    He reminded himself, remembered his promise.


    Was it a promise? Or was it just an excuse to keep on living?


    The thought clawed into his mind, but now was not the time for Nero to confront it. He set his eyes on Ember. Face twisted in horror, scared, terrified and completely helpless to stop what was about to happen.


    Nero however wasn’t, so he put his mind to work.


    He wrapped his Magic around his good hand and it burned a bright golden light. Bright, but useless. He couldn’t hit her with it from this angle and the arrow in his arm made the focus needed to shoot her virtually impossible to grasp.


    He didn’t need it to enact his plan however, if anything the fact that he couldn’t worked directly with his plan.


    Through gritted teeth and a bleeding neck, Nero drew in all the remaining shreds of his focus into his glowing hand. He grasped onto the light and tried to coalesce it the very same way he did when he shot Tommy.


    He felt his focus slip as the light fought with everything to come apart.


    This time, Nero let it.


    He closed his eyes and not a moment later the light exploded like a supernova, almost blinding him despite his shut eyes.


    Selvas hadn’t had the chance to shut her eyes and had switched her attention towards rubbing them in a daze. He knew just how much it stung and couldn’t help but pity her.


    Silently, without a groan or a grunt, Nero pulled his foot back and slammed it directly into her face. The attack connected hard, and sent the woman shooting back.


    When Nero got to his feet she was on the floor, motionless save from the steady rise and fall of her chest.


    He was alive and tomorrow she’d be dead, tomorrow they’d likely all be dead. And more and more would die for his head.


    He heard a soft sobbing and it took the warm feeling of tears streaming down his cheeks for him to recognise he was the one crying.


    Nero rested his back against a tree and slowly slid into a sitting position.


    There, he let himself cry.


    Only for a moment, however, for he had to decide on what he was going to do next.