《The Forgotten Lands》


 Chapter 1: Leaving behind old ways

    The sun is beginning to set, tinting the sky in a golden hue not too un-similar to the dead flora of the local area, just a few miles North of a poor village called Drayton. To on a riding on my left is Goran, swaying from side to side like a charmed snake a saw once in a traveling man¡¯s act as a child¡­ Only the snake wasn¡¯t snoring.


    On the other side of him was Dahlia, who promptly kicked him awake, warning him.


    ¡°If you continue sounding like a bear, one will soon find you looking for a mate!¡±


    ¡°From th¡¯ look of ye¡¯ I suppos¡¯ that you¡¯re that Bea-¡± His words catching in his throat as the butt of her spear slams into his ribs, causing him to lose his balance and fall out of his saddle. His leg stuck in the stirrup, leaving Goran upside down with his face dragging along the dusty road. I suspect his horse noticed, as it seemed to speed up slightly, much to Goran¡¯s dismay, who starts flailing around creating a dust cloud emanating various curses and threats aimed at Dahlia.


    On my right is my closest friend Torben, to whom I glance over at, noticing him slumped in his saddle, vaguely resembling the sleeping bear likely to pay Goran a visit and I therefore judge it best to let him sleep, rather than risk losing a hand.


    After traveling 5 more miles, we made camp in the dark, not daring to start a campfire. I awoke to see the sun, early in the sky and slowly started to stretch to release the stiffness from sleeping rough. As I lay back, looking at the morning sky, I heard a near inaudible sound and my body froze. I lay there for what seemed an eternity and focused my ears, though in reality it was only a few moments.


    Suddenly, in the distance I heard the neigh of a horse, acting as signal to prompt me into action.


    I shot up, rousting my mates into a dull consciousness and the four of us were in our saddles riding hard for the ¡®Watching Wood Forest¡¯ located North of Drayton, praying that we were not seen by the distant cavalry.


    Some hours later we stopped to rest and water our horses, whilst eating some of our (my) rations, since game in this desolate region is very scarce. Not that we have enough time to hunt and cook it before moving once more anyway.


    It should only be a couple hours ride to the forest, where food should be easier to find¡­ Hopefully.


    Sat across from me on a log was Dahlia, chewing on a small piece of salted beef.


    ¡°Persistent Bastards ain¡¯t they Raegan, to think they¡¯d want your sorry hide enough to chase you this far North¡±


    I smirk, replying.


    ¡°Some reason I don¡¯t think they¡¯d just leave you alone either, though I guess there¡¯s a chance they just intend to drag me back and punish me a little. You¡¯d defiantly be killed though.¡±


    ¡°You really know how to cheer up a lady.¡±


    ¡°Shame there aren¡¯t any around here then, or else I could put that cheer¡¯n to use.¡±


    Goran and Torben walk over from their horses and sit down, the skinny 6¡¯ft Goran being juxtaposed  by Torbens huge burly stature. Goran, seeing no one has any intention to speak stands up, moving in-between everyone.


    ¡°If I may have your attention, I will be today''s entertainment!¡±


    30 seconds later everyone was mounted and the ¡®Entertainer¡¯ had a couple of new bruises. And so we continued North.


    We rode over the next hill, spilling onto the plains to see twenty or so of the Sand Scorpions to the north seemingly waiting for us, knowing double that number are behind us. This leaves West and East as an escape route, with west leading to the ¡®edge of the world¡¯ and therefore not being an option. Towards the east is the Forgotten Lands and near certain death or so I hope, as they won¡¯t follow us through that wasteland if they have any sense.


    I signal the others to follow me, riding East and slightly North to cut through the corner of the forgotten lands in the hope of not going deep enough to be eaten by some abomination and wishing even more that they¡¯d have a taste for some dirty raiders.


    After two hours ride with near to 80 riders on our tail we reached the edge of the Barrens and to my surprise, 50 of them followed us in with the Sand Scorpions leader at their head, the remaining 30 being either too scared to enter or are cursing their horses that abruptly stopped before this cursed land.


    A day has passed since we lost sight of the raiders behind us and we have gotten little sleep for fear of not waking up, even though we have yet to see any monsters that reside here but there is always a sense on unease, as if something lurks just outside your sight.


    Around midday we are climbing over a large rocky hill, carefully traversing a safe¡­ish path in an attempt to not injure any horses who could misstep, or more likely Goren, who has already tripped up three times since the trek.


    I notice our horses become nervous and shy away from the hilltop, a very bad sign since horses tend to have much better senses than us. Therefore, we tie them to a nearby, and long-dead tree, ready our weapons and move forwards to get more information.


    Both me and Torben have an iron longsword and an old shield, Goran having a short-bow and a few throwing daggers, and Dahlia having a spear, with an wide iron spearhead.


    At the top of the rise we received a reminder that these deserts are not as empty as they seem.


    Bodies of horses and men were scattered around, not one of them being whole, many no more than scraps of an arm or leg. A gnarly piece of flesh, desperately clinging to a shattered bone.


    Amongst the dead were crow-like creatures tearing at the carrion, known as Tengu, two metre tall birds who flock towards bodies in and around the Forgotten Lands, the main reason those in the barons burn their dead. That and the possibility they crawl out of their graves to seek flesh¡­ probably just a false wives-tale, but one that is widely treated as fact.


    Luckily, there is only six of the monstrosities, but unluckily they¡¯ve noticed us and tend to be aggressive to those who disturb their meal¡­ or perhaps they see us as food? The six Tengu then soar into the air, shrieking in anger before swooping towards us, three of them falling out of the air as they¡¯re picked off by Goran¡¯s arrows before they¡¯re upon us, each one taking at least two arrows to kill.


    Then my vision becomes a whirlwind of jet-black feathers, momentarily stunning me as two set of talons reach for my face, intent on tearing it off. I slightly lean back, the blood-stained talons narrowly missing my face, being so close I could lick them clean.


    However suddenly leaning back had left me unbalanced, I felt myself falling backward and I blindly swung towards the Tengu¡¯s chest, being rewarded with a shrill screech of pain and droplets of warm blood landing on my face.


    The crow stood over me, then attempting to tear out my throat with its beak, allowing me to momentarily notice its chest wound wasn¡¯t nearly as deep as I would have hoped.


    It continued to go for my throat, each time I slash at its face to drive it back¡­ If I had dropped this sword when I fell, I likely would have already died 10 times over.


    An arrow then hits it slightly left of its collar bone (provided they have collar bones) and it looks up with eyes full of rage, I follow its gaze to see Goran drawing another arrow from his quiver with a wide smile that shows way too much teeth. The Tengu forgets about me as it dashes towards Goran, half running, half gliding, not giving Goran enough time to loose another arrow. Dahlia runs past me, spear in hand and throws it 15ft at the over-sized carrion, impaling it through the side of its chest.


    I look around to assess the situation; Torben is standing over a decapitated Tengu, with a large cut just above his right eye. The bird that attacked me before being killed by Dahlia is twitching as it draws its final breath, and Dahlia¡¯s original foe is lifeless, with a spear wound through its heart¡­ Providing they have hearts to begin with.


    ¡°Well¡­um¡­ thank¡¯ ye¡¯ I guess, not too fon¡¯ of becomin¡¯ bird feed.¡± Goran mumbled looking at the corpse only 2ft away from him.


    Dahlia, ignoring Goran walked over to Torben, putting a hand on his wound


    *Lesser heal*


    Torben¡¯s cut slowly closes, leaving a new scar on his face to match that across his jaw, caused by a thugs dagger some years ago.


    ¡°Should be careful doin¡¯ tha¡¯ magi stuff, get you executed it would if anyon¡¯ found out!¡± Goran says as if giving out wise knowledge.


    ¡°¡­ We¡¯re in the middle of a fucking wasteland you dolt. Who is going to find out?¡± Dahlia growls.


    ¡°Umm¡­ other magi men an¡¯ that¡±


    ".....¡± Goran certainly isn¡¯t the smartest of my¡­ Associates.


    We walk back to our horses and after a short break start heading north, travelling around the plane of ex-raiders, as our horses would refuse to go near. Though horses that grow up near the forgotten lands are more accustomed to the uneasy feeling it emits, ours aren¡¯t trained warhorses accustomed to being near death and blood.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.I am not sure what slaughtered our pursuers and I don¡¯t want to find out. Judging by the fact no one else has raised the question either, it is probably best to leave the conversation to an indefinably later time.


    And so we continue north.


    *Campsite- Night*


    We traveled for two more days north towards the border of a small kingdom called Taldar, in which I was going to look for work in the military or a mercenary group.


    I will use that to take advantage of their training, whilst saving money and hopefully not dying in the process.


    After I¡¯ve saved up some money, I would be free to¡­ Ok, I actually don¡¯t know what I want to do after that, but I should have a decent amount of time to think of something.


    We are all gathered around a crackling fire, with the smell of cooking meat in the air as a skinny doe hangs over the flames. Thanks to Goran¡¯s hunting earlier today, though he¡¯s an idiot, he still has uses. Kind of like using a crappy sword as a walking stick, with his mind as the sword.


    Dahlia was the first to speak.


    ¡°¡­ Ok. So now we should be out of danger and can think straight, what do we plan to do?¡±


    ¡°Gunn¡¯ go north-wes¡¯ to tha¡¯ bigger lan¡¯¡­ Valkesh I thinks its called.¡± Goran answers whilst eying tonight dinner, a slight sliver of drool escaping his mouth.


    ¡°Perhap¡¯ you should join a traveling circus then, it¡¯ll suit you.¡± I mock, whilst stifling a chuckle.


    ¡°Wait¡­ That¡¯s a great idea, doin¡¯ tha¡¯ I can earn me wage an¡¯ explor¡¯ around the world!¡± Goran exclaims, beaming like a madman who finally remembered where he put his secret stash of imaginary gold.


    ¡°¡­¡± -Me


    ¡°¡­¡± -Dahlia


    ¡°¡­¡± -Torben


    I decided to break to silence.


    ¡° I intend to join a mercenary company¡­ And, uh¡­ Torben¡¯s also coming.¡±


    Ok, maybe I hadn¡¯t asked him yet, but he hasn¡¯t left my side since we were four, (we¡¯re both 20 years old now) and it took me 10 years to get him to sleep in his own bed. With nothing weird happening in the mean time¡­


    Torben stays silent, I stare at him for a few seconds to see if he has any complaints, he notices me and gives a wink. Creepy.


    Dahlia is the last to comment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t intend to join you Raegan, no offense but it seems like a good way to reach an early grave. Which is the reason why I¡¯m leaving the Barrens in the first place. So I think I¡¯ll go with Goran into Valkesh and go it alone from there.¡±


    To be honest I had not expected for us all to stick together, but it still hurts splitting up from two people you¡¯ve been with for years.


    Probably best to not feel sorry for myself.


    We ate, slept and set off once more towards Taldar¡¯s border. We arrived there at Darkfen forest at midday, which marked the southern border of Taldar and we cautiously entered the wood.


    I have only been out of the barrens a few time, all of which was during a job in my days as a member of the Sand Scorpions, whom got very upset when I robbed most of their gold and set off for greener pastures.


    Anyway, unlike in the barrens, this forest is very¡­ Green. I can actually hear bird songs as they flutter between trees and even see the occasional squirrel.


    Though this kingdom does have a Forgotten Land to its south-east border, it is relatively far from a dense white fog that border the ¡®edge of the world¡¯ that stops things from growing properly and kills off livestock with ¡®supernatural plagues¡¯.


    Because of this distance, the ground should be fertile and its citizens relatively well fed, but it is far from a prosperous land, as the majority of its military force is on the border fighting monsters attracted to villages and towns.


    As a result, there hasn¡¯t been a kingdom on kingdom war in over 200 years due to that weakening your military force can put your own villages at risk and any land you conquer is likely to have its own Forgotten Lands nearby, which you¡¯ll have to defend, further stretching out your military power.


    While I¡¯m in deep thought, Torben speaks up.


    ¡°Why is there no border control or checkpoints in case of a raiding party attacking one of their southern villages?¡±


    ¡°Wait. Aren¡¯t you and Raegan one of those who¡¯ve raided this area before, what if you get recognized?¡± Dahlia asks in a slightly amused tone.


    ¡°That¡¯s the point. Last time we were ¡®ere we had to avoid small groups of soldiers patrolling the edge of the forest, and since we raided them anyway, shouldn¡¯t there be more security here?¡±


    ¡°That¡­ Is certainly strange. Probably best to keep on guard, hey Raegan! How far to the nearest village?¡±


    I pull out a crude map of this area I procured off the Sand Scorpions before I left, that was made the last time we raided this area for ¡®future reference¡¯.


    ¡°Just half an hour north, not far.¡±


    Soon we arrive at a small hunting village called Kurst, coincidentally the one we raided a little over a year ago. Unlike last time, and probably because of us, the village has a small wooden wall around it that is around 15ft high.


    We walk up to the main gate that has a sentry post on each side and we are hailed by one of these sentries. A tall man around 40 with black hair, going grey in place, with a bow in hand and looking at us with hawk-like eyes.


    Probably one of the village hunters, not that I recognize him though. Oh, and on Dahlia¡¯s previous worry we would be recognized, we were both masked and neither of us spoke to any villagers, so there is no chance of us being recognized. Hopefully.


    The Hawk-eyed man shouts out in a gruff voice


    ¡°What business do you have here, and I don¡¯t need no trouble makers!¡±


    ¡°We have silver and a couple of rabbits to sell if your interested.¡±


    He thinks for a couple of seconds and looks us over once more.


    ¡°Fine, but if you draw those weapons in the village, your gunna have a arrow in your skull soon after.¡±


    He disappears from his post for a minute or two before the gates slowly swing open.


    Walking in to the village I have to admire their resilience, there is no building damage or poorly done repairs and if you factor in the new wall, the village is in even better condition it was before my first visit.


    There are 16 houses, 1 storage building with two hunters guarding the entrance, a slightly bigger house which is probably for the village elder and a town centre with a large cooking pit in the middle used for communal dinners.


    Due to this being a small village and that it is at the border, it get very little visitors and therefore has no inn, not that I intend to stay the night. We head to the village elder to trade, swapping our two hunted rabbits, thanks to Goran, for some dry rations and food for the horses.


    After an hours rest, we set off for a larger fishing village in the centre of the forest, called Darkfen village.


    It took us the rest of the day to get to the larger village, which hopefully should have somewhere to stay the night, because I am sick of sleeping under a tree. Nothing eventful happened on the way there, nor do Goran get anymore game¡­ Useless Goran.


    Unlike the last village, this one was accustomed to travelers passing through, so we got in without a problem and headed to the ¡®Black Trout¡¯ Tavern/Inn.


    When we walk in, we are greeted by the sound of intoxicated laughter, the smell of alcohol and fish. We sat down at a table in the corner of the room, ordered some drinks and salted fish, after all it is their specialty. Not to mention the only food they actually serve.


    I notice a peculiar group of four, almost as suspicious as our own group, almost. I notice they are all wearing an emblem of a vicious dog on a pendent hanging loosely from around each of their necks. Therefore I decide to approach them, with the ringleader looking to be a talkative brown haired man around 23.


    Judging by the worn leather armour they wear, they are mercenaries or something similar.


    I speak to the talkative one.


    ¡°Hey there, I was just passing through this village whilst looking for employment through the use of arms. I was wondering if you could help.¡±


    He replies with a wide grin, though from how his eyes are judging my worth, he clearly isn¡¯t as drunk as he seems or at least, he can still think straight whilst drunk.


    ¡°An¡¯ perhaps I can help you with that. I¡¯m Argus Makris, a part of the black hound mercenary company, currently attached to Taldar¡¯s Third army.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Raegan Martis.¡±

 Chapter 2: Parting Ways

    ¡°Raegan Martis. Me and a close friend, the big one sat in the corner, aren¡¯t a stranger to combat.


    Be it human or some abomination.¡±


    ¡°hmm¡­ Make your way to Fort Torbek on the south-eastern border, that¡¯s where we¡¯re stationed. Combating critters an¡¯ that.¡±


    I pause for a second, before deciding to sate my curiosity.


    ¡°Do you know why there isn¡¯t anyone on the southern border, looking out for raiders.¡±


    He flashes a small grin before replying.


    ¡°Why, that¡¯s the reason we¡¯re at Fort Torbek, all unessential soldiers, like those at the southern border, ¡®ave bean called there. Some¡¯at big going down. Heard rumour of a big witch hunt in the Forgotten Lan¡¯s. Good money in it too.¡±


    After talking about inconsequential thing for an hour or so, I return to my group to find Goran passed out, Dahlia ¡®missing¡¯ and Torben slowly sipping on a empty pint.


    I¡¯ll probably fill him in when he¡¯s sober, so I know he can actually hear me.


    I decide to call it a night, go and rent a room, throwing him a few coppers for one with two beds and drag Torben up there before getting some sleep.


    Goran will probably be fine sleeping where he is¡­ Lightweight.


    Finding work has been far easier than I would have originally thought. I was planning to travel all the way to the capital, or at least a large city and I¡¯m not even out of the southern forest yet. Hmm¡­ Now that I think about it, if the Black hound company is all in Fort Torbek, why are these guys here.


    I guess tomorrow I¡¯ll ask and judge whether I should trust them based off that.


    In the morning I did ask, to which they replied.


    ¡° ahh¡­ Two of our squadron died, and rather than merge two squadrons together, your suppose to go and recruit them yourself. With those two being your self. I guess it¡¯s to do with being close to your comrades an¡¯ all, opposed to two strangers you¡¯ve never met stepping into your dead friends boots, which I guess could cause resentment an¡¯ that.¡±


    I think I¡¯ll trust them for now. He also explained the wages, which gave a set weekly of 1 silver and a bonus payment for dangerous missions, like the one supposedly coming up. This bonus is partly upfront and the rest is determined by contribution.


    Since today me and Torben are travelling to Fort Torbek, and likely staying there for a while, I decided to separate from Goran and Dahlia here. Otherwise, they¡¯d be going out of their way to just separate once we get there anyway.


    We will be travelling there with Argus, since he has found the two members needed to complete their squadron, though I haven¡¯t met the other four members, one of which being the lieutenant in charge of the squadron and was called Lt. Petrus.


    The entire mercenary company consisted of 150 people.


    120 being divided into squadrons whom answer to a lieutenant, who in turn answers to Captain Kadir who runs the company.


    The remaining 30 people form an elite group directly under Cpt. Kadir, who act as both his bodyguards and specialist assassins.


    Of course, this would be surprising for a mercenary group to have a large amount of assassins but it is because the ¡®Black Hound¡¯ mercenary group purpose is scouting and infiltration of enemy ranks, in order to strike directly at their commander.


    Luckily, this aligns with mine and Torbens previous occupation, so over time I have become adept in stealth under the cloak of night and ambushes.


    So, I should quickly fit in.


    After all, within the Sand Scorpions I was know as the ¡®Shadowed Death¡¯ and often lead ambushes in my boss''s¡­ or rather, ex-boss''s stead.


    This name originated due to rumours of me blending into the shadows and slaughtering men by the hundred as a cloaked Death incarnate. Of course, the rumours are exaggerated, but not entirely inaccurate.


    Those are the rumours of me using magic to blend into the shadows, though it is true, I took at lot of effort for it not to be known as fact.


    In truth, the only one who knows of it is Torben, since he was there at the beginning when I was learning how to properly use it.


    Goran¡¯s an idiot, so there is no chance he knows anything beyond wildly varying tales of my black arts, or how I¡¯m supposedly sharing my body with a powerful demon, which to clarify¡­ I¡¯m not.


    Dahlia however knows a small amount of magic and has commented that I have some latent magic within me. Unfortunately, unlike Goran she is very perceptive and so probably at least suspects something or could even know entirely, but she hasn¡¯t mentioned it too anyone, so I guess it¡¯ll be fine to let her keep her life.


    Like me, Dahlia also keeps a lot about her secret, such as her origins and the extent of her magical knowledge, though see swears she knows nothing more than a healing spell, along with a couple of minor enchantments.


    Of course I already know that¡¯s bollocks, but I didn¡¯t pry as long as she did the same.


    Magic is a capital crime after all.


    Well, at least in civilised lands, though the general public are equally as hostile to magic users.


    There is a reason for this, but perhaps I¡¯ll explain another time.


    After some goodbyes and good lucks have been exchanged, we separate from our companions whom we have know for the last few years and set off, with Argus and our new friends.


    (those being)-


    Grigori Chronis- A large man, almost as big as Torben, with a deep scar carved through is left eye, with his one remaining eye being a dark brown, matching his hair colour. He, like the other three was wearing black dyed leather armour, and carries a two-handed battle-axe which has a broad axe head ending in a spike for armour penetration, all of which is coated in a black paint to stop light reflecting off the metal.


    Finnian Kontos- Lean build, slightly below average height, ginger hair and emerald green eyes that make him look permanently ecstatic. Unlike the couple of weapons the others carry, he is armed to the teeth. Having 6 daggers, 5 throwing daggers, a garrotte and two short swords, all of which probably have a black coating.


    Petri Andris- Lean like Finnian but being far taller, with sharp dark blue eyes and blond hair that is near white. He carries a short sword and a dagger near his ankle, but in addition to this is a dark brown shortbow and a quiver full of arrows.


    Our journey should take three days, and by the first night I had learnt a few thing about our traveling companions.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Grigori snores lightly, not enough to alert possible enemies in the area, but still loud enough that I contemplate slitting his throat. He also speaks little, though still slightly chuckles when appropriate.


    Finnian has way too much energy and enthusiasm, almost making me question his mental stability. If he has a bad side, I¡¯ll prefer to not be on it.


    Petri appears to be sharp witted and I saw him hit a rabbit from 100 metres without acting like Goran. So Petri shall be a suitable replacement for him.


    Argus is light-hearted and makes decent attempts to keep moral high, although I¡¯ve still seen him cautiously scanning the surrounding forest, so I don¡¯t believe him to be a happy go lucky fool. So he has made a good impression and seems competent.


    After waking and setting off after a slight meal, we moved along a wide dirt road designed for large caravans to move through, with bushes and shrubbery on either side of the road.


    According to the others, it should only take another hour to reach the edge of the forest and the rest of the journey should be open grassy meadows.


    Argus raises his hand to indicate for us to stop and dismounts his horse, I and the other shortly follow, crudely tying our horses to a tree.


    I then walk over to Argus to see him examining some footprints left in the soft mud, appearing to be from a large boot.


    ¡°Raegan, these are fresh and not within a days journey to the nearest village. Why would someone be out here without a horse, unless-¡±


    I see a flash of light from a dense bush and hear a soft *twang* noise and raise my shield to cover my face less than a second before an arrowhead buries itself into my shield, centimetres from my eye.


    ¡°AMBUSH!¡±


    What followed was madness, with men running at us from both sides of the road from foliage, almost double our number.


    I turn to my left whilst drawing my longsword and see two skinny men running at me, one holding a rusted short sword and the other with a hatchet.


    As the one with the sword was closer, I attacked him first.


    He wildly swings at my face and I duck under it easily and cleave through his ribs where his heart should be. The man collapses face first, dead before he could hit the ground.


    This one, like the last, swings blindly at me but much faster, so I should be much more cautious because an axe is more difficult to block.


    He directs a heavy swing at my chest, and so I step back avoiding his hatchet and suddenly dash forward, using my shield as a battering-ram. As a result, he stumbles backwards, flailing around his weapon and I swing for the wooden handle, breaking the axe and taking a finger. Before he can register that fact, I slash horizontally at his neck and am rewarded with being sprayed with blood as he chokes on his remaining life essence.


    I see Torben with three dead at his feet and him fighting a fourth, though before I can get there to help, an arrow takes unfortunate bandit in the face.


    And the long dirt path was silent once more, albeit with the dead littering the road.


    Though someone had to ruin the peaceful silence, a bandit with a bow next to him and an arrow lodged in his stomach. Likely the one who shot at me earlier.


    I walk forward, pulling out the arrow in my shield, or should I say half an arrow, as it broke when I rammed that earlier bandit.


    After reaching the bowmen who¡¯s sobbing to himself, I take my half-arrow and ram it through his eye, causing a loud annoying scream.


    I push it in deeper until it hits brain, suddenly stopping the racket.


    Much better.


    Though that display of brutality was not only for my own satisfaction, but to judge the reaction of the others. It¡¯s always good to know what lines you can¡¯t cross.


    Thankfully, they didn¡¯t seem too bothered, and I¡¯m not even sure if Finnian noticed. Nor has he noticed the bandit he¡¯s repeatedly stabbing is very dead¡­ The others even seem used to it, as if they¡¯ve seen it hundreds of times already.


    Somehow, I¡¯m not sure if I can even cross the line of what I can and can¡¯t do if it is based around this crazy bastard.


    I glance, at Argus to see already looking right at me with cold impassive eyes, whilst a was judging them, he was doing the same to me. I now know for sure, these guys aren¡¯t a bunch of self-righteous amateurs looking for glory.


    They are killers, and they¡¯re good at it too, not that it bothers me. I should fit in well, far better than I expected for a butch of jokers getting drunk in a tavern.


    After cleaning ourselves and maintaining our equipment, we set off once again heading for Fort Torbek, leaving behind the smell of the forest and its blood-soaked ground.


    The meadows at the end of the forest are nothing that I¡¯ve ever seen in my life in the barrens. At most, I had travelled in forested areas with patches of green grass, but had endless fields of green and unusual flowers growing in patches, with colours scattered across the landscape.


    Nothing like the monotonous land I grew up in, where children find wonder in finding but a single half-dead flower hidden in a ditch somewhere.


    It was a pleasant change to say the least.


    Towards the end of the third day of travelling, living of our rations and meat purchased from the farmer, we reached Fort Torbek.


    It was a huge citadel, sitting between two rock wall to block of a huge mountain pass that enters the Forgotten Lands, the fort therefore being tasked with stopping abominations from entering Taldar¡¯s border, and stopping sparkly eyed youths from entering whilst waving around a rusted family heirloom.


    This section of the Forgotten lands, unlike the desert lands we crossed through whilst escaping the barrens, this area is a mountainous area with steep cliff faces and long winding valley''s between them, that branch off, almost forming a rocky maze.


    Supposedly, thousands of years ago a race of legendary craftsmen lived in a stronghold underneath the mountain, but no one has ever found it or the supposed treasure that accompanies most tales about long lost ruins. Though you¡¯ll be more likely to find a few skeletons and a long ruined sword or a broken vase.


    Looking up at the towering walls, we slowly approach the gate wide enough to fit a dragon through and enter to the biggest place I¡¯ve ever seen.

 Chapter 3: The Hunting Party

    *One week later*


    Garrisoned in the fort was over 2000 soldiers from Taldar¡¯s official army, 500 support personnel consisting of things like tailors, cooks blacksmiths etc. Also, not including the Black Hound 150, there are 400 others from mercenary groups. Plus this place supposedly has enough provisions to withstand a 3 year siege with these numbers.


    Since I got here, I had a couple of spars with others in the company who decided to check I could fight. Though in all honesty, I think they wanted to put the new guy into his place.


    Currently, I have broken two bone, given one guy a severe concussion and have broken three noses, however people have stopped offering to spar.


    Torben only had to get into one fight before this happened, breaking someone''s neck by accident and killing him.


    It was some sellsword from a different company who thought he had something to prove, so Torben didn¡¯t get much blame for the ¡®unfortunate accident¡¯.


    Also, I got rid of my previous equipment and exchanged it for the Black Hounds black leather armour, two black coated steel daggers (one at my ankle and another on my upper right leg), a black coated steel short sword as a backup (on my back) and a black coated steel longsword (hung at my waist).


    A few minutes ago I was given a message by a youth acting as a courier within the Fort whilst I was eating an apple I¡­ Procured from Argus.


    Finally, I open it.


    Raegan, get your arse to the main gate leading into the Forgotten Lands with Torben and ask if that bastard if he¡¯s been nicking my apples


    -Argus


    I relay this information to Torben next to me and we set off down the large stone corridors towards the courtyard.


    In the courtyard was a multitude of people from different groups training, some on practice dummies and some on each other. I also notice a military sergeant reprimanding someone because they didn¡¯t properly fasten their sword belt.


    Finally, we stand before the gate leading into the Forgotten Lands, where around 50 people from Black Hound have gathered.


    We walk up to Argus and the rest of our squadron, including Lt. Petrus, a ex-military officer in his 40¡¯s. Seeing us all here, he gathers us around and explains the situation.


    ¡°A few hours ago, a long range patrol of 10 came back with only two men, the others supposedly dead. Both of them had severe wounds and one of them was unconscious and dragged back here by the other.


    He said they had stumbled upon a small ruin and some of their group went mad, beginning to attack each other before they could even enter. Now, since the other one woke up recently and confirmed the story, we are going to go out with five other squadrons and attempt to find it. We are suppose to find it, but not enter as it may bare a magic curse, or some other voodoo''y non-sense. Just to be clear, if we find it first, we are entering.¡±


    We travel to the vicinity the ruins are in, taking us around two hours at a relatively quick pace and it was uneventful, due to the area close to Fort Torbek being relatively safe because of routine ¡®hunting trips¡¯.


    Once we got there, each individual squadron split into groups of five to scour the area. My group consisting of; Argus, Torben, Grigori and someone from our squadron called Halstein who I haven¡¯t interacted with a whole lot. He uses two one-handed axes plus having two spare, though I haven¡¯t seen him fight before.


    From the description we were given, it should look like a small outhouse or storage shed, hopefully one full to the brim of magical knowledge.


    Which could be a problem if the others are heavily anti-magic and decide to destroy any magical artifacts they find.


    In which case, an ¡®ambush¡¯ could suddenly take us unaware, only leaving a couple of survivors.


    From what I¡¯ve found though, those who have flexible morals about killing and in particular extreme violence, *cough* Finnian *cough*, tend to be more accepting of magic so long as it¡¯s useful to them. For example, the Sand Scorpions once had a raider who knew a small amount of magic to alter the weather and everyone overlooked it.


    Mainly due to it being easier to raid or set up an ambush on a rainy overcast night, albeit more uncomfortable.


    Unfortunately I couldn¡¯t ask him to teach me magic without giving away that I knew some myself, which I have gone to great pains to hide.


    He died a couple of years ago anyway.


    We continue trekking over the rocky landscape for 20 minutes, taking it slowly due to this being deeper into the Forgotten Lands and therefore more dangerous.


    I suddenly loose my footing on a large crumbling rock and fall to the ground, lightly hitting my head.


    I raise my head, facing the ground, and see a small trickle of blood on a rock, little more than a droplet. I then rub my sore head to locate any bleeding, but find non. I double check and have the same result.


    Therefore I further examine the blood to find it already dried. Not mine.


    Scanning the ground close to it, the small droplet became to and those two developed into a blood trail going up a small trail, difficult to notice at first glance. I call the others over and take the lead up the craggy incline.


    This leads us down once over the slope onto a clearing, though separating us from the rest of the clearing was a sea of thorns, only knee high but it was obvious where the patrol forced their way through from the trodden bramble, speckled with blood and torn material.


    On the other side of this was part of the missing patrol, I counted four bodies, half of the expected number.


    Though there was a spare arm lying around.


    Behind them was a small building of dark grey stone, with faded engravings on its heavy, rusted metal door that could have once been a wondrous work of art. It¡¯s certainly strange that such a small building would be in the middle of nowhere, so it does make a whole lot of sense to be a storeroom.


    I begin to walk forward towards the mostly flattened pathway, made by the now deceased but was interrupted by Argus loudly interrupting me.


    ¡°STOP!!! Don¡¯t take another step forward!¡±


    I freeze, worried I had stepped on a bear trap or something, and look down to check. (I didn¡¯t, just to clarify)


    ¡°That is called devil¡¯s thorn and causes violent hallucinations, probably the cause of the patrol¡¯s reported hysteria.¡±


    I take three steps back before making a reply.


    ¡°At least that means the ruins aren¡¯t cursed like we first expected.¡±


    He replies back, with a mischievous grin.


    ¡°Who said it wasn¡¯t cursed?¡±


    ¡°hmm. Ok, then tell me how we get past this then¡±


    ¡°Kill it¡­ Kill it with fire!¡± Argus replies with a hint of glee in his voice.


    Idiot was probably trying to sound cool by being dramatic. Not that I¡¯m saying it wasn¡¯t a little cool though.


    It took almost an hour to safely burn through the Devil thorn, since we couldn¡¯t inhale it due to it having the same effect to being cut. Though I did borrow a leather pouch from that Halstein guy, who also had the spare supplies to burn the thorns. I used this pouch to store some of the devil thorn, being careful not to get myself killed.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.My opinion of him has raised from Invisible bystander to pack mule. Congrats pack mule, feel proud, you deserved it.


    Just for future reference, from the information Argus gave me, devil thorn is something that only grows in the Forgotten Lands and is pretty rare. Additionally, it is an ash grey colour and glows a red colour if you hold fire close to it. Also the length and severity of its poison is dependent on the amount and depth of your cuts, so accidentally cutting your finger on it will only make you feel light-headed.


    I really should write this down somewhere once I get back to my quarters in the fort.


    On closer inspection, all of the corpses have been killed by human weapons and the missing bodies would be on the other end of a larger blood trail.


    It appears the lost bodies were dragged away.


    I hear a quiet squawk from above and look up to see around 40 Tengu circling hungrily around us, attracted by the bodies.


    But they just continue circling. The others have noticed too, and look nervous.


    They have eight time our number, why haven¡¯t they attacked us?


    Argus speaks up, though somewhat shakily.


    ¡°That¡¯s very bad. Very, very bad.¡±


    I don¡¯t understand if he¡¯s talking about the Tengu or some other omen. Perhaps I should ask, but Torben gets there first.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t they attack us, is that normal?¡±


    ¡°That my dear goliath, would be because there is a bigger fish in this pond.¡±


    Right on que, we hear a loud, blood-curdling howl that I wish I could say was distant.


    But it was close, very close.


    ¡°We really need to get that door open, cursed or not!¡± Pack Mule shout to the rest of the group whilst pushing on the double doors.


    ¡°Hells this door is heavy!¡±


    At this point, all five of us are desperately pushing on the door that slowly begins to open. So slowly it makes me want to weep.


    I haven¡¯t cried since I was twelve and had accidentally stepped on a tiny wooden building block. But this moment is giving it a run for its money.


    After finally making a gap wide enough for Torben to fit through, we all flood in and attempt to push it closed.


    At that moment I looked up and locked eyes with a red set, filled with a bestial rage, standing behind it were five more of these creatures.


    I hear a horse voice escape Grigori¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°¡­ Hellhounds.¡±


    The lead monster was 8ft tall whilst on all fours, while the others were around 2ft smaller.


    Its fur was a charcoal black, as was the rest of his body, excluding the eyes. Its body was huge, covered in dense muscle, with a jaw that could likely bite through steel plating with ease, not that I¡¯ll test the theory.


    I wonder how long it was stood behind us, waiting for us to turn around, since I never heard it approach and didn¡¯t dare look behind me whilst opening the door.


    We all begin to close the door, but with much less resistance than last time and I peek through the quickly closing gap to see the infernal beast much closer than before. Its throat began to glow red, as if it was¡­


    The door fully shuts and I lean heavily on it.


    A second later, the door get very hot and I jump back in pain whilst cursing violently. That furry bastard.


    Pack mu-¡­ I mean, Halstein pulls out a torch and lights it, revealing a empty room with a metal handle partly inside the floor.


    Is it just me or is it getting warmer?


    ¡­


    Shit!


    I quickly grab the handle and turn it clockwise 90 degrees until it stopped and made a clicking noise.


    The floor under my feet begins to rumble and I dash backwards off a floor slab that begins to move open.


    But not unlike the door, it is too slow and in the meanwhile it is getting extremely uncomfortable in the impromptu oven.


    Once the opening is revealed, the others barrel down the ancient stairs, having to duck due to it having a low ceiling height.


    I notice the walls begin to glow red and sag before following them, pulling a similar handle on the wall at the top of the stairs, causing the floor slab to close.


    It¡¯s amazing  that a contraption beyond any technology I¡¯ve ever exists, not to mention that it is still functional after what could have been thousands of years.


    It makes me very eager to see what awaits us deeper.


    I enter a large room, already lit up by bright torches scattered across the rooms walls. Though this is widely empty, except for large stone tables laid out across the room. I see something metallic on one of the tables, a grey circular ring with metal protrusions of equal size and spacing on the outside of the ring.


    Strange, not only the object itself, but the fact it isn¡¯t even slightly rusted after all this time and I don¡¯t detect any magic within it. So it isn¡¯t an enchantment.


    I pocket the object and move towards the strange pre-lit torches. Getting close to it I realised it didn¡¯t emit any heat and I could also assume it doesn¡¯t use up the air, making it ideal for sealed underground areas like this. Unlike the metal object, these torches do emit magic and could have perhaps been giving out this cold light for years upon years.


    But¡­ How do you turn it off? You can''t smother it, and it wont run out of fuel.


    I touch the item and pour a small amount of mana into it, causing it to become brighter momentarily.


    Perhaps a phrase or word is bound to it, and so I cycle through a multitude of possible words to no avail. It is possible that I¡¯m even speaking in the wrong language and am completely wasting my time.


    I looked around to find the others had gone through one of the two new doors and so I ran up, excited on what I¡¯ll find.


    This new room was around 10 by 10 metres and had shelving over every wall.


    These were filling with lots of scrap metal¡­ Wait no, they may appear like junk, but each of them is uniform and clearly crafted with a purpose.


    It just so happens that the intended purpose is completely alien to me.


    While the others were fiddling with the foreign pieces of metal, talking amongst themselves about the possible functions. I honed in on three books in the corner of the room.


    While, physical items are good and all, forbidden knowledge is far more powerful in the right hands.


    Guhahahahah¡­*cough*


    Examining the three books, one was completely destroyed, and the other two were moderately damaged, both of which were in an unknown language.


    I¡¯m still keeping them though.


    Also, I can¡¯t detect any magic in this room, time to check the other door.


    This the others behind me, we walk through the door the leads to a long rock tunnel, with metal braces adding security to the tunnel. After walking for 5 minutes we reach the end, long blocked off from a cave in it seems.


    Hours later, we gather at the top of the stairs to check if we can exit. I turn the handle and hear the clunking of metal, which abruptly turns to a long screech before falling silent without moving an inch.


    I try turning the handle again and get no response.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ Get comfortable, for this is to be our tomb.¡± Argus remarks, with a hint of bitterness in his tone.


    Crap.

 Chapter 4: The dream world

    Five hours have passed since we entered here and all attempts to open the exit have failed.


    I think I¡¯ll eat the pack mule first.


    I¡¯m glad Finnian isn¡¯t here, as he¡¯ll surely be the superior cannibal.


    But in the mean time I¡¯ll further examine the two books.


    Both are leather bound and not very thick, which rules out them being huge manuscripts. Additionally, the paper is still white and in good condition, though the ink used is beginning to flake off. However, the bigger of the two books is damaged, with a large amount of it being torn, but at least some of it is salvageable.


    Now all that¡¯s left is translating it, which isn¡¯t as difficult as you may think. Well¡­ for me anyway.


    Three years ago, I saw Dahlia reading a small book se bought of a traveling merchant. But it was written in a foreign text and therefore considerably less valuable. Or in her case, more affordable as books are normally an expensive privilege and normally only available to the wealthy. Though it isn¡¯t impossible to own one if you save up money.


    Though her attempt to teach me a healing spell a year earlier was fruitless, I was able to use magic to translate text, as can anyone who is able to manipulate mana.


    To translate it you simply have to infuse mana into the text and with practice, you can begin to comprehend it. At first I could only understand simple words, but after having a couple of years practice, I can read any language with ease. However it is impossible to translate someone''s name and made up words that don¡¯t normally belong to the language. Though most slang words are fine since they¡¯re commonly used by those fluent in the language anyway.


    I translate the book covers to reveal their titles. The large damaged book Is called ¡®Metals and Alloys¡¯ and the other appears to be a diary with a side note saying- ¡®property of ****** *****¡¯.


    Diary of ****** ***** -


    The last few diary entries-


    Me and the rest of the metalsmiths have been working overtime to complete a weapons order and a tunnel has collapsed again!


    It¡¯s being caused by those annoying earthquakes happening recently that have damaged the metal supports suppose to last hundreds of years.


    Good job we¡¯ve got a earth mage with us, or it¡¯ll be a pain waiting half a day for the repair team to fix it.


    After the tunnel is open again we get back to the forge. Recently, the mechanical parts have been replaced with the expensive Obline alloy, since the previous ones keep being worn down over time.


    This should stop me needing to make repairs every other week.


    Also, I¡¯ve added some more alloy choices as well as a human longsword design for trading weapons to them. A stupid idea, but at least we¡¯re not making weapons with our high-class materials.


    ¡­ I should probably get back to work, we are already behind on this order due to those infernal earthquakes


    We are running low on metals and only have the materials to make the steel, Damascus steel and vucryx. We also have a lot of left over silver that we can''t get rid of and I have made a suggestion to the council to sell it to the greedy humans since we have little use for it.


    So other than the silver, the other metals are in the auto-smelter ready to make the few alloys we can. At least most of our order is for steel based objects.


    Crap that was a big earthquake.


    I should go with the earth mage to repair damage before they collapse, I¡¯m on a time schedule here and can¡¯t afford more delays.


    End of the last entry.


    With the information in previous entries, I know this guy is a smith from an unknown race living in an underground village of some sort.


    He is also the one who wrote the damaged book on metals that I have. Additionally, he briefly mentioned having to get a new mage to power the ******** since the old one is retiring.


    For some reason whatever they had to use magic to power didn¡¯t get translated. Perhaps it¡¯s a name rather than an object, or it could possibly be a object that simply doesn¡¯t exist in our language.


    However, I¡¯m tired. Time to sleep.


    I open my eyes slowly, but I feel kind of groggy and rub them before forcing my eyes to focus on my surrounding.


    I¡¯m on a small island floating in space, as if the ground I slept on uprooted its self and floated into an endless abyss.


    In the distance are many other small islands, though they¡¯re too far away to make out any detail. Just small dots on a non-existent horizon.


    The island I¡¯m on consists of half the room I was in, abruptly cut off after a 5 meter radius around me.


    I¡¯ve been in a place like this before, though my immediate surrounding always were based of where I was sleeping. This doesn¡¯t happen every night, though it occurs most often when I¡¯ve been using magic that day.


    I had given it the impromptu name, dream world¡­ Ok, it isn¡¯t a very good name, but I put over an hour trying to think of one before giving up.


    Over time doing this, here is what I have theorised.


    Firstly, since this originally occurred the day I accidently used my Shadow Blend ability, everyone who can use magic can enter this dream world.


    Therefore based of this, the other islands in the distance are others, witches and warlocks alike.


    On one occasion I entered this land after a raid and found a island much closer than the others, though still too far away to identify the person there. I believe this person may have been Dahlia, who would have been sleeping at Drayton almost around 5 miles away.


    I turn around and my heart near stops. A island is only around 200 metres away, close enough that I notice it having a cave floor with some kind of animal pelt on it.


    However, though this is shocking, since it is the closest one has every been, it was not the most alarming thing.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.That would be the women stood right behind me, with long white hair that trailed down her back.


    I woke up panicked and breathing heavily.


    Sat directly across from me was Torben with the look of absolute horror on his face.


    He begins to form a sentence through poorly stitching together stuttered words.


    ¡°Aaa-re y-y-you o¡­k?


    ¡°Fine, stop worrying brother.¡±


    I looked around a the others to find them sprawled out asleep, before leaning closer to Torben.


    ¡°I just met someone in the¡­dream world.¡± With last part of the sentence being whispered, and so quite I¡¯m not sure if he even heard it.


    Either way, he nodded to show he understood.


    30 minutes later I was asleep again.


    ¡°Well that was awfully rude, how much longer did you expect me to wait here.¡± A feminine voice speaks in an attempt to sound coy.


    My eyes open again to find the girl still there with a scary smile on her face.


    Her expressions remind me of Finnian, not that I think lowly of him, quite the opposite in fact. You know¡­ Just in case you can hear me.


    The white haired girl speaks again, drawing me out of my thoughts.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say hello. Introductions are important after all!¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. I am Raegan Martis.¡±


    ¡°hmm. I suppose that¡¯ll do. You can call me Lilith! Nice to meet you!¡± See says excitingly, whilst offering her hand.


    I shake it, and notice they¡¯re very soft. Like velv- Wait no¡­ not the time. Pull yourself together.


    I focus once more and look at her, attempting to judge the type of person she is.


    She¡¯s slightly smaller than I am, and very attractive. Moderate breas-...


    Moving on. Her eyes are violet and unyielding under my gaze, though not impassive. More excited, like a child with a new toy.


    Unsettling to say the least, she seems very dangerous. Plus she¡¯s a witch, in a dangerous forbidden land full of monsters wanting to eat you.


    Additionally, wasn¡¯t there a rumour that there is to be a witch hunt in the Forgotten Lands?


    Well. Here is a witch. In the Forgotten Lands. Then wouldn¡¯t sh-


    ¡°Are you going to say some thing or should I¡­ No matter, I shall lead the conversation. How has your day been? Do you like the weather? Don¡¯t you think the monarchy is ruining the economy? Do you like that new marmi thing? I heard it has divided opinions. Do you come here often? What¡¯s your favourite alcohol? How many children do you want? Are you married? Want to discuss magic? How do you find the quality of roads these days? Aren¡¯t seagulls annoying? What is your favourite animal? How old are you? Can I meet your parents? Got any cute little sisters? Do you want to rot underground for the rest of eternity? Do you have anymore topics because I have run out.


    I¡¯m lost. What were we talking about again?¡±


    ¡­ What the fuck just happened.


    Processing


    Processing


    Processing


    ¡°I choose talk about magic!¡± I finally respond.


    ¡°Interesting choice. I would have gone for ¡®Do you want to rot underground for the rest of eternity?¡¯, but magic¡¯s fine.¡±


    Well that choice certainly appealing, I haven¡¯t been able to talk freely to another magic user before.


    Well, their was Dahlia, but she denied knowing any advanced magic, and so I denied having any at all.


    She speaks up in her usual excited tone.


    ¡°I know, how about we swap magical spells. Wait, even better! Lets trade details about our first magic ability!¡±


    Was her use of the word ¡®ability¡¯ rather than spell intentional? Sure, I¡¯ll go along with this game so long as I¡¯m guarantied some information first.


    ¡°You first then.¡± I respond.


    ¡°O!K! Well, when I was eight I was playing with my friend, a cute girl close to my age. We were holding hands skipping in the middle of the forest, when I started to feel a funny feeling in my chest.¡±


    What the hell, is this a story about discovering her first love? Either way, she continues with her story.


    ¡°So, I focus on the feeling really hard to see what it was. The feeling bursts from my chest and gathers to the hand holding onto my friend, before going into her. All of a sudden the funny feeling starts to flood back, but much stronger, spreading through all of my body. In the background I hear her screaming and screaming, until it dies down and the feeling stops coming from her. She collapses, her eyes completely white, while I¡¯m laughing, thinking about how amazing it feels¡­ How about you.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a love story. Defiantly not a love story.


    She¡¯s female magic Finnian.


    After a few seconds pause, I decide to begin my story, though it¡¯s much less eventful.


    ¡°When I was in my early teens, I was practicing how to camouflage yourself to lay an ambush.¡± I know what your thinking, but at this age we weren¡¯t preparing for a real ambush. That started the year after.


    ¡°Over a few day doing this and gradually improving, I was hiding in the shade of a tree un-camouflaged since we were testing the difference between it. I became slightly too into it and really didn¡¯t want him to find me., though I wasn¡¯t sure what I was expecting since it was the middle of the day. But as he was about to find me, the shadows of the tree rose from the ground and coated me. This shocked me and I lost concentration, stopping the magic and so he found me. I spent the next four days trying to replicate it, with my friend watching me the whole time in case I accidently did it without anyone around to verify it.¡±


    I look up at her to see her with an ecstatic expression, whilst she slightly trembles.


    Is that drool?!


    I¡¯m very unsure if this is a good thing or not. But all of my instincts are screaming at me that it isn¡¯t.


    ¡°Umm¡­ Lilith, are you ok?¡± I say shakily.


    Lilith blushes slightly, which is kind of cute.


    ¡°Why of course! It¡¯s just that I¡¯ve never met someone with a shadow magic affinity! So lets move to some of the previous topics! Do you have a wife? How many children do you want? Do you even like women? Am I attractive?¡±


    I¡¯m noticing a theme here. How am I suppose to respond to this anyway?


    Oh shit, I forgot! I¡¯m trapped and going to die!


    ¡°How about we go to the ¡®Do you want to rot underground for the rest of eternity?¡¯ question.¡±


    She pouts before responding.


    ¡°Fine¡­ So. Do you want to starve to death in a ruin?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±

 Chapter 5: A magic box

    Lilith claps her hands together and smiles widely.


    ¡°Ok! Next topic!¡±


    ¡°Woah, wait! Is that it! You¡¯re suppose to tell me how to get out.¡±


    She purses her lips together, contemplating before returning to her usual smile.


    ¡°Ok, but you have to make me a promise first!¡±


    I really don¡¯t like where this is going.


    ¡°Sure, what is it?¡±


    Hearing this, she giggles lightly and takes a large step forward, bringing her face close to mine.


    ¡°We have to talk to each other more. We¡¯re friends after all!¡±


    I intended to get more information from her anyway, so this is an easy decision.


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    She looks even happier than before, any more and she might explode.


    ¡°Yay¡­ So you do love me!¡±


    Wait. Why would she even make a connection like that?


    She¡¯s much scarier than Finnian.


    While I¡¯m frozen in horror, she begins speaking on how to escape.


    I guess I should pay attention.


    ¡°So, since your very stuck, I could just teleport you to my self if you write this symbol on the floor in blood.¡±


    ¡°Rejected, I won¡¯t be able to bring my comrades.¡±


    Though I only really care about Torben, it would be inconvenient to get put in another squadron.


    ¡°OK! So, then you can just use the repair team to clear the tunnel blockage.¡±


    ¡°Wait, so the people in the ruins aren¡¯t long extinct?¡±


    ¡°No, they died ages ago. But the magical constructs should still be working! So, you wait here and I¡¯ll go and activate them!¡±


    ¡°No, wai-¡±


    Lilith and her island vanish, leaving me here with way too many questions.


    It is very suspicious that she knows so much about this place. Though I guess she is living here. And isn¡¯t everything about her suspicious?


    Ten minutes later, I wake up with my face plastered to the workbench.


    20 minutes in the dream world is around 8 hours in the physical one.


    So it should be around morning now on the surface.


    Everyone is sleeping, scattered around the room with Torben closest to me. This¡¯ll be the best time to inform him of all of the Lilith stuff, and so I wake him quietly and go to the storeroom with him. I tell him about everything except how unstable she seems, in case he then starts objecting to it.


    So, now we wait for these ¡®magical constructs¡¯ that are here. Though she left before explaining exactly what a ¡®magical construct¡¯ is and how she knows so much about it.


    In the mean time, I read some of the ¡®Metals and Alloys¡¯ book, looking for the metals mentioned in the diary.


    After 10 minutes, I come across Damascus steel, which is supposedly still in stock in a forge the native worked in.


    Book excerpt-


    farixas steel-


    This metal is tougher than regular steel and far more resistant to shattering. Making it good for weapons and high stress ******** to decrease the amount of maintenance required, though it isn¡¯t as good as the high-end ****** parts.


    The resilience of this blade is due to the presence of ********* throughout its structure, strengthening it.


    Additionally when used as a blade, its sharpness only loses to *******, with it being able to cut through poorly made sword blades with ease, with the blades resilience also applying to the blades edge, keeping it sharper for longer and whilst not being chipped or cracked.


    Farixas steel has a unique appearance amongst metals---------------- grey-------------lin--------


    The rest of this page is unreadable due to damage.


    Though it is disappointing that some of the information is damaged, most of the important pieces for this metal is here, and now I really want one of these blades.


    Something I find strange is that the word Damascus is translated, since other metals in the book are not. A few other metals are the same, so does this mean our civilisation has access to these metals, or at least had at one point before losing how to make it.


    Some time later, after everyone is awake is awake, we begin to hear loud banging noises echo through the tunnel. Of course I knew what they would be¡­ mostly. But the others didn¡¯t and cycled through the emotions of excitement and caution. We are out of food anyway, so it¡¯s not like we have anything to lose.


    We are all now stood in front of the blockage, weapons in hand listening to the loud banging and the sound of debris falling.


    Some time later-


    We are sat around, still gripping our weapons, but I¡¯m sure the sounds are getting closer. Probably.


    Even later-


    Me and Grigori are awake, staring at the blockage whilst the others sleep. I have the biggest headache and I¡¯m pretty sure the others who should be sleeping aren¡¯t due to anxiety and the noise.


    A seemingly infinite time later-


    I¡¯m now trying to sleep with the rhythmic banging in the background. After a while it becomes almost soothing, like a---- ZZZ.


    ¡°Hey Raegan, get up!¡±


    I open my eyes to Torben shaking me, while looking to his right.


    I do the same, seeing chunks of the rock wall being broke through by a pickaxe.


    For a while we watched five of these ¡®magical constructs¡¯ clear the rock and put it into a large metal box, which then glows before they continue putting in more rock.


    I¡¯m not sure what I expected to them to be, but it certainly wasn¡¯t metallic children holding pickaxes.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.These things are 3ft tall, made entirely out of some metal and have a faintly glowing chest that emits a light whirring sound.


    We all stood there watching them for some time, making multiple attempts to communicate or otherwise interact with them, but they just worked around us. Like they knew we were there, but didn¡¯t really care. I¡¯d really like to dismantle one, however I¡¯m not going to take the risk of provoking an army of these things. Even if they are midgets.


    I also want to examine the box, in which they¡¯ve put an infinite amount of rock. Since, it glows when the rock is put in, it is definitely a magical artefact.


    It¡¯s is a 2ft cube in all dimensions and looks like steel but it has a slightly blue tint.


    Another of these foreign metals I presume.


    It might be too heavy for me to lift comfortably, and so I call over Torben to help.


    Hopefully the metal people don¡¯t attack me, but I really want to study this, so¡­


    ¡°Ok. Torben, on the count of three lift this with me.¡±


    He nods to show his understanding. Unfortunately the others are less understanding and begin to panic.


    ¡°No don¡¯t touch that!¡± -Argus


    ¡°1.¡± -Me


    ¡°I¡¯m too young to die!¡± -Pack mule


    ¡°2.¡± -Me


    ¡°Tell my husband I love him!¡± -Grigori


    ¡°1?¡± -Me


    We both lift the box that turns out to be unexpectedly light, and so I hold it on my own.


    I look down to see five metal children holding out chunks of rocks to me, like a begging child in a city slum. Not that I¡¯ve ever been to a city though.


    I stood there for a few minutes with them stood there in the same position. If they were capable of expression, like would likely be crunching up their face, attempting to will the rock into the box. Soon they looked at each other before running in the direction they originally came and so I put down the box and open it.


    It is empty as expected, but has some interesting design on the bottom of the box and an identical one on the box lid.


    Damn, I have nothing to write with and if I do, the others will be certainly asking questions.


    Crap, I¡¯ve just been staring at an empty box for 10 minutes and everyone is staring at me.


    Argus casually walks over, and looks in.


    ¡°I guess these magic runes are responsible for the endless rock storage. Interesting, this top runes is slightly different than the other, probably works on a delayed magic timer to allow the bottom rune to activate first.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ How do you know all this?¡±


    Is it possible for him to be a warlock? Does that mean he already knows about me? Since he has more magical knowledge than me, wouldn¡¯t he know about using magic to translate text?


    Now that it was pointed out, there is a slight difference between the runes. How did I not see that initially?


    Argus grins at me, clearly reading the obvious expression left on my face.


    ¡°My sister was a witch and so I know some stuff of her, though I can¡¯t use magic myself. Our situation was probably similar to yours, with myself being led around by my gifted sister. Unless Torben also knows magic, but I doubt it.


    Though the only magic my sister knew was involving runes, so she wasn¡¯t going around inflicting curses or raining down hellfire from the heavens.¡±


    ¡°Does your whole squadron know about this?¡± I ask, noticing the others didn¡¯t seem overly surprised in hearing the story, perhaps only in hearing I knew magic.


    ¡°Yep, most of them were travelling with me and my sister, all new people are carefully chosen before learning about it. But if they react badly, we could¡¯ve arranged an¡­ accident in the Forgotten Lands. It is a dangerous place after all, just being cut by the wrong thorn could mean death.¡±


    Scary.


    Whilst I was planning their death in the case they hate magic, he was doing the same.


    Then that means I¡¯ve hit the jackpot! With this I have a safe area to practice magic and research these runes, it¡¯s ideal.


    But before I can research them, I have to carefully draw these runes to be as accurate as possible.


    ¡°Does anyone have something to write with?¡±


    Argus grins again, and starts rooting though the pack mules backpack until he takes out a quill.


    ¡°On the tip if this is a rune my sister made, perhaps its whole existence was leading up to this point.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little over dramatic, as cool as it may be.¡± I respond to his cheesy line.


    ¡°Seriously though, I don¡¯t ever use this in case I accidentally break it, this this will be the most useful it has ever been.¡±


    Before I can start writing though, I hear the sound of small running feet in the distance.


    Looking down the tunnel, I see four of the constructs and another running slightly behind carrying a familiar metal box.


    So I guess they had spares.


    After getting here, they simply carried on with their work as before.


    Deciding to continue with what I was doing, I began to draw the bottom rune on spare pages of the diary, meant for future entries that never came.


    I¡¯m surprised everyone is waiting instead of running ahead to their potential freedom, but instead they wait for me to finish.


    After I have finished that rune, I copy the small section on the other rune that has a slight difference.


    Once that is done, we leave the box and complacent cleaners behind. I¡¯m hungry and want to get out of this dusty ruin¡­ Unless I find more interesting things, in which case I can stick around.

 Chapter 6: Bad Breath

    The dusty tunnel continued onwards until it reached a intersection with the tunnels marked by engraved metal slabs, which reads as such;


    North- Metalsmith assembly.


    East- Spare Manuel workshop & surface exit. (Where we came from)


    South- Clockwork Gnome station & Emergency exit.


    West- Durahurst mining town


    All of these tunnels look clear from cave ins, but the one leading west to the mining town had a massive black door with a oversized locking mechanism. Though All of the rooms and tunnels were twice our height, the surface entrance stairway was so small that we had to duck whilst going down it.


    This lock just seems like massive over-compensation, since the key would be the size of a small person and need at least two people to carry it.


    The door itself was around 15ft in height and 10ft wide.


    This door, unlike the one on the surface, was locked and there is no way we¡¯re breaking that thing down. Not that it matters, since we¡¯ve run out of rations and need to get to the surface anyway.


    I inform the others on what the directions read and we began to discuss what we should be doing.


    In the end we decide to look for the exit rather than travel to the metalsmith assembly for an unknown amount of time.


    Hopefully when on the surface it should take around three hours to get back to civilisation, a couple of hours longer if we are more cautious.


    The walk through these tunnels take us a couple of minutes before we are met with a metal door, not anywhere as difficult to open as some of the others.


    I¡¯ve noticed that all of the door handles are slightly lower down than in our civilisation, just another strange difference between us. Perhaps they were a race of midgets or something.


    Walking in to the room labelled ¡®Clockwork workshop¡¯, we are met with an array of new fascinations that would put our race to shame.


    Not that I know what any of it does. But at least it looks cool.


    Now for stuff I can actually begin to describe.


    Firstly; the rooms floor, walls and ceiling are all a blinding white that is almost painful to look at after being in a dimly lit tunnel for a while


    Unlike the rest of these ruins, this room is not lit by the magic torches but by a more impressive magic in the form of glowing spheres handing from the ceiling, emitting a white light.


    Though it would be difficult to describe the strange technology in this room, it is all made of yet another strange metal and are connected to metal workbench''s covered an a littering of metal parts, too peculiar to even attempt guess their use. This place was named Clockwork Gnome station, but I¡¯ve never heard the words clockwork and gnome ever be used and can¡¯t guess their meaning, but since it translated it must¡¯ve been used in the human language the past only to be forgotten hundreds of years ago.


    In this room are other strange objects in various shapes, but more importantly there are four doors other than the one we came in, three of which are store rooms and the last is another tunnel.


    Before we continue down it, we look around for a few minutes and here the door behind us open.


    Through it come the metal children, two of them holding a separate box.


    These boxes are put in one of the storerooms and each of them stand on a large metal plate, located on the opposite end of the room.


    In unison, all five of them reach out and each grab a wire hanging from the wall behind them, with each wire ending in the small metal spike which they then stab into a small hole above where their heart should be.


    Afterwards all five stood completely still, and the sound they emit begins to die down until they¡¯re completely silent.


    Before attempting to leave, I quickly check the different storerooms for anything interesting but nothing obvious shows up and it could take hours to sort through the alien parts that fill the rooms. I would bring one of the boxes I copied the runes from, but they are too big to conceal and would surely have me lynched.


    Now, the last remaining door by the process of elimination should lead to the emergency exit. I wonder how it might differ from the way we entered, which was labelled ¡®Surface Entrance¡¯.


    This tunnel was short, though it snaked around making it impossible to tell how long it is until you reach its end. Which I¡¯m glad didn¡¯t lead us endlessly through the mountainous underbelly of the Forgotten Lands.


    At the end of the tunnel was a lever, but unlike the one at our entrance, this one is a much more conventional design and far cruder than the other.


    I pull it with a little difficulty due to rust, but I begin the hear the familiar, unfamiliar sounds of metallic clanks and grinding.


    With this the slab door begins to open slowly and after half a minute we are all breathing fresh air in what looks to somewhere between midday and the evening.


    The outside of the door, unlike the side we first saw, was made of rock. Or at least looked to be made of rock, and a pretty convincing one too. Perhaps I have walked past hundreds of these doors without ever realising it. Ignorance is bliss after all.


    As we are all standing around breathing deeply, the door begins to slide shut behind us, though I don¡¯t see a way of reopening it from this side.


    Ah¡­ Maybe that¡¯s its difference from the surface entrance.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not getting back in there easily.¡± Pack Mule says, stating the obvious.


    I speak up after gathering everyone''s attention.


    ¡°Now, since we are out and both known entrances are sealed, what should we report when getting back. Personally, I¡¯d like to leave this place as a secret and come back sometime in the future to further explore and investigate it.¡±


    Overall, the responses were around the same and in the end we agreed that we¡¯d report the hellhounds, that the surface entrance was destroyed and that the people we were searching for are dead. As for why we¡¯ve been missing, we agree to all say we retreated from the hellhounds into to a set of empty catacombs and it took a while to find a different exit.


    Though we are telling the full story to the rest of our squadron, as well as the fact about my magical talent, but I¡¯ll have to further explain that I don¡¯t know any spells.


    In the future when I return to these ruins, I¡¯ll either have to go through the broken surface entrance or the one-way emergency exit and since one has some hungry fire-breathing dogs near it the decision is easy.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.Therefore, to find my way back here in the future I should do a couple of things.


    Firstly, I walk up to the rock-like door hiding amongst rock and I¡¯m redirected by Torben to the identical rock beside it. Now at the right rock, I mark it with my dagger.


    Then I borrow Argus¡¯s magic quill and write down the areas details, with the only thing noteworthy being a small murky pond nearby.


    Finally, on the way back to the fort, I intend to mark eye-catching things, to indicate I¡¯m on the right path on my return here. Thought most of those ¡®eye-catching things¡¯ will just be slightly odd rocks.


    We all begin travelling east, hoping that we find our original route to travel back on.


    However, there is also the risk of stumbling on the hellhounds lair or at least a chance of them smelling us. But I don¡¯t want to take the risk of travelling around that area, lest we bump into something bigger or end up lost in a maze of stone.


    Taking it slowly through the grey landscape, we sometimes here a roar or howl far in the distance making us subconsciously slow down further, making our pace just above a crawl. Since, I was just as nervous as them, if not more, I didn¡¯t encourage everyone to speed up. Though I am very worried about not getting back before nightfall, cursing myself for my previous confidence in the remaining hours of light we have remaining. It being just a flickering candle, wary of the monsters in the ever growing shadows.


    However I¡¯m glad that our paranoia existed, as we almost ran into a giant spider nest, though we detected it before getting spotted and made a large detour. As you could imagine, this only fuel our endless worrying. Though no one expressed this aloud, both due to pride and in case the noise brings a monster horde upon our heads.


    Going around a bend, we saw something that we most likely couldn¡¯t avoid.


    Kneeling over the bodies of a large hyena are fourteen human-like creatures, tearing at the last pieces of flesh clinging to its bones.


    However, these thing are far from human.


    An example of this is the sharp, elongated fangs dyed red with blood, from which a serpentine tongue snakes out of whilst letting out a quiet hiss.


    Their skin is far too pale, with a slight green hue, not rotting yet emitting the smell of necrosis that would make a inexperienced adventurer empty his stomach.


    Also, its eyes are white, glazed over and unseeing. Relying on its other senses, primarily its tongue which works like a snake, making stealth ineffective so long as you give out heat.


    A mistake I once made, believing my shadow magic would conceal me, only to have one pounce at my throat.


    Additionally, the fingers on its hands are much longer than that of a human, ending in claws that are coated in a natural venom which causes paralysis if you are some much as scratched. Although, the paralysis only lasts a couple of minutes, by the time it will wear off you¡¯ll have someone picking apart your organs and wearing your entrails as a necklace.


    I have encountered multiple of these in the barrens, but only the odd stray that exited the Forgotten Lands, perhaps looking for more tender meat that didn¡¯t bite back.


    They are fast, difficult to kill and will be able to detect anyone within a certain radius.


    Unfortunately, we are within that radius¡­ A fact emphasised by all fourteen of the ghouls simultaneously stopping feeding and turning towards us, tongue flickering as their throat begins to let out a low primal growl.


    Eleven of the ghouls stand and start cautiously shuffling towards us, in a stance indicating they could pounce at any moment. The remaining three saw this as an opportunity to greedily devour the last scraps of meat left on the ravished carcass now that their share had just increased.


    In my hand I¡¯m holding a shortsword in my main hand and a dagger in my off-hand, since I will be needing speed and versatility.


    Three of the ghouls run at me, maybe seeing me as an easier target than the huge Torben stood next to me. I¡¯m confident in my abilities, but I won¡¯t be able to handle three and even two is pushing it.


    Luckily Torben has my back and charges down the closest one while I run past him to the other two, as I¡¯m doing this he decapitates it with a single swing. Giving him a second to ready his stance before two different monsters were at his throat.


    Meanwhile, I dance around my foes, not allowing them to flank me. Seeing that is not working, one of them hops forwards and swings at my face. Though it is fast, it¡¯s also very sloppy and so I easily duck under it, flashing out my dagger and cutting into its ribs. Possibly a deep enough wound to disable a living fighter, but the only reaction I got was a pained growl. However, there is little difference between their expression for pain and their expression wrath.


    Before that ghoul had recovered from its swing, the other attempted to cut open my leg and paralyse me. Thankfully, I decided on speed rather than reach and power, allowing me to cut at its hand, disappointingly not being deep enough to chop it off and was answered with a furious hiss.


    I see the other creature attempt to tackle me, recklessly diving towards me. In response I sidestep, narrowly avoiding it, as its momentum continues to carry it forwards.


    I lunge at the one still in front of me, driving my sword through its heart all the way up to the hilt, bringing my face right in front of his.


    The smell of its breath was awful and if I had the luxury to throw up, I would¡¯ve.


    It glared at me, clearly in pain, but before it could attempt to rip into my throat, my hand shot out. Burying my dagger into its temple, feeling relived as it fell limp.


    I withdrew my dagger and began to do the same with the sword as I felt a sharp pain in my back.


    Letting go of the sword, I spin around and swing wildly with my dagger, missing its neck by an inch.


    Rather than attacking further, it takes a step back to wait for me to collapse.


    Before that can happen, I charge forward and notice how heavy my body feels, deciding to throw all of my weight to a single lunge.


    The dagger enters it through its eye and into the brain, and both of us fall to the ground.


    Neither of us moving whilst lying side by side, looking up at the sky.


    An macabre image of two lovers lazily gazing at the fluffy clouds overhead.

 Chapter 7: Runic Research

    Some time after the sounds of fighting stopped, I began to slowly sit up.


    Torben is sat up like me, looking equally as shitty.


    Argus is busy bandaging a deep wound on Grigori¡¯s forearm who looks to be unconscious. Hopefully his artery wasn¡¯t cut.


    Halstein is breathing deeply, looking exhausted but doesn¡¯t seem to be injured.


    Thankfully, the cut on my back is only light but when I get back I¡¯ll have to drown it in disinfectant, since I doubt a ghouls claws are very sanitary.


    It took far too much time than I was comfortable with for us to set off again and Grigori isn¡¯t in any condition to fight due to blood loss.


    After a couple of close encounter shortly after moving again, they got less and less frequent as we got closer to our destination. Or at the very least, they got increasingly better at staying hidden.


    As it began to get dark we found the path we originally travelled down, around half way between the ruins and Fort Torbek.


    However, if you listen carefully, it sounds as if the whole area became alive all at once with shrill shrieks and low roars that lightly reverberate through the ground. Even though some of the loudest noises can be faintly heard within the fort, it is far more disturbing to get the constant feeling to be surrounded by growling predators roaming through the winding stone.


    It didn¡¯t take too much longer to reach the fort, where we received better treatment for our impromptu bandaged injuries.


    And most importantly some hot food, the best spice is hunger after all. So the sub-par cooking became a gourmet meal, though in reality it was just a watered down vegetable soup. However, I managed to bag myself an extra piece of bread to compensate for being starved for a day or two.


    A benefit of not being in charge of the squadron is that I¡¯m not responsible for explaining everything that has happened, and therefore don¡¯t have to attempt to deceive my superiors. Even though I believe I could do so easily if need be, and I¡¯ve had plenty experience at it too.


    Not that I¡¯m bragging or anything¡­


    I have a lot to study from our recent escapade, but I¡¯ll firstly be focusing on examining the runes I copied.


    However, after a few hours of experimenting, nothing is coming from it. Every time I write it out perfectly, but when I begin to pour in mana the parchment withers away, crumbling into dust. Not only this, but parchment is expensive and I had to go through painstaking  lengths to get enough of it to properly test the runes, plus I wanted to keep some for the future. Now I only have half of the original parchment and a growing pile of dust, with no progress to show for it.


    Argus did mention that he knows quite a bit about runes from his sister, so I should be getting some information from him.


    I just hope I didn¡¯t copy the boxes runes wrong from the very start, even though I checked repeatedly that it was accurate.


    The next day, I got Argus alone to speak to him, though I¡¯m not sure what the point of secrecy is when the whole squadron knows about me. Even though I get a few curious glances from them, they aren¡¯t bothering me too much nor do they seem afraid.


    ¡°So, Raegan I assume this conversation will be magic related since you wanted to speak alone.¡±


    ¡°Perceptive as always.¡± So much so its disturbing. ¡° I wanted to ask you more about those runes, since I reached a dead-end before I even begun.¡±


    ¡°Always happy to help, the others would probably want to know what all of this is about, so there¡¯s little reason to be so secretive. It isn¡¯t every day that you can find long forgotten knowledge after all.¡± At the end of the last sentence he adds a sly grin, and his eyes become¡­ Intense.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.So, by ¡®others¡¯ he means himself. Is this guy trying to compete with me for the ¡®obsessive knowledge hoarder award¡¯ or something?


    But I suppose there is no reason why I can¡¯t let the rest of the squadron know a little about magic, so long as they can¡¯t use it themselves it will only be useful as a curiosity. My problem right now is that I don¡¯t have any information to actually divulge, so their curiosity will have to wait.


    For an hour or two, me and Argus begin the basics of how runes work. Though it would be more accurate to say he was speaking at me, whilst I struggle to commit everything to memory.


    Engraving every detail into my mind, being careful not to miss anything.


    After all the information has solidified and I reprocess it to make sure everything is there, I end up with this:


    A rune is a magical circuit that contains the stored information for a spell or magical effect. Therefore, all is needed to use this information is a supply of mana to be fed into it. Of course, a more complex and powerful rune uses more mana. However, a small rune that uses very little mana may not require mana to be fed into it at all, with an example of this being Argus¡¯s magic quill that uses no ink. The mana for these runes are instead supplied by the small levels ever-present in the surrounding environment, though the amount used is tiny.


    There are two types of runes, with all of those that I come across being Hardwired runes and the other are called ethereal runes.


    Argus doesn¡¯t know a lot about ethereal runes, so had only explained they are temporary runes that are formed only using magic.


    Hardwired runes are drawn structures, with each part of the structure being a different component of a spell or magical effect.


    However, normal materials cannot handle high levels of mana going through it, needing to be specific made from materials that can handle a magical current. Due to this, high power runes that require a higher magical current, also need to be on better materials that can handle the higher levels of mana.


    For example, a steel could handle a very basic rune on it, however a slightly more powerful rune would cause the sword to heat up when used. But a rune even more powerful than this would begin to melt the sword, in turn destroying the rune.


    It is this reason that my parchment keeps getting destroyed, as its material would be animal hide.


    However, a parchment made of monster hide rather than a cow would be much better, with its quality depending on the type of monster.


    Once a magical rune is drawn, the first time you pour mana into it, rather than activate it will burn the ink into the material and become permanent.


    Provided that it can handle the amount of mana needed for the rune.


    There is some other bits of information, but this is the reason why my rune was failing, and that rune supposedly doesn¡¯t have that high of a mana cost.


    But even though now I know how to fix it, I¡¯m still stuck until I acquire the materials for it.


    And I thought getting regular parchment was a pain.


    ......................................................................................................................................................................


    I have been swamped by college work for the last week, so not much time for writing. :(

 Chapter 8: Sleep talking

    Even though I don¡¯t have any monster parchment, I know I can still test different materials since the foreign box was made of metal, albeit one I have never seen before.


    So its time to ¡®commission¡¯ some scraps of materials to test this.


    I was thinking of writing my knowledge down to make sure I never forget any of it, but I¡¯m worried it¡¯ll incriminate me if anyone comes across it.


    After a couple days of testing, these are my results.


    Parchment- Complete failure, requires testing with rarer base materials.


    Iron- Glows white-hot and begins to partly melt. Complete failure.


    Animal hide- I was thinking if parchment doesn¡¯t work, maybe its thicker, non-refined equivalent would. It was also a complete failure, but rather than crumble it set on began to char, leaving behind the smell of burnt fur. Need a more secure testing area further away from people.


    Wood- By far the worst results yet, with multiple sub-types of wood tested, all test have resulted in being incinerated into ash. I¡¯m glad I relocated to somewhere more remote otherwise I could have set some thing on fire.


    Rock- Complete failure, initial rocks wouldn¡¯t work due to its roughness making me unable to draw accurate runes. Smoother rocks however just disintegrated into sand. Could be useful if I ever need sand though.


    Steel- This was annoying to get a hold of. Had to buy a steel sword of someone, but the results were more promising. Like the iron it began to heat up but stopped shortly after turning red and eventually began to cool down, though I had to wait ages for it to be cool enough to touch. In the end to sword blade had the rune engraved into it, giving of a slight blue glow, but the rest of the blade was partly warped and useless as a weapon. After attempting to activate the rune with a rock over it, it began to heat up again, causing the rune to begin to glow before it was abruptly stopped. The blade had become too damaged for the rune to be functional. But it showed that this steel was far more effective than all other materials I have tried up to now.


    This testing was some help, but I¡¯m still without a appropriate material I can use, so this is being postponed until I can get better materials.


    Though like Argus suggested, I should be able to use a rune on a steel sword, provided it has a lower mana consumption than the rune I have access to now.


    I have still being getting impromptu lessons on runes from Argus, but since all of his information is from witnessing rather than doing, it is very limited.


    Although he has been useful in identifying sub-sections of the rune and describing what they do.


    My last remaining source of information is Lilith, the slightly insane witch.


    To talk to her I just have to use mana that day before going to sleep and she will normally be waiting for me. But her chunk of floating rock is much further away since I came back to Fort Torben, which is comforting.


    In the past I had a stalker that use to watch me sleep, safe to say she isn¡¯t around anymore. But even though I know she isn¡¯t anywhere near me, I always get the same feeling of being watched when I sleep.


    Stolen novel; please report.Its creepy.


    Over the next couple of nights, I talked with her, though she was more intent in inconsequential small talk.


    Which I reluctantly participated in, I was getting invaluable information after all.


    Over two nights I learned less than I hoped to, but I suspect this is intentional. Though she seems naive and excitable, it is likely just a front. After all, she is living in the Forgotten Lands, but perhaps I¡¯m being too paranoid due to my background.


    Firstly, I learnt a little about how magic affinities work, mixed in with completely irrelevant information about herself. Like how parents mix in unliked vegetables into your favourite food expecting you not to notice.


    Filtering out the useless parts leaves me with this.


    Everyone with an innate ability for magic has a main magic affinity, this is type of magic their first natural magic presents itself as.


    Therefore, my highest magic affinity is shadow magic, whilst Lilith¡¯s is soul magic.


    People then have some lesser affinities, which are harder to detect without attempting to use that type of magic.


    However, everyone will have multiple type of magic in which they have no affinity and will be completely unable to use that magic.


    The less naturally gifted you are, the less types of magic you can use, with some people only being able to use one type.


    This is the reason regular people cannot use magic, even if someone went through the effort of teaching them it won¡¯t yield any results since they have no magic affinities.


    The most common magic involves; elemental magic, transmutation, divination, enchantment and conjuration. All of these magic¡¯s then branch into     sub-magic, also known as a magic affinities like fire or lightning affinities which fall under elemental magic.


    Furthermore, if you have a affinity under a broader school of magic, you have more chance of having an affinity with others within the same school.


    However, some rarer affinities like soul or shadow magic don¡¯t have a wider school they belong under.


    The second bit of information I managed to pry from her is about ethereal runes.


    Whilst hard-wired runes have to be made in advance, ethereal runes can be assembled in the middle of combat by using mana to form a rune in front of the caster.


    This is process is slower the more complicated the rune is, which is also dependent on the intelligence of the person forming the rune.


    I¡¯m unsure of what possible effects you could achieve with this, and when I asked I was replied with ¡®If you come to meet me in person I¡¯ll show you some!¡¯.


    So naturally I dropped the subject completely and avoided all attempts to be lured into this widows web.

 Chapter 9: Sparring with a sparrow

    Earlier, Argus explained to me and Torben of a melee tournament coming up between mercenary groups that happens every 4 months.


    I wouldn¡¯t have much incentive to enter normally, except for bragging rights and a small monetary prize.


    However, since I wish to move further up in the Black Hounds hierarchy it could be beneficial if I won.


    None of the Forts garrison or Taldar¡¯s standing army is allowed to participate, but all three of the other mercenary groups should be participating.


    The first of these is the Red Daggers skirmishing company, whose composition and purpose is similar to our, except they have slightly fewer members.


    The next are the Taldarian Juggernaut brotherhood, being a well-trained melee unit focused on tight shield formations and close quarters combat.


    Finally is the Dancing Swan company, a ridiculous name that suits them perfectly. This consists of random rowdy sellswords from around the kingdom, with not a shred of decency between them. Unfortunately, whilst they are not too hung up on discipline and manners, all of them are capable veteran fighters. Which goes for all of the other mercenary groups employed on the borders to the Forgotten Lands, who would only accept a non-veteran to use them as monster bait. A tactic I wouldn¡¯t put past those mangy savages. Though in all honesty, there not nearly as bad as my previous employers, which likely doesn¡¯t reflect well on me since I was their scary raiding leader. I prefer to think myself misunderstood.


    In this melee, every mercenary company selects ten of their best fighters, though the companies leaders aren¡¯t allowed to participate in case they accidentally die, causing the mercenary company to fall into chaos. Though someone dying is very unlikely, due to the use of blunted swords and padded armour. Other than that, there are very little rules beyond not going too far and accepting pleas for mercy.


    Since the Black Hounds is separated into thirteen groups, one member is chosen from each group which would give us three too many people.


    Though sparring semi-seriously with each other, everyone mutually agree who the three weakest are. But if any disagreements arise from this it is settled with a more serious duel, with the loser being one of the three to go.


    The most ideal candidates for this would be me or Torben, though all of the others in my squadron are also very capable.


    After some talking with the others and some light-hearted sparring, I was chosen.


    After sparring with the other twelve members the day before the tourney, we finally reached a complete agreement between ourselves, without any bitter arguments or rivalries. One thing I¡¯ve learnt since being here is that the company has a good comradery between each other, with even the couple of members of the Black Hounds I injured during spars, some badly so, not bearing any grudges.


    I suppose that is an advantage of squadron going and selectively recruiting members that fit well with each other, unlike some other groups.


    Now it¡¯s time for the beginning round of the tournament, I speak as if it is a large festival affair that I¡¯ve heard about in stories, but it¡¯s far from it.


    Rather, it¡¯s a lot of mercenaries shouting encouragements and threats at the men fighting in the centre of the fort¡¯s overly courtyard, whilst placing bets on promising fighters. Best not to mention this not being allowed, nor is the surprisingly large amount of the kingdoms soldiers and workers that have snuck away from their jobs to watch men bruise each other.


    The entirety of the fights are one on one, with the line up rigged to make sure you fight other companies, rather than your own. Though exceptions do occur if there is a lot of people from you company is still around, especially towards the end of the tournament as participates begin to get scarce.


    An rough-spoken announcer moves to the middle of the courtyard, the only place free of people, and announces the rules before calling out the first fight.


    Today will consist of two fights, with you being eliminated if you lose either, which will bring down the numbers from 40 to 20, and then down again to 10. Those ten will fight again tomorrow amongst each other, with each fight consisting of three rounds.


    It is not long before I hear my name called out, along with a man called Larkin from the Red Daggers, a short man with dark brown hair and a burn scar across the right side of his neck.


    In all of the fights we have to use a longsword, which puts some member of both of the skirmishing companies to a disadvantage, since their main weapon would normally be a shortsword. Though our squadron seems to be full of people who defy that fact, except Finnian, who seemingly has every bladed weapon known to man.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.Due to this fact, some of the most talented fighter don¡¯t participate due to being uncomfortable with the weapon type, preferring to use a shortsword or perhaps a far more unusual weapon like a chain-sickle, which I saw a man walking around with whilst complaining about the extreme injustice.


    We both prepare ourselves and get into our stances, waiting for the signal to fight.


    I get into the ¡®ox¡¯ stance, raising the hilt of my sword just above my right temple and pointing the tip towards my opponents throat.


    We are given the signal to start and begin shuffling towards each other, both of us not lowering our guard. Once within three metres, I bend my legs slightly before lunging forwards, with my sword still in the same stance. The two thing I most excel at is stealth and speed. Though someone like Torben could easily out strength me, I can attack quickly and precisely, throwing off their stance whilst taking advantage of any opening I create.


    Within a second I¡¯m in range, though my opponents reaction speed is quicker than I hoped for. As he saw me lunge, his eyes widened as I closed the gap and he abandoned his stance, throwing himself backwards to narrowly avoid my downwards slash.


    Seeing the opportunity I press on the attack giving him no time to recover, giving quick slashes aimed at his throat, all of which he avoids fairly easily but still doesn¡¯t have enough time to put up his guard.


    I don¡¯t intend for any of those attacks to him, I¡¯m just waiting for a more sizeable opening before committing myself to a finishing blow. This is due to his quick reactions, making it dangerous to go for a reckless attack since it could lead to a counterattack that quickly turns the tables.


    After a couple more attacks he takes the initiative, seeing that his condition isn¡¯t going to be improving anytime soon. It was likely he was waiting for me to lunge forward with a heavy attack so that he could avoid it and get on the attack before I recover. Though seeing my conservative approach, he makes a gamble and instead of backpedaling hops forwards towards my blade making a downwards slash at his collarbone. He partly ducks under the blade and deflecting the slash across the length of blade, leaving my side exposed to him.


    Something he takes advantage of swinging at my exposed chest, to which I respond to by twisting towards him whilst stepping back, wasting no movement to better position myself.


    However due this, his sword has a glancing blow at my ribcage, shooting pain through out my chest.


    It¡¯s nothing serious, but it still hurts like hell.


    Now both of us are at a stalemate, returning to the stances we were in at the beginning of our fight.


    Although he isn¡¯t a fool who will be pushed into a corner like last time, so the second our stances are ready he goes on the attack.


    Though he is not quite as fast as me, his dash is still impressive, with him holding his sword at his hip positioned away from me, ready for a fast upwards cut.


    Anticipating this I move forwards to meet his challenge, heavily swinging towards his quickly closing sword resulting in a loud metallic clash, jarring both of our arms as the force of the collision ripples through our bones.


    Since we both need to recover our stances to begin attacking again, the logical thing to do is to step back and reposition.


    However, using my momentum gained from moving forward to meet his sword, I lower my shoulder and spring forwards, driving it into his chest.


    Though I¡¯m not overly muscly or big, I still out-weigh the short and lean fighter currently tumbling backwards towards the ground. With me almost falling with him, but managing to recover.


    Stood over his prone body, I put my blade to his neck and lightly step on his sword arm, still gripping his weapon.


    We stare at each other for a second or two before he makes a small grin.


    ¡°I yield.¡± He says in a deep raspy voice. Possibly caused by whatever left that burn on his neck, since it didn¡¯t at all fit his small stature.


    After helping him up and probing my ribs for anything broken or otherwise amiss.


    It¡¯ll probably leave nothing more than a light bruise, so I¡¯ll live.


    What was his name again?


    ¡­ Larkin?


    I¡¯ll make sure to remember that name, since he could have gotten much further if poor luck didn¡¯t pit him against me.


    Now to the second fight I guess.

 Chapter 10: Sword dance with a swan

    The next fight is against a man around my height from the Juggernaut''s, though he is considerably stockier than me.


    Again, since the main tactics of the Taldarian Juggernauts is tight sword and shield formations, this puts their whole company at a disadvantage. The ones entered into the tournament are likely veterans than used a longsword before joining with their current employer.


    This guy looks quite a bit older than me, perhaps in his late 30¡¯s or early 40¡¯s and has a couple of small scars visible, likely going well with his war stories of how he got them.


    What I¡¯m hoping is that he¡¯s strong but slow.


    We both ready our self in the middle of the courtyard.


    I assume the near-ward stance, putting the hit at hip height and facing the blade backwards, facing down at a 45 degree angle. Being very beneficial for fast upwards cuts, I intend to finish this within the first couple of strikes.


    Upon the signal to fight, I dash forwards quickly closing the gap whilst keeping my blade at a 45 degree angle behind me  and see him get in the appropriate stance to parry such a readable attack.


    At the very last moment I twist by body to the left, assuming the same stance on the opposite hip.


    As he moves to better position his guard I swing fast and hard, rather than aim for exposed points I target his sword.


    The familiar metal sound reverberates through the courtyard, with the majority of the force knocking my opponent off guard.


    Since I¡¯m still moving forwards, I use my speed to spin around his left shoulder before he can react, almost bringing me directly behind him.


    Using my spinning momentum, I swing horizontally towards his spine as he starts to turn towards me.


    My sword flashes out at the very limits that the human eye can follow and drives into his left ribs, resulting in an audible crunching noise as his ribs shatter.


    If he turned a second slower, he¡¯d have a broken spine. Either way he can''t remain standing, much less fight.


    And so, I go to the next round.


    Before everyone leaves to go eat or go back to their neglected duties, the announcer loudly reads out the line up of the next fights.


    I¡¯m up against a bastard called Dixon Antoni from the Dancing vermin.


    Someone whom I¡¯ve disliked for the second I ran into him.


    He¡¯s cocky, egotistical, has his head too far up his own arse to not go around talking shit.


    What¡¯s even worse is that he¡¯s a great fighter, and had won both of his fights one-sidedly.


    So if I was to accidentally break his neck, it wouldn¡¯t exactly keep me awake at night.


    As I begin walking back towards my quarters, him and five of his arse-kissers are waiting for me.


    With their annoyingly talented alpha stood at the front of the pack with a stupid grin on his face, practically radiating self-confidence.


    ¡°Hey Reagan, just wanted you to know that I¡¯m looking forward to the fight tomorrow. Perhaps you¡¯ll even get a hit on me. If I''m feeling generous of course!¡± To this the rest of his toadies began to systematically laugh along with him, almost sounding pre-rehearsed which wouldn¡¯t surprise me.


    Unlike some, I don¡¯t have great control over sudden extreme urges.


    And so I drive my fist hard into his gut, with the rest of his ¡®friends¡¯ beginning to draw their weapons with the look of anger on their face. All except two, who are trying to stifle a laugh as Dixon is keeled over on the ground.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.Ignoring the aggressive curses directed at me, I casually stroll past the men still holding their half drawn swords and enter to building in which I¡¯ll find my quarters.


    Though fighting is a punishable offense, I¡¯m fairly certain Dixon¡¯s overwhelming pride will stop him from reporting me.


    Hopefully his anger turns into rage for tomorrows fight, as it will make him predictable and easy to beat.


    Come tomorrow however, this doesn¡¯t look to be the case.


    Opposite me is a man who is clearly angry, but holds a cold vicious look rather than the predictability of a raging fire.


    No matter, I intend to win matter his facial expressions.


    Unlike the last round, where it was instant elimination. This fight will be the best of three, provided that both parties can still fight after the first and/or second duel.


    The first round progressed with both of us pretty evenly, with both of us flowing through stances, dancing around each other constantly swinging and parrying.


    After five minutes I avoid yet another attack and thrust at his face.


    Swiveling to the side, my sword misses and a second later he swings upwards for the side of my neck.


    Seeing this, I raise my sword hilt above my head and redirect his blade, causing him to over-swing.


    Using this opportunity I lunge forwards and aim for his exposed leg, but quick reactions allow him to parry the swing. My true purpose however, was to get close to him, which I accomplished with our face almost touching.


    Taking advantage of the close distance, I swing my right elbow into his nose and succeed in sending him stumbling backwards with a guttural howl.


    I then swing at the sword he¡¯s holding awkwardly in one hand before he can put up his guard, knocking it harmlessly to the side as it leaves his hand and flies a few meters to the side.


    Finally I raise my longsword to his throat, forcing him to yield.


    Unexpectedly he doesn¡¯t lose control of his emotions and retains his angry yet perceptive gaze.


    All I need to do now is win the next fight to go into the next round.


    For the first three minutes, the fight followed the same pattern of both of us holding our own.


    I then attempt a heavy swing at his sword arm, however he hops forwards whilst ducking and using his sword to redirect mine over his head.


    Before I can recover, he directs a kick at my stomach, perhaps as an attempt of payback.


    Denying him the satisfaction I sidestep, turning my body accordingly, but his kick clips my left hip and unbalancing me.


    Seeing that neither of us has our guard up I muster all of my strength and wildly cut at his chest.


    However due to my imbalance, the blade goes too high and allows him to easily duck under it.


    A second later, a lightning fast sword comes towards my knees, threatening to snap them like twigs.


    With no chance to block this in time I make a desperate attempt to jump the blade.


    Though this saves my bones from breaking, his sword still hits the bottom of my feet, not resulting in any damage but sends me headfirst towards the ground.


    Rolling onto my back, I realise my sword is lying a metre away from me.


    Beginning to move towards it, the feeling of cold metal presses against my neck.


    Dixon stood over me, without his usual cocky grin that accompanies him.


    I guess it¡¯ll all be settled on this final fight.

 Chapter 11: Devouring ankle of death!

    I got back into position and waited for the signal to fight. I almost didn¡¯t hear the announcer give it, since me and Dixon were having the worlds most intense staring match. But the second the signal was given, I had my opponent charge straight at me, so it wouldn¡¯t have made a difference if I did hear him.


    We both meet in the middle, him lunging forwards and swinging with deadly accuracy. If I get hit in the wrong place, I can¡¯t say for sure if it will kill me with the strength he¡¯s putting behind his sword.


    I block his lunging strike by raising my sword to the ¡®ox¡¯ guard causing both of our swords to run down each others blade, getting block by each of our cross-guards.


    Both of use drawing a step back then continue this pattern of striking and countering, moving around each other, then parrying and striking. Each of us probing for an opening, occasionally throwing in a faint, or misdirection to cause one.


    All I need is him to make one mistake, whilst he waits for the same.


    I block yet another attack, before trying a risky move.


    I lightly swing for his head and he prepares to parry it, likely seeing this as the opportunity he¡¯s looking for.


    However mid-swing I change directions, allowing my sword to go over his head as I arc it down in a semicircle at his right leg, putting a little more strength towards the end of the arc.


    Of course he see¡¯s this and manages to block it, but doesn¡¯t do so efficiently, feeling the full force of my blade hit his.


    However, I¡¯m not done yet.


    I then turn around his opposite side, swinging as I spin towards his chest.


    This again he blocks, but can only do so with the brunt of his blade.


    But since this attack was much stronger than the last, it felt as if the blade was to shatter from the force and I could see a small grimace as he received the blow.


    Not giving him any recovery time I press onwards, raining down blow after blow.


    After a minute of this my arms are beginning to feel numb, so I can¡¯t imagine the condition of his. But his movements seem more sluggish than before, though I have to admit I¡¯m starting to get worn out also.


    He steps towards me, swinging at my face with a vicious expression, with a hint of desperation just behind the surface.


    Too slow.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.I easily parry it and bring an overhead swing down towards his head.


    Again it is blocked, but only just.


    After a few extra hits are blocked, increasing our growing exhaustion, a wild lunge is aimed at me.


    To be honest I have absolutely no idea where it was intended to hit, as the attack was too short.


    Perhaps he misjudged the distance in his weary delirium.


    Since there is no need to stop an attack that¡¯ll never hit me, I take a step to the left and swing horizontally at the half-crazed man stumbling into the place I just was. He of course had no way to stop himself from charging into my sword flashing towards him, nor does he have the energy to try.


    And so, it hits him just below the ribs, causing him to fall to his hands and knees and vomit.


    But not a second after, I put my whole weight behind an overhead swing into his back, resulting in a exhausted man, crumbled in his own vomit.


    I¡¯ve heard a spine break before when a man was thrown of his horse, landing onto a rock. Since, I heard no such sound, I can probably assume I didn¡¯t leave him paralysed.


    A damn shame.


    The next day I woke up in agony.


    My arms hurt and seemed to be threatening a mutiny because I¡¯m sure they intend to fall off.


    In addition to this I couldn¡¯t walk.


    The blow to my foot didn¡¯t hurt immediately, though now has finally manifested itself in the form of a swelling that threatens to devour my ankle.


    So I won¡¯t be participating for the rest of the competition, but it was still worth it to teach that overconfident rat a lesson.


    If I was in Taldar¡¯s standing army, I¡¯d probably have to deal with a superior frothing at the mouth with I¡¯m reprimanded for my stupidity.


    However, all I have to deal with are my annoying squadron insistent of mocking me at every opportunity.


    I''ve decided, they all have to go!


    And so I start devising my cunning plan at getting payback for their insolence.


    A most devious plan¡­


    .....................................................................................................................................................................................


    Chapter''s a bit shorter today because I just wanted to rap this up to continue with the next.

 Chapter 12: The great lord Pussycus!

    All I need for my revenge is a large painting of a cat.


    Preferably a cute, non-sinister one that melts even the coldest of hearts.


    The rest of the components I already have, not that it needs a lot.


    Since I can¡¯t move, I¡¯ll have to rely on Torben to acquire it.


    Obviously he will be confused at first, but soon after I¡¯ll be getting praised for my evil genius.


    ¡°MuHeHeHeHe!¡±


    ¡°Raegan¡­ Are you ok?¡±


    ¡°Fine brother. Just fine... Come here, I have something to tell you.¡±


    *Torben POV*


    I just got briefed on a¡­ Inventive¡­ Plan to get back at the others, though it was worrying that he kept stopping at random intervals to start chuckling.


    Maybe he has a head wound?


    Either way, I agreed to this, so I¡¯ll at least try. Though it is difficult to know where to begin.


    I guess the only place to go would be this forts smuggler.


    A man called Lycus is visited by all manner of people in the fort, wanting to acquire something from outside the fort.


    Some of which could be contraband, like alcohol, other thing could just be an item you can¡¯t find here, like paintings of cats. Though that¡¯s probably a first for him.


    I entered the near deserted part of the fort, towards the back of winding hallways where miscellaneous supplies are stored, yet likely never used.


    And so there is little reason for anyone to be here, unless to see the smuggler.


    Getting to my destination, a man waits on a barrel, as he does everyday at this hour.


    He has long braided black hair and a rough face with a bruise on his cheek from the recent melee. That or he¡¯s been getting into fights.


    Lycus is apart of the Dancing Swans, but at midday every day, you can find him here to submit requests.


    As I walk up his head turns towards me, a small grin appearing on his face.


    ¡°Ahh. Running out of parchment? Or perhaps you want something else?¡±


    ¡°I need a large painting of a cat, preferably cute and non-menacing.¡±


    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s the third one this week, I¡¯m not sure why you¡¯d want it large though since it¡¯ll make it hard to conceal.¡±


    After that we discuss price, the time it¡¯ll take and the relative size I wanted. This thing was expensive, like most painting are, but apparently this was worth most of the money we¡¯ve saved up.


    *End of POV*


    One week after my plan preparation begun, I could walk again. Five days after that, the cat arrived. It took a great deal of effort to hide, but it¡¯s done and my revenge is near, very near indeed.


    ¡°MuHeHeHe.¡±


    This kitty will strike fear into the hearts of those that mocked me on my helplessness, though it was done light-heartedly, so I¡¯ll let them keep their lives.


    During my week of immobility I spoke to Lilith, who not only agreed to my plans effectiveness but began to laugh like a maniac.


    Some thing like this.


    ¡°KaHuHuHeHe!¡±


    *Torben POV*


    Oh gods, he¡¯s getting worse.


    Maybe he¡¯s ill with some disease that affects the mind, or hunger-induced insanity.


    Lets use denial. Yes he¡¯s obviously just clearing his throat¡­ just clearing his throat.


    *End of POV*


    Ok, now all I have to do is wait until the dead of night to put my plan into action.


    Why is Torben repeatedly chanting something to himself, is he going insane?


    Lets just pretend it¡¯s not happening. He¡¯s just committing a sentence to memory. Yes that¡¯s it, committing something to memory...


    Sometime after darkness fell, I take out my devil thorn I collected a while ago, I carefully cut off a thorn.


    I then open my window, before leaving my room, painting in hand.


    Thankfully, this hall is deserted at this time at night, I haven¡¯t checked the time but it¡¯ll be a couple of hours past midnight.


    The hall was dimly lit by moonlight filtering through the wide arch windows lining the hall.


    But this is still dark enough to use my magic.


    *Shadow blend*


    The surrounding darkness moves to cover me like a cloak, making me virtually un-detectable whilst staying still. When moving I glide across the ground, making no noise since my feet don¡¯t touch the ground, hovering millimetres above it. Whilst moving, it would look like a shadow rippling through further shadow, or slight movement in the dark that you couldn¡¯t quite catch.


    Of course, only when closer you¡¯d see the outline of a moving shadow as darkness ripples around me. Even then it¡¯ll be hard to keep track of me with your eyes, like trying to follow a small fly only to lose it for a second or two before finding it at the other end of the room.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    This effect is amplified by the slight increase in my speed, not my reactions or attacks but how fast I can cover distance. Though this effect is not an extreme boost.


    Also, since my feet aren¡¯t actually touching the ground, I can go over any surface so long as it¡¯s relatively solid. This includes water, but only if I don¡¯t stop moving whilst on it. This is very helpful for travelling over rough or unstable ground, while overs may trip and stumble.


    The final bonus to this skill is that it can go along any surface so long as its shadowed. This means I can travel vertically up surfaces, go horizontally along walls, and upside down along ceilings. Though from my perspective, the surface would always be at my feet.


    This ability will fail if it ever exits a shadowed area into light so its best to make sure this doesn¡¯t occur when running up a tall building, because I could then fall to my death.


    Returning back to the present I carry the painting, half covered in shadow, two doors down to the room containing; Argus, Grigori, and Petri. The main perpetrators of the constant japes. Though this isn¡¯t the whole squadron, I will settle for this. Which is down to two reasons.


    The first being that the whole squadron doesn¡¯t sleep in the same room. Me and Torben have our own room since 10 doesn¡¯t divide by three, the others are separated into three different rooms, each with three in two of the rooms and another two in a room, with this one containing Finnian and pack mule. So it¡¯ll be next to impossible t get them asleep in the same room for this to work.


    The second reason is an expansion of this. In one of the other rooms has Lt. Petrus, the other houses Finnian. Naturally both are a no go.


    So, these three will have to do.


    I stand with my ear to the door, listening for sound and hear nothing but light snores.


    Satisfied, I slowly open the door, being careful to make no noise. Fortunately for me, this is my specialty.


    ¡°MuHeHe.¡±


    I¡¯ve really got to stop doing that before it develops into a bad habit.


    Closing the door behind me, I lean the large picture against the door, almost covering it entirely, bar the very top of the door.


    I should take a second to admire the picture of possible the cutest, non-threatening cat the ever exist.


    Now that the picture is blocking the door, I won¡¯t be able to exit out that way without moving it out of the way, which is the reason I left open my window.


    Moving over to theirs, I open it and look out to its right, seeing my own open window two windows across.


    I then take two candles and light them, putting them near the door, making sure the picture is well lit.


    This of course disabled my shadow blend ability, but I only had to move away a little to reactivate it.


    Now the lighting is done, only one thing remains.


    I take out the clipping of the devil thorn, now for the tricky bit.


    I quickly glide past, jabbing each of them a couple of times with the devil thorn before I¡¯m out of the window.


    Getting through my window, I quickly go out again to the outside of Argus¡¯s room.


    Though devil thorn is very dangerous for the mind, a couple of jabs should only induce a little paranoia but more importantly, should make them susceptible to things they¡¯ll normally not believe, like a talking cat picture for instance.


    I disable shadow blend in case anyone exit their room and find voices coming from nowhere.


    The sounds, of confused movement comes from the other side of the door as they all begin to awake.


    Now to begin to take advantage of their slight delirium.


    ¡°Wake up pathetic mortals! Tis I, the great Pussycus the fourteenth! Bow before a superior being! MuHeHeHe!!!¡±


    To this I got responses of shock, since no one has mentioned it¡¯s just a painting all is going to plan.


    ¡°Claws, it has horrible claws!!!¡± Grigori mentions, followed by two shocked voices who have suddenly noticed claws that weren¡¯t there a second ago. Not that they actually exist, be it now or ever. Though this gives me an idea.


    ¡°MuHeHeHeHe! Mortals, don¡¯t forget my black tentacles, steel fur and that I can breath hellfire!!! Oh, and immortality, don¡¯t forget immortality.¡±


    ¡°Dear gods.¡± (Argus)


    ¡°Somebody Tell my four children I love them!¡± (Grigori)


    ¡°I can¡¯t die a virgin!¡± (Petri)


    I strain my voice to go as low as possible to the point it is painful.


    ¡°SILENCE AND BOW!!! IF YOU WISH TO KEEP YOUR LIFE CHANT ¡®ALL HAIL THE HOLY PUSSYCUS''!!! THE SECOND YOU STOP, YOU¡¯LL ALL DIE!!!¡±


    With this I quickly return to my room, leaving them to their chanting. Though I could hear still hear it from two rooms away. As could everyone else.


    ¡°MuHeHe!¡±


    No one will be letting this go anytime soon.


    MuHeHeHeHeHe!

 Chapter 13: The rotting man

    Within the last two weeks after my foot has healed, things have been getting busy.


    First is the influx of soldiers arriving, two thousand in number with 600 of these being mercenaries. Of course, even though the fort is huge, it doesn¡¯t have the capacity without overcrowding rooms. Therefore these soldiers are camped outside the keep in tents, turning the rolling fields into a sea of multi-coloured cloth, with every tent at measured distances from each other.


    Well¡­ for the most part at least.


    A large section has tents wildly scattered in a clustered area, as if someone got a handful of rocks and threw them, raising a tent where ever each stone fell. This of course was where the mercenaries were tented. Rather than being a larger company like those currently stationed in the fort, this was an assortment of men, sometimes in groups of ten or more, but possibly just a single man or women with an old axe and shield.


    In a way this ragtag bunch are similar to the Dancing Swans, with the exception that they aren¡¯t tested for their combat prowess. So your equally as likely to get a beggar with a stolen knife as a hardened veteran.


    These guys are likely just going to be put into a formation and thrown at an enemy without much reservation. They are expendable and will probably be treated as such in a combat zone.


    I¡¯m glad I¡¯m in a specialist skirmisher company, since I won¡¯t be treated as monster bait. Or at least, I hope that I won¡¯t.


    If I remember correctly, all of this is about clearing out a group of witches in the Forgotten Lands, so everyone is waiting for an order for them to march to wherever these ¡®abominations¡¯ may be.


    I hadn¡¯t thought of it before, but I have never seen anyone as close as Lilith in this ¡®dream land¡¯, and she claims to be relatively deep in the Forgotten Lands. Are they really so far in that they¡¯re just another of the small specks on the non-existent horizon? Are they even out there or perhaps they have a method to stay hidden. I¡¯m not sure, but I could ask my crazy pocket witch.


    Haha, for all I know, she IS the group of witches they are looking to wipe out.


    Anyway, would this witch, or group of witches, really need thousands of soldiers to kill them? If they are that dangerous, I¡¯m clearly missing out on something.


    But for now, all I can do is wait for orders.


    The next day around fifty men, with most of them in full plate armour, arrived bearing a strange banner depicting a eagle holding a vicious snake in its talons. These people introduced themselves as the Malleus Maleficarum, commonly known as ¡®the witch hunters¡¯.


    Though in the barrens I¡¯ve never met them due to their order having little to no influence there. However this is not the case in the more ¡®civilised¡¯ lands.


    In some parts of the world they are supposedly supported by the whole kingdom, making them the worlds biggest cult, of course they¡¯d object to that label, but they are fanatics all the same.


    I have heard lots of stories of supposed witches dragged into the street and burned alive. Purged, as they call it. If they were actually witches is uncertain, though so long as they believe it so, the execution is just.


    If I was ever to be publicly uncovered and somehow not killed by those around me, these would be the people who¡¯d hunt me down.


    With this in mind, I should probably be careful to hide all magic related object, since that would likely be enough for them to consider me a warlock, or at the very least an associate of one. Both of which end the same way. Not that I believe myself incapable of escaping if I do get discovered.


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    *Captain Kadir POV *


    Another meeting has been called now the witch hunters have arrived, perhaps I¡¯ll finally get a straight answer on what my men are actually suppose to be scouting for. Obviously witches, but the type and number will change everything.


    Currently I¡¯m sat around a table with the other three mercenary leaders, a member of the Malleus Maleficarum and an inquisitor at that, and two generals. One stationed at the fort, the other arrived with the more recent troops.


    The former of the two generals, general Comis, speaks up.


    ¡°Well, as you might have guessed we are here due to our new arrivals. And the information they bring with them. As of now we know the true nature of the treat we have to exterminate and will be acting accordingly. Inquisitor, if you will¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you general.¡± The voice replies in a quiet hiss, almost having an inhuman sound to it.


    To be honest, his experience isn¡¯t much better. In fact I¡¯d say it was worse.


    The man had the face of a corpse! Not meaning that he looked pale or that he is too skinny.


    His face is literally rotting away, even his eyes are a milky white, making it surprising that he isn¡¯t blind. Not that I¡¯ve actually clarified that he isn¡¯t.


    Normally his face is covered by a great helm, but that was taken off as it is difficult to speak in. The two generals seemed less surprised than the rest of us, either they had met him before or somehow encountered this multiple times before. Whatever ¡®this¡¯ is suppose to be.


    ¡°After gathering information, we have established this to be a coven of hex witches called ¡®The Weeping Shadow¡¯. I assume you are all familiar with hex witches?¡±


    Since my company specialises in skirmishes into the Forgotten Lands I know basic information on most types of covens, mostly through personal experience or that of my associates.


    But how this inquisitor managed to pull this information out of thin air confuses me, not much what they do sits well with me, which is a very unpopular opinion so I don¡¯t go screaming it from the castle walls. There are even rumours that they use magic, not rampant rumours but ones that lurk in the back alleys of society.


    Like me, the Taldarian Juggernaut brotherhood have lots of experience in the Forgotten Lands, even though our groups tactics and roles are completely different. The other two mercenary group however don¡¯t have this experience as they normally are fighting other people, the same with the newer general who speaks up.


    ¡°Wait, there are different types of witches? How many ways can someone curse you that you¡¯d need categories!¡±


    Hearing this the inquisitors permanently unhappy face turning into a grotesque scowl.


    ¡°How about I give you a detailed description of how dead a fool like you would be if you encounter any manner of witch!¡±


    I never thought someone could become such a vibrant shade of purple, I¡¯d not be surprised if a vein or two just burst within his ignorant skull.


    A fool indeed, I know full well a witch doesn¡¯t roam around, throwing curses and causing famine. Not that some can¡¯t do so, but that is besides the point.


    The rotting man makes an attempt at sighing, though it came out more of a wheeze.


    ¡°Either way, I shall give a brief description of this manner of monster.¡±

 Chapter 14: Westward March

    Hex witches specialise in summoning magic, from which they call forth dangerous demons and other abominations. Though they can still use other magic''s, this will be their primary method of killing.


    What is far more dangerous and hence, why we¡¯ll be needing an army, is their joint power. By forming a coven, these summoners instead of conjuring one or two monsters, can summon a horde 10 to 100 hundred times the covens number, depending on the skill and level of preparation.


    Therefore this coven will be able to summon an army that will need the brunt of our own to fend off. But depending on their number and how long they spent preparing before summoning, the level of losses can vary hugely. The amount of deaths would be uncountable if our army breaks and flees from the horrors, with men being cut down and butchered from behind.


    Unless you find a way past the demons or manage to push through them, you¡¯ll never be able to reach the coven.


    Finally, we actually can stop sitting on our arses and get things done. Me and the rest of our squadron are to march with the army deep into the Forgotten Lands, around three times further than when searching the ruins, which means we¡¯d have to spend around four days to get there. This coupled with that only half of us would be sleeping, whilst the remaining half fights of the monsters that night brings, I doubt this will be a fun experience for most.


    Before arriving at our destination, we are expected to be attacked by a demonic army. It is at this point I break though their ranks with our squadron and continue forth, to get to the area the witches are suppose to be in. Then after locating it, we¡¯re to infiltrate and kill all witches inside.


    I was also given a quick briefing on what a hex witch was based on the lieutenant¡¯s experiences and the basic knowledge given to us by the witch hunters. ¡®The Weeping Shadow¡¯ is also supposedly an all female coven, though I¡¯m not sure why they¡¯d go though the effort to restrict membership based on gender.


    Now I guess it¡¯s time pack our provisions and move out.


    The first day was pretty uneventful, although some of the monsters did know of our presence, they took a look at our number and decided it wasn¡¯t worth it. Perhaps they are more intelligent than I give them credit for.


    It was the second day we got some losses, relatively few, but still losses. 10 deaths from people deciding to drink water from a clear looking pond, even though they had been explicitly told not to drink any water found, and due to this we had to be told a second time. Another 82 died from monsters picking though straying to far to the sides, and then killing the responsible friend who attempts to get him closer to the formation. By the end of the day, larger group of people up to fifty in number we¡¯re being sent after reported stalking groups. Out of the 12 only 2 were completely wiped out, 6 groups were wounded but managed to escape. The rest retreated back every time someone was sent after them, only to return to our flanks after they¡¯d gone.


    These group are primarily made of the Red Daggers, since they give the best chance of catching them before they retreat back. Not a lot of the Black Hound were sent out, due to our role being the infiltration of the witches compound, so I still didn¡¯t have a lot to do. I want to use some of my magic to go to the ¡®dream land¡¯ but it¡¯s too risky with those damn hunters lurking around.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.The constantly helmeted one gives me the creeps, something just feels¡­off about him.


    The third day the losses increased and they were forced to use some of the Black Hounds, but just the ones not the ones going to do the infiltration. So I¡¯m still bored, but not for long. I look forward to the knowledge I can find with these witches, but I¡¯m unsure whether I should take anything back with me, as I might be checked for magical items by the Malleus Maleficarum when I get back.


    Today 128 people died. Non of which by stupidly straying from the army, but due to organised groups of monsters driving into us twice before retreating back. But 40 of these deaths was due to a group of red daggers going out to subjugate a group of goblin harassing us, only to be ambushed by something else, completely slaughtering the group and leaving no survivors.


    Because of this, we don¡¯t know what monster or monsters killed them.


    The morning of the forth day is when we were hit.


    An estimate of 2000 monsters, mostly consisting of gnolls. A cruel humanoid wolf-man, that feeds of raw flesh. Most of these have crude spears with an iron tip, but wear no armour except for what looks to be generals or elite units who are better equipped.


    Now I have to wait for an opening to slip though and do so.


    Also, for this our squadron has been given three other members who have experience in this type of mission, straight from the Captains own guard.


    Their names are; Suculus, Duris and Marcos. All of them look to be good fighters.


    This will also be the first time actually fighting under our squadron leader, rather than Andris.


    If we don¡¯t see an opening soon, we¡¯d have to backtrack and loop around the two armies, which would take longer. Though it seems all of the other groups but one has already done so.


    All together there are five Black Hound squadrons attempting this, but if you encounter heavy resistance and/or take too many losses, we are instructed to retreat back to the army. So it¡¯s likely that only one or two of these squadrons might actually make it to the witches.


    In addition to the Black Hounds, 3 groups of the Dancing Swans are trying their luck, though their group sizes are twice the size of ours.


    This coupled with the fact they aren¡¯t particularly stealthy makes it unlikely any of them will make it.


    Finally, the army is sending 5 groups of 10, of their supposed ¡®high capable skirmishers¡¯, but I bet one of the generals just doesn¡¯t like the idea of fully relying on mercenaries to complete this mission.


    After a few more minutes of waiting, Lt. Petrus spots a possible opportunity. Towards our side is a unit of the Taldarian Juggernauts slowly pushing through a thinner section of their army, probably looking to break through and loop around to flank the enemy. We can therefore also use the opening to break of from the two armies and travel north-west, bringing us away from the conflict before we continue west towards the witches.


    With this we move to the back of the juggernauts formation, getting ready to run before the enemy can react to the break in their ranks and close it.


    Any moment now¡­

 Chapter 15: The Unyeilding Juggernauts

    *Taldarian Juggernaut POV*


    ¡°Shields up!!!¡±


    Obeying, I soon feel a reverberating *clank* as another spear hits my shield.


    The gnoll in front of me thrusts again, constantly probing for an opening.


    It shifts to the side, thrusts again and bypasses my tower shield, only to bounce of my steel plate armour.  It would be easy to move forwards and take advantage of this opening, but I stay in formation. Never breaking, never faltering, the unyielding juggernauts. Our motto, forever branded onto my mind.


    I hear another shout from our commanding officer four men to my right, on the front line.


    ¡°Brothers, PUSH!!!¡±


    In well-rehearsed unison, I brace my shield with my sword arm and charge forwards with my left shoulder and hitting the mass of wolf-men.


    With all of us still in our shield formation, we successfully pushed them back an additional four metres, almost separating them from the rest of their ranks.


    Just a little more.


    I lash out at an incoming spear with my shield, hearing a satisfying crack as the wood begins to splinter. As the gnoll looks at his now near useless spear with bitter hatred, I thrust out with my sword and take him just under the ribs. Making sure to not expose too much of my body during the attack.


    A few seconds later, a 3ft tall wolf jumps over the gnolls and at my throat.


    I raise my shield and am push back by the weight of the huge wolf.


    ¡°Dire wolf!¡±


    As I begin to stumble back, the brother behind me keeps me steady and the one behind him does the same. Allowing me to shove the wolf off with my shield.


    My brothers besides me lock our shield together, steadying ourselves against the next lunge, for which we hold true. Unyielding!


    With a nod to those besides me, we step forwards, out of formation momentarily and pummel the wolf with our shield, stunning it but not doing serious damage.


    With this opportunity, we all simultaneously thrust unto it, all of us hitting the immobile hound. One stabbing through it shoulder, another in its chest and mine in its neck, just to the right of its jaw. Unfortunately missing the throat and any important arteries.


    The three of us take two steps back, putting us back in formation. I¡¯m pretty sure some gnolls was hitting us with spears through that, though I didn¡¯t feel any slip though the gaps in my armour. I¡¯ll check for wounds in a minute.


    The dire wolf, though alive, stalks away giving me a cold, venomous glare as it looks for easier foes.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report itThe officer calls out.


    ¡°Switch!¡±


    With this signal, everyone on the first line opens their shield, turns to our right and allows the man behind us to step forwards, making them the front line. All of this occurs and finishes within two seconds, whilst most military formations only cycle out their front line fighter once they fall over dead and the next man has to step over their corpse before joining him ten minutes later.


    I filter down the rows until I arrive at the bottom of the formation, allowing me to rest momentarily.


    I check one of my brother for wounds, finding a light cut on his lower leg. He does the same for me but finds no wounds.


    Now I notice a group of 13 close to me, from the Black Hounds. Though after the first glance, I move back into formation along with the rest of my brothers.


    ¡°Make space!!!¡±


    This is essentially a push, followed by quickly moving back four metres in preparation for a final push. Since the back rows don¡¯t and can¡¯t push forwards, I move back a metre with the rest of the back rows.


    The front five rows slam into the enemy, knocking them backwards before quickly moving back to the rear lines, leaving a momentary 5 metre gap between us and them.


    ¡°Wedge formation!!¡±


    Using this gap to pick up momentum, the middle column begins to charge forwards, followed by their flanks, this continuing to create a triangle shape.


    This charge near separated their ranks into two, and further pushed them back.


    Five minutes later, they were dead, dying or fleeing to join another formation. A problem with fighting these controlled beasts is that they don¡¯t give in to despair and fear, meaning that they don¡¯t rout.


    Crap! Now that we¡¯ve finally broke through their ranks, we have a formation of dire wolves coming at us that were held in reserve.


    ¡°Box formation!!!¡±


    I turn around and ready my shield.


    I guess I¡¯m no longer at the back anymore.


    These guys must have been held back because they can¡¯t fight well in close quarters.


    But now that we¡¯re separated from the rest of our army, we just have to hold out until they don¡¯t have anything else to throw at us.


    Now that we¡¯re encircled, all we can do is stay strong.


    Never breaking!


    Never faltering!


    The unyielding juggernauts!

 Chapter 16: The stone maze

    With a new appreciation for the Taldarian Juggernauts, we travel onwards and away from the fighting unhindered. Weaving in between the landscapes abundant boulders.


    However, we are anything but safe.


    Hearing the sound of loose stones being disturbed I dive in a small crack between two large rocks, with the rest of my squadron finding similar places.


    A minute after this, hearing the sounds get louder, countless dire wolves jump directly over my hiding place, continuing running towards the sounds of battle.


    After confirming no stragglers will run into us, we leave our uncomfortable positions and press on.


    We had to do this on two other occasions, though both of these were groups of gnolls, around 100 in number. Both of which coming from the west, in the supposed direction of the witches.


    The foreboding clouds overhead block out most the sunlight, threatening a heavy storm. Personally I prefer these conditions, makes you less likely to be seen, though it doesn¡¯t help the morale of some others.


    Namely, the kingdom¡¯s soldiers fighting a few miles back.


    The wind suddenly picks up, blowing southwards and almost taking me with it.


    One of the many lovely features of the Forgotten Lands is the sudden and extreme weather changes. The whole Sky could cloud over within minutes, lightning strikes without and rain to accompany it, sometimes even without the clouds. As well as almost all of the water being undrinkable, any fruit or plants growing here are likely to kill you. Especially so if it actually looks edible.


    So the general idea is that the Forgotten Lands is shitty in every regard.


    The weather is awful, the food is worse, the locales are rude and are constantly at your throats.


    Suddenly a familiar howl splits through the air, much less shrill than that of a dire wolf.


    But the sound didn¡¯t come from the east from which we are coming from, or our destination the west, like the rest of the enemies we¡¯ve had to hide from.


    No, this howl came from the south.


    The direction the wind was blowing, and therefore our scent.


    ¡°Shit hellhound! Scatter into the narrow rocks to lose them!¡± I hear someone shout over the chorus of ever-nearing calls.


    With this we separate, travelling roughly west through the maze-like stone, occasionally taking a turns one way or another.


    Hopefully if I lose myself, they¡¯ll in turn lose me.


    Very flimsy logic, but I¡¯m relying on it to keep me alive.


    Running further west in the most inconvenient pattern conceivable, I begin the hear multiple hounds run past nearby, lowly growling in frustration in being close to me, yet being separated by a couple of narrow walls.


    HaHa!! No way these animals could ever figure out my advanced tactics.


    ¡°Crap!!!¡±


    I duck whilst running straight through a small intersection in the stone maze, a huge black wolf narrowly jumping over my back. Allowing me to briefly catch the scent of sulphur as I pass it.


    I immediately hear an enraged roar, as it struggles to turn around in the narrow passage only just wide enough to fit its body.


    By the time it does so and turns into where it last saw me go, I had already turned right and then left again a few metres forwards.


    Shadow Blend


    The shadows envelope me, increasing my speed slightly and allowing me to glide over the rocky ground. Both producing no sound and making it impossible to lose my footing on loose ground.


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    I should be able to maintain this for another 15 minutes before I begin to suffer from mana exhaustion.


    After travelling for a couple of minutes, never going in a straight direction, I deactivate my ongoing magic since I have no idea how much longer I¡¯ll have to run. Though the wolves aren¡¯t directly at my heels, I can definitely hear them scrambling through these narrow alley¡¯s, slamming between walls and hitting corners when turning at fast speeds.


    If we were in this situation on an open plain, this would all be resolved within a minutes, with our charred bones being gently gnawed on by a group of hellish monstrosities.


    I decide to take advantage of that fact I¡¯m not and stop to take a short breather, with the soothing sounds of angry beasts around me.


    A few moments later a pair of burning-red eyes appear down the path I had came from, locking with my own blue eyes.


    No rest for the wicked I guess.


    Shadow blend


    I have no choice but to continue running, with my pursuer not only keeping up with my amplified speed, but steadily closing the distance between us.


    Reaching a T section, I turn right shortly followed by a loud noise as the black mutt behind me gets a crash course in momentum.


    A less punny part of my situation is the hellhound 20 metres in front of me, followed by it deeply inhaling as light begins to shine through its throat.


    With this I sharply turn, left with a sensation of blistering heat that strips away my shadows.


    The sudden transition from slightly gliding to contact with the ground, caused me to stumble and almost fall. But more importantly, it stripped away the precious moments lead I had, returning me to having ever-nearing dogs mere metres from me. Literally snapping away at my heels.


    In addition to this, I had to repeatedly turn corners in order to prevent one of them from having enough time to incinerate me. Not to mention the futile task of remembering which direction¡¯s west, or at least trying not to go around in a large circle.


    I¡¯m beginning to get a headache, indicating I have around five minutes of Shadow Blend left before I pass out.


    With this in mind, I pull out the dagger kept just below my right hip, turn a corner and slow down slightly to get me as close to the monsters gaping maw as possible.


    Seeing what I guess to be the hungry look of anticipation in the beasts eyes, and the slight tensing of its muscles as it prepares to pounce.


    I throw my dagger, hitting it in its rear leg and causing it to fall over, snapping angrily at the dagger in its leg as it blocks of the monster closely behind it.


    Now with a more comfortable distance between us, I randomly navigate around multiple corners and am greeted with a gift from mother nature.


    A extremely narrow passage between two rocks, only just big enough for me to squeeze through.


    Getting to the other side with relative ease I move on further, briefly stopping to glance behind me at the injured hellhound staring through the gap, glaring at me with a ferocious bloodlust.


    A silent vow for revenge.

 Chapter 17: Hunting Season

    Finally exiting the narrow confines into less restricting land, I gaze up at the partially covered sun to work out which way is west.


    Since I don¡¯t know where the rest of my squadron is, I can only regroup with them at our destination unless I randomly stumble upon them.


    Hopefully, they¡¯re much further on than I am and safe from their pursuers.


    Since a young age, I¡¯ve always gotten nervous when separated from Torben too long, with him having a similar response. Not that either of us would admit it, but we¡¯ve both developed a dependence on each other.


    Since the wind is blowing south whilst the hellhounds are to the east of me, it should be more difficult for them to track me.


    This said I locate the nearest body of water, in this case a stream, and submerge myself in the cold clear water. Hopefully, this should make me harder to track since they should primarily rely on scent, and now have an uncomfortable damp smell, as well as being very cold.


    To warm up and cover more ground, I begin to jog across the mountainous landscape, ever vigilant against threats.


    Some minutes later I begin to hear voices nearby, men by the sound of it but not any voices I recognise from here.


    Shadow Blend


    With the movement benefits of my magic, I move over the rocks and slowly come over an outcropping, looking down at a camp of battered men.


    One of the groups from the Dancing Swans, but the group is suppose to number around twenty. Either they¡¯ve had severe losses or they¡¯ve split their squadron into two, which would make little sense.


    Then amongst the noise, I hear a familiar noise. A laugh¡­ An infuriating laugh that makes me want to strangle something!


    ¡°Fuhahaha! Please, if I wasn¡¯t taking it easy I could¡¯ve bedded another two that same night! It¡¯s just that my beds only so big, I would feel bad if some had to sleep on the floor y¡¯know! Fuhaha!!!¡± These annoying noises came from Dixon, the cocky prancing egotist that I beat during the tournament.


    Who, as usual, is boasting to his royal arse-kissers about his ¡®great feats¡¯.


    MuHeHe!


    I won¡¯t be getting a better chance than this now will I!


    The dim lighting and the overconfident swans are practically asking to be hunted down.


    It is my civic duty to kill rodents after all, and I¡¯ve just found a nest!


    The first to die was someone who decided this was a good time to go and empty his bladder. Moving around a corner and soon receiving a quick cut to the throat by yours truly, the friendly pest exterminator.


    Next was a sentry who actually seemed to be interested in not being caught unawares by monsters, but like the previous, he received a fatal cut to the throat before he noticed the slight ripple of the shadows.


    Four of the five remaining gathered around Dixon, with the last remaining one making an attempt at sleeping.


    Since I¡¯m much closer now I can notice that everyone, bar Dixon and his two most fanatical toadies, look like they¡¯ve been dragged through a field of mental shit that has stuck to them, putting them in an eternally miserable mood.


    Though those near Dixon make a feeble attempt of putting up a fa?ade of interest and awe.


    Dixon has bragged extensively about belonging to a noble family, one of the many reason I hate him, and in turn why he hates me.


    After all, from his viewpoint I¡¯m a random commoner who exists to clean the dirt of his boots, however where I¡¯m from there are no nobles. I¡¯m not even sure if they¡¯d know the meaning of noble, not that I¡¯d believe for a second that pricks like him could ever represent any remotely noble traits.


    Due to being closer to them, I have to move slowly to reach the sleeping man. Just a step at a time, not to risk anyone catching any movement in the corner of their eye.


    Even though it is shadowed enough to use this ability, it is still day time and lighter conditions makes it much more noticeable. If it was pitch black, I would easily be able to sprint though the camp, stealing the boots of their feet as I passed and still not be noticed.


    ¡­Not that I¡¯ve attempted such a thing before¡­ That would have been stupid of me.


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    Finally getting to the sleeping man lying on his belly, I slide one of my daggers upwards though the back of the skull and into his brain. Killing him instantly without any unnecessary gurgling or momentary yelp of shock.


    Now, for the remaining four.


    Not including Dixon of course, I intend to leave him to last so I can kill him slowly as he sees the face of his killer. This whole thing would have been pointless otherwise.


    Beginning to quickly close in, I grab one of my balanced daggers which I mainly use as a throwing tools and release it at the toady with the loudest laugh.


    Suddenly silencing him as he claws at his throat to find why it is so difficult to breath, his hands reaching my dagger just before he collapses forwards.


    Still running forwards and not waiting for a response, the other devoted member of the Dixon fan-club met my blade , with his head hitting the floor followed shortly by the rest of his body which took a second to realise the absence of a head.


    As the two unfortunate bystanders fumbled at their swords, I had already cover the metre distance between us and ended their lives with two precise cuts.


    Now I disperse the shadows surrounding me, showing my face to the horrified man before me, holding his sword between us as if to ward me away.


    ¡°D..d demon¡­ Die you evil bastard!¡±


    With this he charged at me, ready to make a killing blow.


    Shadow Blend


    Though before he reaches me, I blend into darkness again, only making small measured movements to make it even more difficult to see me.


    Seeing this again, he strikes in the area I was but hits nothing but air. I only needed to shift slightly to the side to avoid it.


    Again, due to it being relatively lighter than I would normally use this magic, he could still see I was there in front of him. However, it is similar to focusing on something that is almost completely transparent, but in this case I would appear as a dark patch of shadow surrounded by slightly lighter shadows. Which also makes it difficult to target specific body parts above using the system of; hitting high, medium, and low on the body.


    Since he still knew I was there, even though it appeared as if he was about to hit on his last swing, he made a horizontal swing in an attempt to cut me in half with his longsword.


    Using my increase in speed, I move under his blade and around him exiting his peripheral vision before crouching low to the ground and becoming stationery.


    Dixons attempt to turn in my direction was slow since the momentum of his swing pulled at him in the opposite direction.


    By the time he was facing in my direction his eyes frantically darted about in an attempt to find my shadows.


    I¡¯m not prepared to wait here all day, so I grab my remaining dagger suited for throwing and landed it into his leg, resulting in a howl of pain as he struggles to stay standing.


    Finally looking over to where I am, he stumbles towards me making at desperate attempt at attacking my shady form.


    I redirect the attack with my shortsword, reducing the distance between us enough that I can tear my dagger out of his leg.


    Which I did. Causing a sound of pure agony that caused an ecstatic shiver to run down my spine, finally a noise coming from him that isn¡¯t tainted by pride and egotism!


    As a result, the ducklings sword has been dropped and he¡¯s holding onto the ruin of his leg.


    Now, just a couple of stabs here, two cuts there¡­ and done!


    Dixon is now unable to stand and can¡¯t use his hands. Since a few Tengu are already circling around, I think I¡¯ll leave him for the crows.


    ¡°Fresh meat!!! MuHeHeHeHeHe!¡±


    Deaf to his plea''s and screams I walked on west.


    Wait¡­ What was it I was doing before I was distracted by the swans again?


    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


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 Chapter 18: Regrouping

    Though I haven¡¯t had any further trouble with the hounds behind me, I still haven¡¯t been clear of danger. Often having to slip into the shadows as a pack of monsters moves on through, looking for any stragglers from the battle, with one of such monsters carrying a half eaten arm in its jaws.


    Again, a couple of these groups were gnolls or dire wolves coming from the west.


    Why weren¡¯t these guys immediately deployed to the battle?


    Is it possible they are alert to the possibility of someone being out here and keep some of their army in reserve, or are these fresh troops newly summoned as the battle continues? At least, I hope it¡¯s still continuing and that our army hasn¡¯t suddenly decided to run off.


    At such a distance from the fighting I¡¯ve left behind, the world seems peaceful in a twisted apocalyptic way.


    There is no sound other than my own footsteps, but because I¡¯m going through effort to stop these sounds all I can hear is my breath. Furthermore, if I listen closely I can hear my heart beating, a soft rhythmic pulse.


    Calm. Focused.


    The highly temperamental weather had no wind for the past few minutes, it was as if the whole mountain had frozen in time, waiting with a held breath to watch the bloodshed.


    Moving onwards I spotted four men from the Black Hound, non of whom I recognise. Wait, three men and a short haired women.


    Walking into the open, still vigilant to my surroundings and making sure I¡¯m not going to attract some nearby horror, I wait for them to come over.


    A haggard man in his late 30¡¯s lead the group forwards, eyes darting around looking for any threats. Not the only one with a dose of ¡®healthy paranoia¡¯ I see.


    ¡°7th squadron. Lt. Hywel, you¡¯ that ¡®Aegan fellow?¡±


    ¡°5th squadron¡­ Been a fan long?¡± I jest with a slight smirk, which is followed by his own.


    ¡°Nah, just ¡®member a fellow who whacked a couple of guys half decent like, before limpin¡¯ off to ¡®is quarters is all.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know who this Aegan guy is, but if I see him I¡¯ll tell him to do better next time. Where¡¯s the rest of your squadron then lieutenant? Dangerous with all them violent teen thugs and all, that roam around these days.¡±


    ¡°A little wise man tol¡¯ me they often don¡¯t hang ¡®rounds these parts. Anyway, out with these guys to look for stragglers and that, looking to regroups them with the rest who made it this far.¡±


    ¡°Then lead the way.¡± My words coming from another sly grin.


    ¡°I aren''t your ma¡¯, lookin¡¯ to hold your hand. I¡¯m going back, you follow or you don¡¯t.¡±


    This guy reminds me of people back in the barrens, equipped with their unique form of venomous humour. Naturally being my favourite kind.


    Them cursing and insulting you, just shows you they care enough to not ignore you. But if they do so whilst coming at you with a weapon, they clearly care too much and should seek advise to sort out their feelings.


    It only took us a short distance to reach a camp filled with people either eating, resting or maintaining their equipment.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.Within these people were my squadron, minus five people. Two members I hardly interacted with, Grigori, Marcos and Suculus. With the last two being of the three people lent to us from Captain Kadir¡¯s personal squadron.


    As well of most of our squadron being here, one Black Hound squadron was present, with non of them dead or missing, since unlike us they avoided detection successfully. Though a portion of them are out looking for the entrance to the witches¡­ Lair? Hideout?


    Now we have to wait for information on where we need to go from this scouting group, as well as wait for any other groups to arrive. However, we all have orders to only wait until midday for stragglers before continuing without them. Similarly, if you don¡¯t reach here before midday you should turn back and rejoin the army.


    A little before midday, a group from the Taldarian army skirmishers arrived, shortly followed by another group from the Black Hounds with Grigori and Marcos in tow. At midday, another group from the Taldarian army arrived just before our scouts came back with information on where the witches are hold up.


    So, out of the 13 groups that had intended to arrive here before midday, only five got actually got here. Which was to be expected I guess.


    Shame that non of the Dancing Swans arrived though.


    It didn¡¯t take long for us to get to a ridge overlooking where we need to enter from the north.


    It is very similar to the stone building above the ruins we explored, except it is a little bigger. Hopefully with less stubborn doors too.


    In a courtyard-like area in front of the building was a group of 40 gnolls in a loose formation, just waiting there. After a couple minutes of observing, the big archaic door slowly opened along with the emergence of ten more gnolls. After they were through, they all worked to slowly close the door.


    And there goes my dreams of a cooperative door.


    The gnolls then form another line at the back of the formation and then they all begin slowly jogging east, remaining in their formation.


    As soon as these creatures were out of sight, everyone moved onto the courtyard, keeping watch to make sure no one comes up behind us.


    Whilst this is happening, ten of the strongest amongst us slowly open the gargantuan door. With me thankfully not being amongst them.


    Once everyone had filtered into the large bare stone room, the doors were painstakingly closed, as to leave no evidence of us entering.


    In this room is a few broken stone benches and a few of those magical torches. The only other thing left was a wide staircase going downwards, with what looks to be a pile of broken stone and metal besides it, that likely covered the entrance to the staircase before it was torn off.


    But, these thing are huge and near impossible to tear apart.


    So¡­ What exactly ripped this open?

 Chapter 19: Shroom Gardening

    Moving down to the underground floors made us realise how clustered together we would be moving as a group of 40.


    For this reason we split into two groups to clear different sections of the hideout, splitting again when clearing out smaller areas and rooms.


    Our group consisted of our group and the first Black Hound squadron that hadn¡¯t lost any members. Since we both had 10 members each, this set up is ideal. Therefore, the second group is formed from one Black Hound squadron and two army squadrons, again making 20 members due to the losses they suffered to get here.


    Our two groups split off and move in two directions, leaving the occasional marking on a wall to indicate to the other group that we¡¯d gone through here, hopefully stopping us from moving through areas already cleared by the previous group.


    When the hallway separated into smaller, abandoned rooms all clustered together, we separated into fives to search each of the rooms quicker. With all four groups still being close enough to respond to anything that may occur.


    Though that it is strange that we haven¡¯t seen any of these witches, it¡¯s likely they¡¯re all together summoning more gnolls and dire wolves. According to the information I was provided with, more witches working in unison during a summoning in turn increases the amount of thing that can be summoned during each ritual, as well as the total number of summons you can retain control of.


    Therefore each witch we kill, the less summoned monsters that can be controlled by them, causing more and more of the monsters to overcome their mental shackles as we kill those who summoned them.  Hopefully, these monsters will break and flee once they are separated from their controllers, resulting in our victory with far less losses than fighting head on.


    Though it would be possible to win the battle with brute strength, the losses would be devastating and would significantly reduce the strength of the Taldarian army and could put the kingdom¡¯s border at risk.


    This is the reason no full-scale wars have been fought between kingdoms in hundreds of years, as any weakening on the borders to the Forgotten Lands could make you incapable to respond to a large threat that could cause cataclysmic damage to the kingdom.


    My group of five consisted of me, Torben, Grigori, Finnian and Petri.


    The first few rooms were completely empty, normally having non of the usual torches inside, requiring me to carry one in order to see anything inside the rooms.


    The sixth room was different.


    Though it was structurally identical to the previous rooms and likely served the same purpose before the people here died and the room was gutted of everything.


    Moving into the room, what was immediately notice is the huge amount of fungi covering the floor in a wide variety of colour, size and shapes.


    All of these were mushrooms and there must be near to 50 types of them in growing in the room, with each type of mushroom growing in its own section of the room. Almost as if they were separated and organised into small plots.


    The entire stone flooring for this room was torn up, revealing dirt that really shouldn''t be here underground in a ruin.


    So, these must be components for some of their magic or rituals. Unless someone here just happens to have a passion for mushroom gardening.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.It would be possible that these could be used for food, but I distinctly recognise some of them as being extremely poisonous.


    Worse than this however, is that some of these only grow in the Forgotten Lands, with one of these in the far corner being the mind-jacker mushroom. Not the official name, but those in the barrens didn¡¯t know what it was when in was found we had to call it something.


    The only time I came across this was an area close to the Forgotten Lands, where one of my raiders got close to it and was sprayed in the face with pores.


    He then attacked and killed one of his friends before I put him down.


    So with that in mind, I think I¡¯ll stay away from this room, no matter how temping it is to gather everything that might be useful.


    Which brings me to another problem.


    Even though there will be magical items, books and who knows what else. I won¡¯t be able to take any of it, since me having it on me would be enough to warrant execution.


    This risk is even higher due to the Malleus Maleficarum sniffing around recently, who have a bad reputation of tearing apart homes and businesses looking for suspected magical counterfeit items. So I expect everyone here will be searched and possibly questioned. Having their quarters turned upside down if they are determined suspicious.


    For this reason, I have already hidden everything that could even hint at magic.


    Though I intend to absorb any information I can, provided it can be done quickly.


    Otherwise it might be suspicious to suddenly stop what I¡¯m doing and read a book for a few hours.


    So, basically this whole wing of rooms in the South-East wing of the ruins is abandoned, with all of the rooms being stripped of everything.


    However, every so often a piece of scrap metal is found, similar to that of the previous ruin, though no large storage rooms or workrooms are around.


    It might be safe to assume that another section of the ruin would contain these, perhaps where the other group in searching.


    In addition to these pieces of scrap metal, another of those giant metal doors with the ridiculously large keyholes was found lying on the ground, torn of its hinges and the tunnel behind it collapsed. Maybe this door, like the last we found, would lead to a giant city filled to the brim with lost knowledge.


    I¡¯m having a little trouble not salivating just at the thought.


    Also, within the ruins are engraved stone signs on the walls, which indicate directions.


    Firstly, the ruins appear to be separated into five sections, the four corners and another section further north referred to as the ¡®Golem workshop¡¯.


    The wing I¡¯m in appears to be the ¡®workers dormitory¡¯ and the North-East wing our group will have to clear is the ¡®Recreational area¡¯, whilst the other group has sections designated ¡®storage and construction¡¯, ¡®Transporting and packaging¡¯ and ¡®golem sub-modules¡¯.


    Judging from this, it is likely that the witches would be hold up closer to the golem workshop, since that will likely have larger open rooms. Assuming that summoning requires a decent amount of space, especially if 10-50 of them are being summoned at once.


    As we move into the new wing, the room sizes and layout immediately changes, and the rooms are less empty.


    Wait! Is that a¡­¡­¡­

 Chapter 20: Magic Disc Warriors

    In front of me is a magical table! A fucking magical table!!!


    It¡¯s not breathing fire or talking, that would be ridiculous.


    However, anything put onto the table surface floats slightly, just a centimetre above the surface and knocking the object causes it to glide over the table.


    Already on the table is a metal disc and two metal stubs with a hand guard protecting them, with both of these positioned at either end of the rectangular table.


    To stop these object from flying off them tables when knocked, the edges of the table are raised to form a small barrier around the tables sides.


    However, on two opposite ends of the table were small gaps that would allow the disk to fit through, but not the two other objects.


    This wasn¡¯t the only strange thing in the room, in fact the room was filled with them


    In a corner was a square block with small unknown animal carvings poking out of holes cut into it, with a mallet lying besides them, connected to the block by a thin rope.


    From here on, the objects get stranger to the point that I can¡¯t properly describe them, never mind attempt to understand their purpose.


    This was labelled, ¡®Recreational Area¡¯, so I imagine these are all suppose to be used for entertainment, but how?


    Bringing my attention back to the table, I don¡¯t see any runes on the tables surface, so it is likely underneath. Unless this magic uses something different to power it, not that I can begin to dismantle everything in the room to learn its secrets. Even though I really want to, we have a job to do.


    Beep.


    Beep. Beep.


    Beep. Beep.


    Looking over to the source of the beeping, I see Finnian holding a mallet and whacking animal carvings that keep popping in and out of the holes in the cuboid device at seemingly random intervals.


    *Finnian POV*


    These things just won¡¯t stop taunting me! I¡¯ll show those bastards. They¡¯ll see!


    Another of the ¡®bastards¡¯ exits his hidey-hole and I bring down the mallet I was generously supplied with onto the creatures head.


    But I was too slow, by the time I reacted it was back in its hole and another two had popped up. Retreating again before I could get there.


    It appears I¡¯m going to need advanced tactics to stop these incessant fiends!


    Nobody is allowed to taunt me like this.


    NOBODY!!!


    With this I wait.


    Only focusing on a singular animal, waiting for it to rear its mocking head so I can finally crush it.


    AHA!


    The second it began to rise I drove my mallet down, hitting it with a resounding thud.


    Beep.


    Not only do the others still have the gall to continue their impudent taunting, the one I finally did hit appears undamaged and is once again in his hidey-hole.


    Those bastards will learn!


    With renewed vigor, I smash two more of the overconfident pricks.


    Beep. Beep.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ... How dare they! Take this!


    Beep. Beep.


    To further insult me, the original one popped up again, staying out of his hole slightly longer than usual before narrowly avoiding another beating.


    I¡¯ll smash you all into oblivion, just you see¡­


    Smash!


    Smash!


    Smash!


    Beep.


    *End of POV*


    Soon the whole room was filled with a wide array of beeps and dings. With everyone occupied in their own world of highly illegal magic devices.


    But me and Torben were doing real work.


    By that I mean we are testing if this magical table is a threat. Which therefore requires¡­ a thorough investigation.


    For the past ten minutes, both me and Torben have put our own body on the line to ensure the safety of our comrades. No, the safety of the entire human race.


    After all, who knows what insidious magical plot could be behind the creation of this device.


    Naturally, our bravery is unparal-


    Beep.


    Goddamn it, I got distracted.


    A moment later the disk that slipped past my defence was ejected from the slot it disappeared into and glides towards the opposite end of the table where Torben stood, ready to continue this deadly battle of reflexes.


    ¡°Prepare yourself, inferior magic disc warrior!¡±


    Which is what we¡¯ve decided this extreme thing should be called. The ¡®Magic Disk Warrior Table¡¯!


    As the metal disc reaches Torben end of the table, his arm tenses just a moment before it lashes out towards the disc, bouncing it off the tables side guard as it races towards me.


    Rather than smash it back towards him, I decide to use a technique only possible to the highly advanced cunning minds of the quickly growing world of Magical Disc Warriors.


    ¡­The feint!


    First I have to set up the highly tactical move by blocking the moving disc and stopping it in place.


    Done.


    Now for stage two, a very witty taunt to put the opponent on edge as he anticipates a heavy handed strike. MeHeHe! How foolish he shall feel before my tactical skills.


    ¡°Torben, prepare yourself for my super speedy, you gotta move fast, ultimate move. The super brawler strike!¡±


    Preparation, done.


    Now for the execution!


    I move my hand forwards as quick as I can manage whilst avoiding actually hitting the disc.


    Instead, I loop around the disc in a full circle and shoot my hand outwards like a coiled viper.


    As my hand does this I notice Torbens gaze is to the left of me.


    By the time I can make out his warning and correspond that to the emerging shouts around me it is too late.


    All I can glimpse from the corner of my vision is a large paw racing at my face, which connects at the same time as my hand reaches the disc.


    The floor rises towards me as the world fades to black.


    Beep.

 Chapter 21: Bear trap

    My eyes slowly open and make a poor attempt at focusing on a large lumbering shape standing over me.


    I can barely register the multitude of noises around me, all of which are being drowned out by a painful ringing in my head. One that is gradually fading.


    The other of my senses that is being abused is my smell, with the overpowering scent of blood making it seem as if something was butchered and then immediately shoved straight up my nose.


    However, I¡¯ve long since been use to this particular stench, with my occupational history being akin to that of a sneaky butcher, so it¡¯s more familiar than unpleasant.


    The looming figure, becoming increasingly more like a person, though all I know as of yet is that it¡¯s human shaped and has all four limbs.


    Which means the furry paw doesn¡¯t belong to this one.


    After a little time, this blurry form became a slightly blurry Torben, holding up three fingers with a expression in between worry and¡­ Well, it¡¯s all worry.


    He appears to be saying something, too fast for me to guess by reading his lips, not that I¡¯m confident in being able to do that anyway. I would use the traditional method of listening, but this damn ringing is too distracting.


    It¡¯s like trying to listen to someone on the other side of a door whilst a angry wasp is attempting to crawl through your ear, shouting a loud obnoxious alien language.


    I don¡¯t need my hearing to figure out what Torben is asking.


    However, I freely admit to being a bit of an unnecessary dick on occasion.


    And so.


    ¡°Six fingers on you middle hand. One thumb on the right and another three thumbs on the left hand.¡± With my sentences accented with a slight drawl. I¡¯d probably sound disoriented without the extra effort, since I¡¯m not sure myself if my brain is ok.


    This definitely had the desired effect, since Torben¡¯s worry changed into panic and his eyes began to slowly tear up, which certainly would look bizarre with a huge burly man that you¡¯d expect to find in a cave stood over a deer carcass.


    However the second his beard began to quiver, and somewhere deep within this, his chin. I knew I fucked up.


    Time for his teary coping mechanism.


    ¡®The eternally endless melodramatic bear-hug of death!¡¯


    The sobbing mess pulls me towards him as if I had the weight of a child, clamping me to his body with a force likely to crush my ribcage.


    Soon compacting my now powdered bones into a new, super dense material. Perhaps someone could make this into a powerful weapon and use it to avenge my mutilated, tear-stained corpse.


    Unfortunately for me I won¡¯t simply die quickly, or at the very least have my back break so I don¡¯t endure this any longer.


    Nor could I actually say anything other than pained gurgles, which only served to make him more distressed and therefore hold on tighter in a childish attempt to never let me go.


    I¡¯m beginning to suspect that time distorts in within this death grip, because there suddenly appears to be a small crowd around us and I can hear again.


    Occasionally, someone attempts coax Torben out of his trance to no avail, with someone feeling bold enough to attempt to pry his arms open. Which unsurprisingly was even more unsuccessful that the meagre mumbling of ¡°umm.. Let go. I guess.¡± from some prick stood in the back.


    I¡¯ll make sure to that guys face, so if he finds himself in the maw of an emotionally unstable monster I¡¯ll remember not to save him. Or at the very least, make a half-hearted gesture that shows my unwillingness to do anything productive to help him.


    Since my head is one of the only parts of me I can still move, I might as well see what¡¯s happened whilst I was unconscious.


    Arching my head to the left highlighted my assailants.


    Four dire wolves, stabbed and hacked to pieces. Although they had the element of surprise, while we were¡­ distracted. They can¡¯t fight very well in a confined area, especially since they are vastly outnumbered and surrounded, making it impossible for them to retreat.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.Around them were three dead bodies, and a couple more people appeared to be injured. Though only one had an injury serious enough that they couldn¡¯t continue.


    *Splash* *Squelch* *Squelch*


    Turning my head further left, to the point it threatened to break, allowed me to see exactly what is making that noise.


    Kneeling on the back of yet another wolf was Finnian, covered from head to toe in gore whilst carrying a even bloodier mallet, which I vaguely recognise as being attached to one of the games in this room.


    The sound is a result of Finnian repeatedly smashing down his hammer into the skull of the dead dire wolf. Or rather, the red paste of brain matter that use to be its skull.


    I suppose no one has worked up the courage to inform him of the monsters death, not that I blame them, because I¡¯m sure as hell not doing it either.


    ¡°Stop taunting me and die! Just die already! Die! Die! Die!¡±


    Not my problem anyway, so I¡¯ll let Argus deal with¡­ whatever the hell is going on with him. Meanwhile, I need to escape before I¡¯m slowly compressed into oblivion. Very, very slowly.


    Ah crap! Now my ear¡¯s itching.


    After a couple more minutes I was finally let go, reminding me what it is like to be able to breathe.


    Standing up caused my legs to wobble like a new-born fawn, learning how to walk for the first time. But they¡¯ll be back to normal in a couple of minutes.


    Torben looks very pale, but seems to have calmed down by now and ignores the ragged cheers from our spectators, who likely have no idea what they were even watching.


    ¡° Oy, everyone listen up!¡±


    I turn towards the speaker, a rough looking man who¡¯s leading the other Black Hound squadron in our group, Lt. Hywel I believe. Provided that my head wound isn¡¯t messing with my memory.


    ¡°I¡¯m not gunn¡¯ put up with this off-guard relaxin¡¯ shite again. Nex¡¯ person I see lower ¡®is guard, gets used as witch bait.


    Maybe couple of them curses will help ye¡¯ keep your ¡®ead on straight, ''cause your doing a piss poor job of it as of now!


    I wan¡¯ every one of you turds to be ready to go within the minute, or I¡¯ll shove my foot so far up your arse tha¡¯ I¡¯ll be able to use your squawkin¡¯ as a fuckin¡¯ bird call!¡±


    Though this guy has a shit trench for a mouth, he does have a point. We all saw some dusty magic relics and completely forgot about the pressing dangers around us.


    Not only were we caught off-guard, it was likely our fault that they came down to this room anyway. It wasn¡¯t as if we were being particularly sneaky.


    The thing I¡¯m most worried about is the possibility that the witches know we are here, rather than this being a random group that stumbled upon us.


    Additionally, there is the possibility that these wolves have a magic link to the witches, or even that the witches can see through the eyes of their summoned monsters.


    Since I have no possible way to rule these out, I have to move through the rest of the ruins whilst expecting an pre-prepared ambush from some witches. I¡¯m also concerned about the fact that Ii have absolutely no idea how witches fight, how easily they die, or any other possible magical bullshit they¡¯d have in store. So if possible, I want to kill as many of them as possible before they¡¯re even have time to perceive me.


    I hate being in the situation with another group, since I can¡¯t use any of my very convenient magic, which kind of makes me glad that I don¡¯t need to rely on it.


    Within our allotted minute, everyone was ready to leave, including the crimson stained Finnian standing besides me.


    Time to kill some witches.

 Chapter 22: Mr Tibbles

    Moving through the rest of the rest of the rooms labelled ¡®recreational area¡¯ is like walking through a wonderland, with vast amounts of foreign and magical looking objects, most of which I couldn¡¯t even guess how they worked.


    However, everyone''s faces didn¡¯t reflect the wonderment that would be expected from a lost paradise.


    Including my own.


    Instead, our main focus is on what is lurking behind that object, or how long until another pack of dire wolves ambushes from the shadows.


    It would appear that I¡¯m not the only person expecting to be ambushed. Rather, there aren¡¯t many who aren¡¯t a paranoid mess.


    Moving into the fifth room was the most breath-taking and yet only served to increase everyone''s anxiety.


    This room was by far the largest we¡¯ve seen in the ruins, and likely the largest any of us have ever seen before, almost to the point where I have to question if this actually classifies as a room.


    In addition to the much taller ceiling, lots of the ¡®recreational games¡¯ were larger, with some looking more like small rooms like that of a carriage.


    These all created a maze-like environment, restricting everybody''s line of sight and therefore being the source of increased tension.


    Especially for those of our squadron, who likely still remember our earlier encounter with the hellhounds and a similar maze filled with blind corners.


    With this in mind we decide the filter through as a group, since no one likes the idea of a group of five mysteriously going missing shortly after separating. Plus, this way it will be quicker for us to organise ourselves against any threats we may find.


    Moving through here makes me appreciate the professionalism of our company.


    When attempting to move through an area quietly with unrefined thugs and even soldiers is a nightmare. With the silence occasionally being broken with some idiot tripping, or not so silently swearing after stumbling into a thorny bush.


    For this exact reason I had selected a group of the most experienced and/or talented individuals for the more, delicate ¡®excursions¡¯, when leading a raid.


    But since the Black Hound selection process automatically does this certainly does my heart a favour.


    Far too many times I''ve had to throttle some bumbling fool, who had decided to have a ¡®quiet'' chat about the viability of half-swording.


    But as I listen now¡­ nothing. Just silent and efficient actions, with an ever-present alertness for threats. Minus our previous carelessness.


    Moving closer to the centre of the area finally gave us our first indication of witches being here.


    Two female voices, too far to make out but the distance is slowly closing.


    Thankfully they don''t sound panicked and therefore alerted to our presence. However, it is possible for this to be bait to draw us in before eight more witches emerge from the shadows.


    Before we get closer we separate into fours, unlike our previous groups of five since three members died in the previous ambush and one person was badly wounded, bringing us down to 16 functional members.


    In my group was Torben, Argus and Petri. Which I guess makes it Argus''s group, but that makes little difference since we agree on most things anyway.


    As the four groups move forwards, we get to the edge of a more open area in the centre of the gigantic room.


    Rather than have the games that litter the rest of the area, this is filled with tables, with many of them broken or missing, judging by the large amounts of empty spaces where tables should be and junk heaps of what use to be tables.


    Like most objects in these ruins, the tables are made of a strange material that would have normally have decayed away if it was wooden or a regular metal.


    Sat around a couple of tables was four women at a distance of 30 metres, with two of the witches having a conversation. Though they''re too far away to hear accurately.


    Though that they looked and sounded calm was reassuring that we they don''t know we are here. So we hopefully are walking into a trap.


    Independently the four groups begin to move closer, using the tables for cover. But rather than moving straight towards them, we begin to sweep around to partly encircle them before attacking.


    Now at 20 metres and in position, I can fully hear them talking. Unfortunately just some menial stuff, as well as complaints about being drained of mana and exhausted.


    Looking more closely I do notice all of them looking pretty shitty, with one of the original speakers looking like she should be on her death bed.


    Mana exhaustion is a bitch, and I''m glad that we''re being as big of a pain in the arse as they are. After all, it is always helpful to know someone is having a worse time than yourself, and when no such person exists, they turn to becoming a petty bully to forcefully make sure they do.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Since life in the barrens is rough, there were a lot of petty bullies trying o make sure at least someone had it worse than them.


    As we move forwards, those carrying a bow hold back, drawing an arrow and preparing to fire either the second we attack or when one of them spots us.


    "Worked to the bloody core I am! Been leavin'' me with nothing'' left. Few hours ago I nearly passed out durin'' a summon and that bitch had the nerve to blame me for it! Plus there''s good amount of us lying in bed, near comatose from this damn ¡®lets make an army'' plan. I need those idiots to just drop dead, else I''ll never get some good rest."


    The previously quiet witch speaks up for the first time.


    "You''ve said this over five fucking times now. Once more and I might just feed you to Mr Tibbles." What awful naming sense is that? Sound like a cat given to a five year old, minus the threats of it eating human flesh.


    Those evil bastards probably would if they thought they could get away with it. If I find the cat I''ll kill the fuck out of it. I hate cats!


    As we get 15 metres from them, the exhausted witches lazily looks around as if bored, suddenly stopping at an area one of our group were at as her eyes go wide.


    "Crap! Who the hells tha-" The first loosed arrow finds her throat, followed by another driving into her stomach. Resulting in her falling to the ground, spluttering blood, still with her eyes wide open, fixed into a shocked expression.


    Satisfied that they die like everyone else, I prepare to charge at them, provided the rest of the arrows for some reason don''t kill them first.


    The only witch I haven''t heard speak yet grabs a large medallion hanging from her neck. The large grey object has a rune covering one of its faces and instantly reacts to the witch grabbing it, absorbing a portion of her mana.


    The feeling of this mana then changes, before being amplified outwards to cover the three remaining witches.


    Of four following arrows, one narrowly misses, whilst the others collide with the mana shield and are deflected to the side.


    I was about to call out this information before I realised it''s likely everyone else can''t see the shield, but hopefully they''ll realise this fact on their own.


    As the melee groups run forwards, a witch holding out her wrist and releases a large amount of mana that quickly forms into a white tiger covered in purple stripes. However, rather than this mana being drawn from the witch herself, it appears as if it was stored there instead, with the tattoo that was previously there appearing to jump off her arm.


    The new arrival I assume is Mr Tibbles pounces for one of the four groups, stopping them before they get to the witch in question.


    However, I no longer have any time to focus on anything that isn''t one of my immediate threats, and so I look towards the closest witch. The one responsible for the arrow shield that still remains active.


    We both make eye contact, since I''m slightly in front of the rest of my group, allowing me the see the primal rage in her stare which I return with my own cold gaze, filled with murderous intent.


    However, these witches weren''t in the best condition even before the fight, so it was easy to tell she has very little mana left anyway.


    As I get within 5 metres a rune on her hand lights up, forming a blue one-handed blade that she holds shakily, grimacing from the pain of using the last reserves of her magic.


    In response, I throw one of my daggers at her eyes, causing her to recoil backwards. Causing only a small cut on her cheek, yet resulting in the distraction I wanted.


    Now upon her, I use my shortsword to slap her blade''s point away from me, then using my wrist to circle my blade back towards her chest as I run her through. Impaling her through the heart.


    It would appear that the mana shield doesn''t work against swords, much to my relief.


    As I turn around, the fighting is almost over already, with the rest of my group looking dejected that they didn''t actually contribute.


    At the end of the fight three were counted dead, two due to Mr Tibbles and another by the witch who conjured him.


    One of these was from our squadron, Grigori Chronis.


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Please rate the fiction, but most importantly, give any suggestions you think I could do to improve the fiction.


    Thanks for reading.  :-D

 Chapter 23: Runic Scrapyard

    The amount of collage work I''ve been getting is insane and I managed to catch a cold. So It has been hard to find time to write.


    Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    I''ve only know Grigori for a relatively short time and tend not to get incredibly attached to them for this reason.


    People around you either die leave or stab you in the back for one reason or another.


    Perhaps not the last one in his case, but that yet another person I''m glad I kept an emotional barrier around.


    This however isn''t as true for the rest of his squadron, not that I can blame them since they''ve been together for years.


    Most of the squadron look to be seething with anger with the exception of those who appear mournful rather than vengeful, with Torben amongst this group. That soft fool.


    Since it''s not like we have the means or time to preform a burial, we can only continue moving onwards.


    I''m worried about how many we just lost against a few witches on the verge of mana exhaustion, especially since we had the element of surprise in the first place.


    Lets just hope there are no more of the mana arrow shields, otherwise we''ll be losing more lives deeper into the ruin.


    We begin moving to the other end of the giant room at a noticeably faster, yet almost equally quiet and organised manner. It''s nice to see these people can still keep their head in this situation where some undisciplined idiot runs of looking for revenge for a fallen comrade.


    Nearing the end of the room and exiting the labyrinth of ancient games revels two doors.


    One is a big set of double doors which likely leads deeper into the ruins, and the other is a much smaller door with a runic sign on the door.


    Argus decides for our squadron to clear out the side room whilst the rest scout what''s through the big doors, allowing me to move to the door and translate it.


    ¡®Maintenance staff only''


    Creeping through the door revealed yet more of these devices, but in various states of disassembly.


    One corner has clearly been sectioned into an area for damaged parts, perhaps for repair or scrap.


    The rest however appears to be scattered around haphazardly, however I don''t believe this to be the case.


    The far most interesting corner of the room contains all the parts with a rune or multiple engraved onto it. The parts of the devices I am most curious to study, but I couldn''t do that without disassembling the object to reveal the runic sections.


    If it was possible to drag all of these parts back to Fort Torbek I''d give it my best try.


    Unfortunately I can''t, nor can I even copy the ruins onto something to examine when I get back, since those damn witch hunters are going to search everyone upon getting back.


    Moving closer to the aforementioned corner just behind Argus, we all freeze as he raises his hand in a halt sign before indicating there is someone ahead.


    Upon his order we shuffle around the object obscuring our view, allowing us to see the mentioned witch sat at a desk facing away from us.


    Both me and Argus slowly move forwards in case Petri''s upcoming arrow fails to kill her.


    Once within two metres of her, Argus moves his hands once again to signal to Petri. A second later an arrows fly''s straight through her chest and clatters of the stone wall.


    As she lets of a shocked shriek, Argus pulls her backwards from her chair as my dagger embeds itself in her heart. Fixating her expression, a subtle mix between shock and horror.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    After ensuring there are no others around, I move to the witch''s desk.


    In the centre is the book she was writing in before her death, splattered with minimal amounts of blood. Around the table are a few small runic pieces, with the latest page detailing one of the them.


    I also notice that the book used by her are similar to others I found in the previous ruin, so she must have found a blank book in good condition for her to write in.


    Even though I can''t take this with me without risk, I should be fine reading this passage and remembering any important details.


    This witch''s writing is neither in the common script or the archaic one found in this ruin, however it translates through magic all the same.


    ¡®This is one of multiple identical runes found under device #15022, though most of those salvaged from this table are very damaged.


    The primary and only function of this rune is levitation at a fixed height from the rune, which in the device serves to hold a metal disc slightly above the tables surface.


    The latent magic absorption of this rune supplies enough mana to allow it to levitate very light objects without any external mana input, like the lightweight metal disc.


    Upon testing, the manual input of external mana does not change the height of levitation, but just the weight of what the ruin can suspend.


    Results from preliminary testing has shown that a relatively small amount of mana continuously supplied by a magic user can levitate some of the heavier arcade devices with ease.


    However the only issue is that a large object won''t stay balanced on small area of levitation, requiring multiple of these runes to create a wider area to suspend the object.


    Additionally, since contact is required to supply mana to these types of runes, it will be necessary for all of them to be fixed to a flat material that can properly conduct a magical current to all of the runes at once.


    Thankfully the civilisation who made these devices are very advance with mana based metallurgy, and so it shouldn''t be too difficult to acquire.''


    Damn this stuff is enticing.


    So many possible uses for this treasure trove of lost magical knowledge around me, and yet I''m forbidden from utilising the discoveries that turned these lost civilisations into something great.


    How much longer must we prevent progress because of fear of magic.


    I''ll stop our world from continuing to stagnate.


    Even if I have to force feed progress down their throat.


    I will build a kingdom that puts knowledge above all else, and these manaphobic fools will die of one by one, or will finally accept that the Human race needs to tower above the dead kingdoms of old.


    Rather than cover in its shadow.


    Prepare yourself world!


    I''m bringing back the past, and in turn, the future of our species.


    There isn''t a damn person who I''ll let get in my way.


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Please rate the fiction, but most importantly, give any suggestions you think I could do to improve the fiction. Either in the comments or a review.


    Thanks for reading.  :)

 Chapter 24: The pointy eared children

    Upon exiting the cluttered room we don''t see the other group, and so we wait here, rather than look for them.


    Within a minute the group returns, with Lt. Hywel at their head.


    "Oy, Argus! What''s in tha'' room then? Other than a bunch o'' mouldy webs." Hywel talking in his usual accented slur.


    "Got a witch AND some mouldy webs. And you?" Argus throwing out his usual mischievous grin, almost trying to goad him into a witty verbal battle.


    "Lots o'' ¡®itches, didn''t kill non since we need to join back ¡®ere though. I thinks it''s a sleepin'' area, and so most are probably sleepin''."


    "Then lets make sure they aren''t waking up."


    After Argus finishes his conversation, he returns to our group and relays it in case anybody missed anything.


    Upon finishing this we all set off through the large double doors, covered in a faded engraving showing children playing on various of the games found in here.


    More peculiar is that they are depicted to have slightly pointed ears and much thinner eyes than is usual.


    Provided this isn''t just artistic preference, would this mean that these guys weren''t human?


    Certainly, there are plenty of myths and legends of who lived in these lands, but these vary so much that it is best to entirely disregard all of them.


    Most however tend to believe the ¡®witch persecution squad'', the most popular cult in the ¡®civilised world''.


    They publicly state the reason for the monsters, dead kingdoms and general shittyness of the world is magic. Some bullshit about how when magic was accepted there was incest, demon children and a magical apocalypse to top it all of.


    Well. Since humans are the only intelligent being around, this ancient race, and any others, are probably long dead fro what ever reason.


    Most likely from a more plausible reason than ¡®magical doom''.


    Even though the possibility of meeting a descendant from somewhere like this is impossible, this is exhilarating for me and Torben both.


    Although both of us have enough self control to keep our tongue inside our mouth, this basically is a culmination of all of our childhood fantasies we use to tell each other as bedtime stories.


    How we are going to explore far off lands with new foods and strange languages, going on grand adventures against vicious monsters.


    The first time I went into a forest as a child at 10 I almost wet myself. Everything just seemed so amazingly different from the dry lifeless world I was use to.


    And this forest was still in the barrens, with trees barely passable for living and very little wildlife.


    My first time out of the barrens and into an actual forest was in the middle of the night, with the intent to pillage some villagers that must be so rich and lucky to live amongst such intoxicating life.


    Even the dirt felt richer.


    None of that can compare to this. Not every green leaf and pretty flower combined.


    Drawing out from my mesmerised state, I focus on the tunnel we now walk down.


    Unlike a tunnel simply mined out, the tunnel walls, like all others in these ruins, seem uniformly smooth in some areas. Probably indicating that all of these tunnels were once clean and skilfully carved masterpieces, before thousands of years worth of age gradually chipped at these walls.


    In fact, it''s a miracle that these tunnels haven''t collapsed¡­ well, most of them anyway.


    On top of this is that non of these tunnels have any supports to add structural integrity, not that I''m qualified to comment on anything to do with architecture.


    As we moves forward, we pass many rooms to either side of us, though since we''ve been told these have been checked during the scouting group I resist the urge to scour them for anything of interest.


    This soon brings us to a inter-section in the tunnel, and at this point Lt. Hywel raises his hand, indicating for us to stop.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Argus makes his way to the front of the group and I follow just behind him, looking around at my surroundings.


    This pathway continues forwards, with another tunnel going right.


    However, 20 metres down the off-shooting passage shows that this tunnel wasn''t quite as lucky as many of its siblings, with an abrupt ending of rubble.


    Straight onwards looked, and likely is, relatively undamaged.


    Both tunnels had stone signs, similar to previous ones we''ve passed.


    Upon walking up to these signs, I lightly brush my hand on the worn stone, passing a small current of mana into the stone to quickly translate the text.


    The blocked path reads ¡®Communal Staff Area'', whilst the other shows ¡®Directional Hub''.


    The attention of the others was a set of double doors on the left wall, once again made of metal.


    Unlike the engraved doors we passed earlier, this one looked to have always been plain and devoid of detail.


    Cheapskates.


    Two people have their ears on the door, with a anxious crowd seemingly frozen as they wait.


    Soon a hushed voice speaks at a volume that would be inaudible provided that it wasn''t already completely silent.


    "I hear a couple of women speaking, they aren''t being all that loud though, so I''m not sure on what they''re on about."


    Lt. Hywel stands at the front and gestures at his sword to ensure everyone has their weapon out.


    He needn''t have bothered since the last incident with us being careless likely remains fresh in all of our minds.


    Then he points to all of the archers present and bring them forwards to just in front of the door.


    Argus and Hywel stand on either side of the door, preparing to push both sides wide open.


    Hopefully, this door will be equally as silent as the engraved metal doors from before.


    Once all of the archers have nocked an arrow Hywel began to count down with his fingers.


    3.


    2.


    1.


    Upon one, the archers raised their bow and drew back the bowstring in a fluid motion as the door swung open.


    The first thing I see is a table in the centre of the room, sat at which are the two chatting witches.


    The door thankfully was silent, and so both witches took two arrows. Dying before even given time to react.


    The room is rather plain, with rows of beds lining each side of the room, much like a communal soldiers barracks.


    Separating the beds are metal draws and similar furniture for clothing, all salvaged from different areas in the ruins judging by how non of them match.


    Seven witches are on the uniform beds, with all but one of them being asleep.


    The unfortunate restless girl was no more than 16, and was frozen in wide-eyed horror.


    The only archer to have yet to loose his arrow was Petri, who quickly ensures no sound would ever leave her throat.


    A moment later she fell back, a fletching sprouting from her skull.


    The remaining dealers of death run forward towards each of the unaware witches, with myself running to the sleeper the second furthest away.


    As I swiftly draw my dagger across her throat, she opens her eyes and looks around confused.


    Perhaps thinking, who is this man? And why are his friends stabbing me?


    "Shit!"


    Looking up towards the voice, I see two men and a women heading towards the furthest witch dive behind cover.


    The previously asleep magic caster standing in her nightgown, an arm outstretched, with blue runes quickly forming in the air in front of her pale open palm.


    Before I can make an attempt to throw my dagger at her, three arrows find her torso. Followed by another shortly afterward, just to be sure.


    All nine of the of the witches alive 20 seconds ago are now dead.


    Time to move on.

 Chapter 25: The Wolfish Officer

    Sorry for the delay on this one. I have no excuse beyond procrastination and that I''m planning out the next arc.


    However this chapter is a little longer than usual, so I hope you enjoy!  :)


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    I regretfully leave the room, leaving behind witchy possessions unplundered, left to rot and be nibbled away by rats.


    Not that I''ve ever seen any rodents in the Forgotten Lands anyway. Any that I may eventually find are likely to be six-foot tall with a taste for human flesh.


    As we exit, the only direction for us to travel is east to the area labelled ¡®Directional Hub''.


    Like previous tunnels, it is littered with off-shooting rooms, most structurally intact but others less so.


    However, all of these rooms are empty with little intact within, the purpose of them being lost with the race that carved them out of the stone.


    Soon enough we neared a set off large metal doors, similar to those encountered before, though this one appears to be left ajar. Likely since it is incredibly inconvenient to open if you don''t happen to have a group of burly men at hand.


    Stood in front of these doors are two gnolls, looking far more inattentive than you''d hope from a guard. Furthermore, the don''t even have their weapons on them, but rather have them against a wall two metres away.


    If they were paying more attention at their post they would''ve noticed the archers aiming their bows at them.


    They quickly died, making far more noise than I''m comfortable with.


    Lets just hope there isn''t an army on the other side of these doors


    Stepping over one of the dead monsters, I walk over to the wall and pick up one of their spears to use as a javelin if necessary, since I lack a bow.


    Curiosity is killing me, so I take point rather than Argus.


    Moving up to the imposing door, I creep to the half a metre gap just big enough to walk through without issue, bringing me to the edge of the door.


    I get as low as humanly possible, without actually being on the floor, and peek around the corner of the door.


    The room is circular with a diameter pushing 30 metres, with an ornate domed ceiling that has had most of its previously intricate details washed away by time.


    Although the most noticeable features by far was hanging in the centre of the room by a large metal chain.


    A huge clock about five metres in diameter, or what I assume is a clock based on what has been described by a few merchants from rich cities. Though instead of being mounted onto a tower, it is attached to a cube, allowing three additional clocks to allow at least one to be visible from anywhere in the room.


    One of the hands twitches repetitively whilst the other remains motionless.


    I guess not all magic fuelled technology can stand the test of time.


    Or perhaps it just needs to be powered.


    Drawing my eyes downwards, there are tons of benches in various states of damage.


    Around the on the opposite side of the room is a door identical to our own, possibly the one with access to the area the other group is clearing.


    In addition to this door are three others, one the same as these two doors except for two metal statues at either side of the doors, fashioned after a giant humanoid with a height of around three metres, with a large hammer in hand.


    In fact, these are similar in design to those constructs in the previous ruin that cleared out the rubble, all be it far larger and with very visible damage to both. So if these are suppose to be more than decoration, they hopefully won¡¯t be functional anymore¡­ hopefully.


    From the general look of things and the name of this room, ¡®Directional Hub¡¯, this appears to be a gathering area for the ruins similar to that of a town centre.


    Perhaps there were once vendors around here and hundreds flittering around, maybe more judging by the immensity of this room.


    Looking at this is almost painful, a place so full of life to become so desolate.


    Forgotten.


    I have yet to visit an actual full sized city and had such expectation for the wonderment to be found there, but it is hard to imagine it being anything more than a shadow of the lost beauty found in such a dangerous place.


    What truly happened here?


    I raise my hand, beginning to indicate for everyone to follow me into the room, freezing mid-gesture.


    The initial shuffling of feet stopping suddenly behind me.


    I¡¯m certain I heard something.


    Sure enough the noise slowly grows larger, repetitive thudding, still distant.


    Crap, that¡¯s the sound of marching!


    I hastily make the hand sign for a large group of enemies and step back from the door to avoid the corner of my head being spotted, though everyone else surely can hear the sound themselves.


    A loud bang occurs as one of the doors open, but the large room echoes around, making it difficult to hear which door actually opened.


    The marching resumes with the near thunderous sound being a huge contrast to the earlier silence, being further amplified by the spartan room, turning the noise of a possible fifty men into that of an army.


    Everything still becomes gradually louder and I begin to move backwards only to fond everyone far behind where I last saw them, gradually inching away from the booming legion.


    This remind me of a children''s story in my village about a giant scared away by an enlarged shadow of a mouse.


    It would be hilarious if this turns out to be four people, but not nearly as laughable as all of the idiots who will be insulting others about their cowardice, forgetting the new stains in their pants.


    Just as I am sure they are upon us the deafening parade quietens ever so slightly, and continues to do so little by little.


    So Ii begin to move back to the door and risk a look at their numbers, ignoring hushed curses stabbing me in that back, though no one appears to be concerned enough to go after me.


    Let them shake in their boots and grasp onto their weapons until their fingers wither into dust, I¡¯m going either way.


    Arriving back at the door I resume my previous position and prepare to peak around its corner.


    ¡°Garzt von thark a¡¯hurm on loxitar!¡± A low voice snarls out what seems to be an order in whatever abyssal tongue that is native to their species, confirming that they are gnolls.


    Unlike what most might believe and what drivel is likely fed to the public, these guys are fully intelligent and probably capable of being communicated with provided they are trying to kill you all the time.


    However, I doubt these guys actually have a choice in obeying the witches, not that they are normally nice people otherwise.


    A second later a deep grinding reverberates through the air, almost drowning out the grunts of those opening the far more uncooperative door.


    Getting low and peeking out of the door shows the speaker to be a gnoll with red markings staining his fur, indicating him as one of the higher ups in charge of the regular wolf-men.


    In front of him are somewhere between 20 and 30 of his kind, all filtering through the newly opened door.


    The very door I suspect leads to the other group.


    The other group might be fine, especially since they¡¯d likely hear them coming far before they got anywhere near.


    Again, their blatant lack of caution helps assure me they still have no idea we''re here.


    Once they move further into the tunnel, I walk out from behind the door, shortly followed by the rest of the group.


    ¡°How many?¡± Says Argus as he moves up to me.


    ¡°Maybe thirty, all gnolls and one of those red-painted ones. Headed off in the direction of the second group and from how they were acting they still don¡¯t know we¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Ahh damn, them leaders ar¡¯ a pain to kill.¡± Lt. Hywel growls, spitting at the ground.


    ¡°We still should be able to take that many though with surprise on our side, so there should be no problem¡± Argus remarks with a smug grin.


    These idiots are planning on doing something unnecessary.


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t need to take any of them at all, don¡¯t go out of our way to kill stuff that isn¡¯t our problem.


    We should wait here for the other group to arrive.¡±


    Argus quickly rolls his eyes and comments.


    ¡°Except if they get caught off guard they won¡¯t be coming at all.¡±


    ¡°They should have the same number of people as us, and you can hear that furball parade from half a mile away, no one is getting caught unaware.


    Even if they decided to fight them rather than let them pass, which would be the sensible choice, they are perfectly capable of disposing of them.¡±


    As I¡¯m beginning to get work up over this lt. Hywel lets out a small chuckle.


    ¡° ¡¯cept your forgettin¡¯ that half of those are a bunch of bumbling¡¯ fools sent from the ¡®Taldarian scoutin¡¯ division¡¯, or somethin¡¯ stupid.


    Surprised they even managed to get here, and even then it¡¯s with twice the losses!


    Sure they could hide them out, but if they do get found, I ain¡¯t so sure they¡¯d be fine.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.Plus we don¡¯t know how many losses they got already. Could all be dead for what we know.¡±


    ¡°Fine, it¡¯s their fault if they can¡¯t handle it though, and any of our casualties are on both of your hands.¡±


    I hate having to put myself at risk for fear of someone else''s incompetence. It¡¯s why I normally employ a ¡®idiots are left to die¡¯ policy.


    To emphasise my disapproval I walk at the back of the group rather than my usual pioneering frontal position.


    Obviously I still have Torben besides me as well, so they lost two awesome people at the front. That¡¯ll show them!


    As we walk though the door left open by the gnolls, I quickly touch the damaged stone tablet besides it.


    ¡®Gol-- sub-m--ules + Transport and ---kaging¡¯


    We move at a fast pace, slightly behind that of a jog, in order to catch up to our prey.


    I can certainly hear them, but I can¡¯t see them with everyone else in front of me.


    I¡¯m starting to regret my decision to sulk at the back. I¡¯m certainly not going admit it though, nor will I lower myself by creeping back up to the front.


    With a signal from the Argus we slow down and crouch, allowing me a moment to properly see what¡¯s ahead.


    It appears that this main tunnel ends in a cave in, though the gnolls are slowly filtering through a set of double doors just before the dead-end, likely a way around the blockage.


    Once the gnolls close the doors, we hurry forwards and surround the door.


    Slightly to the left of the doors is a small white line, marked recently by chalk.


    Therefore I move closer to Argus to inform him, pushing through most of the group to get there.


    ¡°There is a marking on the wall to indicate the other group has passed through here.


    Since we haven¡¯t ran into them, I¡¯m assuming they exited this room only to retreat back into it once they heard the gnolls coming.


    So depending on how far they back-tracked, they¡¯re probably somewhere in this room provided there are places to hide.¡±


    Argus pauses for a second in thought before replying


    ¡°Then this room should make a great slaughterhouse.¡±


    ¡°By the way, leave the officer to me. I have plans for him.¡± I say just loud enough for everyone else to hear me.


    Argus looks at me strangely for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and preparing to open the doors.


    On a silent count of three the door open in a smooth, soundless motion.


    The marching that was muffled by the metal door returns, but this room doesn¡¯t echo and amplify the noise like the previous room, so the prior stampede dulls to non-deafening levels.


    Though the height of the ceiling of this room doesn¡¯t compare to the directional hub we came from, its size is almost the same.


    However this room is far from empty.


    It resembles the maintenance room from earlier, with lots of scrap and metal covering the room, sometimes scattered randomly or roughly piled up with similar pieces. Except this room is much, much larger.


    Also the nature of this room is clearly different, with not a single thing being remotely recognisable to me, with the only exception being a very damaged small metal man, identical to those in the previous ruin. A ¡®Clockwork Gnome¡¯ I believe a sign referred to them as.


    In addition to the scrap and spare parts, there must be around 50 work benches regularly spaced around the room.


    Saying that there are plenty of places to hide would be an understatement.


    The group moves closer to the gnolls moving through the centre of the room and scatters into different pieces of cover.


    I decide to move a little closer, moving into the shadow of an odd metal head just over half the size of myself. As I do so, I notice the slightest of movement at the opposite end of the room amongst a messy pile of junk.


    Gnolls towards the back of the group begin to call out in pain as arrows seemingly come from nowhere and bury themselves in their backs.


    As the entire group turns towards us, the red marked gnoll begins to shout. Whether this is an order or just plain vulgarity is hard to tell with the vicious sound that make up their language.


    Another two gnolls at the front of the group fall, alive for now but disabled.


    The gnoll officer grabs one of his kin besides him and pulls it in front of him, a moment later an arrow embeds itself in the unfortunate shield, only to be tossed aside like a sack of potatoes.


    ¡°Darrum uth gar yoi noth!¡±


    The officer growls out, making a vague gesture in our direction.


    Our enemies run towards us, darting between cover whilst searching for their ambushers.


    Four however stayed besides the officer, who is now casually walking towards us, his eyes clearly focused on one of our archers in near perfect cover.


    He moves his head slightly as said archer looses a second arrow towards him, which lightly brushes past his jaw and draws the faintest trickle of blood.


    Picking up one of his dying comrades spears, he throws it into the shadow a few metres behind me. Resulting in a thud and a small grunt from what I assume is now a dead ally.


    The dying gnoll the spear belonged to is quickly picked up and takes an arrow in the chest meant for the officer.


    Still holding out his furry shield makes eye contact with me, still walking forwards at his relaxed pace.


    As I¡¯m further forwards than the rest of the group, the searching gnolls have just passed me, leaving open space between me and the red gnoll¡¯s bodyguards.


    After glancing behind me to ensure I¡¯m not going to be stabbed in the back, I step out from the shadows and swagger towards the officer.


    Almost challenging him to see who¡¯s walk gives the least shits.


    As we slowly walk towards each other, I position myself between him and the archer who clearly wasn¡¯t listening when I said, ¡®leave the officer to me. I have plans for him.¡¯


    Finally his cold expressionless face breaks into a toothy grin, which I return with my own malicious smirk.


    ¡°Varuth gote nastor vo.¡±


    With these words his bodyguards separate from his side and move around me.


    Judging from their annoyed faces, this is because they were told to ignore me rather than to stab me in the flank. Leaving only me and a certain blood-thirsty wolf.


    Just as I am about to come at him, a wounded gnoll jumps up from the ground before either me or the red gnoll can react and prepares to run me through.


    A second before he reaches me, a green flash of light comes from the unoccupied area of the room, in which I earlier caught a glimpse of movement.


    The wounded spear-wielder hit the ground just before my feet, a glowing green arrow lodged deep into his skull, making a slight sizzling noise.


    A glance over the area I saw the green flash and see nothing further. From the expression of the red gnoll, I assume he has the same result.


    As both of us force our attentions towards each other I give a slight shrug and begin to move towards him once more.


    My shortsword in my main hand, and my parrying dagger in the other.


    Once I get to edge of his spears range, his point comes between the two of us and we begin to match each others footwork.


    Constantly keeping the same distance, while I make it difficult for any of my allies to shoot an arrow at him.


    We begins to sway to and fro, with him making non-committal jabs at me.


    His spear point quickly moving at my face, and then at my feet in the next tempo.


    He is worryingly quick.


    With a small lunge forward his spear moving towards me faster than I can follow it, I¡¯m prompted mirror his movement backwards. Leaving his spear near touching my throat.


    As he moves his spearhead back I strike at it with my dagger to push it aside.


    With this I quickly rush towards him to finally close the distance between us.


    However, with a skilful display of footwork he nimbly matches my speed and readjusts his spear to hold me back once again.


    Stopping in my tracks I quickly shift to the left, narrowly avoiding loosing my right leg to a quick thrust.


    Before I can use this to move into swords reach, the spear again halts my advance.


    I can easily see a reckless lunge resulting in me being impaled.


    This fight stays at a stalemate for a little longer, with both of us being too cautious for a quick victory.


    But as the remaining gnoll are cleaned up, Torben arrives with a newly ¡®acquired¡¯ crude spear.


    As Torben begins to attack, it is obvious that he is far less experienced with it, but this provides the opportunity I need.


    I lunge it the gnoll who clearly sees me coming, but realises he is helpless as he redirects a reckless thrust at his legs.


    I drop my shortsword as I close the distance and punch the gnoll straight in the face.


    Before he can recover, the blunt end of Torben¡¯s weapon smashes down into his skull, knocking him unconscious.


    As a couple more people arrive I stand over the corpse to ensure no idiot tries to kill him after I went through all this trouble.


    ¡°As I said earlier, I need this one.


    So someone get me some damn rope!¡±

 Chapter 26: The brothers discussion

    Looking back over the gnoll shot earlier by what I assume was a magical incantation, the green arrow isn¡¯t present, leaving behind a partially melted hole in its skull.


    Hurrying to the unoccupied section of the room, I look around where the caster should have been.


    But no one is here.


    I have only been around magic being used a limited number of times, with all of these being either from Dahlia¡¯s healing magic or the earlier fight with the witches.


    What I have noticed, is that magic used leaves a slight trace that I can sense if I focus enough. Though this feeling isn¡¯t really comparable to any physical sensation I''ve ever experienced.


    Sure enough, where I saw the flash of green coincides with such a trace, but who exactly left it?


    The strangest thing by far though is that it almost seems¡­ familiar.


    However, this isn¡¯t the only remnant in the area.


    A much fainter source leading from here towards the edge of the room, before it reach a solid wall. Here the trail stops, seeming passing straight through the stone.


    After a little poking and prodding to ensure the wall isn¡¯t false and finding nothing, I return back to the centre of the room where the others have gathered.


    It¡¯s hard to concentrate when I know I recognise whatever left that magic, and it¡¯s bugging  me like a smell I can¡¯t quite place.


    All together we only had a single fatality, due to an accurate spear throw from the officer, with the victim not being someone I¡¯m familiar with.


    There are a few injuries in the group, but not anything too serious.


    They are more at risk of the wound festering than anything.


    Once I return to the others, who have huddled in a circle around an imaginary campfire, Lt. Hywel addresses me whilst pointing at the knocked out gnoll I fought.


    ¡°Care t¡¯ explain why tha¡¯ ones been kept living.


    It¡¯s to your tastes I¡¯m assuming¡¯, not tha¡¯ I¡¯ll judge.


    But I think we should gut this one like a fish!¡±


    I narrow my eyes at Lt. Hywel and quickly respond.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself there.


    I just want to investigate the degree that the witches have control over them.


    Also, since our entire goal is to kill the witches in order to remove their control over their monster army, we¡¯d need to be able to judge if the control is truly relinquished after we kill the last of them.


    Otherwise us being here is completely pointless.¡±


    After a seconds pause, someone from the other squadron speaks up with a venomous glare towards the unconscious gnoll.


    ¡°This bastard killed Jaakko, I say we skin it!¡± He emphasises this by pulling out a dagger and beginning to move towards the object of his rage.


    As a response I position myself between the two of them, flourishing a throwing dagger and flashing a smile that didn¡¯t reach my eyes.


    ¡°Seems the only one who¡¯ll be losing their hide is you.


    I suggest you back the fuck up!¡±


    With a gaze full of hatred now redirected to me, I receive it without so much as flinching.


    No matter how angry this guy might be, he doesn¡¯t compare to truly the evil murderers and psychopaths I¡¯ve killed and more often fought besides.


    Returning a cold stare, I see him tense up, unsure if to attack or back down.


    What I assume are his friends step besides him, hands ready on the hilt of their weapons.


    While Torben moves next to me, donning a serious expression.


    After a staring contest I¡¯m clearly winning, Argus moves up between us with clear intentions to play the role of a peacekeeper.


    ¡°Lets not get too worked up, we don¡¯t need to be in a rush to kill it.


    Lets use it for what Raegan explained first, then it¡¯s all yours.¡±


    I get glared at for a few more seconds, with my aggressors face becoming redder than I thought possible.


    Finally his weapon goes away and he takes a deep breath.


    ¡°He lives until we¡¯ve done with these witches.


    Then I get to kill him in any manner I see fit, is that clear!¡±


    To further rub some salt into his wounds, I give my best mocking laugh and put away my dagger.


    But lets not settle for just pissing him off. How about I aim for him to burst a blood vessel.


    ¡°Anything for you sunshine, perhaps you would like me to wrap him in a pretty ribbon that matches your eyes.


    After all, I wouldn¡¯t want there to be any hard feelings between us.


    It really isn¡¯t healthy to keep a grudge you know!¡±


    Though unfortunately nothing burst, but he did begin to develop a significant facial twitch that would make you question if he was about to collapse.


    After a couple of amusing attempts of thinking of a retort, he turns, leaving in a storm of not so subtle cursing.


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    Ah, now my moods much better from before.


    There¡¯s nothing like ruining someone else''s day to perk up your own!


    Now I just want to know who had casted that magic from earlier and all will be good.


    Lets just add that to my schedule of; chat with the furball captive, kill witch bitches and acquire all of the magical secrets.


    The last one is a more long-term goal, but it certainly takes priority over the mutt and his owners.


    After I receive a disapproving glance from Argus, we move to the exit of the room, leaving the dead where they lie.


    In the Forgotten Lands you can¡¯t afford to be dragging bodies back home for a funeral, or you¡¯ll soon find your way into the stomach of some monster, most likely a ghoul since they supposedly can smell the dead for miles. They¡¯re certainly a good incentive to burn your dead, but we can¡¯t do that either in the Forgotten Lands without sending a signal to every nefarious creature nearby.


    The most respect we can currently show our dead is to not loot his body and offering a toast once we return to civilised lands intact.


    ¡°Ok! Since they aren¡¯t in this room they must have moved a little further back, just make sure to stay vigilant for anything.¡±


    With Argus leads the group to the door, once again marked with white chalk.


    As the group begins to move through the door, Torben, carrying the unconscious officer gnoll, keeps me back and nods in the direction of the one killed by the unknown witch.


    ¡°Saw that happen and the direction it came from, got any explanation for that?¡±


    ¡°Nope, not the slightest clue. However, who ever it was can get around without using doors.


    It wouldn¡¯t make any sense for it to be a witch that lives here since we are trying to kill them all. But who else could be down here.¡±


    Torben contemplates this for a moment as we move into the adjacent room. Much smaller than the last, with only the ruins of some now unidentifiable furniture left behind.


    ¡°Perhaps a runaway from the coven, or someone who was exiled and bares a grudge against them?¡± Torben says uncertainly.


    ¡°Maybe, but why help me specifically and not any others of our group.¡±


    ¡°Is it possible they would know about your magic?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, however I would be surprised if there is magic to detect that, which is a worrying thought. So lets hope my magic potential remains hidden, and that there is a more simple reason for this unknown''s actions.¡±


    ¡°Yes brother...lets hope.¡±


    The small room exits back into the tunnel on the opposite side of the cave-in.


    If we are lucky the other group will be in one of the first rooms, it would be hard to believe that they would move any further back to avoid the gnolls.


    They likely had a better fall back point than the previous cluttered room and so decided to move back there.


    Slightly unnecessary if you ask me since the scrap filled room had more places to hide than you could wave an army of sticks at.


    ¡°Raegan, don¡¯t think approve of your solo fight with this guy.¡± He gestures to the gnoll being carried over his shoulder.


    ¡°If he decided to attack you with his goons, you could have been easily killed.¡±


    Ah, I appear to be worrying my poor Torben again.


    ¡°That guy didn¡¯t feel all that different to myself, there was no way he was going to let free entertainment be stolen by one of his lackeys.


    That would be far too boring.¡±


    My pet bear looks at me for a few second and makes a deflated sigh.


    ¡°I would try and talk you out of such rashness, but I should already know it to be useless by now.


    Just make an attempt to be more responsible.¡±


    ¡°My dear brother, if I die doing something stupid, I would be the only one at fault. How much more responsible could I be.¡±


    Torben¡¯s expression sifts to that of annoyance and speaks again in a deep hushed voice.


    ¡°Dying early and leaving me alone is by no means responsible.


    Remember that your death affects more than yourself. Don¡¯t be selfish and go getting yourself killed.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t go dying if you promise to do the same.¡±


    Torben stops in place for a moment and looks me in the eyes to find if I¡¯m being sincere.


    Apparently finding it his face brightens up again.


    ¡°Okay, it¡¯s a promise.¡±


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


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    Hope you enjoyed the chapter!  :)

 Chapter 27: The ancient larder

    Moving through the tunnel and finding the next large room, we walk in to what immediately screams danger!


    The layout is simple, a large square room with a door on two opposite walls, with one being the one where we came from.


    The centre of the room is empty and well lit from a magic torch dropped in the centre of the room.


    This however leaves the sides of the room very poorly lit, almost to the point of complete darkness.


    Due to the bright torch, I can hardily see anything at the far reaches of the room, but I can still barely make out debris at the edge of the light on both our left and right.


    What I can gather from my near-blinded vision is that there are two makeshift barriers on either side of us, likely hiding the archers behind them. Not that I have any idea if they are there with this damn torch ¡®conveniently¡¯ placed here.


    Definitely set up as an ambush, further evident by few  fresh blood-stains metres from where I¡¯m stood.


    I imagine they are the other group, hence why we haven¡¯t been peppered with arrows by now.


    After a moment of frozen suspense, a voice ring out to my right in a low commanding bark. Similar to when I hear Taldarian officers shout at someone for marching incorrectly or having an insufficiently sharpened sword.


    ¡°Bows down!


    It¡¯s our own!¡±


    ¡°Talk about stating the obvious, do we look like a butch of mangy bipedal dogs to you?¡± Argus calls out after a light chuckle.


    The would be ambushers gradually move from their cover into the light, 14 in total.


    With the 12 of us, we now have a total of 26 fighters, instead of the original 40 that got to the ruins.


    Looking around, I notice I can¡¯t see the leader of the Black Hound squadron they had with them, so I assume he¡¯s dead.


    ¡°This all you got Hywel? Thought you guys were superhuman Forgotten Land veterans.¡±


    ¡°Bah!


    Least we don¡¯t run from thos¡¯ flea-bitten mongrels!


    besides, ¡®ow many ¡®itches have your lot got? One, two if you lot got luck on your side.


    Still manage t¡¯ get ¡®alf your guy dead though, didn¡¯t ye¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Six witches actually, and constant waves of gnolls coming through here.


    Most of your losses are likely from them forgetting they have to breath!¡±


    ¡°Hahaha!


    Only six ey! We got triple tha¡¯ number, and we killed the furry lot yours were hiding from.


    Waves of gnolls my hairy arse!¡±


    We talked a little with the other group about what we had come across to get here, with me lurking behind Argus as he talks with the one arguing with Hywel.


    With Argus starting first, he explains the ancient games we came across in abundance, notably glazing over the embarrassing ambush we suffered and going into far more detail in our attack on the group of witches. Both the ambush in the arcade and in the dormitory.


    The first half of the story involving the artefacts was scoffed at by, for which I don¡¯t blame him, since they do seem like a heavily embellished bullshit if you hadn¡¯t seen them for yourself.


    It probably also wasn¡¯t helping that everyone are describing completely different artefacts than the other, rather than confirming one another''s story.


    The second half, and the cause of all of our losses, was taken far more seriously.


    At the end of Argus¡¯s portrayal of events, the military officer began on what his lot experienced.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t have none of these fanciful magic that you described, but there was a whole lot stuff that looked completely alien to us, most of it being in pieces. Lots of weird spinney stuff and other devices that do who knows what.


    After someone touched the wrong thing, it attacked him with lightning and left him on the floor twitchin¡¯.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.Thing must have been a weapon or something, but either way we stopped messing with this magic crap before someone got killed.


    We basically just kept moving through different rooms dedicated to craftin¡¯, with some rooms making stuff  that seemed like random junk to me. But what do I know? Maybe those things are un-killable metal warriors or somethin¡¯.


    One other thing we did see was a skeleton, who knows how long it has been here, but it was the size of a 13 year old.


    It¡¯s an awfully long way through the Forgotten Lands for a lost child to get here, so perhaps it¡¯s one of this places original inhabitants.


    From there we moved through even more workshops and then storage room used to supply even more workshops.


    There is only such metal someone can take and I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve reached that point.


    To make the situation even better, every  10 minutes or so a group of gnolls come on through.


    We avoided them at first, but due to a few dire wolves attacking us and making a bloody mess everywhere, we had to fight every damn group. Otherwise they¡¯d continue past us, find the blood and corpses, and come and stab us in the arse.


    So as we continued to do this, one loss occurred, and then another. So all in all we lost 6, including the leader of the Black Hound squadron.


    He died fighting one of those bastards.¡± He gestures over to the bound gnoll still being carried by Torben.


    ¡°I trust you¡¯ve got a good reason to keep that thing alive. I¡¯ve seen one of them fight and it ended in three of us dying, including who was likely the most skilled fighter of the lot of us.


    If it gets out and kills half of us, it¡¯s on you lot!¡±


    I give nothing more than a small grin as a response at his concern. Though it is certainly true that this guy is dangerous.


    As I glance over the prisoner being carried over Torben¡¯s shoulder, I am met with the vicious eyes of the gnoll staring back at me expressionless.


    Or what I believe to be expressionless, after all it¡¯s hard to read facial expressions beyond resting face and snarling face.


    I look towards Argus, and gesture for him to come closer.


    ¡°Perhaps we should question the wolf? Provided it can even speak our tongue.¡±


    ¡°Not here, lets move into one of the smaller rooms.¡±


    Slipping away with Argus, Torben and his cargo, we move back into the tunnel from which we came.


    Finding the closest off-shooting room, we quickly enter.


    I call it a room, though it barely qualifies as a cupboard.


    Only three metres wide, it has no furniture beyond metal shelving lining the walls.


    All are empty but one, which has three small box¡¯s on a shelf, all of which are heavily degraded. However, a single container has relatively intact text, though still very warped.


    I move up to it and attempt to translate it. Upon channelling a sliver of magic into the ruined material, it quickly begins to burn up and crumble.


    Before the mana current completely destroys what text is salvageable I get a look at the largest writing.


    Powdered cake mix


    How do you make powdered cake?


    Torben roughly drops the gnoll into to the corner face first, who responds with a low growl.


    Taking out my dagger, I roll over the gnoll onto his back and crouch in front of him.


    Nimbly Juggling  my weapon between my fingers I once again resume our staring contest.


    ¡°Do you speak our tongue?


    After a receiving a blank stare, the gnoll officer finally responds in a deep raspy voice.


    ¡°¡­Yes.¡±


    I make an attempt at a kind smile.


    "Then, lets have a chat..."

 Chapter 28: Forlisk

    ¡°Oh great, it speaks.¡± Argus says from behind me.


    ¡°And hears, forlisk!¡± The gnolls hisses, putting a cruel emphasis on the last foreign word.


    I quickly shoot a quick glance to Argus to shut up, and interject before anyone gets too aggravated.


    ¡°Fulisk?


    What does this mean? Ignoring my butchery of the word.¡±


    ¡°Forlisk.


    Human In my tongue.


    Your kind are enslavers and liars!¡±


    Though heavily accented with a strange, deep gruff voice, he can still speak our language fairly well.


    ¡°Enslavers? Your speaking of the witches are you not? I don¡¯t see how this relates to the rest of my kind.


    The witches that enslaved you are outcasts, their actions have nothing to do with us.¡±


    At my words, the gnoll first narrows his eyes and waits a few second before speaking again.


    ¡°Bah! My people have stories a great many years old that say otherwise.


    They speak of the humans, talking of their greed and lack of honour.


    Many blame your kind for what befell our race countless years ago, these new enslavers are just more examples of your kinds evil.


    Forlisk actually has two meanings. Our word for human also means betrayer.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about these past stories, but I doubt any of us are responsible for a betrayal that occurred in some passed down legend.¡±


    ¡°History forlisk, no legend.


    Now, what is it you want with me? I doubt I still breath just to talk about my people.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything wrong with wanting to learn of other cultures?


    However, you¡¯re right. I do actually need you for something.


    But first, how about we learn each others names.


    I¡¯m Raegan, the mountain besides me is Torben and the one behind me is Argus.¡±


    ¡°Raxka-Otaktay.


    People I like call me Rax.


    Which doesn¡¯t extend to you.¡±


    I see Torben shift forwards and clench his fist, as if it punch him.


    Before he does, I quickly grab his arm, more as a gesture to get him to stop than a actual effort to restrain him. Not that I remotely have the strength to anyway.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.


    What I wanted to talk about is the magic used on your people, who the leader of the coven is and how many would be with her.¡±


    ¡°You intend to kill them yes? The one responsible for this¡­ binding, is the female with red hair that flows wild like a fire.


    Jahanna is its name.¡± Rax spits out the witches name with a clear vicious distain, not that I blame him.


    ¡°Do you know how this magic works? If I kill this red-haired witch, will the witches control on you break?¡±


    The gnoll waits a moment and spits to the side.


    ¡°Bah! Do I look like a shaman to you? How should I know?


    The witches give orders, we are forced to follow them. Before we came here and were bound, the shamans of our tribe were told they would be to travel into this land.


    Only they were never let through to this place. But I guess now we know why.


    Perhaps a witch can help you, but not me.¡±


    ¡°Lets say we do kill the witches, and the control over you and yours breaks, what will your kind do?


    Will they still fight our army?¡±


    ¡°I cannot speak for my people forlisk, but I doubt that we would continue to fight in another¡¯s war.


    So we¡¯d likely scatter and reform back into a tribe, cursing your people from while regaining our strength.


    And then our revenge will be bloody and unforgiving!¡±


    ¡°Whether you hold a grudge or not doesn¡¯t interest me. So long as you stop fighting after the control has broken, what come after isn¡¯t my problem.


    But finally, how many witches are in this last room and what kind of defences do they have?¡±


    ¡°They have around- ¡­ Argh!¡±


    Midsentence red runes light up along his neck, much more complicated than the few others I¡¯ve seen.


    Upon their activation Rax cries out and begins to writhe around in agony. Which continues for around five seconds before the runes abruptly fade away, leaving the gnoll panting on the floor.


    ¡°That¡­ Is the last of your questions forlisk. Perhaps if this damnable binding is destroyed I¡¯ll entertain a conversation, but for now fuck off and kill those witches already!¡±


    ¡°And why shouldn¡¯t I kill you now we no longer need you around?¡±


    Raxka-Otaktay glares at me for a second before letting out a low growl.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to scare me human.


    From that fight earlier, I believe you have more honour than most of your wretched kind.¡±


    I chuckle slightly and flash a smile.


    ¡°And what a fight it was too.¡±


    As I walk out of the room, I nod to Torben, who then throws the gnoll back onto his shoulder before following me back towards the main group.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep you around until the witches are dead so we can have that conversation.


    Though I would free you, there are plenty of others who would like quite the opposite.¡±


    ¡°I know forlisk, I can smell their hatred from here.¡±


    We continue and quickly re-join the others who are just about ready to set back off to the directional hub.


    Once we get there, some approach us with tedious questions on where we went.


    With a quick thumb gesture towards Argus, I deflect all annoying towards him and generally ignore everyone as we set off again.


    I make sure to listen out for the sound of rhythmic marching ahead, since we don¡¯t properly know how often they come through here. Well, I could ask some member of the other group, but it¡¯s too difficult to tell the passage of time underground.


    On another note, I notice the guy who I pissed off earlier towards the back of the group, alternating menacing stares between myself and the captured gnoll.


    I need to arrange this guy¡¯s death, or eventually I¡¯ll find myself with a dagger in the back once no one else is around. It isn¡¯t healthy to keep a grudge after all.


    Perhaps I¡¯ll use some of my leftover devil¡¯s thorn to make it easier.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    As we re-enter the previous room filled with scrap and gnoll bodies, I feel a slight trace of magic again.


    But I don¡¯t properly know how to sense magic without being directly in contact with it.


    With the growing feeling of paranoia, I scan the room again with vigilant eyes and still find nothing.


    This would be the point where I shrug it off as nothing and continue on oblivious, however I instead move to Torben¡¯s ear and whisper.


    ¡°Brother, I feel we are being watched.


    Keep an eye out.¡±


    Torben gives an understanding nod and I begin walking again, nervously darting my eyes past each of the countless hiding places that are in extreme abundance in this littered room.


    As we pass the body of our fallen ally, the future dead guy and some of his friends kneel besides his corpse, muttering some words I can¡¯t hear from this distance.


    After a few moments, he stands up from his dead friend and shouts at Raxka-Otaktay.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be killing you slowly you animal!


    Just you wait!¡±


    Rax apparently also found something funny, as he let out a low chuckle which emphasised his deep voice that sounds like he stole it from a hellhound.


    Give that poor hellhound its voice back you monster!


    We didn¡¯t break our pace and walked towards the exit of the room, leaving behind a red-faced deadman screeching like a banshee.


    ¡°Just you wait!!!


    You¡¯ll see!!!


    I will be your end!!!


    Do not take me lightly!!!


    I¡¯ll kill thousands of you kind!!!


    I¡¯ll kill your mother!!!¡±


    However, just before we reach the door I deftly grab a small jagged piece of metal and quickly conceal it.


    After walking for a few more minutes, we arrived back at the gargantuan directional hub.


    Those from the other group who had entered here for the first time were astonished by the sight and took it upon themselves to chat amongst each other, only to be quickly hushed by Lt. Hywel.


    ¡°Enough y¡¯ fools, listen f¡¯ a moment!¡±


    After a quick pause, the sound of the familiar marching became evident as soon as the group internal chatter died down.


    As the newer half of the group began to show panic, ours was already moving back towards the arcade.


    By the time we all filtered through the small gap in the giant metal doors, everyone had caught up and the thundering sound was substantially louder.


    We wait just beyond the door, mirroring exactly what we did last time, although we do have around double the people this time.


    In order to ensure the gnoll doesn¡¯t do something stupid like shout out, Torben lightly holds him by his neck, threatening to snap it at the slightest sound.


    In all honesty this doesn¡¯t seem necessary, as it is in his interest for us to kill the witches who control his people, but it doesn¡¯t hurt being cautious.


    Like before, the beastmen enter the room and follow the same path as the last group of gnolls disappearing into the tunnel we exited only a minute ago.


    Once again, as the gnolls begin the exit the room I peek around the corner.


    Although they appear to have the same number as the last, they don¡¯t have a red-marked gnoll leading them.


    Instead is a regular looking gnoll, with only a slightly less tattered gear to distinguish them.


    As they leave I near Rax to sate my curiosity.


    ¡°Say, do your people lack proper armourers and knowledge on equipment maintenance, most of what your people use looks old and degraded.¡±


    ¡°Bah! Our people are constantly fighting for our lives every day, with little resources and food.


    Tell me when we have time to polish our weapons and replace the frayed seams in our clothing.


    If we had the opportunity to sit around and make high quality weapons, we would have no need for this forlisk bargain that binds us.¡±


    Most of the others hear our conversation and show varying looks of shock at his fluency in our language.


    Not that their prior assumption remotely interest me, and so I begin to gesture for everyone to filter back into the large room.


    By the time the sounds of marching finally die out, everyone is before the door with the two huge metal figures besides it.


    Argus moves to the front of the group and addresses us all.


    ¡°Now listen up!


    This leads to the last of the witches, including the leader of the coven.


    It is important that they are taken out as fast as possible, with any draw out confrontation being sure to result in casualties.


    The goal of killing these witches is that it will result in the control of their monster army falling apart and scattering.


    Even in the unfortunate event that our army has already broken, this will ensure that our home and families are safe.


    For this reason we have kept alive one of the gnolls, who will be left here, so after the witches are dead we can determine if the control over him has truly broken.¡±


    As Argus makes his speech I sit the gnoll against the wall and quickly take out the jagged piece of metal I picked up earlier.


    While slipping it stealthily into his hand I lean forward.


    ¡°If we meat again you owe me a story of your people Raxka-Otaktay.¡±


    He makes a low grunt, which I interpret as thanks, before quietly responding.


    ¡°Human.


    Call me Rax.¡±


    We both share a mischievous grin before I turn and re-join Torben a few metres back, who gives me his own knowing smile.


    As soon as the door is open, I move onwards from the back of the group alongside my childhood friend.


    Ignoring the faint sound of sawing coming from where we left.


    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    I apologise for how late this  is.


    However, I do intend for the next chapter to be a little longer with the upcoming witch battle.


    I hope you look forward to it!

 Chapter 29: A Bloody Climax

    Warning- Has yet to be proofread by the lazy (and tired) author.


    The long corridor ahead of us is significantly wider than any other we¡¯ve been in, with perhaps enough room for 10 men to stand shoulder to shoulder.


    The beauty of these ruins once again amaze me.


    Lining the wall are highly detailed, ornate carvings of metal beings, similar to those stood sentry at the door we entered moments ago.


    Most are roughly human in form, and are depicted as craftsmen and warriors.


    Although, some others are far more bizarre in form, from spider-like constructs to those much more difficult to describe.


    At regular intervals along the corridor are sets of double doors on either side of us, which also bare fascinating designs of a similar fashion.


    Down the length of this expansive corridor is a door that has the same size and grandiose as the one to our backs.


    Equally visible from such a distance are two more of those metal figures, standing to either side of the door.


    These don¡¯t only show a high resemblance to the other two statues, but are almost identical to one of the nearby stone carvings.


    However, there is nothing else along here except a few random pieces of scrap that always seem to find themselves scattered throughout every corner of the ruins.


    This much empty space however has a similar effect as the previous room, with even a small sound reverberating through the archaic tunnel, making us overly aware of how painfully loud the smallest step can be.


    Everyone moves forwards in such a exaggeratedly cautious manner, that I would find it comical provided that I wasn¡¯t also partaking in the laughable movements.


    Despite how ridiculous we all look whilst attempting to make absolutely no noise, we are fairly successful in doing so.


    I tiptoe over to one of the first doors and then gesture for Torben to come over.


    I then make a mostly successful attempt at stifling a hysterical howl that leaves me almost unable to stand. The cause of this is the sight of a gargantuan man, nearing 7ft. Tall, hunched over making small meek step towards you, whilst struggling to support his own weight on his tiptoes.


    As I push the door, I find it soundlessly opens, much to my joy.


    The room was of an average size and coated in a heavy layer of dust. Or rather, more dust than is usual for an ancient ruin.


    This room contained various tools, including mallets and hammers, amongst many other things.


    With some looking like they might be a useful tool, don¡¯t quite look like any other I¡¯ve seen.


    Since there aren¡¯t any workbenches present, I guess this is just used as a storage room


    Even though I want to delve further into the rooms contents, unfortunately, we don¡¯t currently have the luxury to investigate every curiosity.


    As I turned around, my heart nearly gave out.


    At some unknown point, everyone had creeped up to the edge of the room and crowed around the entrance to gain a good look into the storage room.


    As one, we all begin to make cautious haste down the hallway.


    The next few rooms also contain various stored items, with most being too foreign to accurately guess a function.


    Now slightly past halfway through the tunnel, I attempt to open the next door.


    This one however, puts up a bit of resistance. So, I push my shoulder into the door to budge it.


    *Screeeee!!!*


    The ear-piercing sound echo¡¯s in my ears, jarring my brain as my body freezes in horror.


    For the next minute, no one makes a noise, as if their own silence would erase the previous deafening cacophony.


    ¡­It did not.


    Safe to say no one is opening another of these side doors any time soon.


    Hopefully we were the only ones to have suffered that unholy racket!


    As we finally reach the door, I put my ear to it and listen.


    Almost immediately I hear the muffled noises of nearing footsteps.


    Abandoning my previous slow caution, I begin jogging towards one of the side doors whilst making the hand gesture for danger like a madman.


    The others do the same, a mad dash for the side doors whilst still attempting to minimise the loud echoing caused by even small noises.


    This door thankfully open with no resistance or sound.


    There is obviously some magic involved in the making of these door, otherwise they shouldn¡¯t even be attached to the door frame. In the future, I need to find out exactly how they accomplish this.


    Around half of us follow me into the room, which seems to store giant metal heads, each similar in design but still unique to itself.


    As I close the door after the last of us have entered, the giant metal entrance slowly begins to move.


    I leave the door ajar, with just the slightest room for sight, and wait.


    It takes another minute for the metallic monstrosity to have opened enough to allow a single person to squeeze through. Which, although slow, it does silently.


    Rather than the platoon of gnolls I was expecting, two females shuffled through the small opening and into the expansive hallway.


    Though not the loud thunder of 30 boots, the two witches still managed to create a audacious racket.


    ¡°Uggh. Just leave the door like this, can¡¯t be arsed opening and closing something this heavy.


    At least we can finally get some sleep, I swear that women is trying to kill us sometimes, I don¡¯t know why we need more of those dogs. Isn¡¯t what we have already summoned enough?¡±


    The first women to have spoke was heavily scarred, with only small tufts of grey hair clinging to her head.


    The obvious cause is the extreme amount of burns she must have suffered sometime in the past, with almost all of her exposed skin consisting of burn scars.


    ¡°I dunno, I¡¯m guessin¡¯ that she had an¡­ unfavourable divination, and is now paranoid we¡¯ll lose to this Taldarian army.


    Also, you really should be complainin¡¯ ¡®bout gettin¡¯ rest. Plenty of people more tired than us still slaving away. Maybe she likes us?¡±


    The second of the pair was someone who looked to be in her thirties, with dirty blond hair and a large nose that didn¡¯t look to be well-proportioned to her face.


    Though both of them looked tired, neither appear to be collapsing of exhausted in the immediate future.


    The burnt witch makes a wheezing sound that could be interpreted as an attempt at a laugh, speaking in a distinct raspy voice I failed to notice the first time.


    ¡°CuCuCuCu! You think she likes anyone!


    Hah!


    She¡¯s doesn¡¯t give a shit about us. We likely got a break because we haven¡¯t pissed her off recently.


    And if all this extra work is from prophecy paranoia, then she¡¯s a fool. We all know she does little more than dabble in divination, which gives experienced practitioners dubious results at best.¡±


    The witches pass my door, completely oblivious to our presence.


    I gesture to the archers in this room, three in total including Petri, bringing them up to the door and signalling for them to each nock a arrow.


    ¡°Maybe Helgnar, but I seen some ¡®mpressive foresight before. Told ¡®er all sorts of shit.¡± The big-nosed women retorted.


    ¡°Bah! Anything more than more than checking the weather and the readings become a load of bollocks. Then they use the excuse of ¡®misinterpretation¡¯ and metaphorical meaning behind some cryptic half-arsed message. Can¡¯t trust the lot of it.¡± As the burnt witch continues talking, I slowly and soundlessly open the door. Giving the signal for the archers to draw and loose in unison. ¡°All predicting the future¡¯s gunna do is-¡±


    One of the arrows buried into the burnt women''s lower back, severing her spine, whilst the other goes all the way through her chest.


    Narrowly missing the heart, but still causing a mortal wound in the form of a punctured lung, which now leaves her lying on the floor struggling to take in air.


    The other women died almost instantly from Petri¡¯s bowshot, with the arrow piercing her heart.


    What worries me is the amount of noise they made when falling to the ground.


    It would be much easier on my heart if they¡¯d just die quietly.


    Slowly, everyone else exited the various rooms used to hide in once it was apparent the problem has been dealt with.


    I resist the urge to loot their corpses for anything magical and move back towards the giant door, which is now slightly open.


    I could also risk a glimpse of what¡¯s in the last room, but getting seen will throw away one of our biggest advantages. The element of surprise.


    Now, this final room should be for constructing ¡®golems¡¯, judging by the previous directional signs.


    So, I can expect it to be big enough to summon large groups of gnolls into. Relatively free of the usual clutter for the same reason. And I have to assume there won¡¯t be convenient places for us to hide, provided we can even enter the room unnoticed, which may be unlikely.


    Therefore, our only plan of attack is rush in and kill everything as quick as possible.


    However, this could have heavy losses for us, I don¡¯t really see any other options.


    Again, what would be helpful is a sneaky peak around the corner. But if I¡¯m seen, even the crappy plan I currently have turns to shit, so we are going in blind.


    As everyone gathers near the door, I walk up to Argus and whisper my thoughts in his ear.


    He pauses for a minute in thought, developing a gradual scowl as thinks of a less costly plan.


    He finally mutters something under his breath and moves over to Lt. Hywel, whispering into his ear, who then goes through the same thought process.


    Hywel however gave a much more audible ¡°Bollocks¡± as a response, and moved to one of his men, starting a chain of whispers, followed by hushed curses.


    Torben moves over to me with a look between annoyance and concern.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this plan, too much risk for everyone.¡± He says with a grim face.


    ¡°Ha. For you perhaps.


    I however plan to stand behind someone big that I can use as a shield.


    Now all you need is to find a walking mountain to hide behind and you¡¯ll be covered.¡± I jest quietly.


    Torben nervously looks around in the vain attempt to find anyone bigger than him, but surprisingly his eyes widen and he once again leans in to whisper to me.


    ¡°Will that one do?¡± He says, pointing towards one of the eight-foot metal statues.


    ¡°Sure. Just ask it to join you in battle, kill the witches, then you both can go skipping through a flowery meadow like the lovely maidens you are.¡± I say with the most sarcasm I can possibly fit into a whispered sentence.


    ¡°No, but the shield he has would be more cooperative. But this maiden will have to pass on the meadow.¡±


    I look over what the metal man is carrying, a big hammer and a large rectangular shield around half the height of its wielder.


    ¡°But that is purely decorative right, looks like some kind of polished bronze to me.¡± Though I have to admit that it has slightly more of a gold tint than polished bronze normally would.


    Either way, Torben walks to the shield and slides it of the statue who looked to be holding it like a normal person would. Strange, since welding it on would likely have been easier.


    Even the small sound of metal on metal caused everyone to freeze, turning towards Torben in horror.


    Some silently screaming at him, with the phenomenon mainly involving a lot of hand flailing.


    Holding the shield, Torben was covered from his knees to his chin by what I guess is now a tower shield.


    Moving back up to me and ignoring the many eyes glaring at him, he reveals a smug grin.


    ¡°Not quite a mountain, but I think this¡¯ll be a good substitute.


    A generous donation by our good metal friend over there.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be too useful if the metal is to soft or fragile.¡±


    Now that he is closer I can definitely tell it isn¡¯t bronze, or anything else I recognise.


    ¡°It certainly feels bulky enough, and even soft metal is still harder than I am.¡±


    I move my hand up and touch the shield, revealing something unexpected.


    As soon as Ii made contact, I could feel a distant source of magic within the metal that doesn¡¯t feel like anything I¡¯ve yet encountered.


    Rather than it circulating and flowing through the metal, like is present with the devices powered by runes in the ruins, the magic here is different.


    In fact, it isn¡¯t moving what so ever. The mana feels as if it is fused into the metal itself, acting static within the shield.


    I try to add mana into the metal and am met with resistance.


    My mana filters into the metal far too slowly and I can even feel some of it being directed straight back at me.


    Thinking back to the book on metallurgy I salvaged from the previous ruin, I have a good idea on what this is.


    A small section was labelled ¡®Infused metals¡¯, which described metals that have mana involved in the making of certain alloys to alter its properties.


    Huge portions of the book are too damaged to read, so I know very little of the process or the metals it makes.


    However, it explicitly says most of these infused metals are used for warfare or certain purposes involving ¡®heavy-duty mana exposure¡¯.


    The section covering these metals is amongst the most damaged area, which is unfortunate since it also happens to be what I find the most intriguing.


    Once I get back to the fort and there is no risk of the witch hunters rifling through my stuff, I¡¯ll collect the book from where I¡¯d hidden it and look over these infused metals again.


    However, one thing is apparent. This shield isn¡¯t just for show.


    As the rest of the metal statue looks to be of the same metal, I¡¯d bet it isn¡¯t just a piece of furniture either.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    A worrying thought, since I doubt we can even damage the thing if it decides to stop being a statue and begins killing stuff.


    But hey, at least one of them doesn¡¯t have a shield anymore!


    I refocus on Torben, who has been waiting patiently for me to move for a good minute as I was absorbed in my thoughts.


    Finally removing my hand from the shield, I lean in to whisper.


    ¡°I think this¡¯ll do just fine.


    Likely even better than anything you or I could buy.¡±


    As a response, he gave me a grin and turned towards the others, who are now poised in front of the door.


    Ready to charge into the potential death-trap. The true measurement of a good soldier.


    Torben walked to the front of the group, shield poised. And so I followed, staying just behind in the attempt to make use of the huge figure of my friend as cover.


    Five people position themselves at each door, getting ready to open it on Lt. Hywel¡¯s signal.


    Said person raises his hand, counting downwards from five with his fingers.


    3.


    2.


    1.


    With ten people slamming into the doors they swiftly open, with no more noise than a small grunt from one of the pushers.


    Everyone, me included, charge into the large room. Making no war cry or any other sound besides our footsteps.


    The slower they react, the less of us will die.


    The room is very similar in shape and size to the directional hub, with completely different are decorating the domed ceiling.


    One very obvious difference is the presence of these ¡®golems¡¯, three of them lined up against one of the walls.


    Though similar in design, all three are much bigger than the things stood outside the doors, with two being around 15ft tall and the other must be over 20ft high.


    Most of what is makes up inside the golems are exposed, with all of them being in various stages of construction, revealing many of the strange parts we¡¯ve seen scattered around in some parts of the ruins.


    However, most of the junk and debris normally in the rooms have been pushed to the sides to give space for what¡¯s in its centre.


    A large green rune painted across the floor, with tens of witches stood at its edge. Presumably to supply it with mana.


    Many of the witches look pushed far past exhaustion, seemingly already having a foot in their grave.


    Though there is a single exception.


    A women stood further away, observing the process with cold eyes and a hard expression.


    A women with vibrant long red hair and a long tattoo running down her right arm.


    Upon our arrival into the room, the witches stop and look up, frozen momentarily.


    As we near further, the red women breaks them out of their stupor.


    ¡°What are you idiots waiting for!


    Kill the intruders!¡± The red women shrieks, pouring every ounce of hostility possible into her words.


    The witches jump to life, fanning out. Each of them activating runes, or doing other random chanting that I assume will have some effect.


    However, I don¡¯t have the luxury to pay attention to every witches actions. My only concern is with the head of their coven.


    ¡°Torben! We¡¯ve making our way to the red witch!¡± I call out from behind him.


    As we get to the witches a blue flash comes from my right.


    Before I see the cause, Torben has moved his shield between me and it, blocking off my sight to it. A moment later, a reverberating *thung* rings out from the other side of the metal.


    Attempting to take advantage of the distraction, a nearby witch points her hand at Torben, her palm showing a rune beginning to glow a fiery red.


    Quickly grabbing one of my shorter daggers, I throw it at her whilst closing the distance.


    The dagger pierces her outstretched hand, with the damaged rune immediately glowing a much brighter red before her hand bursts into flame. Soon this spreads further down her arm, leaving the witch writhing on the ground screaming in agony.


    I look back up at the red witch still hold up at the back of the room.


    A once again move towards her, ignoring the second flash of blue from the side of me as I continue forwards.


    *Thung*


    The witch¡¯s face twists in disgust as she grabs her necklace, which lights up and covers her in a familiar blue barrier.


    An arrow passes over my head soon after, hitting the barrier before it reached the witch.


    Now much closer to her, much of the fighting is to my sides and behind me.


    If not for Torben covering me, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to move this close without being stabbed in the back.


    Now being the closest to her, she redirects her attention to me and my oversized friend.


    As our eyes meet, she first respond with a hateful scowl filled with unbridled rage, but her eyes suddenly widen in shock before once again becoming hostile.


    The tattoo down the length of her arm begins to distort and glow as she touches it.


    With there still being another 20 meters between us, I have no time to get to her before the magic is complete.


    The tattoo  begins to pull itself off her arm and quickly form a creature.


    This is completely done in just over a second, revealing what monster she had stored there.


    Of similar height to Torben, it looked much like a gnoll with more pronounced animal characteristics. A huge fanged mouth, large claws and legs that looked like that of a wolf, yet allowed it to stand on two feet.


    A werewolf. Seriously, this is getting ridiculous, do these guys have some sort of wolf fetish!


    Even though this is among one of the most well known creatures, it is very rare to the point of legend. Because of this, I have absolutely no idea what things about it are false and which real. I¡¯m just hoping that the legends are heavily exaggerated and that I don¡¯t need some silver weapon blessed with mystical dragon piss or some stupid shit.


    If worse come to worse, I¡¯ll just have to hope killing the red witch will get rid of it.


    However, I won¡¯t bet my life on it. Not that I¡¯ll have a choice.


    The beast runs towards me on all fours at a frightening speed, almost immediately closing the distance between us.


    The as fast as a horse part of the stories appears to be holding up. Unfortunately.


    I ready my self to roll to the side as it bounds towards me, waiting on the moment it will pounce.


    However before Such a moment comes, Torben charges past me and rams into the beast, stopping it with a loud *thud*.


    Using this, I run past both of them with the intent of reaching the witch and hopefully stopping the werewolf upon her death.


    It only takes a second before the wolf appears in front of me, blocking me off from its master.


    It¡¯s clear I¡¯ll never reach the witch before taking care of this damn wolf.


    I throw my body to the side as the werewolf pounces towards me, swinging at my chest. It¡¯s claw fall short of me, and I use the opportunity to take a swing at its arm.


    My blade cuts into its fur, drawing blood and invoking a low growl, rather than the pained yelp I was expecting.


    With the beast attention focused completely on me, I see Torben slowly circle around the back of the wolf.


    I keep my shortsword out in front of me, taking light cuts every time the wolf moves forwards. Buying a little time, but not actually wounding the creature.


    Finally, Torben closes in from behind the werewolf, attempting not to draw its attention until he strikes.


    In order make sure Torben stays unnoticed I take a step forwards and feint a lunge at the wolf¡¯s face. Jumping backwards just before the furious beast swings with inhuman speed. Hitting nothing but air.


    The wolf shifts to all four and as it is ready to pounce, Torben takes action. Slamming into the back of the werewolf with his shield.


    Torben the uses his body¡¯s weight to pin the wolf to the floor with his shield, provoking an enraged snarl from the beast trying to get free.


    Instead of attempting to stab the werewolf in its face, from which I¡¯ll be in danger of being hit from its flailing arms, I move around to its side.


    What¡¯s worrying me however, is that my brother is as strong as a bull, yet is struggling to keep this thing restrained for even this short of a time.


    I thrust my sword, into where I¡¯m guessing its heart is, until it¡¯s hilt deep in the monsters chest.


    The werewolf lets out a pained howl as a response and begins trying to push off Torben with increased ferocity.


    I remove my sword and stab into its chest two more times, with each stab spraying the creatures blood all over my legs and feet.


    Surely one of those would have pierced its heart, yet it is only getting more pissed off.


    Damn it, your not telling me I actually have to get some bullshit silver weapon to kill this thing. Do you have any idea how useless silver is for weapons!


    With my blade still embedded in the wolf, it twists its body, yanking the sword out of my hand.


    Finally out from under Torben, it lashes out at him, hitting his shield with enough force to send him stumbling backwards.


    I shift my longer dagger to my right hand and draw one of my throwing daggers with my off-hand.


    It glares at me with its bright amber eyes and begins moving towards me with strong certain steps. Unfazed by the injuries I gave it just moments ago.


    I guess my next plan is to chop it into small pieces, which I will cook and feed to Torben. Maybe then this fucker will die.


    As it starts to break into a run, a figure covered from head to toe in blood runs right past me, towards the not so little puppy.


    Narrowly dodging death, the red figure scrambles onto its back, burying two daggers into its back to use as purchase.


    My furry advisory and Torben¡¯s dinner spins around, frantically trying to get at the annoying creature latched to its back.


    Finnian however, avoids the vicious claws and teeth of the werewolf, all the while cackling like a madman and repeatedly stabbing into its back.


    With finally us being momentarily free of the wolf, the path to the red witch is free.


    Though it appears the witch hasn¡¯t been standing there doing nothing.


    Floating a foot in front of her is a massive green rune, far more complex than any other I¡¯ve seen with my limited experience.


    Rather than it being aimed at us however, she was looking in the direction of another. A Taldarian soldier far closer to her than us.


    Before the man could reach the witch, the last part of her rune was completed, springing a pale green spectre from it.


    The translucent spectre soars towards to the nearing Soldier, striking out with a long, clawed hand.


    Although the man holds up a small metal shield to stave of the phantasm¡¯s assault, the claw cleaves through it as if it wasn¡¯t there, before continuing to pass through the Taldarian. Killing him before he had chance to hit the ground.


    In the meantime, I have been getting closer to the witch while making sure to keep pace with Torben. He¡¯s a damn good shield, so there isn¡¯t a chance that I¡¯m getting anywhere near this witch without him.


    The witch turns towards us, pointing the rune in our direction and looking me dead in the eye.


    ¡°I¡¯m not dying today! I refuse!¡± She screeches at me. Her eyes bloodshot, revealing a mad glint.


    The spectre leaves it¡¯s recent victim, rushing in our direction whilst letting out a low, spine-chilling moan.


    I slow down slightly, dropping in behind Torben who has his shield up. Hopefully whatever this shield is made of proves more of an obstacle than the one that belonged to the Taldarian.


    The spectre slashes down, like a scythe making a wide sweeping cut through barley. As its ghostly claws impact the shield, instead of effortlessly passing through the metal, it slides across. Emitting a low hum as it does.


    Torben stops, working hard to stop the apparition from reaching around the shield and wounding him.


    As he stops, I pass around him, ignoring the hulking frame of my best friend and the menace that offends him.


    As soon as I pass the two, the witch slightly adjusts the rune to be facing me and mutters a word. Kill.


    The disembodied moan I was moving away from just a moment ago suddenly grows gradually louder as I keep running.


    With only ten metres until I reach the witch, I can almost feel the spectre breathing into my ear. If it was even possible for it to breathe.


    I doubt I¡¯ll make it to the witch in time, which leaves me with one option.


    I throw the small dagger in my left hand, which spins through the air until it hits the green rune as it would a wall.


    Upon impact the rune shatters, and the sounds of the phantom behind me stops immediately.


    The witch outstretches her hand, revealing a rune on her palm. However, I¡¯m already within arms length of her.


    As my dagger plunges into her heart, her eyes widen.


    The mad glint, the hate. All of it fades away with her life, until there is nothing left.


    The witch is dead.


    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Well this took longer to do than I thought.


    Firstly, (ignoring the procrastination) fight scenes are hard to write. Seriously, it''s agony.


    Secondly, since the last chapter I have started two new fictions. One on my own, and another with an author called Jahnes. So go check those out if you''d like- Both of which are linked in my signature.


    I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and be sure to rate this fiction or leave a review if you''d be so kind.

 Chapter 30: A witchs journal

    The last remaining witches were finished off, with those surrendering being killed without hesitation. I¡¯m not sure who¡¯d ever want to have a prisoner who could shoot fire from her fingertips.


    That¡¯s one positive of being a witch, no one is mad enough to try to rape them.


    Doing a head count, 15 of us are left. Everyone important to me is still alive anyway.


    This is the reason I don¡¯t bother to remember half of these idiots names, they¡¯ll be dead at one point or another.


    Not me and Torben though. Not us. We¡¯ll get through anything so long as we stick beside each other.


    The werewolf dropped dead shortly after the witch died, with Finnian repeatedly stabbing its corpse for good measure.


    Of course out of everyone, that mad bastard will survive.


    Spotting one of the corpses, I recognise the face. I¡¯ve forgotten the name already, but the face I definitely remember.


    Appears he won¡¯t be skinning the gnoll after all.


    Though I¡¯d bet he¡¯d have freed himself by now and is already halfway out of the ruins.


    Perhaps I¡¯ll be meeting him again in the future.


    Ignoring everything going on, I walk around the edges of the room and check out each of the giant constructs.


    They make me curious just what used to power them, and exactly what purpose they served. From just looking at them, it would appear they¡¯d be very good at killing stuff.


    But what would they be killing with them exactly?


    Moving a past one of the bigger golems, I see a door that was blocked from sight by the ancient metal relic.


    Rather plain, though slightly smaller than most others in the ruin. But we have come across similar doors in the ruins.


    The door opens soundlessly, and isn¡¯t accompanied by a cloud of dust, unlike many of the other doors.


    This room must be used often.


    The room is by far the most furnished I¡¯ve seen in the ruin.


    If some of the decorations weren¡¯t so obviously ancient, I would even say this is the fanciest room I have ever been in. Though the only other examples I¡¯ve seen are the higher ranking officers rooms in the fort.


    In one corner of the room is a tidy bed, with fresh sheets and all. Similarly, the rest of the room looked carefully organised, with the thing not properly tucked away being a book.


    I walk up to the small desk where the book lies, which is just another typical old book that has no right to still be intact. Yet this one seems in far better condition than any others are. I wonder why this is?


    There is no title on the book, nor any writing at all.


    I take a seat at the desk, immediately realising how tired I am the second I sit down. How long have we been out here I wonder? If killing the witches broke their control over their army, the fighting should be finishing up now.


    I open to the first page, revealing writing neither in the common tongue nor the foreign script found in the ruins.


    Not only this, but the ink itself doesn¡¯t match the ancient look of the parchment it is written on.


    The language flows from one word into the next with a strange fluency, that somehow makes perfect sense to me. As if I know that is how all language aught to be written.


    It is a completely new language, yet I can read it as if it was my own. No, rather it is easier to read.


    I rub my eyes for a second, making sure my exhaustion is causing me hallucinations. Since it had no effect on what I see, I¡¯ll just have to trust I¡¯m not going mad.


    I think I¡¯ll take the superstitious person¡¯s approach of, ¡®If I can¡¯t explain it, it is probably magic¡¯.


    The amount of text on the first page is very small, no more than a lines.


    I notice the words seem to take up more space writing like this, and there are no gaps in-between words. Which makes it odd to read, yet I don¡¯t get confused by reading in this strange fashion.


    The first page reads as so.


    So, I guess this is something I¡¯m trying out.


    I¡¯ve never really written things like this before, so¡­


    Wow, this is really stupid. What was I even thinking when I came up with this idea!


    Idiot.


    And so the first page, of what I assume is an attempt at a diary, ends.


    I quick turn of a page reveals to me that it continues further, though the writing is similarly short. However, quickly flicking through the book indicates the amount of text increases fairly quickly.


    Around half of the pages have writing on, with the latter half of the book being blank. And likely with forever be, considering the state of the owner.


    Moving back to the second page, I read through the brief entry.


    I¡¯m trying out this again.


    I¡¯m thinking of tearing out the first page, it is embarrassing. Never mind, nobody¡¯s is ever reading this anyway whilst I still live! And if you dare read this after I¡¯ve died, then I¡¯ll fucking curse you from beyond the grave.


    Since you¡¯ve seen this far, you¡¯re already cursed! The only way to remove it is to immediately burn this book and never speak of its contents to anyone!


    I¡¯m being serious!


    Damn, and she said the first page was embarrassing!


    I wait a moment in mock expectance of this inbound curse, my face frozen in feigned fear. A skill I have perfected since childhood.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.Now I¡¯m just hoping her spirit lingers in this place, so I actually have an audience to my humour.


    Satisfied with my self with myself, I begin to turn the page only to be hit with a unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach.


    After it persisting for far too long, I finally belch and release the built up pressure.


    Before I continue, I hear someone open the door behind me. With a quick backwards glance showing it to be Torben.


    ¡°We have all agreed to sleep here in the ruins, and some of the people are even sleepin¡¯ already. Dropped like a rock at any spot that they pleased.¡±


    I frown at the idea of everyone sleeping around the corpses of the friends.


    ¡°Surely they aren¡¯t sleeping out there, amongst their dead.¡±


    He shakes his head and responds.


    ¡°No. Well¡­ A couple of people are. But the rest are searching for a cosy room along that giant hallway.


    I see you got a bed though.¡±


    I briefly chuckle, returning my gaze to the book in front of me.


    ¡°I killed the bitch that owned it, so I say the bed¡¯s mine.


    I¡¯m reading though, so I guess you can sleep there for a couple of hours. As soon as I¡¯m done, I¡¯ll be immediately waking you up. It still is my bed after all.¡±


    Torben gives me a warm smile and nods, but as he makes him way over to the bed I gesture for him to come over.


    Pointing at the strange text, I ask him.


    ¡°What do you make of this, can you read any of it?¡±


    He looms over me, his face scrunched up in thought.


    ¡°Just looking like a lot of fancy squiggles to me, can you actually read this stuff? I¡¯m not even sure where one word begins and another ends.¡±


    I ponder this a second, running through a couple of possible explanations in my head.


    ¡°No matter, there are a bunch of rags over there¡± I say pointing to a neat pile of clothing material. ¡°Go wipe the blood of your stuff and yourself while you¡¯re at it. Make sure to pass me some too.¡±


    Both me and my brother spend the next ten minutes wiping the grime off us, but more importantly, our weapons.


    Soon enough, Torben is fast asleep on the dead witch''s bed, and I¡¯m left to delve into her belonging.


    Skimming through her journal entries, I make sure to read the important detail.


    However, most of it became recording of that day¡¯s grievances, complaints about the ruins and the food they grow here. Occasionally a spot of magic or two will be mentioned, but not at all in detail. The in fact, she even mentions the rituals preformed by the coven aren¡¯t written down anywhere, in case someone steals it and sells the knowledge to another coven.


    With the mention of a grimoire of the witch existing, I skip to the last entry.


    A shorter entry once again, but it looks to be written hastily. The handwriting erratic rather than the neat and careful curves that are consistent through the journal.


    I have done another divination today. Though far more thorough than the last attempt, in the effort to confirm my last reading.


    Even though I wish it to be false, I saw my death again. At the hands of a dark entity.


    The shadows were drawn to it, making me unable to see it¡¯s body.


    And then it killed me, looking deep into my eyes as my vision fades.


    The Taldarians will be dealt with by these new gnoll slaves.


    Once they are gone, I can concentrate fully on finding the identity of this demon and how to avoid my fate.


    I can¡¯t write here anymore until that is done. I can feel the creature reading my words as I write them, perhaps it is even in here now.


    Well, it appears I ended up beating the demon to it. Unless it actually refers to me, in which case she should use something more reliable.


    If it did refer to me, the knowledge that I am just a man could have saved her life.


    Also, I have learned from the witch was called Sitara. Not that it really matters anymore.


    I close the book, and look around the room from my chair.


    I can¡¯t see the grimoire anywhere, so I¡¯m guessing it is hidden somewhere.


    Time to play hide and seek with an inanimate object.


    I first look under the bed. Though nothing is there, not a thing.


    After looking in a chest, I find an interesting leather glove. Upon touching it, I can feel the faint trace of mana.


    For now, I¡¯ll leave it in the chest.


    After a few more minutes of rummaging, I am left with the final possible hiding place.


    A set of wooden draws.


    I pull open the top draw, revealing clothing. I briefly dig through the neatly folded clothes, almost feeling the wrath of the dead witch as I mess up her tidy room.


    Moving onto the middle draw. Which is once again filled with clothes, yet no grimoire.


    Now on the final draw and my last hope, I open it and reveal¡­ her underwear.


    With no option, I begin to rifle through the draw like a common pervert. My hands come across two separate hard objects, I take the one that is book shaped and pretend the other never existed.


    Moving back to the desk, I sit back down.


    Examining the black covered book.


    The red witch¡¯s grimoire.

 Chapter 31: A Captains Meeting

    I finished college last week, which is relieving.


    Hopefully now I can actually get back to writing fiction instead of science reports.


    So I apologise about the absurd wait, and hope you enjoy the chapter!


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    *Captain Kadir, leader of the Black Hounds POV *


    Today certainly wasn¡¯t an enjoyable one.


    A hour or two has passed since the fighting''s stopped, which ended with the witch''s forces routing suddenly. A few foolish individuals even wanted to chase them into the mountains and kill as many as possible.


    The sudden change in the enemy should indicate the men sent into the witch¡¯s lair were successful, thankfully.


    So with the coven gone, the threat to Taldar is dealt with.


    Ignoring the likely aggravated gnoll lurking in the shadows. The local dangers of the Forgotten Lands will probably whittle down their numbers further, so I¡¯m not really concerned.


    Assuming most of the people I sent to wipe out the Weeping Shadows survived, the total losses of the Black Hounds will be fairly low. 20 people perhaps?


    This isn¡¯t the case for the rest of the army however.


    Whilst my own company is sent to scout and pick off the odd thing, others like the Iron Juggernauts take the brunt of the force.


    Our armies total death count is estimated to be around 800. Which is pretty substantial considering this is around a quarter of our forces.


    The gnolls could have lost up to half of their number or less, though there aren¡¯t too many people eager to count each and every corpse. Understandably so.


    Right now, the camps have been set up and a substantial guard posted around it¡¯s perimeter. Though we¡¯ve moved far enough away from the battlefield to avoid the carrion that are likely having a feast right now.


    Sleeping in the Forgotten Lands is a scary thing, even if you have an army around you, but hopefully there should be enough corpses to distract most of them. That likely won¡¯t stop one or two monsters from trying.


    With a little luck, I¡¯ll wake up without some oversized vermin snout-deep in my guts.


    One can only hope.


    I guess the ten guards I¡¯ve got posted around my tent also helps.


    The tent flap opens and an armour-clad man stomps into the tent, his breastplate bearing the Sigel of the Malleus Maleficarum.


    Coming to a stop, he takes off his helm to reveal a scowling face.


    I¡¯m not too sure if he dislikes me in particular, or if he is just a generally miserable person. I¡¯d bet the latter, as I have yet to see a genuinely happy witch hunter.


    He clears his throat before speaking.


    ¡°I have been order to deliver you to the war tent for a meeting. We leave at once, so follow me ser.¡± He growls in a demeanour fitting his hostile appearance.


    I quickly grab my sword scabbard and put it on, whilst ignoring the impatient glare of the witch hunter. I neither trust the ability of the camps watch to keep out a shadow fiend, nor the good will of the anti-magic cultists at this meeting.


    Once I¡¯m ready, I turn to the witch hunter who holds the same grimace.¡°This isn¡¯t going to take too long is it? It¡¯s been a long day.¡±


    My question is left unanswered, as the man put his helm back on and wordlessly walks out the tent.


    I follow him into the camp, which is now fairly dark with the sun having only recently set.


    We make a way towards the centre of the camps, weaving between tents belonging to my own men at first. But this soon changes to general Taldarian soldiers, some of whom with various wounds.


    For an army camp, it is very quiet, with most of the camp being asleep or on guard at the perimeter.


    It doesn¡¯t take much longer to arrive at the largest tent, which is surrounded with guards.


    As we approach they stop us, but a word from my escort and we are quickly ushered through into the war tent.


    The plainness of the interior is unusual for a war tent, which are often over decorated on the orders of some pompous prick who wants to show off his importance. With the only furniture being a large table and the chairs surrounding it. They haven¡¯t even bothered to stick an expensive looking map somewhere to make the place look more official.


    Sat around the table are the generals, the leaders of the other mercenary groups and three people from the witch hunters.


    The inquisitor in charge of the group with us, and his two acolytes.


    One being the person who escorted me here and immediately took a seat beside the inquisitor. The other being sat on the other side of the inquisitor, a black haired women in her late twenties.


    As soon as everyone is present the meeting begins.


    General Comis starts with a general overview of yesterday, our losses and condition of our forces as of now. Followed by a whole lot of uninteresting talk that lasted over an hour.


    ¡°And so, now onto our contracts with the mercenary group.¡± Finally, something that interests me. ¡°Upon reaching the keep tomorrow, the contracts of the Dancing Swans and the Red Daggers will be fulfilled, at which point the final payment will be made as is stated in the contract. As for the two remaining mercenary companies, I would like to extend the contract for a further month until it is certain no additional threats exist.¡±


    I ponder for a moment before making a response.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine so long as we are being properly compensated. No more than a month though, since we¡¯ll need to scout for new recruits as soon as possible.¡±


    The burly leader of the Iron Juggernauts to my left gives a nod before adding.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be needing quite a few new members, so with your permission general, I¡¯d like to recruit some members of the Taldarian forces. I¡¯ll pay 100 Deniers per head.¡±


    The general frowns slightly upon hearing the payment, and quickly responds.


    ¡°As I said earlier, this will all be negotiated once we get back to Fort Torbek.¡±


    There is a moment of silence to see if anyone has anything further to add. When no one speaks up, general Comis continues.


    ¡°Now that all of this business is sorted, our guest from the Malleus Maleficarum have a few words to say.¡±


    With our attention firmly placed on the inquisitor, who has yet to speak, he slowly takes off his great helm.


    The sight of his face makes my stomach churn, and I barely prevent my disgust from showing in my expression.


    ¡°Now, it is our belief that the which coven by the name of ¡®The Weeping Shadows¡¯ has been neutralised by the brave souls who underwent the mission to exterminate them. Upon this happening, their control over the demons that made up their army was broken. The result you saw at the end of the battl-.¡± The inquisitor¡¯s raspy voice fails at the end of his sentence, resulting in a wheezing cough that lasts for a few seconds.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    After a deep, but ragged breath, the inquisitor carries on as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°Now, our current issue is with the aftermath that can be left with the destruction of a coven. You see, witch¡¯s are vile, spiteful creatures, that may unleash a curse upon their death. This curse may cause the death of any nearby person, or change them into a twisted beast that bares no resemblance to their former self.


    But the damage to life is not the only issue. The place of the destroyed coven will continue to leak magic into its surrounding, corrupting and twisting the land. For this reason, me and my associates must deal with this corruption with haste. Lest a great calamity occurs.¡±


    I slam my fist into the table in anger and shout at the witch hunter.


    ¡°Why in the hells are you telling us this now! I should have been informed of this before sending my men into there!¡±


    I stare at the inquisitor with a venomous hatred, who stares back at me apathetically with his dead cloudy eyes.


    A few seconds after our eyes were locked, he speaks again in a slow and cold hiss.


    ¡°If I thought the information would be beneficial in the destruction of this coven. You would have been informed. What happens after would serve no use to you, nor the men you sent.


    I will not have my decisions be questioned again. Is that clear?¡±


    I break eye contact and refuse to make a response. After a short silence, he continues talking anyway.


    ¡°Now it is of upmost importance that we deal with the corruption left by the witches. For this reason I shall be leaving to do such a thing immediately, taking the entirety of my group with me. Upon arriving there, the corruption shall be dealt with and we shall then swiftly return, saving any none corrupted survivors as is possible. Though the chances of this is low.¡±


    The second general, who was in favour of chasing down the fleeing gnolls, speaks.


    ¡°Surely you¡¯d need an escort to go deeper into the Forgotten Lands. There are a great many beasts in their, including the remnants of the witch horde.


    Since the destruction of magic taint is the duty of any decent human being, I shall offer my own forces for this task!¡±


    The inquisitor shakes his head slightly and answers.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be necessary.


    The abominations that lurk in the surrounding land pose no great threat to us, despite their vicious nature. Plus the mobalisation of your forces would take time we don¡¯t have.


    Now, if you¡¯d excuse us. We have to leave at once.¡±


    With that, the witch hunters stand and leave without speaking another word.


    Soon after the meeting is called to an end and I make my way back to my tent.


    As I approach, I grab one of my men by the name of Faris and bring him close.


    ¡°Go and tell Castrum to bring me some of his fine wine and have a drink with me.¡± I whisper in his ear.


    With a curt nod he turns and runs off to deliver my message.


    I dismiss the guards, who look very relieved at finally being able to get some sleep. A few of them even give me a knowing smile as they pass.


    For a while now, some of them have had the belief that I have ¡®other tastes¡¯. Which they believe I act out with my adviser, Castrum.


    They¡¯re wrong, but it is easy to understand why they¡¯d make that mistake.


    We often have discussions alone, where they doubt that I am merely seeking ¡®advice¡¯.


    It doesn¡¯t bother me too much, as it more easily hides what we really get into.


    In preparation for his coming, I get out a bronze bowl and put it on the small table I have in the centre of the tent.


    Sitting down on one of the two chairs there, I wait for him. Sure enough, he arrives not much later with a wine bottle in hand filled with red liquid.


    ¡°My friend, I¡¯m not so sure why you want another of our sessions today. Is something worrying you?¡± Castrum says as he takes a seat opposite me, putting down the wine bottle.


    I nod.


    ¡°It is about the men I sent west to deal with the witches. Which reminds me, you still haven¡¯t explained why you wanted Argus¡¯s squad specifically to go.¡±


    He gives a small chuckle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know myself. There just happened to be something about them that fate favoured.


    But why is it you are worried about them? They were successful weren¡¯t they, as I told you they¡¯d be.¡±


    I rub my head as I begin to think over what the witch hunter said.


    ¡°We¡¯ve just been told by the Malleus Maleficarum that they are most likely dead. Apparently the coven released a deadly curse on its surroundings or some shit like that.¡±


    My adviser raises an eyebrow.


    ¡°And do you actually believe that, because I certainly haven¡¯t come across anything like that before.¡±


    ¡°Well, they certainly aren¡¯t synonymous with honesty. The fact I wasn¡¯t told this earlier is fishy as it is regardless.¡± I respond.


    ¡°No doubt, but I can¡¯t straight up deny their claims this is possible. Unfortunately, they likely have more experience with magic than I.¡± He scratches his chin, before adding. ¡°I take it this is what you want a reading for?¡±


    I give a simple nod, to which he sighs and picks up the bottle besides him, uncorking it.


    ¡°Maiden¡¯s blood is hard to acquire don¡¯t you know.¡± He says sullenly.


    I give him my best shit-eating grin and respond.


    ¡°You¡¯ve told me yourself you can use a different medium.¡±


    He pours the blood into the bowl waiting for him on the table, then quickly sets the bottle aside.


    ¡°And I¡¯ve also told you that maiden¡¯s blood gives the clearest readings, so unless you want some half-answers and stupid riddles, it is best I continue to use it.¡±


    My grin widens further as I take a verbal jab at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that you already do that already, so to think that your answers could get worse is baffling.¡±


    That manages to make him crack a smile, but his expression soon turns serious as he puts his hands over the bowl.


    Suddenly he takes a sharp breath and his eyes turn completely white.


    A few minutes pass with him frozen in place, with it not even appearing that he is breathing.


    Without warning he takes in a deep breath and his eyes return to normal.


    I wait for a response while Castrum massages his head, whilst he takes a moment to recover.


    Finally, he quietly utters.


    ¡°No one shall return.¡±