I sat there watching the flickering fire, deep in thought. My mind combed over every single detail of the shard so far. The single thought that dominated everything else was what I could have done better. My previous life experience had made one thing clear. To truly become the best, you had to analyze and internalize not only your failures but your victories, too. I did not like to think of my old life. At the end of the day, even after everything I had accomplished, I had still failed. But that was only the excuse I used to justify ignoring it. When the truth was far simpler, the memories hurt more than any pain I had ever felt.
So here I sat in somber silence, remembering the first time I took a life. Back at the beginning of the holy crusade. I was nothing more than a young princeling with far too much ambition to contain my own folly. My arrogance caused the death of my entire squad in the early days of the crusade. If not for my status, I would have been court-martialled long ago. It was the reason I reacted so harshly to Tjorval's recklessness, because I saw myself within it.
A theme that was becoming all too present these days was the fact that I was never allowed to dwell on my thoughts. Magnus took a seat on the log next to me, staring into the fire. Where Bjorn was a boisterous and loud personality. Magnus was a calm and calculating man. This was present in his cold eyes. Always watching, always observing. "Do you think it was the right move to humiliate Tjorval like that?"
I sighed when I heard his question. "No, it was probably not the right way to go about it. But I would rather his ego be bruised than him dying because of it." A sense of mental exhaustion consumed me asI spoke.
"Hmmn, I do not think it had the effect that you wanted. Tjorval has always been a rash fool. But he becomes significantly worse when he feels he is being demeaned." He scrunched his eyebrows before continuing. "Be careful," with that, Magnus stood back up and returned to his spot on the grass to get some sleep. I looked towards the high-rise of the redwood trees with a forlorn expression before I, too, went to sleep.
Morning came quicker than I would have hoped. With a grunt, I stretched my sleepy muscles while getting up from the patch of grass I used as a bed. Most of my party was still asleep, but Lieber and Bjorn were already awake. Lieber was sitting with his eyes closed as he prayed with the totem in his hands. While Bjorn was cooking some of last night's wolf meat by the fire. Over the following hour, the rest of the party slowly woke up from their slumber. At that point, the meat was already ready. The taste was far from delicious, but it was passable at best. When we finished eating began the work of dismantling the camp before continuing deeper into the forest. The further from our starting point we traveled, the more the pressure of the forest changed.
The entire area began radiating an aura of ancientness as if it had stood undisturbed for centuries. Everyone was on edge at this point. Even my own nerves were slightly frayed. The lack of enemies made the tension even worse. Tjorval had it the worst of the bunch, his eyes constantly darting to every shadow on the ground. After a while, I too began feeling concerned. Not out of fear but because I felt the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Like there were eyes drilling holes in my back. Yet no matter how much I looked arround I saw no sign of a life force close by. The only explanation I could come up with was that whatever it was somehow knew how to stay out of my visual range, barring me from finding it.
Minutes turned to hours as the feeling only grew. Until it was almost too late, we had stopped to regain some energy when they struck. Bjorn was the first to react, his hammer barely missing a warg that pounced on him from behind a bush. From there, all hell broke loose. Another large warg reminiscent of the black one we killed earlier growled as it approached. If it had only been those two, I would not have been worried. However, reality had a way of throwing a cog in any plan. A thud accompanied by the snap of a twig came from my right. I spun towards the noise. My nodachi is already drawn and held at the ready. Nothing could have prepared me for the beast that stood there, which was unlike any I had ever seen.
The beast stood on two powerful legs. Its body was covered in thick gray fur as it approached slowly. Its face was more of an elongated snout with a mouth filled with large fangs. Yellow eyes studied my party with some form of intelligence.
[Lesser Lycanthrope - Stage 1 beast]
I could feel a qualitative difference in the beast in front of me compared to the wargs. The pressure it released from its body made my hair stand on end. "You handle the wargs. This one is mine." I did not even bother to check if they heard my command. I dashed forward, my nodachi held in position for a downward swing aimed at its shoulder. The beast was far too quick. Before I could even react, a clawed hand appeared aimed directly at my face. My instincts screamed of imminent death as the claws grew closer. I blinked behind the beast, in fear that nothing else would work. My sword was still positioned for a downward swing, so I brought the sword down on the beast. The blink had disoriented me a bit, causing my swing to miss its intended mark, merely knicking its bicep instead.
The beast showed its intelligence as it took advantage of me having overextended myself. Four deep gashes dripping blood appeared on my midriff as the lycan struck. I tried blinking away when I saw it begin to move. But I was too slow. Appearing closer to my party, I fell to one knee as pain exploded from the wound.
The lycan became enraged when its prey once again escaped. The fury was like a palpable source of strength. A red haze similar to my own bloodlust was released from the beast. Causing its muscles to seemingly grow even more. It looked like it had activated some sort of berserk state as it stared at me with madness in its eyes. Fear invaded my heart like a poison. Whispering of a fate worse than death, my own anger ruthlessly crushed the cowardice.
Fighting through the pain. I forced myself to stand in defiance as I looked directly into the manic eyes of the enraged beast. I knew there was no room for hesitation. My internal world began to rock as I drew more prana than I felt comfortable with. The prana was directly infused into my muscles, giving me a temporary boost of power. The amount coursing through me was far greater than what I did back in the memory shard. Consequences be damned, the situation required it. I could feel the prana temporarily stave off my sickness. I was working with borrowed time, so I stopped hesitating. Electricity crackled on my fingertips as Lightning Bolt struck with a vengeance. The red bolt of lightning was empowered by pure prana, striking the lycan in its chest.
The smell of burnt flesh and singed fur barely registered to the enraged beast. The lycan charged forward with reckless abandon. Its speed was dizzying while moving in a zigzag pattern. I strained my eyes trying to keep up with its movements. Yet it was an exercise in futility; all I saw was a blur as it drew ever nearer. Active thought took a back seat as instinct took over. My bloodlust exploded out of me, mirroring the red mist of the lycan. My blade moved in a flash, intercepting a clawed hand moving towards my midriff. The quick movement made my wound flare up in pain. I ignored it, trying to counter the lycans' initial attack. Mind and body became one as laser point focus took over. My blade fell down on its shoulder like an immovable mountain that refused to be ignored. The lycan brought forth its other hand to counter, falling for my trap as I quickly shifted the trajectory of the swing. The blade created a clean line down its torso. Blood leaked from the wound like a fountain, some of which fell directly on my unexposed skin.
Jumping back to avoid any retaliation. I felt somethignstrange occur. The blood on my skin began to be absorbed as foreign energy entered my body. An insatiable hunger exploded from my cells as it greedily absorbed the energy.
—
"You handle the wargs; this one is mine." Drakus's words echoed across the battlefield before he charged the beast. My brother Bjorn had been the first to react to the wargs' assault. But I was not too far behind him. My zweihander moved like the waves of the ocean.
Most assumed that because of the blade's size, it would be heavy and unwieldy. They could not have been more wrong. The blade moved with such speed and finesse that it rivaled lighter weapons like rapiers and daggers. The warg was too slow to fully dodge the blow. A light cut appeared across its ribs. But my aim was not to maim the beast. No, by striking from the left, I forced the beast directly in front of Bjorn's warhammer. The whistle of air resistance against the hammer's downward arc was the only warning. Before it pulverized one of the beast's paws.
I moved quickly as my blade slipped into the warg's throat, delivering a killing blow. Sweat marred my back as I panted from the excursion. By the looks of it, Bjorn was not any better as he leaned on his hammer while catching his breath. "Wow," Bjorn exclaimed with reverence as his eyes were glued to the battle between their young leader and the otherworldly lycan. I could only mirror his sentiment as I watched the battle. It was like a clash between titans. Every blow contained enough power to decimate me without resistance. A burgeoning respect built inside me as I looked at the outcome.
Drakkus overextended his blow, causing the lycan to deliver a gnarly gash on his stomach. He vanished, appearing only a few meters away from us. He was on one knee, leaning on his blade while gasping for breath. A terrifying aura exploded out of the lycan as red mist began forming around it. Fear threatened to consume me as I matched the beast's gaze. Madness was all that remained in the gaze of the majestic beast. But Drakkus would not be outdone as he returned to his feet. Releasing a presence so drenched in blood and killing intent, I could practically feel the countless battles that forged such a presence. It was like a veteran of countless battles stood before us. Not a young prince barely two decades old. But as quickly as it appeared, it was already gone. But that fleeting moment brought forth a single question plaguing my mind. What happened to him for someone so young to radiate such a presence? He looked a year younger than even me and Bjorn.