Chapter 152 (1/2)

Dehark was sweating. Watching the slender man walk forward, down the hill towards the caravan, he quickly turned to the lazing man with the blue skin. “You… you don’t really think he can kill one of them right…? They…. They….”

The man grinned up at him. “Yes, they are some soldiers of Tomkat. Attacking them… is akin to challenging the honor of the city. An act of defiance the First Spear of Tomkat does not take kindly to.”

“But…” Dehark was flabbergasted, his knees trembling. “If he were to seriously harm any of them, this whole camp-”

“Would likely be hunted down and tortured for 1000 years,” The man said, seemingly with relish. Dehark stumbled backwards eyes wide. Sure, he had spent the last several years building up power here, upon this spot in the road, driving away most of his competition or absorbing them. But if someone seriously challenged Tomkat’s soldiers… it wasn’t just the perpetrators, the whole group they were near would be hunted, to stomp down any spark of resistance.

The strength and forces he had built up thus far were not worth his life. It would be best to flee-

Then a thought struck him, and Dehark turned back to the slender man running forward towards the caravan. A lone defender, after a brief hesitation, came out to meet him, seemingly shocked.

Perhaps there was nothing to worry about. If it was just some superficial wounds, the soldiers would not pursue the matter. After all, it was understandable for a young and foolish man to throw himself at them to test himself. Some, a select few with talent, might even impress some members of the soldiers and be invited to come apply for a foot soldier position, which was the dream of many.

This was originally why Dehark had maliciously encouraged them to go challenge them. The soldiers would likely beat them into the dirt, breaking their spears and ravaging their bodies. It would be a good lesson, and demonstrate why they needed someone like Dehark, who was a good leader.

But the blue skinned man had spoken with such confidence. And watching that slender man’s back as he ran forward to meet the spear user on a horse…

Dehark quickly beckoned some of his lieutenants over and made preparations to break camp immediately.

****

Randidly ran forward, his eyes narrowed. A grizzled veteran of a man with grey hair was riding out to meet him, a brutal frown clear on his face. As they grew closer, Randidly realized there was a very official seeming regalia hanging off of this man’s chest. Not just typical merchants then, or guards. These were something more.

But Shal had seemed confident that Randidly could handle it, even if he had implicitly said it would require his spells to do so. Either way, there was no way that Randidly was going to let him down after they had come this far. What would come later would be even worse.

When they came within earshot, the man began to speak.

“Leave, and I will forget this foolishness,” The man said with a snort, clearly dismissing Randidly.

Perfect, he was arrogant too. That would make this so much easier. Randidly said nothing and raised his spear, and that seemed to signal something to the soldier, who snorted, then examined Randidly a little more closely. His eyes narrowed as he looked at that spear though, as if he had seen it before. Randidly adjusted his grip, appreciating the strange warmth of the obsidian in his hands.

“If you insist-”

But Randidly already created Spearing Roots that ripped up into the belly of the horse and higher, stabbing towards the man. Filled with fear and pain and roots, the horse attempted to rear upward and screeched.

The man however, responded very quickly, flipping expertly off the horse with a grace that made Randidly worried.

The Incendiary Bolt, however, that hit the man’s right hand mid air and blew most of it off, did much to alleviate these fears. Unwilling to pass up the chance, Randidly ran forward, noticing how although the man’s eyes widened, he quickly shifted his grip to his left hand, and raised his spear to meet Randidly’s.

Their spears clashed against each other twice very quickly, and Randidly soon realized that he was rather overmatched. Even with the man on his back foot and reeling, missing a hand, his strikes still had enough power to smash Randidly’s strikes to the side.

If he wanted to actually kill, he would need to keep pushing.

At this point, there was no hesitation, only resolve. He would kill. For his path that led towards strength… this man in front of him needed to die.