Vaelora’s mind swam as her psyche tried to piece itself back together. She felt a sudden burst of fear when she saw the vague image of a large man with burn marks on his right arm, but did not understand why. Her body listened to that feeling, scrambling to create distance from the man.
Draven did not let her get far as he grabbed her by the neck and lifted her into the air. Vaelora clawed at his arms, desperately trying to break free. Draven delivered one quick strike to her head, rendering her unconscious before releasing his grip. He let out a sigh as he turned toward the encampment..
“Lay a finger on her and my deal with your master is off.”
A strange sloshing noise came from his left. “Why do you care if the leader of an enemy force would go missing?”
A creature that looked like a slug if it had grown to the size of a large human and developed a spine to move with half its body upright. Several pairs of eyes and arms sprouted from every side of its body and head.
“Because it wasn’t always that way, and she might understand the why I felt after losing her child.”
“You know the chances she will blame and resent you for this are over 90% correct?”
“I don’t care.”
The creature stopped moving closer and turned several pairs of eyes to look at Draven. “Illogical. I can’t let a threat to my master's plan remain because you have misguided feelings.” It began inching its way toward Vaelora again.
“Your master's plan will mean nothing if I don’t comply,” Draven said, stepping in its path.
It blinked several pairs of eyes and clasped a set of hands. “She is worth losing another son?”
Draven looked between the creature and Vaelora. “I will not sacrifice either of them. Now drop it.”
“Hmm, there's less than a 10% chance of that outcome. Fine, human. I will let her live.” The creature slithered back into the trees and out of sight.
Draven sighed in relief and made his way towards the camp. He pulled open a small satchel at his side. He cursed when all that remained inside were a few broken bottles and a liquid staining the side of the pouch.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
My son should already have this handled, anyway. He thought, pushing the announcement from his mind.
He walked through the drained corpses of his army, making his way deeper into the camp.
“Oh, shit!” Ray exclaimed as he saw Draven walking toward the camp.
Erith's face went pale, and she struggled to speak, opening and closing her mouth several times.
“We can’t fight him together,” Nevala said.
“Yeah, but at least he looks tired,” Chio said with a cough, pushing himself to his feet.
“That does not mean much when we are too.”
Ray pushed himself up, grabbed a stamina potion from his bag, and drank it. “You guys stay back,” he said, handing his bag to Erith and gripping the hilt of his weapons tightly.
“Wait,” Erith said, but Ray was already approaching Draven.
She tried to go after him, but a hand firmly grabbed her shoulder. “We need to move back. We don’t want to be caught in his berserk skill,” Nevala said, pulling her back.
“But-”
“We can stay nearby in case anything happens, but it's best to let him try to handle it while getting as much rest as we can so we can help if he needs it,” Chio said, helping Nevala pull Erith away.
Tears welled in her eyes as her fists clenched, a silent sob escaping before she could choke out a reply. “Fine.” She followed, eyes filled with a desperate, pleading emptiness.
Draven stood next to his son’s corpse as Ray approached, not batting an eye. Ray put up a facade of confidence, attempting to look like he was not exhausted.
“Did you do this?” Draven asked.
Ray nodded.
“Hmm, what level are you now?”
“Why would I tell you that?” Ray asked with venom in his voice.
“Oh, come now. I just want to know how much of a weakling my son was.”
“Why are you after me and Erith?”
“I asked you a question first, and it's rude not to answer before asking one of your own.”
Ray clenched his fists. He contemplated charging the man, but buying the others as much time as possible would be best, so he eventually obliged. “I was level 64 when the fight started.”
Draven's eyes widened. “So far in such a short amount of time,” he said, shaking his head.
“Now answer my question.”
“Yes, yes. The reason I am here is that I was given an ultimatum. My son’s life, or I deliver you two to the horde.”
Ray furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Draven. “Wouldn’t he be weak for being captured?”
“On the contrary. There is no shame in losing to someone above your level, someone below, however.” He gave his son’s corpse a look of disgust.
Ray balled his fist as memories cropped up in his mind. Memories of the strong unwilling to help those they deemed weak. Memories of his clan casting him aside. “Your the worst kind of scum,” Ray said, his voice shaky with rage.
“What did you say?”
Several black bolts materialized behind Ray. “I said you are scum.” A volley of bolts shot toward Draven as Ray changed forward, rage burning within his eyes.
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