Arion looked at the ground lost in thought, the packed dirt beneath his boots marked by too many footprints to count. Then he glanced back at the kids.
“Any of you able to fight?” He asked, quietly.
They looked at one another, uncertain, whispers exchanged in glances. Then a boy raised his hand, slow and hesitant, like a student unsure if the answer would earn ridicule. The scene felt painfully familiar—like something torn straight from a classroom rather than a bandit camp.
“Yeah?”
“I know how to cast spells…” the boy said sheepishly, fingers twisting together.
“Wow, amazing,” Arion replied flatly. “What kinds?”
“S-sparrow Hop and Warmth Glow.”
Silence stretched, heavy and unkind.
Arion coughed to fill the vacuum, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as his mind scrambled to remember that he was the one missing context here.
“W-what do they do… exactly?” Arion asked, only just remembering he didn’t know any actual magic spells.
A girl piped up, shaking her head. “One makes you briefly step on air and the other can warm up solids or liquids, just over lukewarm temperatures.”
“So they’re—”
“Useless, yes.” The girl said, plainly.
He groaned.
“So you can stand a bit taller and warm up their tea whilst they kill us. Great.”
His hand rubbed his temples.
Why did I think otherwise? They're just kids.
He let out a slow breath and leaned back over the cage, peering through the gaps to check the camp’s layout again. Unfortunately, the approach path—the only one he’d used—sat fully within the line of sight from the recent newcomers.
“Shit. Seriously?”
It’s too late anyway, it’s going to show up here sooner or later…
“Alright, children, we need to circle round and find another way out,” he said, already shifting position. “Preferably one that doesn’t have potential eyes…” He glanced back the way he’d come. “And one that gets us far away from this side of the camp.”
…
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They stayed low to the ground, Arion leading while the children huddled close behind him, small hands clutching at sleeves and one another. He guided them along the camp’s edge—far enough to avoid the central firelight, but close enough that they wouldn’t blunder into roaming patrols.
They came up on three bandits mid-meal, laughter and argument spilling from them in equal measure.
As the group bickered, one man stood and wandered away, grumbling, heading toward a nearby tent. The moment he passed behind the canvas, something struck him with a dull, solid DONK.
The man crumpled without a sound. Arion caught him before he hit the ground, muscles straining as he dragged the unconscious body into the tent. The children stared, wide-eyed, as he disappeared inside.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Huh? The fuck are you— BONK!”
A man's voice cut off with another sound of wood meeting skull.
Arion’s head peeped out to see the children staring at him.
“They’re fast asleep now,” he whispered, giving a thumbs-up.
They continued quietly on their escape route.
I think we’re actually going to make it…
Then shouting tore through the camp from behind them.
“The children—they’ve escaped!”
“Find them now!”
Arion whipped his head around, “Arh—Shit!” Cursing for jinxing himself.
Bandits erupted into motion. Fires flared brighter. Feet pounded dirt. Chaos spread faster than any orderly search ever could. Even with Resonant Scanner, the data spike would’ve been overwhelming—more burden than help.
“Stay behind me!”
They ran, leaving stealth behind.
They turned a corner and nearly collided with two bandits head-on.
Recall flashed—horizontal strike to the temple. One dropped instantly.
Ice bloomed before the other even produced his weapon, body frozen. Mouth gasping for air as the ice consumed him.
They surged onward until sharp whistles cut through the air from the right.
Arion reacted on instinct, throwing up an ice barrier just as bolts slammed into it metres away.
TUCK-TUCK-TUCK!
He saw the shooter holding a crossbow some distance away. He calculated the distance, spun Recall and spin-kicked her, launching the staff like a missile.
The bandit was too busy reloading to notice.
Recall struck his forehead dead-centre.
Bullseye.
Arion recalled her as he turned—
—and found three more bandits blocking his path. Two more emerged from the shadows behind.
Surrounded.
“Well, well,” a deep voice rumbled above the din. “Seems we’ve found our culprit, lads.”
The crowd parted.
A presence moved forward like it owned the space—Aura thick, heavy, predatory.
The figure strided above most. Where skin should be, scales lay—natural armour of red hues layered the torso, arms and legs. Large horns protruded from his head, flowing back over his dark hair. Eyes glowed dangerously, like a predator lay within.
“But it's strange… you don't seem to be a local, don't exactly look the Brisden type. So, I ask myself, who in their right mind has the balls to infiltrate my camp?”
On his shoulder, rested a curved sword, sharp fangs extended from its dull edge. While its blade edge displayed signs of a recent kill.
Damnit. Too soon…
“An agent of Haven Home, maybe?” the predator mused, hand cupping chin. “Or something spicier. An enemy of the organisation?”
The predator’s grin filled his vision—horns, eyes, teeth—then nothing but those eyes.
Arion watched as he glared at him with intrigue.
“Or perhaps,” the man continued brightly, “just a man who felt pity for these little bundles of joy? Or regret? Oh, it’s thrilling!”
C’mon… c'mon!
“You seem to have a strange fixation on someone's reasoning,” Arion said evenly. “What's it to you?”
The man paused, then sneered.
“Of course! The reason behind the means holds the value of one's worth. It separates us from mere beasts and creatures.”
He shrugged, then grinned.
“Otherwise we might as well be lumped together—killing, fucking, and eating—ah wait! We already do that!”
Laughter rippled outward, some genuine, some forced.
Great. Out of all the villains, I had to be given the classic psychological maniac…
His mind paused.
Maybe… I don't really have the right to judge.
“An interesting point of view, not that I care for your personal delusional thought process.”
He shrugged.
“You’ll have to find out who I am yourself,” Arion said coolly. “If you can.”
Take the bait.
The man's eyes opened, gleaming.
“You're surrounded, in enemy territory… And yet, you act all so brave. I haven't met a man in a long while that has left such an impression on me…” he said, intrusively eyeing Arion’s figure from top to bottom.
Great! It gets even worse! Much worse!
“Friend, you're all alone. Why not surrender yourself? Hmmm~?” he asked, an eerie softness lucid in his voice.
Arion stood there, slightly trembling, a sweat drop rolled down his neck, travelling down his torso.
But his tension subsided as a slight rumble caught his feet. A grin slid across his face.
Cups rattled. Braziers hissed. Even the laughter died, swallowed by a low vibration climbing from the soil.
The rumbling got louder and louder.
“Funny thing is… I didn't come alone.”
The figure frowned, only then did he feel it, quakes of earth, its bass travelled through everyone's bones, throbbing as if to announce an arrival.
Distant screams of panic and fear came from behind.
GOAARRR!
A reverberating earth-like roar shook the entire camp.
BOOM!-CRACK!
“RUN!”
“Earthroot Titan!”
A voice screamed as a large mass of earth and stone on four legs stomped through the camp. It was searching for a certain individual, but at this point, it was happy to take its rage on anything it could find.
“Boss! The supplies and orders are over there.”
The figure looked over towards the chaos, then back at Arion—seemingly underestimating the individual in front of him.
“So? What are you lads standing around for? Go deal with it!” He barked, then stared back at Arion, “this one is all mine.”
An eerie chill went down Arion's spine.
He may have started to regret his decision.
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