“There!” he leaned forward as Sol let out a howl. “Hurry, Cinder.” The stallion surged forward. It felt as though they were flying over the ground. Wind whipped against his face, forcing him to squint to see. They crested the hill and galloped down toward the glow of the torches below.

  A dozen people at most stood at the base of the hill, about half of them armed with makeshift spears. Their backs were turned to the slope as they faced the fog. Wolves prowled at the edge of their torchlight. As the fog receded, it revealed a tall man clad in silver-embossed black armour. He carried a halberd whose heavy blade burned with silver and black flames, trailing a curl of cold mist behind it.

  His heart sank as his gaze landed on the knight. “Bloody hell, I’m unlucky…” he muttered as he tightly grasped the hilt of his blade. It was warm to the touch and fit in his hand near perfectly. The weapon itself was surprisingly light. He unsheathed it with ease as Cinder galloped down the hill. “Sol, the wolves!”

  Sol broke off to the side, towards the fog, and leapt at the nearest wolf looking for a chance to snatch one of the people. They rolled to the side in a bloody brawl.

  “More of them!” Someone from the group of survivors shouted, his voice laced with fear. A few of them turned around to see Alaric’s approach. Unsure of where to run, the unarmed huddled closer together while one of those carrying a spear spun around to face Alaric.

  Gently leading Cinder, he rode past them and stopped half a dozen meters before the Knight. “Leave – the night’s over!”

  The Knight lifted his halberd. Blood oozed down from its shaft. “You – you wield the weapon of my brethren. You ride the steed of my brethren. Explain yourself.” There was genuine confusion in his booming voice. He pointed the halberd at Alaric but stayed in placed. Was he hesitating?

  Good.

  “Sun’s rising.” He pointed at towards the eastern horizon.

  “I have yet time. Explain yourself, human.” He stepped forward, leaving a trail of blood beneath his armoured boots. The retreating fog unveiled the headless body of a person behind him. “How have you come to acquire them?”

  “The gods watch over me. Now leave.” His hand tightly holding the bridle sweat coldly. “The night’s over, and your profaned hunt has come to an end.”

  A pained yelp echoed from the side as Sol emerged victorious. He growled at the other wolves. Blood dripped to the ground from his teeth. “Leave!” Alaric shouted as the sun reached the horizon. Warm rays of sunlight touched his shoulder.

  The knight stepped back. “I will have my answers soon enough, human.” He turned around, and as he walked, his body dissolved into black smoke. The wolves let out a final growl before running off after their master.

  “Who are you?” A man shouted, his voice trembling. He was standing at the forefront of his ragtag group, holding a makeshift spear. “What do you want from us?”

  Alaric stared at the headless body of a young woman for a few seconds before turning to face the people. How many had they lost? How many had been left behind? He dismounted Cinder. “Keep watch with Sol.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Answer me!” The man screamed.

  He sheathed his weapon, then showed his empty hands. “My name is Alaric Wright. Me and the other people who made it are hiding by the church that used to be south of Bibury. I’m human – like you.” He looked at their faces. He couldn’t recognise any of them. “A system message alerted us of your plight.” He pointed towards the distant fog. “I came as fast as I could. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster…”

  The man eyed him from head to toe with a doubt-filled gaze. He remained tense and guarded. “How are you riding one of their horses then? Wielding one of their weapons? Understanding their gibberish?” The small crowd behind him nodded. “You even have one of their wolves!” A woman shouted.

  …They have a point. “We were attacked last night. Just before dawn, while trying to make it back to camp. We killed the knight and took the horse. We almost died.”

  “You don’t look almost dead to me.” The man narrowed his eyes. The tip of his spear shook, showing his unsteady grip.

  “We have a healer. She healed me.” Alaric glanced at the crowd. “Don’t any of you powers?”

  “Nothing useful like that.” The man scowled. “… are you really human?”

  “Do I look not human to you?” Alaric’s shoulders dropped. “Look, I get it, you’re scared. I’m scared too – I’m exhausted and-“

  A blue system window opening in front of everyone startled him.

  OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED – YOU HAVE SAVED THE SURVIVORS

  REWARDS GRANTED

  MANA POOL INCREASED MODERATELY

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Is this proof enough for you?” He pointed at the system window floating in front of him.

  The man looked at his own system message before slowly lowering his weapon. “I suppose it has to be.” He cautiously approached and offered Alaric his hand. “I’m Martin Turner, this is my wife, Laura. And…”

  As he introduced the members of his group, they began to visibly relax, though they still stayed away from Sol and Cinder.

  “How did you get that horse anyways?” Martin asked once the introductions were over.

  “It’s a… gift from one of the gods.” Alaric averted his gaze and fixed his glove.

  “I’ve got one of those gifts… I can shape rocks.” He awkwardly chuckled. “Not as useful as your gift, huh?” He shrugged.

  “Depends. Sounds useful if you want to make shelter.” He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the others. “Anyone else have any gifts from gods?”

  The man looked away. “She died, fighting that demon.”

  “I’m sorry.” He avoided looking at the headless body. “Come on, let’s get your people moving. We have food and water, and I’m sure we’ll be able to figure shelter out as well.”

  “Did you not lose your Hallowed Ground?” The man seemed surprised. “We couldn’t destroy the four mana cores – only one. Last night the system said the Profaned Legion was on a hunt, then those beasts and the damned knight arrived.” He clenched his teeth. “We lost too many.”

  “We destroyed the mana cores, but it was difficult. Come on, let’s get moving. You’ll be safe in the Hallowed Ground.”

  Shortly after setting off, Victoria and the others arrived. After another round of introductions, they helped carry the survivors’ packs and helped the wounded walk after tending their wounds.

  “Charles is pissed off,” Victoria whispered as she pulled Alaric aside. “He’s angry because you left without his input. He and Carl got into a fight again, like last night. Robert and grandma also got involved – they were all shouting and woke the whole camp up.” She brushed her vibrant crimson hair back. “Clara and Ava were pretty angry too.”

  He felt his chest tighten with anxiety. “… that’s not great,” he muttered. “Victoria, did something happen with Charles while we were gone?”

  She shook her head. “No, he was worried sick about Ava but… no, everything was pretty calm and normal for us. I didn’t see him get into any fights or anything either.” She folded her arms. “I think you not answering him last night pissed him off.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t regret anything he said in that flash of anger. “We’ll deal with his issues later. These people lost a lot – they’ll need help.” He glanced at Martin. He was helping his wife hop over a log. “They didn’t deserve this.”

  “None of us did.” Victoria shrugged. “How long do you recon we have before the next objective appears?”

  “I bloody hope it’s not today.”