“…Star Seekers,” said one of the Wanderers, the one in the centre, standing half a hand back from the rest of his teammates. “Congratulations. You have managed to earn my interest.”

  “So, you do know who we are,” Vestia said with a scoff. “Did no one tell you not to play with forests in front of a Weina?”

  “…Right, I almost forgot about you. The wayward Weina…” the man said. “It looks like I will have to deal with you first.”

  “You can try,” Alnea said, before glancing at his teammates. “Cecilia, Yuri, Norren, Karl, you are up front with me. Fran, focus on defence. Everyone else, support us from the back.”

  “So impatient,” the man said, shaking his head. “And so stupid. Shouting your orders for you enemies to hear… That’s not how you command a team.”

  “…If you want to talk so much, then we can have a chat after we take you down,” Alnea said, before rushing towards the man, with the rest of the Star Seekers following behind his heels. Or at least four of them did. The rest, following his orders, stayed back, and began preparing their Glyphs and Arcanas.

  On the other end, the yellow robed Wanderers near the lake’s bank also sprang into action. That too, without any verbal orders from their Captain. The moment that Alnea rushed out, so did his enemies, five of them towards the half he was leading, and four them circling around his half of the team to attack the Star Seekers staying at the back, leaving only the man who had spoken earlier to stand near the lake’s bank. Such bold tactics… Were these Wanderers so confident of themselves?

  No, something was wrong. These Wanderers… were they not supposed to be more proficient in long ranged attacks? Why did they suddenly turn into Warriors? And why was there no sign of communication between them? Even the best of teams would show some signs of communication. If not verbal, then through their body language. Yet, these Wanderers did not even look at each other. And they showed no expression on their face. Almost as if—

  “Be careful!” Alnea yelled, as he clashed with a yellow robed man, his sword against the man’s axe. One glowing in a reddish and golden lights, while the other shining in a yellowish green hue. Slaughter against—

  “…There is something off about these Wanderers,” Yuri said, as she clashed with a yellow robed woman. “They are—

  “Weak,” Alnea said, finishing Yuri’s words with a frown. “They are too weak for Wanderers who have earned the right to enter the Final Trial.”

  “It is not just their strength,” Yuri said. “Even the way they move…”

  “It’s too monotonous,” Alnea said, pushing his opponent with the spine of his sword, forcing him away from himself. He had thought about ending the battle as soon as possible, but in the end, held back, deciding to observe his opponent for a few more moments. “If they are so bad at close combat, why did they give up their preferred path to deal with us as Warriors? Why not just restrict us with their Glyphs and Arcanas, and try to deal with us from a distance?”

  “…This is the first time I am listening to someone being dissatisfied with their enemies making a mistake.”

  “…I am not dissatisfied with them. I am just a little concerned. What if all this is a ruse? Another trap to lure us by deliberately showing their weakness?”

  “…If so, then it is a very lame trap. One I doubt anyone would fall for.”

  “…I think you spoke too soon,” Alnea said, as he glanced back, and saw Ralph and Zain abandoning their preferred paths to engage their opponents in way of Warriors. “Let’s get rid of our opponents first before those idiots make some mistakes.”

  “…Agreed,” Yuri said, urging her Aspects to surge out of her body, and form a sword. A white sword, with a hint of blue around its edges, and black near its centre. And though the sword looked large—roughly about a little less than three fourths of her height— she still held it effortlessly in her hands. Then again, the sword was formed completely out of her Aspects, so it was only natural for her to wield it with ease.

  “…Leave them with a breath. I still have to ask them some questions.”

  “I know,” Yuri said, before finally beginning her offensive, just like Alnea. Yet, despite their quick action, they were still a little slower than Cecilia, who had already taken down her opponent, and rushed towards the man standing at the back. She did not care if her enemies were weak. To her, there were only two kinds of enemies. One, whom she had already beaten, and the other, whom she was about to beat. Even when the man failed to react to her punch, she just—

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Poros’ fangs,” Cecilia cursed, as she saw her fist go through the man’s chest with wide eyes. Quickly turning around, she shouted, “Be careful, everyone! This one is a fake.”

  Alnea paused in his actions, and glanced at the fading image in front of Cecilia, before bursting out with all his strength, slashing at the man’s chest with a Crescent Slash. He did not even hold back on his Concepts, not caring whether or not the man could survive his attack. Keeping their enemies alive was only for convenience. But if it came at the price of the safety of his teammates, then—

  “Too late,” said the man, as he sprung out from the ground next to Vestia, thrusting a sword towards the back of her neck. And to ensure that his sword would strike true, he had all four of the Wanderers in the back concentrate on Vestia, even at the cost of their lives. Some, at the hands of their enemies, and some, at the hands of their own Captain.

  Ironically enough, it was their enemies who held back in their attacks, choosing to strike at their non-vital points, while their Captain thrusted his sword into the chest of one of his teammates, the one who moved behind Vestia and held her down by shoulders to keep her from dodging the sword. In vain. The moment that the sword neared Vestia’s neck, a blood red barrier of light manifested around her, rendering all the efforts and sacrifice of the yellow robed Wanderers as futile.

  “…Useless bastards,” said the Captain of the yellow robed Wanderers, as he pulled out his sword from his teammate’s chest. And in all that time, the man did not even let out so much as a grunt of pain. He just stood there, waiting for his Captain to retrieve his sword, before finally crumbling under his own weight, receiving no help from his Captain, or his other teammates.

  Then again, from the angle of the man’s wounds, and the way he was bleeding, he was probably beyond help. Still, he was their teammate, their companion. How could these Wanderers be so cold to one of their own? Though, it was not as if Alnea was complaining. Whatever the reason for the strange behaviour of his enemies was, it worked out in the favour of his team.

  “Vestia!” Alnea yelled, as he rushed to her side. As did Fran, seething in shame for failing to intercept the Wanderers before they could reach Vestia. It was, however, not the time to find fault in his teammates, so he let him be for the moment, focussing instead on rescuing Vestia. An overreaction on his part, he noted, as he saw Vestia turn around, taking out a short sword from her storage pouch to face the Captain of their enemies before he could launch his second sneak attack.

  Still, Alnea did not dare to take any risk. Especially since he knew how cunning and ruthless their enemies were. What if they had—

  Alnea watched in horror, as another yellow robed Wanderer, the one who had been facing Ralph, completely let go of his defences, and turned around, allowing Ralph’s attacks to fall on his back, before jumping towards Vestia. He did not even care about her sword piercing his stomach, or the sword of his Captain stabbing through his neck. He just reached out to grab Vestia, and hold her in place, as their Captain aimed for her—

  Streaming through the forest, shining in the golden light of Primitive Lightning of Life, Alnea reached next to the ruthless Captain, and swung his sword down on the man’s head, forcing the man to let go of his sword, and back away. But he was not going to let the bastard run away. Not after he dared to attack Vestia repeatedly, with all his attacks aiming for her life. No, the Inkah cursed bastard was doomed from the moment he made the first attack.

  Gritting his to hold back his rage from flowing out of his chest, Alnea shifted from Lightning to Winds, moving like red blur through the air, leaving behind the sound of Crying Winds on his path, as he pursued the bastard. The yellow robed bastard, on the other end, noticing the futility of his efforts, quickly took out another sword from his storage device to defend himself. In Vain.

  A sword lacking any Concepts could never stop a sword seething with the breath of Slaughter. At least not for long. It took just a couple of exchanges for Alnea to easily gain an advantage over the man, and another half a dozen exchanges to drive the man into desperation. Enough for the man to call out for truce. But Alnea refused to accept his surrender. Such a despicable man did not deserve his mercy.

  Strangely enough, as the man neared his end, his teammates finally showed semblance of team, coming to his rescue. Or at least they tried. The man’s teammates, down to seven, with four more of them already incapacitated, had their own opponents to deal with. And though they did not seem to hold their lives in high regard, even with their suicidal behaviour, only one of them managed to launch an Arcana to his aid.

  Unfortunately for the man, his teammate’s aid came a little too late. Once Alnea had driven the man into desperation, it did not take long for him to disarm the man. Taking the man down—

  Just as he was about to take the man down, Alnea felt a slight tingling sensation from his right, almost like the breath of death. But he did not care. Even if the Arcana did hit him, it would not be able to pierce through the defences of his robe anyw—

  Recalling the dagger that had torn a hole in his new robe, and the promise he had made, Alnea decided that it would be best if he did not take the risk. Still, he could not let the man run away either. Neither did he have the time to weigh his options. In the end, he decided to just follow his Heart, and be selfish once again. Urging his Aspects even as he stepped forward, thrusting his sword into the man’s chest, Alnea gathered them around his legs, preparing to quickly get out of the Arcana’s way. But not before twisting his sword, making sure that he did not miss the man’s heart.