Duality 39 Power

When done skinning the Nandi Bear, John and his mother began searching for tracks of the poachers. It didn't take long. The poachers either didn't know how or didn't bother to hide it. After half a day walking they found their camp.

Two tents were pitched in front of one another with an unlit fireplace in between. In total there were five Fighters and two Crusaders in the area.

Some were having a late lunch while some were napping under a tree's shade.

A surprise attack with the sun burning overhead wasn't the best idea. Plus, they didn't know how many more of them there were. Therefore they waited and observed.

It proved to be the right choice. Throughout the day, five more Fighters and three Crusaders showed up, doubling the poachers' fighting power.

"Remember," Dene spoke from the side, "don't look straight into the fire, even from this far away." The advice wasn't for nothing. With the spell active, the fireplace shone like a midday sun. If he stared from closer it could blind him.

His mother didn't have the same problem. Not only she cast a higher version of the spell, but a Crusader's eyes were also much stronger, as explained by her.

But being blinded or not wasn't what John worried about. Rather it was the people in the camp. Fifteen people, fifteen lives. At the crack of dawn, they would be dead and buried.

Be it in this world or the other, John wasn't strange to taking lives. Both as a soldier and a spy, John killed for his country. In his last moments on Earth, he killed Verich and his two bodyguards for revenge. And in his first moments after awakening, he killed the two brothers who attacked him; after they had already surrendered.

His justifications for taking lives became flimsier the more time pa.s.sed, but this would be a new level.

Poaching. Illegal hunting. As far as he knew that was their only crime, and for that they would receive the death penalty.

He worried about how lightly he was taking human lives. And the fact that he was still going to do it worried him even more.

"Are you ready?" Dene asked and he just nodded. "Good, watch over me then."

With that, she sat down on the ground to chant her spell. Meanwhile, John observed the poachers' movement or lack thereof. For the past hour, three pairs of Fighters were positioned southwest, southeast, and north of the camp. Sitting by the sun of a fireplace were two Crusaders drinking and laughing. The rest were inside the tents, likely sleeping.

His mother stirred and John knew she was finished casting, and then… nothing. She stood up with no sign of the spell. While Mages cast their spell as soon as their chanting was done, Archmages were able to hold it in for a few moments depending on the element and difficulty of the spell. The spell would still be activated, even if it had to be inside the caster. Thus, there was no time to lose.

As planned, John nocked an arrow while his mother rushed the southeastern Fighters. The man was on his feet, drinking from a waterskin while the woman sat against a tree, trying not to doze off. He aimed at her, who wasn't moving as much.

John drew the bow, took aim and released it with a tw.a.n.g. The arrow flew true and sank halfway into her forehead, the noise startling the one by her side. He choked on whatever he was drinking and was about to shout out when Dene fell upon him.

With a flash, her sword slashed through his throat while her free arm held the man up, preventing his body from hitting the ground and causing too much noise.

John peeked at the two by the fireplace and they seemingly heard nothing, too focused they were in laughing at whatever joke was told.

Dene laid the man gently enough, drew her other sword and ran towards the center of the camp.

The two Crusaders cast two large shadows. Unbeknownst to them, a small, child-sized head emerged from one of these shadows. It was the stuff of nightmares, with rows of exposed jagged teeth forming a disturbing smile, pitch-black skin, and no eyes, ears or nose.

A second head popped up from the other shadow, accompanied by a pair of stick-thin arms that the creature used to pull itself up. It stood less than half a meter tall, with short, stocky legs and claw-like hands that almost brushed against the ground.

As soon as it was completely out of the ground the creature released an ear-piercing shriek and jumped on a Crusader's back. The second one followed suit and leaped at the other Crusader just as he turned around startled.

The shadow creatures proceeded to claw and bite at the panicking men who desperately tried to get them off. Dene could've used this chance to finish the two Crusaders. Instead, she chose to kick and stomp at the fireplace, spraying embers around and leaving the camp in almost complete darkness.

John was all too glad for that. All the action had been occurring near the fireplace and he didn't take his eyes out of it. Now there were dark blotches in his visions as so happens when one stares at the actual sun.

The commotion didn't go unnoticed. Men and women still in sleeping clothes rushed out of the tents with weapons in hand. The two other pairs of Fighters on watch duty also ran back to the camp.

John picked one of the Fighters off with an arrow and this was his entire contribution.

The difference in numbers didn't seem to make a difference to his mother. He watched in amazement as she danced amid the chaos, slas.h.i.+ng left and right through the blind defenders.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was untouchable, while everyone else was defenseless to her. At that moment, he knew there was nothing for her to fear because none of them could do anything to her.

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The Fighters all went down in one hit. Some of the Crusaders were able to put a s.h.i.+eld or weapon where they guessed the attack would come from, but it wasn't long until their luck ran out.

John could be unsure of how he felt about killing for such a small reason, but he had no doubt about her display. He wanted that. He wanted that power.

In the end, Dene stood alone in the center of the camp. That is if one forgets about the shadow creatures, and she certainly didn't.

In unison, they both jumped high towards her. She stepped back and did a single slash through both, cutting them in half. The four halves. .h.i.t the ground and dissolved into it, disappearing as they had never been there.

The little Imps, as they were called, were created with dark element magic, but couldn't be controlled. They would attack anyone nearby until destroyed or the spell ran out. Eyeless, they could see in the dark the same way a person could see in the light, and vice-versa.

Still rubbing his eyes, John looped the bow over his shoulder and walked towards his mother. She remained in the same spot, hands trembling and breathing hard.

According to herself, she once killed five Crusaders without barely breaking a sweat and still managed to survive against a Paladin. But that was back then, before she burned half of her vitality through blood magic, before she let go of a few more decades so he could be born.

"I'm fine," she answered his question before he could ask it, "just need to catch my breath."

John just nodded. There was nothing he could do about that. Instead, he searched for a shovel he could use to dig a grave large enough for fifteen people.

His mother first looted the camp, along with the corpses, for anything of value and threw it all in a single large sack. In the end, it was half as big as her. When done she grabbed a shovel herself and helped him dig the hole.

Despite starting later she still dug more than him. Even nearing the end of her vitality she was still a Crusader and he was just a Fighter. In the end, the hole was as deep as John was tall. It had to be deep enough so it wouldn't attract necrophages.

Thanaflos were common and harmless while Rotmus would never appear this close to winter. Ghouls were the real problem. They would feast on the bodies and when there was nothing left, search for more food nearby, living or dead.

John wasn't sure how long exactly it took to bury all of the bodies, but it should've been a few hours at least.

"That's it for today," Dene declared and lugged the loot sack over her shoulder. "Let's go home."