Chương 71: Interlude

Fjord Tribe Taskur had done it. They learned about the Fractures the chieftain had kept open, and about the resources they had acquired over the last three cycles. They knew, and they had come to stop them, but it was already too late. Fjord and the hunters skulked through the forest, their steps mostly silent, their presence almost perfectly hidden. Almost. Maybe, moving through the dark forest would have been easier if his hunters hadn't been injured, but pain and suffering were the price of an honorable battle.

Tribe Taskur's warriors had been located near the Mountain Island Fracture. The same warriors that had been seen emerge from the Murky Swamp Fracture before the portal fizzled out. The young, one-armed Barbarian made that easy enough to tell. He was easy to distinguish because of his power, aggression, but also appearance. Fjord and his hunters attacked them, following the chieftain's order. They struck mercilessly, arrows whistling through the air before they charged into battle. The fight didn't last.

Fjord and his hunters eliminated several Barbarians before pulling away, following the warfare strategy that had been forced upon them. It was unsatisfactory, and Fjord would have sworn that the strategy displeased the Ancestors if not for the Scriptures saying the opposite. The Ancestors were a mystery, their thoughts elusive. Nobody could read them, yet the Scriptures were as clear as the silver moon. They were all Pearot needed to know that they and their chieftain were still in the Ancestors' favor.

So they retreated back into the dark forest and watched the young Barbarians as they collapsed. They retreated as well, even if none of them looked particularly pleased. Tribe Taskur is strong. Fjord remembered what the chieftain said less than a moon ago. That the Shaman was going to visit Tribe Taskur again after cycles of silence. That was proven correct now that he and his hunters had fought the young warriors of Taskur.

Some were cycles older than the youngest warriors of Tribe Pearot, yet they had not awakened their Ancient Power for nearly as long. And despite that, they were strong enough to wound Fjord and his hunters. One of his hunters caught up to him, a bad cut spreading from his temples down to his jaw.

"Invaders. Tribe Taskur." He reported quickly, his voice a deep rumble.

"Young warriors?" Fjord asked, to which the hunter responded with a simple nod.

"Lead the way." He motioned, his expression as calm as a lake even though his mind was in chaos. They sacrifice their youngest. Why? The other tribes respected Taskur. Some even feared them, which Fjord considered a gross exaggeration. Chieftain Ragna of Tribe Taskur was an old monster. He was a powerhouse and not someone anyone would want to face head-on, yet Tribe Pearot was stronger. They had accumulated more strength while Taskur rested on their chieftain's power.

Pearot had far more warriors at the 4th Ascension, and it was only a matter of time before their chieftain would be powerful enough to fight Ragna. He can fight him now. We are stronger already. Fjord was certain, his steps accelerating as the hunters ahead slowed. He approached the thicket with nimble movements and stared ahead at the bloody chaos unfolding before his eyes. A scene of death and destruction registered in his mind.

Two hunters he'd trained for cycles, both a few levels into the 2nd Ascension, lay dead on the ground, their bodies disfigured. Near them were their apprentices, three young hunters at the 1st Ascension. They hadn't been weak either. Fjord remembered that they had prepared for their final test. They would have reached the 2nd Ascension in a cycle at the latest. Now they were dead, their bodies dispersing in blue mist, their souls joining the Ancestors to feast with them.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. His mind went blank. Fjord was familiar with death. He did not participate in the tribal wars between Pearot and Onyr, yet he had seen his fair share of combat already. But the scene before him did not look like mere combat. Taskur's warriors, no more than ten of them, had been fighting the five Pearot hunters, yet only one of them was dead.

Fjord's eyes narrowed at the young warrior who had half a smoking arm stuck in his chest. He's still alive. The Barbarian twitched and grew weaker with every breath he took; however, he was not dead. None of Taskur's warriors died fighting the five hunters. Even worse, the strongest of Taskur's warriors was at the peak of the 1st Ascension. Fjord was certain, yet he couldn't believe it.

"Strike them down." Fjord hissed to his hunters. He didn't know if the chieftain would have approved of his actions, but he knew one thing for sure: the warriors before him had to die. Just like the one-armed Barbarian. Fjord should have killed him when the opportunity arose.

The hunters did not strike immediately. They did everything they could to stay unnoticed. Then they watched the young Taskur warriors as they rested. Some gathered around the half-dead Bloodbearer. They talked to him, forced him to increase the output of his Ancient Power, and then they removed what was left of the Pearot hunter's arm. Blood flowed, but it was only the beginning. The Bloodbearer showed signs of recovering, and that was unacceptable.

Fjord and his hunters spread out, his eyes lingering on the Bloodsteel arrowtips with a savage smile. The black steel had turned crimson from all the Lifeblood-infused blood it had absorbed, transforming them into the perfect weapons. It was wasteful to use them on Taskur's young warriors, but Fjord made his hunters use the Bloodsteel arrows regardless. At last, he gave the signal and, a moment later, the arrows sang the song of death.

One warrior, the same one Fjord's attention had returned to over and over again, spun around even before the arrows reaped death. He let out a roar and raised his massive, gnarly weapon, blocking the arrows coming for his life. In the same moment, shields manifested out of nowhere, shimmering in a faint, azure light. Fjord had never seen structures like that before. He knew metal shields, but that – whatever it was – was not metal.

Fortunately, it was not as tough as metal either, not that it would have made any difference. The Bloodsteel arrows, carrying the lethal force of 2nd Ascension hunters, tore through the air and found purchase in their targets. It was already an unwelcome surprise that the young warrior managed to block two Bloodsteel arrows, and the shields that absorbed some of the arrows' force were certainly not welcome either. They worked nonetheless. The recovering Bloodbearer was the first to fall victim to a pair of arrows.

As for the other Barbarians, they were ready. While no one seemed to know what was happening, their leader's call was all they needed to raise their guard. No one hesitated, signaling undeterred trust. That only infuriated Fjord more as the young warriors twisted their way out of the Bloodsteel arrows' trajectory. Only one managed to escape their wrath fully, yet just one of the young warriors was struck in the heart. The others took the arrows to their shoulders, hands, or chests.

And the young warrior who died was barely at the 1st Ascension. He'd been the weakest. Furious, Fjord snorted. He slung his bow across his shoulder and was about to charge when vibrant brown eyes flicked toward him. A densely grown bush separated them, making it impossible for Taskur's warriors to see Fjord or the other hunters, yet a set of eyes that promised death locked right onto him. Eyes that appeared oddly familiar, yet so unfamiliar, tore through the bush, making him shudder.

Then, as if on cue, more structures materialized around the warrior, the strongest as well as the leader of the group. Bolts, small blue projectiles, coalesced around him and whistled through the air, tearing through the undergrowth, precisely aimed at the hunters' hiding spots. Another arrow came flying, yet the eyes of Taskur's young leader were already in the right direction even before the Bloodsteel arrow had been released.

A shield coalesced, slowing the arrow, only to be shattered by a highly condensed projectile.

"Cowards." He snarled a single word, and it reverberated throughout the dark forest, reaching the ears of all those supposed to hear. Filled with fury, the hunters charged. Fjord was among them, and just like the others, he was ready to kill them all. Yet neither he nor the other hunters targeted the leader of the young warriors. Why? Because they were not confident in their victory. Because it felt like he was everywhere and that he could see everything.

It was the hunters who initiated the surprise attack, so why did it feel like the young warrior was in full control of everything? Fjord didn't know, and he hoped he would never have to find out. As long as that guy died, everything would be fine. He had to die.