Chương 8: Blood and Iron

Ivan had been tracking the Thornwood Elk for two days. It was a magnificent bastard. Its antlers branched like jagged lightning above a hide the color of burnt copper. More importantly, it was Level 25 and weighed enough that its meat could feed him for a week. He was crouching behind a moss-covered boulder, sketching the [Glyph Suspension] circuit in the air slowly now. The elk was grazing fifty yards ahead, unaware. Ivan had set up three suspended [Lightning Spear] glyphs in a triangle around the clearing.

One more step and the beast would trigger them. Just a little closer. The elk's ears twitched. Then it bolted. Ivan froze, his hand still mid-gesture. The elk crashed through the underbrush and vanished into the trees like smoke.

"Huh? Why is it–" Ivan wondered what set it off. Just half a second later, the question was answered. A scream echoed through the forest. Human. Or close enough to it. Ivan stayed low, frowning in tension. The suspended glyphs dissolved as he let the mana dissipate. Two days of careful stalking, gone. He glanced in the direction the elk had fled, then toward the sound of the scream. That didn't sound like the Sky Reach group from earlier. Was someone in trouble…? Not my problem. Keep moving. Another scream.

Closer this time. That was followed by the crack of a whip and the wet thud of something heavy striking flesh. Then a child started crying.

"Fuck," Ivan whispered. He knew what this was, it didn't take him long since it was pretty obvious. He'd seen it before in Sky Reach, back when the Iron Chain Consortium ran "recruiting drives" through the outer districts. They didn't call it slavery, of course. They called it "Contract Labor Acquisition." Ivan looked south, toward Port Vallow. Three months of walking. Safety and anonymity. Then he looked toward the screams. He closed his eyes.

"God damn it." He turned toward the screams.

The caravan sat in a shallow ravine where an old pre-Integration highway cut through the forest. Three wagons, iron-barred cages on wheels, pulled by Lizard-Oxen that looked bored with the whole affair. Ivan counted fifteen guards. All of them were armed. Most wore the dark crimson leathers of the Iron Chain Consortium, and a few had enchanted weapons that glowed faintly even in daylight. He crouched on the ridge overlooking the road and activated [Inspect].

[Human, Level 35] [Human, Level 32] [Human, Level 38] Ivan's eyes swept the formation. Two mages held the rear, probably fire or earth specialists. A cluster of melee fighters surrounded the lead wagon. At the center stood a massive scarred man, barking orders like everyone else was already too slow. [Human, Level 48] That's the boss. He's strong. The man was strong and looked stronger. He was massive, easily six-and-a-half feet tall, with a shaved head and a whip coiled at his hip. The whip wasn't mundane leather.

It shimmered faintly green. Enchanted. Probably paralysis or poison…? Ivan's gaze shifted to the cages. Twenty or so prisoners. All beastkin. Men, women, and children, all huddled together in rags. They wore iron collars that pulsed with a dull violet light. Mana suppression collars. Nasty enchantments that drained their reserves dry and left them too weak to fight back. That made his jaw tight.

Hehad seen a smaller version once in Sky Reach's under‑levels, clamped around a captured troll's neck while enchanters poked at its reflexes. Same basic principle – to carve the leash into the flesh and hang a control rune on the other end. If it worked on trolls, why not people? [Level Unreadable] All of their levels were Unreadable. At low levels, [Inspect] gauged the target's strength by scanning their Mana, so it wasn't very useful against people whose mana ran dry.

Most beastkin came from a parallel world called Vas. The System had torn holes between dimensions during Integration, and entire populations had been dragged through. Some adapted and some thrived. Others ended up in cages. Though not all beastkin were from Vas. Some were just humans who'd gained beast-type Classes. A [Weretiger] or [Skinwalker] could grow fur and claws, but they were still human underneath. The slavers didn't care about the distinction. Ears and tails sold for the same price either way.

Ivan's attention snapped to the lead wagon. A woman was chained separately from the others. Is that a Wolfkin? He wasn't an expert but after a bit of staring he realized it was a Foxkin. She had pink hair with white tips, matted with blood and dirt. Her outfit was shredded rags that barely clung to a frame that was all lean muscle and dangerous curves. Even restrained, she watched the convoy instead of shrinking from it. Her amber eyes moved between the guards and the road.

Next to her, a younger Foxkin boy was curled into a ball, sobbing quietly. A slaver walked past the cage. He kicked the bars.

"Shut it, runt." The boy flinched. The slaver grinned, raised his boot higher, aiming to kick the boy through the bars.

"Don't you dare!" the woman lunged with a hiss. The man scoffed as her chains snapped taut. The collar around her neck flared violet, and electricity arced through her body. She convulsed but didn't make a sound. Just glared at the slaver with murder in her eyes. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The slaver laughed.

"Feisty one, aren't you? Boss says you're worth extra. Some noble in New-Sydney wants a 'bodyguard.' Huh, maybe he wouldn't mind if she's broken in a bit first…" He raised his boot again. Ivan had been observing for a while now and about now seemed as good a time as any to intervene. On the ridge, his hands were already moving. He pulled a mana potion from his inventory and downed it in one gulp. The liquid burned on the way down, but his reserves topped off instantly.

[Mana: 580/580] He was running low from maintaining the [Refraction Veil] spell, so he has to do this. Ivan sketched three [Fireball] circuits in the air, feeding mana into the geometry until the glyphs glowed faintly orange. He activated [Glyph Suspension], and the spells hung in the air like invisible mines. Then he moved. [Determined Step] kicked in as he sprinted down the ridge. The underbrush didn't slow him and mud didn't stick.

He moved through the forest like a ghost, circling wide to get a better angle on the convoy. He positioned himself on a second ridge directly above the lead wagon, raised his hand, and aimed at the slaver about to kick the boy.

"[Lightning Spear]." The spell snapped into existence. A thin, compressed bolt of electricity that punched through the slaver's chest and out his back in a shower of sparks and gore. The man dropped without a sound. [You have slain a Human (Slaver) - Level 33!] [You've earned EXP.] It'd been a long time since Ivan had killed a man, but thankfully he didn't feel the gut wrenching feeling of nausea that he'd felt the first time. He could go on. Chaos erupted.

"Ambush!" the big man roared, his voice carrying across the ravine.

"Shields up! Find the mage!" The slavers scrambled into defensive positions. Shields rose and two mages in the rear started chanting, their hands glowing with gathering mana. Ivan mentally triggered the suspended [Fireball] glyphs. The road exploded. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Three fireballs detonated in sequence. The second wagon was engulfed in roaring orange flame. The explosion threw slavers like ragdolls into the trees. The Lizard-Oxen panicked, thrashing in their harnesses and overturning carts.

[You have slain Human (Slaver) - Level 30] [You have slain Human (Slaver) - Level 32] [You have slain Human (Slaver) - Level 34] [You have slain Human (Slaver) - Level 29] [Human (F) has reached Level 19.] His Mana reserves returned to full from the Level Up. So Ivan didn't stop. He leaped onto the overturned wagon, his boots crunching on shattered wood, and cast [Chain Lightning] into a cluster of Enforcers scrambling for cover. The spell arced between three targets.

Blue-white electricity danced from one to the next, frying nerves and boiling blood. They dropped, convulsing.

"Who the FUCK are you?!" the woman in the cage screamed, her voice raw and feral.

"Shut the FUCK up and stay down!" Ivan screamed back, hurling [Ice Spike] at a charging swordsman. The spike caught the man in the throat. He went down gurgling. One of the mages finished his cast. It must have been the spell [Earth Spike]. Ivan saw it coming. His [Architecture of Mana] highlighted the buildup of mana in the ground beneath his feet. He threw himself sideways just as a jagged stone spear erupted from the dirt, missing his ribs by inches.

"Get me out of here, I can help!" The Foxkin shouted from the cage.

"I'm a little occupied!" He came up on one knee, traced [Flame Lance], and fired. The concentrated jet of fire caught the mage mid-chant. His face melted off his skull. He toppled backward, dead before he hit the ground. [You have slain a Human (Fire Mage) - Level 35] [Mana: 290/580] Ivan was breathing hard. His hands were shaking from adrenaline. He grabbed a Mana Potion and drank it.

"Then throw me a Mana Potion if you have it!" She kept shouting. Ivan clicked his tongue and took one out from his Inventory, tossing it at her cage. He could only hope that it landed safely since he didn't have the time to look. The rest of the slavers rushed to kill him. The fight continued and Ivan began to get injured. He wasn't any Hero, after all, he'd just planned this right that was why he had survived for so long. Now the convoy was in chaos.

Half the slavers were dead or dying and the other half were scrambling to regroup. Metal cracked behind him. Ivan looked back as the Foxkin woman stood and tore the broken collar from her neck. Violet arcs crawled across her skin. Blood ran from her nose and ears, but her amber eyes glowed. [Foxkin, Level 55] She didn't have weapons but she didn't look like she needed them. A slaver rushed the cage, mace raised. The woman grabbed him through the bars by the hair and slammed his face into the iron. Once. Twice.

Three times. The bars were painted red by the time she let go. Another slaver came at her from the side, sliding a sword through the cage's gaps. She stepped away, grabbed his wrist, and bit. He screamed and she yanked him close, his throat at the edge of the cage. Her teeth sank into his throat next, barely making it through the bars. She tore it out. The slaver collapsed, choking on his own blood.

[You have assisted in slaying a Human (Swordsman) - Level 37] Ivan watched in surprise as the foxkin woman ripped the bars to the side and rushed out, beginning to dismantle the remaining slavers with her bare hands and teeth. Huh… guess they probably didn't even need me to save them. The fight wasn't over though. The big man finally moved. He stepped into the center of the carnage and uncoiled his whip. His eyes locked onto Ivan.

"So you're the mage," he said. His voice was calm. Even when his eyes flicked to the beast woman beside Ivan, he didn't look scared. He cracked the whip. It moved faster than Ivan could track. The barbed tip wrapped around his wrist mid-cast, jerking his hand down. The spell he'd been forming fizzled out. [You have been afflicted: Paralysis (10 seconds)] Ivan's arm went numb. He dropped to one knee, gasping. The big man grinned.

"Cute tricks, boy. But you're out of your depth." He yanked the whip, pulling Ivan off his feet. Ivan hit the ground hard, his vision swimming. The big man raised a boot, aiming to crush his skull. Then the foxkin woman tackled him. They went down in a tangle of claws and fists. The woman was feral. She raked her claws across his face, tore chunks out of his armor with her teeth. The big man roared, throwing her off. She hit the ground, rolled, came up snarling. Ivan fought through the paralysis.

His Willpower was D+. Barely enough. He couldn't move his arm, but he could still think. He bit down on his tongue. Blood filled his mouth. He spat it onto the ground and traced a circuit with his foot in the mud. [Blood Rune: Combustion] The rune flared red. An explosion erupted beneath the big man's knee where his own blood had pooled. The joint vanished in a spray of bone and meat. He screamed and collapsed. The foxkin woman didn't hesitate. She grabbed his whip, wrapped it around his throat, and pulled.

There was a wet snap. [You have assisted in slaying a Human (Chain Swinger) - Level 48] [Human (F) has leveled up!] [Human (F) has reached Level 20.] [Inscriber of Principles has leveled up!] [Inscriber of Principles has reached Level 19.] Ivan collapsed onto his back, gasping for air. The paralysis faded with the level-up, and his mana refilled. Fifteen slavers. Dead. I just killed fifteen people. The thought sat in his chest like a stone. He sat up slowly, looking at the wreckage. Bodies everywhere.

Blood soaking into the dirt. The Foxkin woman wasn't resting through, she was tearing open the cages, letting the others out. The freed slaves were crying, hugging each other. Some ran into the forest. Others just collapsed where they stood. The foxkin woman approached, dragging the boy by the hand. She was covered in blood. Her broken collar dangled from her neck like a trophy. She looked him over. Then she grabbed him by the collar, pulled him to his feet, and headbutted him.

Ivan staggered back, his nose bleeding.

"Ow! What the–""Get a hold of yourself human, this isn't a place to relax, there are dangerous beasts around," she said. Her voice came out rough. Ivan scowled.

"I appreciate the warning, but in my culture we thank people for saving us first." She stared at him, and then grumbled.

"I guess you're right. Sorry, you just remind me of those bastards." A pang of annoyance jerked Ivan's eyebrow. After considering attacking her in return, he decided to swallow it since she at least had the decency to say sorry. Plus she was a former slave just released. Even so, he couldn't help but comment, "That's pretty racist."