27 Hidden Sec

After Barza and Bucket were dismissed, they left towards Wroe's waterfall to relax and bathe. Tycon gathered Wroe and Dragan for a… chat. The group had arranged a circle of smooth boulders to sit on, around the previous evening's campfire.

"Mister Tarquin Wroe."

"...Yes, Boss?" Wroe was a bit distracted. He was absentmindedly staring at a thick, black rectangular card-- a gift he received as a result of his Pact.

"I'd like to respectfully inquire about what the young boy meant by an 8-armed Devilbeast and why I shouldn't beat you with a stick for child endangerment."

Wroe shrugged. "It was fine. He's okay, isn't he?"

Tycon grabbed the black rectangle and tossed it into the forest.

"Come on, Wroe. Don't be rude." Tycon chided him.

"Okay, I might have deserved that."

Dragan looked over to the grass, "I'm surprised you're so calm. That thing looked kinda expensive."

Wroe shrugged, "It returns back to my bag even if I leave it behind."

"It does -what-?"

Tycon furrowed his brows,

« System, inquiry: What the heck was that black box? »

[System response: Allagan Tomestone. Upon touch, the user can access recorded knowledge. Warning. 4th-Circle Curse detected.]

Tycon interrupted Dragan, who was about to go look for the box. "Don't touch that thing."

"Uh.., oOooOkay, Boss. Is it, uh… Cursed?"

"It's Wroe."

"Ahhh. So… How cursed?"

"It's Wroe."

Tycon again addressed Wroe.

"8-legged devilbeast. Bucket fought one?"

"I named him Squirtle."

Tycon crossed his arms, "Stupid name. Rename it. Summoned or incidental?"

Wroe refused to meet Tycon's eyes, "Well, Boss…"

Dragan picked his ear with a finger, "I don't think a 1st-Circle Summon Monster spell can summon a devilbeast."

Tycon sighed, "Well, first off, congratulations for being able to cast a ritual at 2nd-Circle."

"Yeah, good job."

"Thanks."

"But from what I understand, you left a 9-year-old boy to contend with a 2nd-Circle summon-- a match for a half-dozen Bronze-Rankers."

"But he was fine!"

Tycon placed his face in both palms in exasperation, "Didn't the former leader trust us with the kid's safety?"

Dragan and Wroe exchanged glances, before responding.

"Actually, Boss, he only entrusted you."

"Yeah, Boss. You're the only trustworthy person in the guild."

Tycon gazed into distance. The sky was a beautiful blue, the trees peaceful. The chill made him long for the indoors, by a fire-- perhaps with some warmed mulberry wine.

Snapping out of his reverie, he snapped at his companions.

"Well, fine. Dragan, how did you train the boy?"

"I threw him off a cliff into a waterhole until he got over his fear of swimming."

"Fear of swimming? Did you mean to say 'fear of heights?'"

"Oh, yeah. He got rid of that, too."

Wroe tilted his head, "Boss, how did you train him?"

Dragan laughed, "Yeah, Boss. It can't have been any worse than ours."

Tycon felt insulted for a brief moment, widening his eyes, before shaking his head in confidence.

"Bah, what do you two know? I had the boy's safety in mind the whole time. I taught the boy to dodge telegraphed attacks."

Dragan scratched his head, "How did you do that?"

"I used the halberd. We have one. It was appropriate."

Dragan laughed. Tycon laughed.

Wroe laughed a little less, "So you attacked him with just the wooden part?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "Don't be ridiculous. That's not how you use a halberd."

Dragan finally had his fill of laughter. "How's our supplies?"

Tycon glanced behind him, at the two horses and the small cart of supplies.

"Rations are good for all of us. We're going through medical ointment quickly-- though we're using bandages faster than I was expecting."

Dragan placed his massive head on his fist. "I suggested we wait and look for Wolfbanger. He could have gathered some medical herbs on the side."

Tycon shook his head, "Time is more important. From what you've told me, this Wolfbanger's character isn't the best to begin with."

Dragan granted a sheepish grin, "Meh, yeah. We'd have someone who can lead us through the woods, though. And maybe tell us what's not poisonous around here."

Tycon opened his arms, palms up in a shrug, "We have supplies. It's only an issue if the forest locals decide to set up an ambush. And we haven't seen traces of other sentients anywhere."

Wroe was sitting down on a rock, intently looking at his black Tomestone, "It'll probably be fine."

Dragan groaned, pretending to collapse on the floor in a heap.

"Why ya gotta say that, maaaan? Nothing good ever happens when you say thaaat."

Tycon stretched his arms and yawned, before leaning over, stretching his legs.

"I'll follow the two in secret tomorrow, regardless of whether you two want to come or not. Now come on. It's time for the three of us to get some training in."

Dragan and Wroe nodded as they prepared.

...

A silver-haired young girl, barely over ten years of age, ran the length of the tree branch. With the movement, leaves fell from the trees, in a dazzling array of yellows and oranges, matching the girl's robes.

She willed her mana to form a brief step in the air, making a two-step jump and landing on another tree.

POK POK! POK! Three arrows zoomed past her, striking an adjacent tree trunk.

"Wh-whoa!"

"I got'cha!"

Taree swung down, one hand grabbing the branch she stood on. She grabbed the back of her brother's armor at his nape and swung him forward. The young blonde boy, barely a teenager, yelled while he ran.

"Tha-tha-thanks, Coach!"

"Keep running, Tamaki! There's an entire team after us!"

Taree ran on a branch above, while the older boy leaped up, swinging himself over a stable branch.

"There'll be an entire team minus three after I'm done with 'em!"

With swift and practiced hands, the boy drew his bow and three arrows. In an instant, he identified three attackers-- three adults in dark clothing who wanted their lives.

DNK DNK DNK! Three rapid-fire plucks of the bow sent the sharpened arrows propelling towards the assassins.

Just as fast, the three scattered, the arrows striking tree trunks and the forest floor, below.

Tamaki ran doubly fast, soon catching up with his sister.

"Coach!" He yelled shamelessly, "I didn't get 'em!"

Taree tried to think on the fly. She and her brother would run out of endurance soon. But they were no match in a fight against so many attackers.

She grit her teeth in anger. That Hisato was the trash of the Ivory Judge sect. She had tried to leave the sect in secret, to seek help from the Outer World in the city of Aviard. But the information was leaked and they'd hounded her all this way.

"Where are you going, Little Taree?"

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A voice rang out in the shadows, the foliage of the trees providing too much darkness, too many places to hide.

Tamaki saw something! A target! In less than a blink's time, he had shot his bow, piercing a single fallen leaf to a tree.

He had missed.

Tamaki's eyes widened as felt his neck grabbed by a hand. CRACK! The youth was slammed against a tree trunk, causing him to lose his breath. A myriad of yellow leaves fell all around them. The younger Tamaki was being choked by a considerably older dark-haired teenager, in dark clothing but fearlessly without a mask.

"Yoshio, it was YOU!" Taree yelled. "I can't believe you joined forces with a piece of trash like Hisato!"

"C-c-coach!" Tamaki struggled, still in Yoshio's grip. "Who are all these names?!"

Yoshio eyed the younger boy in curiosity. It was just the distraction that Taree needed.

She ran up the tree and delivered a swift kick to dark-clothed Yoshio's side, forcing him to release her brother.

"You bitch!"

Tamaki rubbed his throat while coughing, "Coach!"

The girl grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, "It doesn't matter who they are, Tommy! We have to run!"

Yoshio pulled himself back onto a branch, rubbing his arm in pain. The girl hit hard. What level had she trained her Stone Fist to? He turned to the group of shadowy figures, "What are you all waiting for?! After them!!"

Tamaki held his bow tightly, running the tree branches alongside his silver-haired sister.

"Coach, they're gonna catch up! What do we do?!"

The girl laughed, her heart beating out of her chest in nervousness. She always laughed when she was in trouble, a trait that always got her into trouble with her seniors and the elders. She couldn't help but keep giggling, seeing her brother's pained expression. "I know a Gann lair near here. Follow me!"

"Wait, a Gann? I'd need at least a hundred arrows to take down one of those!"

The girl cursed beneath her breath. Her options were limited and were quickly running out.

If they fought, they'd get captured or killed.

They couldn't get to Aviard if they couldn't lose their attackers.

But they still had hope. She would bet on a Gann as a distraction.