Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Lucan felt as though the white light blinding his eyes was piercing into his skull. He could nearly hear it somehow, he thought, if it weren’t for the noise around him. Someone was struggling, another was choking on something. Then, just as the white shine began to fade from his eyes, he heard another bolt of lightning, closer this time, and the white shine increased in intensity once more, returning him to absolute blindness.

Lucan groaned and leaned to the side, forcing his face down, away from any other sources of irritation. He kept blinking, hoping to catch a glimpse of the clash of blades he could hear. Something was happening, but he couldn’t make sense of it.

Eventually, the painful shine trying to find itself into the middle of his skull began to fade away. He covered the sides of his face with his hands in anticipation of more assaults on his sanity, but none came. When the blur remaining in his eyes finally faded away, he saw his father cleaning blood off his sword, and the giant of a Wilderman was on the ground, unmoving amidst a pool of his own blood.

Lucan observed his father’s relaxed stance and finally noticed that those who remained of the Wildermen were fleeing, some of them even abandoning their plunder. More aid had arrived, and the defenders had overwhelmed the raiders. He saw Cordell kneeling over the form of a fallen man, and Lucan suddenly recognized him as one of their men-at-arms. He wondered if he was wounded or dead. Lucan knew the man’s name was Henry, but he hadn’t known him too well. He wondered if he would ever get to now. Beside Cordell’s kneeling form, Lucan saw the scorched remains of what looked like the shaman that had been fighting the man-at-arms. His corpse was smoking like a roasted side of beef. His skin and apparel were blackened and cracked and Lucan could no longer see the bone bangles he’d been wearing.

Lucan looked past the smoking shaman to where the other shaman had barred the way of the reserve that had been coming to relieve them, and he saw another smoking corpse. Lucan realized what had happened just as he saw the purple robes of a mage emerging from among Lord Arden’s soldiers. A lightning mage. Lucan knew that Lord Arden had reserved the services of a mage, though said mage wasn’t sworn to him, but he had never seen said mage himself, until now.

He was a short man of mild complexion and features, as far as Lucan could see. He wandered into the village proper as the last of the Wildermen fled, and Lucan saw two of Lord Arden’s soldiers shadowing him. The mage knelt over the scorched shaman, rummaging among his clothes and items.

Lucan lost sight of the mage as his father’s form filled his sight. The knight stood over him, his sword sheathed, his armor stained with the blood of his enemies, not a scratch on his flesh, though he did have a badly dented pauldron that Lucan was quite certain he hadn’t had before following the Wilderman into the house.

“Are you well?” Sir Golan said.

“I’m not certain,” Lucan said, before breaking into a coughing fit. “I think I might have a broken rib.”

“Is breathing painful?” his father said.The debut release of this chapter happened at Ñòv€l-B1n.

Lucan took a deep breath and felt an ache in the lower right side of his chest. “Yes.”

“Keep breathing,” his father said. “Does it get better or worse?”

Lucan took a few more deep breaths, and the pain indeed became milder with each one, though it never left him. “It gets better.”

“It’s just a bruise,” his father said. “Though we’ll have you looked at by Lord Arden’s surgeon, and that plate looked at by his smith.”

Lucan nodded, taking careful gulps of air that he now realized he sorely needed. His father stretched out a hand for him and Lucan took it, getting up slowly and thankfully finding the pain bearable. He favored one side as his father helped him to a flat rock to sit on.

Lucan sat down as his father went to look over his men-at-arms. He saw him kneel beside the now obviously fallen Henry, and Lucan found himself bobbing his head in acceptance. He hoped none of the others had found their end here, most importantly the ones he’d gotten to know better, for he didn’t want to carry any more weight in his heart today.

He realized now that his hands were shaking, cold sweat was coating his skin, and the pain was in the overarching background of his consciousness. He felt sickly.

“It’s normal to feel poorly after battle,” his father’s voice interrupted his quiet torment. He was standing over him once more, and Lucan realized that it had been a while since he’d left him to look over their men. “Is it because of him?” The knight gestured with his head towards the corpse of the giant Wilderman lying motionless in front of the villager’s house.

Lucan shook his head but then stopped. “Perhaps, in part, it is. But that is not all.”

His father bade him move to the side then sat beside him. “What is it, then?”

“That first Wilderman I killed,” Lucan said. “The one near the forest. I killed more after him, but...but I didn’t look as closely, I didn’t see their eyes. I didn’t imagine what they were thinking. Him though...”

His father nodded. “Yes. It’s normal to feel guilt after killing for the first time too.”

“That’s the quandary, Father,” Lucan said. “It’s not guilt, I feel. It’s fear. I saw it in his eyes, his disbelief. It’s as though he’d believed that he would live for a thousand years, emerge victorious from a hundred battles, birth children countless and have a long line of descendants. It’s as though hehad plans. And it was all snuffed out of him in an instant, Father. For the longest time, I’d thought that the greatness of one’s aspirations or station might be a shield for them somehow. It felt as though death was a distant danger of insignificant consequence. But back there, I saw it, near as ever. And...I realized that I would look just like him if ever my life was snuffed out of me.” He paused, panting again, feeling a squeeze in his heart and a latent heat in his eyes. Then he continued. “I would not believe it, as he didn’t. I would find the look on his face reflected in mine. My eyes would be wide and panicked just as his were. I’d once thought I was brave. But I’m...I’m–”

He had handled his Blessing’s gains a day after the battle. They were plenty, even if they were tainted with pain, fear, and death.

You have slain an Iron Human and absorbed their Vital Essence.

You have slain an Iron Human and absorbed part of their Vital Essence.

You have slain a Steel Human and absorbed part of their Vital Essence.

You have leveled up.

You have leveled up.

Swordsmanship has leveled up.

Swordsmanship has leveled up.

Swordsmanship has leveled up.

Swordsmanship has leveled up.

7-Point Star Dance has leveled up.

7-Point Star Dance has leveled up.

Race: Human

Level: 9

Vital Orbs: 24

Mind and Body

Physique: Iron I 0/15

Spirit: Basic 0/1

Skills (0) 0/100

(Passive) Swordsmanship lv26: Journeyman

(Hybrid) 7-Point Star Dance lv12: Apprentice (0/1)

(Active) Wraith Strike lv8: Novice (0/1)

Yes, it was time to go home, lick their wounds, tend to their estate, and perhaps, when his mind was more at ease, use those vital Orbs.