Becoming Legend - Chapter 386: Elf: Prince Aesril, II

Lifeforce connects all. Only with lifeforce magic was possible. The stronger one’s lifeforce, the stronger one can manipulate the realities around them. A lifeforce favored by the air causes them to create wind as sharp as blade; water to create storms no ship can endure; ground to command; fire to scorch the rigid sins.

LIfeforce can be controlled, but it also wants to be free.

But sometimes, just sometimes, there were individuals with complete control over their lifeforce. Adding lifeforce to their mana, they can increase their magical proficiency. They may be able to extend their life, gaining life no mortal individual could achieve; or corrupt them, turning a life of good deeds into that of eternal punishment.

Prince Aesril, Gelethorn, and the human captives stood in a place that could hardly be called a town anymore.

O’rriadt was an alluring, and secluded island nearly a year ago. Before the Gate was raised that devastated, and demolished, and depopulated the island. Prince Aesril could say was and not is, because of such destruction that they cannot consider the place a ‘town’ anymore. The smoke hung over the decapitated town as if it were a blanket. It was a place of destruction. Snowflakes and ash combined that could barely be called winter. Chills were running through the destroyed houses like a ghost silently coming and silently going.

Telltale of battle marks scorched the town. Dead flying ghouls flattened wooden houses. Ghouls with scattered limbs tainted the hills ugly. There were freshly destroyed trees over the horizon. Blades, bows, shields, and helmets glistened on the ground over a fiery light.

They were supposed to be in a town on one of the crescented shapes of the island.

Suddenly, in the distance where the forest was so thick of smoke, without enhancing with mana, Prince Aesril’s senses could barely penetrate, a faint booming sound like a dream being beaten. The noise soon started to get louder, and louder, and louder until all that could be heard was the deafening noise.

Prince Aesril’s deep grey robe, he got from one of the unused clothing of some noble in the ship before ending them, flapped after a wind howl under it. His robe was lined with a thin golden wire that resembled spreading roots underground. It was a uniform he preferred. His hair was cut in the middle, letting them flow to his sides like overflowing water with a pair of pointed ears peeking. His eyes, thin like a dagger, focused on the rampage marching toward them.

Gelethorn was on his right-hand side. The green thin cloth he wore with a wide V cut on his neck. His hair was slicked backward. Square jaw gritting his teeth while he held a blade so firmly his knuckle was turning white. Faint blue lines under his neck were still visible. Although weakened, he was far from being useless.

Jack held a pair of swords he randomly plucked on the ground, the telltale of battle was everywhere. His scar throbbed with pain and helplessness.

Captain Creft held a rod, iron from the end to the tip. It must have been a part of a carriage or a wheel. But he held it like a stick against his mighty biceps. Old, but never useless. His eyes glared at the back of the prince as if he was the enemy instead of the booming noises.

Edok has never been quiet in his entire life. He could stay quiet for a minute or two, but not for half a day. Edok was a hunter from a seed the humans called Hunter’s Guild; Hunter’s Association; or Hunter what-not. Prince Aesril could not be bothered by the humans’ antagonistic struggle for power. Or could he? Edok wore a shirt, under his leather cloak to which Prince Aesril had noticed his usual 20 or so daggers were missing two already. And to which Prince Aesril remembered he did destroy them by crushing between his hands. Edok’s hands gripped a pair of daggers with evidence of training. Yet, his dagger faintly showed magical attunement.

“You,” Gelethorn said, prodding the tip of his blade to Jack. “Protect the Prince.” Gelethorn’s eyes then flared at Captain Creft. “Old human,” he said, voice flat, uncaring. “You as well. And you too.”

His voice wasn’t pleading, not even a command, or requesting. His voice was one of those when you walk down a road and see a stray dog and instead of kicking them, because you can’t, you simply shooed them.

Yet, the three humans did what he said. They walked in front of Prince Aesril and formed a line, like a makeshift wall.

Gelethorn jogged out of the formation and went back with a bow, only a simple bow, and handed it to Prince Aesril.

Prince Aesril did not say any words. His friend was doing what he was trained for all his life. He was with Prince Aesril when they were mere toddlers. They trained together, Hunted together, and ate together. For all he had done to him, Prince Aesril was grateful.

He nodded as soon as he received the simple bow. His eyes went flat looking at the three humans before him. Then took a long breath, used his own mana instead of absorbing the taint in the surrounding. He then conjured an arrow made of wood, tipped with light magic as sharp as iron, and nocked it in the bow’s string.

Edok quivered as soon as the arrow flew past him, an inch away from his left ear.

The arrow hit the first ghoul that appeared. Right between its temple, and fell rolling, deader.

Before the humans could react, arrows made of conjured wood and wind flew past them, ending the rampage of four ghouls.

Those were just the start. A stampede of the mindless beast entered a wide clearing at the edge of the town. Stonewall, once erected, now crumbled, was the only marking between the group and the beasts.

Prince Aesril changed his aim. Overhead them were flying ghouls, wings made of stretched skin, bones protruding on their backs; shoulders, and joints. They screech before diving into their prey.

Before the ghouls, running on four limbs, reached the line of humans, they were outrun by the freybugs. Their tails left a trail of fire on the ground. Their eyes pulsating a fiery red.

Jack caught one freybug between his blade, the size was almost as big as him. He yanked his blades between the hound’s jaws and kicked its gut.

Captain Creft swiped two freybugs with the iron rod, maiming them. The momentary stillness of the freybugs gave Captain Creft the chance to grip one of the hound’s neck that was assaulting Edok. Burning the palm of his hands but slowed not after he put an iron blow on the freybug’s skull. Fire oozed its head and twitched, and whimpered before dying.

The pair of freybugs stood on four legs, shaking their heads and focused on Captain Creft. Their eyes glow red, preparation for their next attack. A crackle of fire produced between their teeth and spewed a fireball the size of a fist.

Captain Creft swiped his iron rod, dissolving one of the fireballs but hitting his chest with another. He was thrown a good meters away from his foot.

Jack moved in between the freybug and the stunned captain and threw slashes of blades. The freybug avoided some, but decades of practiced movements with the blades made Jack the superior between them. The freybug died without its head.

As soon as the ghouls entered the range of Edok, he threw daggers imbued with mana. Piercing ghouls through their chests or between their eyes.

Ghouls were graded E in the Hunter’s Guild records. Although rare, ghouls were one of the most historically formidable monsters ever recorded due to their numbers during attacks. Edok knew this. What he didn’t know was an Alghoul.

Alghouls could be a ‘D’, or worse a ‘C’. When Edok saw one for the first time, he instinctively threw the daggers left under his cloak. Imbued with mana or not, the daggers were not chipping the alghoul’s skin or flesh. A constant leak of reddish goo on the alghoul’s flesh made most of Edok’s attacks practically useless.

Hundreds of ghouls were rallying behind the alghoul. But before they could reach the three humans, a massive wall of wood rose between them, except for the alghoul.

Thoughtless about its horde, the alghoul charged Edok. It uses its head, protected with an exoskeleton, to stab the hunter. An arm’s-length horn pierced Edok’s stomach. The tip of its marble white horn tore the leather on his back. Then it jerked the suspended human on its horn before throwing his body to the pair of shocked humans.

“That’s the first,” Prince Aesril said, standing on a tower made by Gelethorn’s magic. He was observing the battlefield as he shot arrows at the flying ghouls. Not even one made it to him after countless arrows were shot and fell lifeless on the battlefield.

Half of the town was already flattened. Behind Prince Aesril was the shore the Dacota crushed onto a boulder. Over the horizon, a massive amount of tainted mana leaves the Gate. Without stopping him, Prince Aesril focused and expanded his mana senses. The radius was larger than the island itself.

“Oh no,” he said, his eyes fixated on one spot on the island, at the other side of the island.

Gelethorn appeared behind him as soon as he felt the sudden change of Prince Aesril’s flow of mana. “What is it, my Prince?”

Under the wooden tower, the ghouls were rampaging around the wall Gelethorn conjured; some had already made it to the other side by climbing over.

“We have wasted so much time already,” the Prince said and gestured with his free hand. Green light orbited over his palm before they shot towards the bleeding hunter. “The Portal is destroyed.”