Back in the tent, Thatch had transformed into what seemed like a different person.

  His heartbeat slowed down so significantly that it was almost as if his heart had stopped beating, his breathing becoming so shallow that his chest barely moved.

  Hi face had changed as well.

  He was no longer the happy-go-lucky kid everyone was used to seeing.

  In his place, a person whose face was twisted in silent fury appeared. His eyes narrowed, dead set on the emblem in the Varis’ hand, and the man himself.

  Thatch had been raised to kill without question and despise the members of the demonic cult. A mere glance at a cultist was enough to make his personality shift, turning him into nothing but a merciless killer, a weapon created by the Veil.

  Thatch moved, his body seemingly blending with the surroundings as he left no sound in his wake, going straight toward Vares.

  ***

  Back at the scout regiment’s tent, unaware of what Thatch had just discovered, Raen sat in a chair, still playing his part in the performance.

  He was a bit bored.

  ‘If I remember correctly, Vares was not really mentioned before as a traitor. In fact, he disappeared after the whole battlefield went to shit, most likely dead.’

  ‘He probably turned traitor thanks to his constant failures. He was getting grilled almost daily by the higher-ups. The demotion might have been the last nail in the coffin.’

  ‘The Kingdom of Azurand does not need such a person. They most likely discarded him once he’d served his purpose.’

  He shifted slightly in the chair, testing the ropes around his wrist.

  ‘They’ve definitely placed some of their men on him. Sending anyone but Thatch to him would be too risky.’

  A silent smirk then appeared on Raen’s face. ‘I wonder what Thatch will find out.’

  The flaps of the tent suddenly opened as one of the three scouts returned, the one responsible for informing the battalion commander.

  “What did he say?” Tarris asked, prompting the scout to salute him before speaking.

  “The commander has told us not to worry. He will immediately take the necessary measures!”

  “Good,” Tarris said, nodding.

  ‘They’re playing their roles perfectly, huh?’ Raen thought, suppressing a smirk.

  ‘I guess my actions have caused some confusion amongst them, but they’re still under the assumption that their plan is going well.’

  “Sir,” Another scout said as he entered the tent. “The night watch commander has started gathering his men. They are assembling in the square.”

  Then the third scout appeared, stepping in behind the second.

  “Sir, Major Vares notified that he will gather the 2 companies left in the camp. They will be guarding the east, ready for battle.”

  “Good. Our job now will be perilous as we will need to go and scout out the surroundings soon.” Tarris said, his eyes sharp, glancing over his men. “The risk will be high … very high.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

  “The chances of death are not low. Be ready for anything.”

  “Yes, sir!” The scouts roared, saluting the commander.

  “Sir, what about him?” One of the scouts suddenly asked, drawing closer to Raen and staring down at him.

  “The team leader will be here until further notice. We will find out what exactly happened after he has cooled down.”

  “But commander, shouldn’t we get the information as soon as possible? The protocol –“

  “I have given my orders already.” Tarris cut off the scout, who had turned to face him, and gulped from the weight of his stare.

  “Yes, sir, I will get –“

  The ground suddenly shuddered.

  A heartbeat later, the sound arrived.

  Boom!

  The tent poles rattled, dust falling down from the canvas. Everybody inside froze in place.

  “Sir?!” One of the scouts stared at Tarris, whose face had gone pale.

  Raen’s mind went blank.

  ‘This … shouldn’t be happening.’

  ‘Until tomorrow, until the enemy wave arrives … this shouldn’t … it’s impossible.’ Raen thought, his face pale, eyes wide in shock.

  Then, another explosion came, and another, and another. The ground shook with each, but they were luckily weaker than the first one. Tents erupted into flames across the camp, swallowing dozens of soldiers with them.

  Then came the screams and clash of steel. Chaos erupted in every direction as soldiers turned on each other – members of the night watch, officers, regular soldiers, all drawing weapons on their comrades.

  Upon hearing the explosions and the sounds of fighting outside, the three scouts were taken aback. They then exchanged glances as a brief, knowing look passed between them.

  Then they started to move.

  The scout closest to Raen had his back turned to him and was about to take a step forward, but Raen had already risen from his chair.

  Determination was written across his face as he moved. He reached the scout in two steps, and with his back exposed, the scout never saw it coming.

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  Raen kicked the back of his knee hard. The joint buckled, and the scout dropped.

  Raen’s dagger was already in his hand as the ropes Thatch had tied fell down. He swiftly stabbed into the man’s shoulder before placing it over his throat.

  “Move even an inch, and you’re dead,” Raen said, his calm voice sending chills down the spine of the spy, as well as the other two who were now staring at him in shock.

  The tent fell in silence before someone suddenly kicked off the ground, launching himself at the two traitors.

  It was Tarris.

  He reached one, punching him in the chest, but the latter crossed his arms, blocking the attack. The force of the blow still drove him to groan in pain. The strength that was able to break a thick wooden table in half was not something to be scoffed at. Even a single punch from Tarris could kill if aimed right.

  Even though the scout’s response was fast and correct, his arm was broken, perhaps both were.

  ‘He used inner strength with that punch, no doubt about it.’ Raen thought as he glanced at the other scouts.

  They had already been told that the three were traitors, so they moved, but slower than Raen and Tarris, hesitation visible in their movements.

  The three had been their comrades. They took missions together, they watched each other’s backs, and trusted one another with their lives.

  To suddenly hear that those three were spies – traitors who were fooling them the entire time – was not an easy pill to swallow. The betrayal hit them like a physical blow, freezing them for an instant.

  “Take them down! Right away! Don’t kill them!”

  Tarris’s shout woke the scouts, all 17 of them. They then moved at once, assaulting the two traitors from all sides.

  “You … were faking it?” The spy asked Raen, staring at the left arm that held the dagger – the arm that was supposed to be injured. Realization quickly dawned on him after that.

  “Correct. Your little plan didn’t work out. All your men are dead.”

  He then leaned his head closer.

  “Which means this little stunt you guys just pulled was for nothing. An idiotic play that has uncovered you and will lead to your deaths.” Raen said, his voice cold and chilling, causing the spy to gulp.

  “You are one frightening man, squad leader Raen.” The spy said before suddenly moving his mouth. Instead of words, however, something else came out.

  A chant.

  It was weird, the syllables were wrong. They were raspy, shaped in ways a human mouth shouldn’t form. The sound made the air heavier, colder, and it left Raen stunned for an instant.

  His eyes constricted to needlepoints, his blood running cold.

  He knew that chant. He was familiar with it, very familiar.

  His arm moved without thought, the blade slashing open the throat of the spy. The man collapsed on the ground, staring at Raen from below with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

  Raen was staring down at him, but his expression was different. His face darkened, his eyes glued to one portion of the spy’s body.

  He crouched down, ripping open the tunic of the spy. He then whispered something, a single word that was spoken too quietly for anyone else to hear.

  A symbol appeared on the spy’s chest. A single horn, twisted.

  “An initiate.” Raen thought out loud, his voice a whisper only heard by the spy.

  The spy’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at Raen. His hand reached toward him, only to fall down on the ground weakly as life left his eyes.

  “This … how?” Raen asked himself, his voice cracking.

  He then heard more chanting coming from across the tent.

  His head snapped toward the sound of the voice, staring at one spy who was backed against the canvas wall, his sword swinging wildly in front of him to keep the scouts at bay.

  His mouth was moving, the same guttural syllables spilling out of it.

  The other spy was neutralized, knocked unconscious by a punch from Tarris, who was now staring at the chanting man with confusion and faint interest.

  “Stop him from finishing that chant!” Raen shouted, the urgency in his voice jolting all the men in the tent.

  Even the spy took a glance at him, surprised. His eyes then dropped to the corpse under Raen’s feet, noticing the symbol that was dimming, fading into nothing.

  His eyes widened in surprise and fear, his chant speeding up.

  The scouts heard Raen and understood the urgency, but were still not moving as fast as Raen would like. Not nearly fast enough.

  He glanced around and found the weapons rack. He lunged at it, grabbing a spear with his left hand.

  There was no thinking in his following action, just instinct.

  He grabbed the spear in reverse grip, his hand near the head, and spun in place. He drew a wide arc, his entire body coiling into the turn.

  Deep inside of him, something moved. It was nothing physical, nothing that could be seen. Like a snake, it moved through his body before reaching his arm.

  Then he released the spear, and it left his hand like a missile.

  The air moved around him, creating a breeze that rippled through the tent. The spear was shot across the tent, blitzing between the scouts who were moving toward the spy, threading the gap with incredible precision.

  It then struck, going right through the man’s chest, leaving a gaping hole in it.

  It didn’t stop there as it tore through the back of the tent, disappearing into the night outside.

  The spy’s chant was stopped. He looked down, staring at the hole in his chest with incomprehension before collapsing.

  Even Tarris stood frozen. He’d barely seen the spear before it struck. There was just a blur, and then the man was dead.

  Raen exhaled sharply.

  His left arm was limp at his side, the muscles nearly torn. There was a sickening throb in his left shoulder as the joint had almost popped out of its socket.

  He felt as if there was a hot spike in his hip, and his left knee threatened to buckle.

  Raen had no time to think the moment prior, and neither did his body.

  It was pure instinct that drove his throw. His body and mind reached a balance, allowing him to do something far beyond his physical capabilities.

  An action, a throw he had launched numerous times in his past life, something that should have been impossible for the current him.

  If he tried it again, his body would tear apart.

  It was a glimpse of who’d he been, and just how far away he was from reaching the same level again.

  ‘The cult, why are they here?’

  ‘They shouldn’t appear for a couple of more years. Not until the Empire was close to crumbling.’

  ‘They were actually active at this point in time as well?!’

  Raen’s mind raced. Thoughts appeared and dissolved one after another. The advantage he had of knowing the future – the foundation of his plans – was seemingly crumbling.

  He had already made a plan for the near future. Hell, he’d even drafted a rough outline for later events, but now, he was no longer certain of anything.

  If the cult was involved, Raen was not certain that he could be successful at what would happen.

  He then moved his gaze to his left hand.

  He had felt it, right before he threw the spear.

  The feeling of immense strength is given to the hand, the entire arm. It felt like a thin stream of water had moved through his body before settling in it.

  ‘I have some inner strength after all.’ He mused, a tinge of a smile forming on his face.

  ***

  The scouts were frozen in shock, staring at Raen and the corpse.

  Tarris did the same, but unlike the rest, he didn’t bother glancing at the corpse at all. His eyes were locked on Raen.

  Raen was an average combatant, but a nearly brilliant strategist, his instincts impeccable. But what just transpired shattered that assessment completely.

  He stared at Raen as though he were a stranger.

  The boy was on his knees, struggling to stay upright. His left arm was hanging limp, and his face pale with pain that went further than physical.

  The look in his eyes struck Tarris the hardest.

  Not triumph or relief, but a familiar, weary horror.

  In Tarris’s eyes, there was no greenhorn squad leader kneeling in the tent. There was a battle-hardened veteran who had seen things most men only encountered in nightmares.

  “Raen,” Tarris spoke, his voice stern.

  “I won’t ask what that was. Not now. But you can’t stay like this; we need to move.”

  He gestured toward the tent flap, where the sounds of fighting could be heard.

  “It’s clear that the enemy has moved, and from the expressions of these bastards, it is clear that this was not planned. They were taken aback just as we were.”

  “We need to find out what happened, and we need to do so quickly,” Tarris said as he moved to Raen, standing above him.

  He extended his hand.

  “Right now, you are not squad leader Raen. You’re my second in command until this mess clears up.”

  “Now stand.”

  Raen looked at the hand, and then at Tarris’ face.

  He grabbed the hand with his right and pulled himself up, wincing in pain upon putting more weight on his knee.

  “Injuries?”

  “Nothing too serious,” Raen said. “But I’ll be unable to fight for some time, probably 2 days.”

  He grabbed his sword with his right hand, prompting Tarris to raise an eyebrow.

  “Well, I’m not going to just spread my arms open and welcome the enemy,” Raen stated as he moved toward the exit.

  Tarris chuckled and shook his head.

  “Gag him and bring him with us,” Tarris told the scouts, pointing at the only unconscious spy on the ground. “The one whose jaw I broke.”

  He turned back to Raen before they left.

  “Before we go out,” he said. “Tell me why you did it, what was that chant?”