“I don’t know exactly what it is,” Raen said. “But I’ve heard it once before. Do you remember the battle at the Field of Reckoning?”

  Tarris nodded his head, his face darkening. “Six months ago. We lost over three hundred men in one night.”

  “The left flank,” Raen continued, “I was there, barely made it out alive.”

  “Right before the ambush from the flank, I heard the same chant. Then the explosions took place.”

  “You mean to say that those explosions didn’t come from the enemy using magic or smuggling in alchemical charges, but from spies amidst our ranks?”

  “No, not spies.” Raen quickly shook his head.

  “The chants came from the outside.”

  “So, you’re saying the chant makes them explode?”

  “It probably does something more profound that leads to the explosion,” Raen glanced at the corpses. “After all, nobody managed to notice anything before the explosions back then. I just saw a blur approaching the camp.”

  “That is why my guess is that if they finish the chant, whatever happens to them … end in an explosion,” Raen said, meeting Tarris’ gaze.

  Both their faces were grave.

  A lie. Raen had told it with a straight face, without any hesitation. He truly was there, but it happened in the middle of the night. He’d heard nothing as he’d been asleep.

  But upon finding cultists hidden amongst the traitors, Raen believed that perhaps there was truth to his words. After all, nobody knew how the enemy had attacked them back then, how those explosions came to be.

  Raen had a feeling Tarris didn’t fully believe his words, but the man kept quiet. Perhaps he trusted him enough to not need more proof, not to mention that their current situation didn’t allow them to waste any more time.

  The two of them left the tent, the scouts following right behind them.

  ***

  The moment Raen and Tarris left the tent, they went on full alert.

  Tents were burning, and equipment was scattered on the ground. Soldiers fought one another in clusters of violence that had no clear lines or order.

  Worst of all, you couldn’t even differentiate between friend and foe.

  It was complete and utter chaos.

  The smell of burning canvas was spreading through the camp, and beneath it, the smell of iron from all the blood that was spilled.

  On their left, Raen noticed five men fighting. It was a three-on-one, with one of the three bleeding from a stomach wound. He had his hand pressed against the gash, his face pale.

  “Die, you damned traitors!” Another of the three yelled, slashing down with his sword.

  “I’m sorry, brother,” one of the traitors replied, his voice cold and calm as he blocked effortlessly. “But you shall be the ones who die soon.”

  ***

  “Darren, you bastard!” Another soldier yelled on the right, his sword stabbing through the stomach of another.

  Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his friend, who had just taken up a sword and tried to kill him.

  “Dammit,” Darren said, a sad smile on his face as he clenched the man’s arm. “Even when taking you by surprise, I couldn’t kill you, huh?”

  “I want you to know.” Darren’s smile twisted into a smirk. “Nobody forced me into this; they didn’t threaten me, I did it of my own volition.”

  “What the hell are you saying? Why, why would you do this?!” The man’s voice cracked, disbelief in his eyes.

  “Because, ever since we were kids,” Darren spoke, his face suddenly twisting in hatred. “I have always despised you.”

  “I despised the fact you were more talented. The fact you were stronger. And the fact you so effortlessly wooed Catherine.”

  “I wanted to … for once … be the one who is better.”

  Darren said, his left arm reaching for his friend’s face, only to fall down, his head dropping, his life extinguished.

  His friend dropped the sword. He stood there, staring at the corpse, unable to comprehend what he learned.

  ***

  Those kinds of things were happening all over camp.

  Even though the traitors were outnumbered drastically, they had the element of surprise. They were inflicting losses to the entire regiment – not enough to win, but enough to bleed them.

  Still, they were fighting without realizing that their plan had failed. They had no idea that they were alone. Their reinforcements were not going to come tonight.

  Their fates were already sealed.

  ‘In my past life, the enemy took out the scouting parties. Then they inflicted heavy losses on the remaining scouts, with only Tarris, Fin, and four other scouts surviving.’

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ‘The next morning, they attacked at dawn. Their cavalry appeared like ghosts on our left flank, closely followed by more soldiers, all elites.’

  ‘It was chaos. The camp was taken completely by surprise, attacked from within and outside.’

  He remembered the medical tent. He and the other wounded huddled together, defenseless. The reason they survived was that they’d been at the bottom of the enemy’s target list.

  ‘Over seventy percent of our regiment died that day. The Empire was forced to withdraw from here, but they were attacked during retreat.’

  ‘The other two regiments were decimated as well, and by the time the army had reached safety, less than a third of it was left alive.’

  Raen thought, staring at the chaos before suddenly swinging his sword to the right, only for it to be blocked.

  He momentarily shook, pain lancing through his knee from the sudden movement, but he bit back a grimace.

  “At ease, temporary second lieutenant Raen,” Tarris spoke as Fin, who had noiselessly appeared next to them.

  He stared at Raen in surprise.

  “Apologies for my sudden appearance. Commander, second Lieutenant.”

  “Apologies for attacking you, Lieutenant,” Raen said, lowering his sword. He winced in pain, this time no longer hiding the pain.

  Fin studied him for a moment.

  The way he noticed his approach and responded immediately, fighting through the pain that was without a doubt significant, with injuries visible all over his body. The cold calculation present in his eyes…

  Fin could see why the commander valued Raen so much. Why he would actually place him as his second lieutenant, albeit temporarily.

  “What happened?” Tarris quickly asked Fin, who nodded.

  “The first explosion came from the tent of Major Vares. Immediately after, more took place, and the spies stopped their act. We were taken by surprise.”

  “Still, we are slowly taking back control over the camp. It should not be long before we have eliminated them all.”

  “Did you say … the first explosion came from Vares’ tent?” Raen asked, his eyes wide in shock.

  “Yes, I went to check right away and … I saw your man … Thatch,” Fin said, with slight apprehension, as well as fear, in his voice.

  “So he’s alive,” Raen said, sighing in relief.

  Fin nodded. “Yes, but … the state I found him in was … well … I can’t even explain it that well.”

  “Try to,” Tarris said from the side, prompting Fin to nod his head.

  “When I arrived, Thatch was standing in the middle of what I presume was the epicenter of the explosion. Right in the middle of where the tent had been.”

  He paused, as though trying to search for the right words.

  “He was holding a blackened skull … I do not know whose.”

  “It was the Major’s.” Someone added from the side.

  Raen nodded at Thatch, who had just arrived.

  Fin and Tarris nodded alongside him, then jerked back in surprise.

  “Seriously, kid,” Tarris muttered, staring at Thatch with irritation. “I’m a bit too old to be getting surprised like this so often.”

  The irritation died quickly as he stared at Thatch’s face.

  Thatch was … not the same as usual.

  He was serious. No smile could be seen, and the playful energy that normally radiated from him was gone, replaced by something cold. The skull that Fin had mentioned was in his hands, charred, blackened.

  “Vares’ skull?” Raen asked.

  Thatch nodded. “Yes, there’s still some stuff remaining. Gonna investigate it further, see if I can find any leads.”

  He didn’t explain further; he just turned the skull in his hand, ignoring their stares.

  It didn’t matter whether Raen, Fin, or Tarris knew what he was talking about. In fact, he doubted any of them did.

  Right now, he wasn’t in a situation to care for such things.

  “Fin said the first explosion occurred from Vares’ tent,” Raen said, staring at Thatch. “What the hell happened there, Thatch?”

  Thatch glanced at Raen, thoughts swirling as he thought back on what happened mere minutes ago.

  ***

  He had made his move.

  He’d lunged at Vares, his figure nearly invisible, his body producing no sound. Moving at a speed that should’ve been impossible for the Major to respond to.

  And yet.

  Clang!

  His dagger hit steel instead of flesh.

  It was as if the Major had eyes on the back of his head, perfectly blocking his attack without even turning around.

  “I didn’t expect an assassin to come my way,” Vares said, his demeanor the complete opposite of what he usually showed. He was calm, showing no trace of hostility, anger, or worry. “Who sent you?”

  He then glanced over his shoulder.

  “Ah, the kid, why would you be here?” Surprise flickered across his face.

  “Did the damned commander set you up for this. Or one of his cronies?” He asked, staring at Thatch’s face.

  Thatch swiftly pushed himself back, landing on the ground some 3 meters away from Vares.

  “They better be paying good money for my head,” Vares said with a chuckle, standing up from his seat. The emblem of the demonic cult is no longer visible in his hand. “I hope so at the very least.”

  He smiled.

  “Too bad you chose the wrong target tonight.”

  Tendrils suddenly coursed through his body.

  His hair turned purple, and his skin flushed red. The change rippled across him like water, turning him into something that was no longer entirely human.

  He then moved, the ground beneath him cracking. He appeared in front of Thatch in an instant, his sword slashing down with enough force to cut the boy in half.

  Instead, the slash merely cut through an afterimage, and Thatch appeared behind him, a dagger stabbing toward his back.

  Clang!

  Vares’ sword stopped it, again, as if he could see what was happening behind him.

  He quickly kicked back, but Thatch twisted his body aside, allowing the hit to pass and stabbing down with his dagger, aiming at the exposed leg – specifically, the side of the knee.

  He had to abandon his attack and jump back as Vares swiftly pulled his sword around, his body twisting to an incredible degree, and stabbed at where Thatch had been a moment before.

  “You’ve already ‘enhanced’ yourself. That puts you above an Initiate at the very least.” Thatch stated, his eyes moving over the red skin, the purplish hair, and the tendrils coursing through Vares.

  “What did you just say?” Vares asked in surprise, tilting his head as a smile suddenly bloomed on his face.

  “You’re so interesting. How did you know that, little boy?”

  Before giving Thatch any time to answer, he lunged at him, sword stabbing forward.

  He missed.

  He then slashed to the side at Thatch’s exposed flank.

  Thatch ducked under the swing, suddenly slashing with his dagger, cutting Vares’ leg. The blade cut across it, opening a shallow gash.

  Vares scoffed at the injury and kicked forward.

  Thatch blocked the kick with the palms of his hands, allowing the force to push him back. As he slid backwards, a smaller dagger hidden underneath his tunic was launched at Vares, who knocked it aside with his sword.

  “How did you learn that information?” Vares asked, his tone almost conversational. “Were you perhaps one of us?”

  “A deserter?”

  “Or perhaps a failed initiate?” Vares continued asking, not being bothered by his injury or pressured by the fight in the slightest.

  Thatch didn’t answer. He charged, sending three daggers flying at Vares in quick succession.

  One was dodged. Two were blocked by his sword.

  Thatch arrived, stabbing forward. Vares suddenly took a step forward, allowing the dagger to stab into his chest before slashing down with his sword.

  Thatch let go of the dagger and slid forward, passing between Vares’ legs. The edge of the sword nearly grazed his hair.

  He then spun behind Vares, stabbing at his back again.

  Vares moved to the side, evading the blow again.

  “A demonic artifact, or perhaps a spell of sorts?” Thatch asked himself out loud, prompting Vares to slightly widen his eyes and stare at him.

  “You know even more than I suspected.” He said, twirling his sword in place, his smile disappearing. “It was cute and interesting before. Now it’s annoying.”

  Suddenly, Vares stopped, frozen in place as he stared at Thatch.

  The boy had closed his eyes and clasped his hands together in front of him.

  He then opened his mouth, and a quiet prayer spilled out.