His posture couldn’t be worse. His arm acted like the shoulder strap of a bag, carrying and swinging his body around as Adrielle zoomed forward. Wind slapped his face, pounced his throat, and tried to slam his eyes shut.

  But he endured, because how could he not?

  He was flying. Not sitting on a plane surrounded by closed metal walls. He had counted that as flying back on Earth, but that notion was gone from his dictionary now.

  Comparing these two methods was an insult to what he was experiencing. Technically, he wasn’t flying on his own, but who cared? His robe fluttered, nonstop drumming on his skin; his body was up thirty meters in the air; and his eyes were feasting on a top-down view of a village nestling between a rock hill on its left and a backyard lake. Everything was black except for details revealed by the flickering torch’s light here and there, but he had to keep his eyes open no matter what.

  Sights like this wouldn’t come around too often.

  How on earth did a community like this exist in an underground dungeon?

  He wanted to ask, but remained silent for now. Adrielle didn’t look like she was in a mood for this. He would have plenty of time for that once this issue was done.

  Adrielle descended and hurled him onto an open yard at the village entrance. He only managed to twist his body a bit to hit the ground shoulder-first, but unable to secure a proper landing. The physical damage was minimal, but the same couldn’t be said about the mental counterpart, as plenty of eyes were peeking over from inside the village fence, including children and elders.

  What a first impression!

  He got back on his feet, patted away the dirt on his robe, and smiled at those curious but watchful gazes. Though before he could decide what to do, Adrielle stepped forward, her voice sharp and bordering on a yell.

  “Diomed! Come here.”

  From inside one of the bigger gray shacks near the entrance, a bare-chested man came out, his head almost brushed the ceiling when he emerged from the hanging curtain. Long brown hair swung loosely past his hip with each step.

  “Who’s the new man? He pissed you off?” The man—presumably Diomed—briefly scanned Zalanir before turning to Adrielle.

  “What happened to Josef?” Adrielle said. Very direct. Not jumping to a straight fight yet, but her hands had curled up into fists already.

  Zalanir continued relaying everything happening outside to Josef. This was probably the reason the chief brought him here instead of handling the matter herself. Perhaps she wanted a last ditch of confirmation from Diomed. She seemed to be close to Josef, but this was a matter between her two vice chiefs, so it was understandable if she was to be careful.

  This time, it was no longer a scan. Diomed’s eyes were firmly on Zalanir, shooting fire and some apprehension at him.

  He returned it with a smile while joining hands together behind his back. Cokhi was on-standby, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  “Josef? Why asking? Wasn’t he ambushed by the outsiders? Is this man one of them?” Diomed said. The man still stayed next to his shack. Didn’t look like he would move out to where Adrielle was.

  Though she didn’t seem to mind that. Instead, she marched forward. “I know everything already, so drop the act. My only question is… why?”

  If an eye could kill, Zalanir was sure the glare from Diomed would’ve murdered him. What came out wasn’t just fire anymore. It was a fricking meteor. The man’s face was red and twisted. His feet retreated away from Adrielle. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s wrong. You trust a stranger over me? Who has built and kept this community from danger with you since how long?”

  “Then why are you pulling back from me? I simply ask a question, why don’t you answer?

  “Stop where you are!” She bolted ahead when Diomed turned and jumped over the wooden fence surrounding the village.

  Confusion spread through the villagers. Some kids started weeping; the elders pushed and guided them toward a cylinder-shaped wooden structure in the center of the village. Then, they lit it up. The bonfire roared to life, its flame spiraled straight up before settling for a gentle approach, hugging the village with its guardian-like aura.

  Zalanir wanted to enter the village as well—that bonfire gave him a feeling of safety—but he stopped at the entrance. There was a light, invisible push that hindered him from taking another step inward. Some villagers were carefully assessing him, probably wondering who he was and what he had to do with their leaders fighting each other.

  Adrielle and Diomed had taken the fight somewhere in the dark. Not too far away, but beyond the illuminating radius of the bonfire.

  A thunderous neigh rippled through the air. Then came the echoing of horses’ hooves striking the ground. Zalanir had been tracking the fight through his ears—lots of shouting, thud, and screeching—but the current strain of clip-clops was getting louder and more importantly, closer.

  A gargantuan block of ice crashed onto the open yard in front of the village, about fifty meters from his spot, stirring up the dirt and sending them into an outward explosion. The ground quaked from the impact. Webs of cracks slithered out, stripping down a section of the fence on his right. But similar to him being unable to advance inward, they couldn’t spread beyond the village entrance. Fire crackled and popped behind his back, along with villagers gulping, hissing, and coughing.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Another neigh tore through the air, duller than the initial, but there were ripples accompanying it. Something shattered inside the dirt mist, shooting fragments to all directions. He conjured a barrier to block, but they arched down mid-air and clattered on the ground about fifteen meters away.

  “Ice splinters,” he muttered upon seeing what those projectiles were.

  “You really want to kill me? Who’s going to take care of the village when you’re away, burying face in that experiment of yours? When we leave this place, who’s going to be the vanguard?” Diomed’s yell tore the brief but suffering silence apart.

  “It’s none of your concern. You killed Josef. That’s enough. One will become twice, and twice will multiply to many in no time. It’s my job as a chief to make sure it won’t happen.” Adrielle’s voice came from higher up. She was probably floating somewhere, though Zalanir couldn’t see her.

  “The vice chief killed the old Josef?” said a female voice. Seemed young.

  “No, it can’t be.” Someone was on the verge of crying.

  “So that’s why they’re fighting…”

  “Whoaaaa—Waff! Kaff!” Kids were wailing and coughing simultaneously.

  All kinds of discussions and murmurs filled his ears. Understandably so. Perhaps Adrielle had wanted to take the fight somewhere far away, to hide this truth from the villagers, but Diomed had found his way back. To use them as a shield of responsibility, probably.

  After the dirt mist dissipating away, a reddish-brown horse kneeled huffing on the ground. Zalanir had never seen a real horse before, but he believed this one was by no means normal. At least the size of a minivan, if not bigger. Its body was littered with wounds; the most egregious one was an icicle skewering through its back and hind limb. Blood and steam clung onto the ice lance, seemingly unable to leave.

  “Can I borrow your power for a second?”

  His avatar inside the lantern had been monologuing since the start, so hearing Josef’s request all of a sudden wasn’t something he expected. The man had just been floating there, listening to what happened outside without expressing a single thought.

  “What for?” Zalanir asked.

  “The incense spell earlier. I will cast it once more, this time with increased potency. It’s a creation of mine to help some of the elders with sleep. The kids didn’t need to see this. With how strong your soul is, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Josef said.

  Zalanir nodded, or rather, his avatar nodded. The same thing, as both were him.

  A rain of icicles was beating down onto Diomed’s spot. The man responded by shielding himself with an earthen dome, but cracks had already formed. Shouldn’t be long before that defensive spell gave in.

  Josef had mentioned both of these combatants were peak C-grade, but this didn’t look like a fair fight. All he saw was Adrielle’s domination, and Diomed was on the receiving end. Perhaps counting down his last moment as well, all things considered.

  Murky water of dirt and red had started to fill the recently formed cracks. There were footsteps coming from the direction of the oasis. Not here yet, but soon. Seemed like those on the border had finally returned.

  Zalanir summoned a black incense right at his feet after his left hand turned gray. Cinnamon scent wafted along with the smoke, pungent and heavy. Making his eyebrows weighed down a little.

  In that instant, his danger sense exploded. A holler blasted out from the direction his eyes had just left. There was a scream from above as well. A female one. From Adrielle. But he couldn’t look up to confirm. Heck, he had no time to even sneak a gaze at the incoming force of nature. All he could do was conjure up a barrier. And then braced.

  The barrier shattered the same moment his sternum broke. He had been hit by a tennis ball in the same area before when he hugged the net. Plenty of times, actually, as it was normal for the opponent to blast the ball at him there for an easy point. But this strike on his chest was ten times stronger. Probably even more considering how durable his body had become with all the stats reinforcing it.

  It didn’t matter. His skin cracked under the hit. Both front and back, and other parts as he bumped into other thing. He coughed. Not a series of coughs. Just one. Then he could cough no more. Breath stuck inside his lung, unable to go anywhere. Pain seized control of his body, starting from his chest then barreled down along his flesh. And tendons. And veins. Popping them like bubbles.

  He felt sleepy. A weird sensation since pain was supposed to keep him awake with its invasion. But it wasn’t pain. It was a source of warmth that gave him power, as if he was layering blankets on top on a freezing night.

  There was a crackling sound nearby. He sat up, pushing through rioting pain in his arms. He could tell his body was already past its limit, but it had somehow held, so a bit more pain wouldn’t make a difference. The enemy was still out there. He had to endure to see the bastard being beaten to death for this attack. Less than that, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly.

  Red-orange aura filled his vision. Ah. The bonfire. It loomed over him, spitting out glowing ambers. Somehow, he had entered the village. Guess the attack was that strong to break through whatever had been keeping him out.

  The ground shook. He turned his head, torturing his neck muscles even more. He had been avoiding looking down at his injuries, but this action was necessary. He wanted to scream out loud at his neck the word “hold on” but restrained himself to a thought only. Better saved up strength for better usage, such as giving the enemy hell.

  And indeed. A brown horse was charging at his spot. A ridiculous notion considering frost was climbing up its limbs, and the fact that it had only three functional legs to begin with.

  Oh. The ground was moving with it. Each of the horse’s step was aided by rising bumps of earth. The world had turned against him, huh? For what? For exposing the man of his crime?

  Zalanir chuckled. Adrielle was descending like a shooting star, but she wouldn’t make it before the raging horse. No, he only had himself to rely on. Hmm, not really. He had a certain crocosaurus as well. If before, he had picked Wind Rush over a muddy skill to lock the enemy down, then now, he had to admit his wrong for thinking that those two skills were just two sides of the same coin. Increasing his speed would equal slowing down the enemy, no? Sound logic.

  But in this situation, where he couldn’t move himself, that logic went poof. Gone. Held no value whatsoever. Though even if he couldn’t move, he could do the same to the enemy.

  Thus, he lifted his black right hand up. Cokhi synced with his thought, and from under the ground, a dark chain sprang to life, locking down one of the raving horse’s front limbs. Like a van having its front tire blowing out, the brown mare jerked and crashed to the side, its body skidded and grated on the ground, stirring up more dirt. Its cry was similar to his own when he’d lost the match point in a tie-break. The feeling of having victory within reach only to be snatched away at the last second. He got it, but in this situation, he laughed in triumph. Nothing beat a victory feeling.

  Then Adrielle skydived onto the horse’s flailing barrel, splattering blood all over.

  At that sight, Zalanir laughed one more time, coughing. With her here, he should be safe now. He intended to watch on till the end, but then surrendered to the looming sleep. A kick almost one-shotted him. Guess that was the strength of a peak C-grade.