Cursed Odyssey

"You're being too loud, screaming the Vandymion name like that old man… This is what you get, damn liar…"

No one knew what a Vandymion looked like; our identities were meant to be kept secret to protect us from our enemies.

"In the off chance that is a Vandymion, we must capture her alive, and kill all those who heard the Vandymion name,"

"V—Vandymion!?" One of the men stuttered.

Silence stretched between us, but I could tell some were smiling under their mask.

So they didn't ambush us because they knew my identity. No one would know my looks, so it made sense. It was simply that we looked weak and carried rare ores? That plump old gorilla must have reported it to some gang, and now they're trying to rob us. How would they even know what's in our sack?

"Change of plans! The fat bastard could be lying to us, but let's take the chance! Take her alive! Do I make myself clear?"

"Boss… It might be a good idea to retreat… Even if we do capture her. We'd have no way to negotiate we should—"

His head came clean off, rolling lifeless on the hot grass.

"Do… I… make… myself… clear?"

The remaining men, who also had doubts, gulped. Their hesitation seemed to disappear. They knew there was no turning back now.

He killed the only voice of reason. To think dregs like them could do any blackmail or negotiation with the Vandymions was laughable. A fly who dreamt to reach the sun.

I readied my rapier, taking a deep, but shaky breath.

My eyes scanned the battlefield, and then I noticed at the corner. It was that little boy, Darren.

His father had just been killed right in front of his eyes, yet he did not make a sound. The same kid who would not let a second pass without speaking was dead silent.

I didn't find it odd.

Not in the slightest.

His eyes were dead…

"DARREN! STAY BEHIND US!!" Zephyr yelled, motioning back.

Of course, he didn't move.

I didn't know why.

But I felt compelled.

I walked up to him slowly, pressed my hands on his shoulders.

Our eyes met for the first time, only a brief instant, and there, I pushed him back, falling on his butt.

"Just watch," I sighed.

I didn't look back at him.

The battle had already begun.

Zephyr snapped, and it was as though two clones of him manifested from thin air.

Two men, foolishly swung, giving Zephyr an opportunity to strike them both down with no wasted movements. I know he had no training, yet he moved like a true swordsman.

So this was his temporal echo in combat. It had this translucent glimmer to it, though hard to see it was still there.

Their formation was weakened, and I saw the opportunity to strike.

I rushed into the center, with a deep breath, I froze the ground beneath them..

Three men stumbled and fell, me and Zephyr took them out like cornered prey.

Zephyr slid on the ground, using it to maneuver under two men's shaking legs trying their best not to fall, while I skated on the ground, maneuvering with my rapier as if I were dancing.

Snap snap

Snap

A sweeping attack from Zephyr. Or was it an overhead? The enemies didn't know. He just began swinging at everything. In the end, it was a stab to the chest, and he fell limp.

Using Temporal Echo for distraction, then using Umbral Wraith to mask his true strike. So quick, he had already found a synergy for his arcane spirits, as well as very good control.

Suddenly, there was a sword swinging to my right. I bent my back while gliding on the ice, transitioning into a flip, mid flip I kicked towards him, the skates made of pure ice on my feet sliced his face open. Another tried to strike me as I fell, but I swung faster than he could react.

His eyeball poked out of the tip on my rapier.

It was like that game of dominoes.

One death, one hesitation, led to everyone toppling.

Perhaps if they were more coordinated, they could have had a chance but in the end, there was only one left.

That leader of theirs.

*Snap snap*

*snap*

For all his talk, he stayed in the back and watched as all his men were slaughtered… So why did he seem so… confident?

He stood perfectly still amid the carnage, not even bothering to draw his weapon. Blood pooled around his boots, but he didn't flinch. Didn't step away. The mask concealed his face, but I could feel his eyes on me—not afraid, not angry.

Amused?

His posture was relaxed, almost casual. One hand hung at his side while the other rested against his chest, fingers drumming against his coat. Waiting.

Something's wrong.

Then he moved. Slow and deliberate, he reached into his coat.

When his hand emerged, he held something…

My body reacted like it was visceral.

It was an orb.

It pulsed with sickly light—not quite green, not quite black. The surface writhed like living smoke trapped behind glass, and veins of something luminescent crawled across it in rhythmic patterns.

The air around it seemed to bend, as though reality itself recoiled from the thing.

What is that? A dreg using an arcane tool? No… That… is not arcane…

He raised the orb high and spoke words in a language I didn't recognize—harsh, guttural sounds that scraped against my ears like rusted metal. The syllables felt wrong, like they shouldn't exist.

My head began to throb, like a hammer being bashed into my skull from the inside.

The orb's glow intensified.

Then the dead bodies moved.

Not rising—disintegrating. Flesh shed away like wet paper, leaving nothing but clothes over bone. But even the bone didn't remain solid for long. It fractured into fragments, into dust, pulled toward the orb. In the form of some energy, the remains of his fallen gang all spiralled into the pulsing sphere, absorbed into its writhing depths.

The orb grew brighter with each body it consumed.

And the leader's smile grew wider.

"You think you've won?" His voice seemed hysterical. "You have no idea what you've walked into."