Traverse The Fog

Latriaen moved through the brush. His speed grew faster and faster with such ease that it appeared he was not in a rough thicket.

"Hey, wait up!" Cyrus shouted, straining to keep up.

Even with his outdoorsman experience, Cyrus quickly lost sight of his teacher until nothing was left but the animal tracks they were trailing. Heart beating swiftly, Cyrus slowed to a walk. He then silently scowled. Why were they running off in pursuit of insignificant matters? The hamlet was waiting for him. He needed to know what happened to it! But Cyrus swallowed his grievance and kept moving. The sooner they get this over with, the sooner they can leave.

Cyrus and Bird spent the next thirty minutes trailing the tracks through the forest. Frustration building, he almost considered giving up. But he dropped the notion once he noticed Latriaen standing in a small clearing.

And the macabre scene of torn and shredded lions strewn around him.

"What took you so long?" Latriaen then squatted down before a cadaver. "Don't just stand there. Tell me, what do you see?"

Cyrus swallowed his saliva. Slowly, breathing deeply, he mimicked his teacher and scanned the corpses.

And it was ghastly. Limbs were twisted unnaturally, with broken bones torn through the skin alongside deep wound marks inked with black. Cyrus then looked around and found that every beast had died with their eyes open. Nerves taut, he remained silent, watching the fog slowly creep closer to the corpses, draping over them like a spider's web.

Cyrus' gaze then unconsciously turned to Bird to check if the canary was okay. Of course, it was. But the little guy refrained from flying too close.

"Pay attention!" Latriaen scowled. "Again. What do you see?"

"I... I see a lot of pain," Cyrus whispered. "Whatever attacked them was brutal."

"You're right." His mentor stood up and swept his gaze over the surroundings. "Whatever killed them, it made sure to keep them alive while breaking their bones."

Cyrus shivered. What kind of monster wishes to keep something alive just to watch it suffer? And how powerful was it that it could take an entire pack, including the—

"—Wait. Where..." Cyrus looked around. "Where's the alpha?"

Latriaen shook his head. "There's no sign of it." With a flick of his wrist, he pointed at one of the corpses. "But you're not done. Take a closer look at the wounds."

And so Cyrus did. Gaze tracing along a lion's body, he noticed the claw marks... oozing with a black, ink-like substance. It looked familiar. Too familiar. Just like The Wee—

"—A wraith did this?!" Cyrus blurted out.

Contemplation ran Latriaen's fiery gaze. "It's possible that a wraith is prowling about. Or.."

"Or?"

Latriaen's tone lowered. "Or someone posed this as one."

"Someone did this? A human?" Cyrus quickly studied the corpses again. "But why?"

"Why?" Latriaen snorted. "Believe it or not, hunting spirit beasts for their crystals is illegal without special status. Defending yourself is one thing, but" —he gestured at the scene around them— "That wasn't the case."

"So you're saying someone was hunting the alpha and took its body?"

"Its metal plates looked sturdy." With a shake of his head, Latriaen turned to one of the corpses. "If I were an adept, I would want to fashion armor from it and sell off the harvested earth crystals. Earth crystals with insight into metal manipulation are rare and well sought after as steelbending is difficult to learn. Or so I heard."

Cyrus was silent for a beat. "So you think it was a hunter?"

"Maybe. An especially cruel one." Latriaen scoffed, disdain edging his tone. "It could have been one of those so-called 'nobles.' One that was an umbralmancer that wished to cover their tracks. Or at least wanted to avoid registering as one."

Cyrus resumed staring at the festering wound. "No tracks?"

"None. And wraiths aren't usually smart enough to hide them. Unless it floated around or something."

Then, that left Cyrus with nothing but conjecture; the only input he could add was, "Why would someone hide their tracks far out here?" They were days away from Avalorn.

"Are wraiths capable of cruelty?"

Latriaen slowly nodded. "Yes, more often than not at higher levels. But so are humans."

The latter sentence was spat out with venom. But Cyrus paid no mind to it. Baggage or not, Latriaen spoke the truth.

"Shame," Latriaen continued, voice disappointed. "I was hoping to pit these beasts against you. But now they're dead."

Cyrus quickly stood up, flabbergasted. Why does this guy consider fighting a hulking metal mass and its lackeys good training?

"It doesn't matter anymore," Latriaen continued, then turning to leave. "Let's go. We have a lot of ground to walk."

"Wait," Cyrus said hesitantly. "Shouldn't we... You know, find the killer?"

"And why should we?" Latriaen turned to face him, arms crossed. "So what if something killed them? That's life."

"But.."

"No. Either it was a wraith, meaning we should report it to a Wayfayer at most, or a hunter, which wraps back to the Wayfarers. It's time. To. Go."

Cyrus silently watched his mentor leave. He was right. Why should they bother? It wasn't his job, nor did he really want to chase hidden monsters or lunatic mages. Come to think of it, why did he suggest such a stupid idea in the first place? Had it been a month ago, Cyrus would have simply left after a cursory glance.

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Now? The idea of such a change left a bad taste in his mouth.

With a deep breath, Cyrus called Bird, and the two left without a single glance back at the grisly scene. None would witness the fog slowly blanketing over the corpses until all was hidden under the mists.

The days went on. The two did not mention what they had discovered, sinking into the depths of forgotten memories. In their travels, the seas of white birch were soon replaced by the common furs and pines surrounding Avalorn. And so came back the signs of animal life, such as birds chirping or elk calls.

But none of this mattered to Cyrus. No, his mind remained anticipating that special place waiting for him. And they would soon reach it in a matter of days. In the meantime, Cyrus kept training his mana manipulation, creating more runes, and continuing his studies. All to slowly fit the idea of someone who belonged in this world.

Soon, the light faded, and night set in. With it, the forest grew silent save for the songs of insects.

In such darkness, Cyrus silently moved from tree to tree. With spear in hand and covered in a slick of sweat, he peered from behind the thick tree, searching.

How the hell does that guy do that? Cyrus thought, grimacing as he rubbed the wound on his shoulder.

Latriaen would appear and disappear at a moment's notice. Even with his life domain-infused ears straining for the faintest sound and light vision granting him sight, he would never catch sight of the man until it was too late.

Shaking his head, Cyrus diverted his fire runes equally across his limbs. Then, he slipped past his cover and went on to the next. But a sudden air-piercing woosh brought him to his knees for cover. And for good reason, too. When Cyrus looked up, he found a spear with a blade longer than his forearm embedded into the bark.

His gaze narrowed. Turning swiftly, Cyrus defensively angled his spear against the fist engulfed in green flames hurtling toward him. Latriaen was too strong, and just one hit was enough to knock Cyrus a few steps back.

Yet Latriaen didn't stop there as he pivoted into a kick that promised to break bone upon impact. Meanwhile, channeling mana, Cyrus moved to evade, narrowly dodging in the nick of time. But a sudden fire plume at the end of Latriaen's kick extended the reach. Instead of engulfing Cyrus in flames, it felt more like a warm punch. One that left him breathless.

Breathless save for the fiery breath that Cyrus spat out in retaliation.

However, Latriaen dodged without effort. But the flames were only there to hide the spear behind them as it shot straight toward his chest. Another miss. One that left Cyrus wide open for the Ork to grab onto the weapon's shaft. Expecting this, Cyrus had already channeled his mana. With a blazing red, his spear hand burst flames forward to the front end.

But even then, it was not enough. Unfazed, Latriaen yanked the spear without so much as considering resistance and threw the spear aside with a flick of his hand.

Now, Cyrus was left defenseless. His flames were no good, and he knew it. And so, he moved to retreat. Better to retrieve the spear and continue the fight armed, Cyrus thought.

Latriaen snorted at the sight of Cyrus turning around to flee. "There's nowhere to run."

He then stomped the ground, and several red runes placed on tree trunks appeared. They each shimmered before launching a torrent of flames, all working in unison to form a large wall surrounding the two.

Cyrus stopped just before the dancing flames that stopped his path.

"Okay. Fine," He muttered in his homeworld's language, channeling mana through his arms and legs. "If I'm going to get my ass kicked, it might as well be while fighting."

He then turned toward Latriaen as flames combusted across his hands and feet. Then, Cyrus moved. He had expected to have a fight between fists, but Latriaen surprised him by reaching out toward Cyrus' spear and tossing a fiery rune upon it. Then, the weapon abruptly combusted into flames. Cyrus was confused about why, but then his gaze popped at the sight of the spear levitating and flying toward the Ork, who caught it without trouble.

"Oh shit."

Indeed. What came next was the beatdown he expected. But instead of fist over fist, it was Cyrus evading stabs into his stomach.

"Alright. Alright. I give!" Cyrus yelled as his spear stopped just before his eyes.

Chest heaving, he fell on his rump as Latriaen retrieved his attack.

"At least you stopped holding back your stabs," Latriaen stated, waving his hand to snuff the ring of fire.

"Yeah, well... you stopped holding back... once you discovered how many... health potions I had," Cyrus bitterly retorted between gasps.

Speaking of which, Cyrus reached into his pouch and drank a vial.

"That's how you adapt to fighting in pain, Boy," his mentor said without remorse. "Better here than when it matters."

Cyrus turned silent. The man was right, whether he liked it or not.

"You have another issue to worry about..." Latriaen's gaze bloomed bright. "You overthink too much. I can see it. You pause ever so slightly between attacks. Don't think. Just act."

Cyrus nodded.

"And remember to improve on your light vision."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?" Cyrus asked, surprised. "Why would that matter?"

"Your night vision shades your eyes into a bright yellow in the dark. And I could see you wherever you went because of it."

"It does?!"

He had completely forgotten that his gaze emitted light!

He then mumbled a quiet "Thanks," in response, but Latriaen ignored it, focusing instead on critiquing Cyrus's combat skills further. A few minutes into the conversation, Latriaen abruptly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Cyrus asked, tilting his head. "I'm sure there's more I need to work on."

Latriaen shook his head. "There's a lot wrong with you. You lack a proper bite with your flames. Come, stretch out your arm and direct all your fire runes into it." Cyrus did as such. "Now, when channeling your mana, think about pushing your flames as far as you can... but at the same time, try to keep it contained to a single point."

"Okay..."

A small ember flickered to life on Cyrus's palm as mana surged through his arm and into his hand. He felt a strange dichotomy there. It was as if two energies were in his hand, vying for control—the immovable versus the unstoppable. The forces kept building and building, straining inside the flame.

"It feels like I'm pulling a slingshot," Cyrus muttered, gripping his wrist to keep control.

"That's good; it means you're on the right path," Latriaen said, his gaze glowing with anticipation. "Now, keep fueling it until you can't."

And Cyrus did. A few seconds later, he felt his growing flame turn unstable and suddenly detonate, launching a torrent of fire before him while sending him hurtling in the air backwards for a few meters. With an oomph, he rolled into the dirt, almost crashing into a bush.

"What the hell?" Cyrus quickly sat up. "Are you trying to get me kil—"

He froze, aghast. The ground under his attack was left scorched, leaving an imprint of the blast. Excited, Cyrus then quickly rose to his feet and assessed the imprint.

It was more than just fire. It was a force.

Hands shaking at the possibilities, Cyrus checked over his mana reserves. And well, half of it was depleted. But Cyrus deemed it worthwhile for its potential alone.

Latriaen nodded knowingly at the sight of Cyrus' excitement. "A flame sparker knows that you only need yourself as the conduit of change. More importantly, any mage worth a damn has an explosion or two ready to detonate." With that, Latriaen headed off to the campsite. "I've shown you a path to strength. Now, it's up to you to harness it to your advantage."

Cyrus nodded gratefully. "I will!"

And the remainder of the night was spent contemplating new ways to employ his newfound technique.