Trials Of Life

Chapter 18: Wolf Vs The Viper

Up on the hill behind the mayor’s house, a small group of bandits huddled around a flickering fire, sheltered from the steady rain by makeshift tarps stretched over wooden posts. The night was slowly giving way to the pale light of dawn, but the bandits paid no mind to the hour. They reveled in their spoils, drunken laughter rising above the sound of crackling flames and the rhythmic patter of rain on canvas.

“That was some easy work!” one of the bandits crowed, raising a gleaming silver goblet filled with stolen wine. He took a long swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Genius idea to sell them poison!” another chimed in, draped in layers of golden jewelry that gleamed in the firelight. He cast a sideways glance at their leader, who sat slightly apart from the rest, silent, his gaze fixed on the flames. The man’s expression was distant, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere, lost in the dance of embers.

“Boss?” the man with the goblet called hesitantly, stepping closer to their leader, whose gloomy silence had not gone unnoticed. “Tristen?”

At the mention of his name, Tristen’s eyes snapped up, his glare sharp and cold. “What did I tell you about using my name so casually?” he growled.

The bandit flinched, nearly spilling his drink in his haste to bow his head. “S-sorry, boss! I just… I was trying to get your attention…” He trailed off, glancing nervously at the others before returning his gaze to Tristen, who had already turned his attention back to the fire. “You seem... distracted. Something on your mind?”

Tristen said nothing at first, only prodding the glowing coals with a stick. The men waited, the tension in the air felt. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and distant. “Do you ever think about how you’ll die?”

The question hung in the air, met by startled silence. The bandits exchanged uneasy glances before bursting into laughter, their earlier discomfort dissolving into mockery.

“What the hell are you talking about, boss?” one of them chuckled, slapping his knee. “No one here’s gonna die with you around!”

“Yeah, stop being such a mood killer!” another jeered, raising his drink in a mock toast.

But Tristen didn’t join in their laughter. His eyes never left the fire, the orange glow reflecting in their dark depths. “I’ve had dreams,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Dreams that tell me it’s my destiny to join them… the Chosen. But even after doing their dirty work, I’m still just a tool to them. Disposable.”

He punctuated the last word by jamming the stick into the fire with sudden, violent force, sending a spray of sparks into the air. His voice rose, filled with bitterness and frustration. “That’s all I am—something they can toss aside when they’re done.”

The men around the camp stuttered, shifting uneasily in the damp, cool air, unsure how to respond. Tristen’s gaze remained fixed on the flames as if searching for answers in their flickering dance. “In those dreams,” he continued, his voice a low rumble, “a wolf is always watching me. Haunting me. Sometimes, it watches from the shadows, with its fangs bearing from its mouth.” His fists clenched, knuckles white. “I keep wondering… is it the wolf that’s destined to kill me? Or will I be the one to kill it?”

One of the bandits, the man adorned with golden jewelry, walked up to Tristen with a smirk, his confidence undeterred by his leader’s dark musings. He slapped Tristen hard on the back. “Don’t waste your head on dreams, boss! Besides, in a few more weeks, those guys are gonna let you in, no doubt about it! That tablet you got for them was a huge score! And us taking the fall for it? Even better! You’re more than brute force, you’re cunning and they’ll take you in!”

Tristen gave a slow nod, absorbing his subordinate's words. “True enough.” He stood, his face illuminated by the glow of the fire, the shadows on his features making him look grander. “It’s just a matter of time before they accept me.” His gaze lingered on the stolen loot piled nearby—silver trinkets, weapons, bags of gold spilling from torn sacks. “That knight said I was a senseless killer. For what? Swatting away at a little boy and some others in this town? I know he’s done worse.”

Tristen looked at his men, “No matter. Just like all of you, they will soon see my glory.”

The man with the jewelry grinned, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “And I want to see more of it! My destiny’s tied to yours, boss. When you make it big, so will we!” He laughed, his excitement infecting the others.

“There’s the boss we know!” another chimed in, raising a mug in a half-hearted toast.

Tristen allowed himself a thin smile, though his thoughts still seemed elsewhere. He glanced around their makeshift camp, frowning. “Where are the others? They should’ve been back by now.” His tone sharpened. “They know we’re leaving at daybreak, don’t they?”

The man with the silver goblet scratched the back of his head. “Marty went off to grab more booze. Nate and the others went with those other bandit groups to finish off any survivors in the town… at that knight’s request.”

Tristen sighed, his eyes narrowing as he watched the rain trickle off the tarp. “With or without them, we’re leaving when the sun comes up. I wait for no one.” His voice was final, brooding.

The man wearing the jewelry stretched with a yawn. “Speaking of waiting, I’m gonna take a leak.” He sauntered off into the darkness toward the edge of the forest, his steps crunching softly on the wet ground. His eyes drifted to the burnt shell of the mayor’s house, the charred remains casting eerie shadows against the trees. “Could’ve slept in there if that knight hadn’t insisted we burn it down,” he muttered to himself as he found a spot beneath the trees.

As he unfastened his belt, a sudden crunch in the underbrush caught his attention off in the distance. He paused, squinting into the black depths of the forest. “Nate?” he called out. “That you?” He waited for a response, but none came.

Before he could react, a flash of steel whistled through the air. The bandit barely had time to register what was happening before a knife embedded itself deep into his skull. He crumpled to the ground without a sound, blood mixing with the mud as the rain continued to fall.

From the shadows, Lukas emerged, his cold blue eyes fixed on the lifeless body at his feet. He crouched, pulling the knife from the man’s skull with a sickening squelch. His hand was steady, his expression emotionless as he wiped the blade clean. Then, he looked up toward the camp, where the sound of laughter still echoed through the night.

Lukas moved without an ounce of fear in his bones. No, he walked towards the camp with a fit of anger.

The man with the silver goblet chuckled as he heard someone approach, glancing over his shoulder. “Done with your bathroom break?” he started to say. His voice caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto Lukas, who strode toward them, silent as death.

"Enemy!" The man with the silver goblet yelled, his voice cracking as panic overtook him. His cup fell to the ground, splashing wine into the mud as he fumbled clumsily for his sword. But before his fingers could even grip the hilt, Lukas was upon him, moving with deadly speed. In one fluid motion, his blade cut clean through the man, a swift slash that opened his torso in a crimson spray. The bandit’s body fell to the ground, lifeless.

The camp erupted in chaos. Bandits scrambled to their feet, shouting in alarm as the grisly scene unfolded. "We’re under attack!" someone screamed, their voice shrill with terror.

From his seat on a log, Tristen slowly rose, a glint of interest flickering in his eyes. “How many are there?” he asked, his voice laced with excitement, as though he welcomed the intrusion.

“Only one!” a bandit yelled back, disbelief heavy in his voice.

Tristen’s brow arched in amusement. "One?" He strode forward, casually pushing aside a panicked subordinate to get a clearer view. When his eyes fell on Lukas standing amid the chaos, blade gleaming in the firelight, a slow grin spread across his face. “Son of a bitch,” he chuckled. “They weren’t lying.”

Lukas locked eyes with Tristen. The bandit leader’s messy hair framed his face, but it was his smile—dangerously playful—that set him apart from the others. Around the camp, Lukas’ cold, unflinching stare sent chills through the remaining bandits, though Tristen seemed unphased, almost entertained.

"If looks could kill!" Tristen laughed, his voice loud and mocking.

“You think the guild sent him, boss?” one of the bandits asked, his hand trembling on the hilt of his weapon.

Tristen glanced at Lukas' guild tag, hanging plainly from his belt. It was marked with the lowest rank: Level One. "Nah," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "He’s just a little roach who crawled into the wrong nest. Kill him, and we’ll be on our way."

At his command, the bandits charged toward Lukas, their fear momentarily eclipsed by sheer numbers. The first man swung a heavy mace, the weapon whistling through the air with lethal force. But Lukas moved too quickly. He sidestepped with ease, delivering a bone-crushing punch to the man’s face. The bandit staggered back, collapsing into the mud with a pained grunt.

Another bandit lunged at Lukas, his sword raised high. In a flash, Lukas disarmed him, twisting the blade free and driving it into the man's chest. He slumped forward, dead before he hit the ground. A third attacker barely had time to lift his weapon before Lukas slashed him down with a brutal efficiency that left the remaining bandits hesitant, their previous bravado draining away as they hesitated, unsure how to confront the storm of violence before them.

Tristen, watching the carnage unfold, whistled in admiration. "Woo! Look at him go!" His grin widened, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You aren’t a level one, are you?” he shouted, his voice brimming with exhilaration. Without waiting for a reply, Tristen drew his own sword, the steel gleaming ominously in the firelight. He waved the blade in front of his men, his expression shifting to one of wild joy. "Don’t get in my way!" he barked, the thrill of combat lighting up his face as he prepared to face Lukas himself.

In an instant, Tristen launched forward with a powerful surge, closing the distance between them with shocking speed. Lukas barely had time to register the movement before the bandit leader was upon him, sword arcing downward with tremendous force. Lukas' eyes widened at Tristen’s speed, but his reflexes kicked in. He brought his sword up just in time to catch the blow, steel meeting steel with a resounding clang. The force of the strike sent a shockwave through the air, rippling through the camp, scattering embers and sending the fire briefly flickering.

Tristen’s smile widened, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “You caught that?!” he laughed, pressing harder against Lukas’ blade. “Most level nines would’ve been split in two by that strike! Just how strong are you?” His voice was filled with a crazed kind of excitement, pushing his weight against Lukas, their swords locked in a deadly contest of strength.

Several of the remaining bandits began to circle the two combatants, their weapons drawn as they prepared to strike. Lukas could hear the shuffle of feet behind him. In the corner of his eye, he saw a man charge him, sword raised high. Lukas needed to move, but he was locked in with the bandit leader! Before the bandit could strike Lukas down, an arrow whistled through the air, cutting across the campsite with lethal speed. It lodged itself into the attacker’s neck with a sickening thud, dropping the man instantly.

“He’s got an archer!” one of the bandits shouted in alarm.

The panic spread quickly through the group as two more men, hovering too close to Lukas, fell dead to the ground, arrows protruding from their chests.

Lukas took advantage of the momentary distraction. With a powerful push, he shoved Tristen off of him. The bandit leader slid across the muddy ground but managed to maintain his balance, grinning as he regained his fighting stance. His eyes gleamed with excitement. “You sly dog,” he said, laughing. “Hiding an archer out there like that.”

Lukas glanced toward the darkened forest. Emerging from the shadows was Yumiko, her bow drawn and her face stern. Rain dripped from her hood, but her dark grey eyes remained locked on the enemy. “I told you not to go looking for this fight!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the rain, as she pointed her bow at the nearest bandit. Only eight bandits and their leader remained now.

Lukas kept his gaze fixed on Tristen, his grip tightening around his sword. “This is the one who killed that boy and destroyed the town,” he said coldly. “More importantly, he’s working with them.”

Tristen’s smile widened, a spark of recognition flashing across his face. “Oh? So you know about The Chosen?” He chuckled, almost amused. “Did they try to recruit you, or… did they take someone from you?” His tone was mocking, testing, as if he enjoyed drawing out Lukas’ anger.

Without another word, Lukas lunged forward, ready to strike. But just before his sword could connect, Yumiko loosed an arrow at Tristen, aiming for his heart. Tristen reacted in an instant, raising his blade to deflect the shot. The arrow ricocheted off with a sharp clang.

“Hey, that was dirty!” Tristen shouted, still laughing, his excitement not dampened in the slightest by the close call.

Yumiko nocked another arrow, her eyes darting between the bandits that encircled them. “What’s the plan?” she asked, her voice steady as she stood behind Lukas, ready to cover him.

Lukas’ eyes blazed with determination as he shouted, “Stay out of my way!” He charged at Tristen, his sword gleaming through the rain. Tristen laughed heartily, running to meet Lukas head-on. Both men raised their swords, the blades clashing with a force that sent another shockwave through the camp, the ground beneath them shaking with the impact.

Yumiko squinted, shielding her eyes as rain and wind blasted her face from the powerful clash. As she lowered her bow, she noticed too late that one of the remaining bandits had crept up behind her. The attacker swung his sword at her head, but Yumiko ducked just in time, the blade slicing through the air where her neck had been. Using the momentum, she swept her leg behind the man’s knees, sending him crashing to the ground. Before he could react, she fired an arrow point-blank into his back. His body slumped, lifeless, as she quickly counted the remaining enemies—seven left.

Her attention snapped back to the fight between Lukas and Tristen. Tristen, with surprising strength, had forced Lukas back, their swords grinding against each other. In a swift, brutal move, Tristen stepped forward and slammed his fist into Lukas’ jaw. The blow sent Lukas flying backward, his body crashing into a tree at the edge of the forest with a sickening thud.

“Lukas!” Yumiko shouted, her eyes wide with panic. Without hesitation, she grabbed another arrow from her quiver, quickly drawing and releasing it at Tristen. The arrow flew true, forcing him to halt his advance on Lukas. The bandit leader deflected the arrow again. In panic, she fired a flurry of arrows at the man.

Tristen dodged Yumiko’s arrows with a furious snarl. “What the hell are you standing around for?” he bellowed at his remaining men. “Kill her!”

Without missing a beat, Yumiko drew her bow and fired three arrows in rapid succession, each finding its mark with deadly precision. Three bandits fell lifeless to the ground. Four remained.

As the last arrow left her string, Yumiko dematerialized her magical bow, summoning her kunai in its place. One of the remaining bandits, dual knives gleaming in his hands, charged at her, unleashing a flurry of rapid strikes. His movements were quick, but Yumiko was quicker. She dodged each attack with ease, weaving around the slashes like water flowing around rocks.

She ducked under his final strike, rolling to his side before delivering a powerful kick to his stomach. The bandit gasped, his grip on the knives faltering as they clattered to the ground. In one fluid motion, Yumiko slashed his throat with her kunai, watching the life drain from his eyes as he collapsed at her feet. Three bandits remained.

As she turned to face the next threat, a sudden blur of motion caught her off guard. Tristen, faster than she anticipated, was already upon her. His sword sliced through the air, coming dangerously close to her face. Yumiko barely managed to dodge in time, the blade nearly grazing her cheek.

She retaliated with a swift kick, aiming for his midsection, but Tristen anticipated the move. He blocked her leg with ease, smirking. “You already tried that!” he taunted, before forming a fist and driving it toward her face with terrifying speed.

Yumiko raised her arms in defense, but the blow was so powerful it knocked her off her feet. She flew through the air, slamming into the muddy ground with a bone-rattling thud. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and her kunai slipped from her grasp, disappearing into the muck. Dazed, she blinked, her vision swimming as Tristen and his three remaining men closed in.

Her mind raced. She could barely breathe, her limbs sluggish, but she raised her hand towards him, gathering her strength for a final spell.

Tristen saw the gesture and smirked, recognizing what she was about to do. “Magic?” he sneered, stepping closer. “Sorry, but I’m not giving you the chance!” He leapt at her, cutting off her incantation midway. For a moment, time slowed, and Yumiko’s eyes widened in fear. This was it.

But then, out of nowhere, a powerful magical presence surged from the forest's edge. The air crackled with orange sparks, and a roaring wall of fire exploded toward them in a swirling vortex of flames.

Tristen halted mid-attack, eyes widening as the inferno bore down on him. He dove for cover just in time, but two of his remaining men weren’t so lucky. The flames engulfed them in an instant, their screams of agony filling the air as they were consumed by the firestorm.

Yumiko, still on the ground, turned her head to the forest. Through the haze of smoke and rain, she saw Lukas, his hand outstretched, remnants of the spell still glowing at his fingertips. A thin trail of smoke rose from his palm. A large bruise formed on his cheek from where Tristen had punched.

Tristen stood up from where he had taken cover, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. “That was close,” he muttered, wiping sweat and soot from his face. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous excitement as he glanced at Lukas. “So, you can use fire magic too, huh?” His voice held a twisted admiration, as if eager for the challenge.

But Lukas gave no response, his grip tightening on his sword as he leveled it at Tristen. His expression was grim, unwilling to give the bandit leader any satisfaction.

Yumiko, still catching her breath, noticed the tremor in Lukas’ arm. The same trembling from before—the aftereffect of using his fire magic. Her eyes darted between Lukas and Tristen. This fight wasn’t over yet.

Tristen cracked his neck, his eyes fixed on Lukas as a sinister grin spread across his face. “What’s your name, blondie?” he asked, his voice taunting. Lukas remained silent, his piercing gaze locked onto Tristen, filled with quiet rage.

Tristen chuckled, unbothered by the lack of response. “Such hatred in those eyes, and we’ve only just met. You must really hate my guts, huh?” His eyes drifted to Lukas’ trembling arm. “Looks like that fire spell took more out of you than you’re letting on.”

Lukas clenched his teeth, refusing to show weakness. With a swift twist of his wrist, his sword ignited once more, flames flickering along the blade’s edge. Tristen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a spark of excitement lighting up his face. “Elemental magic on a blade? That’s impossible! You’re breaking the damn laws of magic!” He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the rain-soaked camp. “This just keeps getting better!”

Amid the exchange, the last remaining bandit saw his chance and rushed toward Yumiko. Without missing a beat, she summoned her bow from thin air, her quiver appearing at her back. In one fluid motion, she nocked an arrow and released. The arrow found its mark, embedding itself in the bandit’s skull. He slumped to the ground, his body hitting the mud with a sickening thud.

Tristen whirled around, eyes wide with amusement. “And a bow from thin air! I’ve never seen anything like it!” His glee was almost childlike, as if he were watching a grand spectacle unfold just for him.

Yumiko’s breath was steady but labored, beads of sweat mingling with the rain on her brow. She leveled her bow at Tristen, her voice sharp with authority. “Surrender now, and I’ll make your death swift.”

Tristen smirked, shaking his head. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t take requests.” He shifted his weight, eyes darting between Lukas and Yumiko. “Besides, a two-on-one isn’t really fair, is it?” His hand moved toward his belt, and Yumiko’s eyes narrowed. She fired an arrow aimed straight for his chest, but Tristen sidestepped it effortlessly.

“Whoa! Easy there!” he shouted, laughing as he pulled a small spherical object from his belt. “How about a little handicap?”

Lukas’ eyes widened in recognition. “Yumiko, move!” he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice as he lunged toward her.

“Catch!” Tristen yelled, hurling the object through the air. Yumiko’s fingers were a blur as she nocked another arrow, aiming to intercept it. Just as she released, Tristen extended his hand, forming a mock pistol with his fingers.

“Bang!” he mocked, as a small ember of flame shot from his fingertip and collided with the canister in midair. The explosion was instant—a deafening blast of heat and force. Yumiko was thrown backward, her vision swimming as the shockwave tore through the camp, the explosion consuming her. Lukas was flung off his feet, crashing into the mud with a grunt.

Flames licked at the edges of the clearing, and Tristen stood amidst the chaos, grinning like a madman. "You’re full of surprises, but so am I." He straightened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he turned toward Lukas, who was already pushing himself to his feet, his sword still clutched in trembling hands.