Borghulda - Anti-bandit campsite - morning - Proxy

  This old dude is something else. He came straight out of nowhere and pulled a teacup from a big bag he brought with him. Complete with a serving pot. He's drinking, big shocker, tea, taking his time savoring the flavor as he keeps us waiting with bated breath. He reminds me of Selena, in a way…

  "Tea is a cornerstone of refined taste. Ever since the war ended, the way of life in the kingdom has completely transformed. Nobles were only nobles if they were knights or related to such. They simply were, but they never shared a culture, other than vying for the king's favor or knighthood. Now, most nobles enjoy various forms of flaunting their wealth and status. The quality of tea is one such way. Fascinating, is it not?"

  "Riveting, but what's the point?" I ask, tapping my feet impatiently.

  "Culture is something we have been missing for several years. The lawlessness of the lower quarter of the kingdom made it hard for the people to establish a healthy community; thus, culture could not thrive. Now, under Relius' rule, who worked hard to steer the kingdom into a prosperous state, even the lower quarter prospers. Vehicles made of metal, medicines that cured sicknesses that ravaged our home. And technology… Well, I was certainly unable to wrap my head around it all. However, the goings on outside the kingdom have changed, yet not… To answer your question, boy: there is no point, simply musing."

  I doubt he's the type to just "muse" about stuff. But I don't really care about the underlying meaning to it all if it has nothing to do with our battle.

  "Master Albert, I wanted to ask this when we were all together, but that Scar-faced bandit, you know him, right?"

  "I do, and, unfortunately, he is your enemy. He was just a child, as young as you."

  "He was a knight!?"

  "No, only an apprentice, a foul-mouthed one at that, who had little to no respect for anyone save for his benefactor. However, he was beyond the level of a mere apprentice. His ability to adapt to his opponents was unparalleled, and his talent for the sword is second-to-none."

  "With all due respect, master, but even better than you?"

  "Even more so. I felt it when our blades clashed. He is more of a monster now than he was seven years prior."

  A monster… Been running into those types lately. Guess it makes sense that a person like that is on the bandit's side. Still, the way he's putting this, saying it like we don't stand a chance…it pisses me off!

  "You're acting like we don't stand a chance."

  "Then allow me to be blunt, I am." Damn, at least he isn't trying to milk the hell out of the tension in all of this, but that's not helping me stay calm. "He was always stronger than most kids his age, or anyone ordinary knight, and with that blazing sword I doubt–"

  "Blah, blah, blah! God, what's next, you're gonna tell us to just throw our hands to the sky and say 'welp, nothin' we can do.' What a load of crap. If you're just gonna waste time being a downer, then I'm out of here."

  I expected Marie to jump in and reprimand me right about now, but she's sitting by, letting me say my piece, and Alex isn't all that worried either.

  "Arrogance is the surest poison for a warrior, especially when faced with an adversary that he could not have a hope of matching. So–"

  "...Poison, what the hell are you talking about? Arrogance? Nothing like that, we're gonna fight and win, that's final. Who cares what type of monster he is?"

  "Being certain of victory against someone like that is–"

  "That's what makes a fighter, warrior, or anyone willing to fight with their lives on the line! If you can't say 'you'll win', then you have no business fighting. Monsters aren't the exception."

  It's arrogant, no doubt, but it's something I've come to internalize after all my trials and tribulations here. Winning involves a bunch of things: skill, strength, cunning, strategy, and luck, but the drive to win is far more important. That's what pushes a person through the roughest fights in their lives, and without it, I'd be dead already. And I know the others agree. That's why I'm sure we'll win.

  "Now that's a fine damn answer, kiddo!" The voice of someone I don't recognize booms from behind me. Their hand plants on my shoulder, weighing heavily on the left half of my body. I break away from them. "Whoa, easy there. Did I scare ya?"

  A tall, large, black-haired man, wearing no shirt, was the guy who touched me. His abs are chiseled; the guy is probably built like a tank considering his size. He's smug, watching me with an air of confidence that borders on haughty. He has one hand in his pocket and his other one combing through his slicked back hair. Slung over his shoulders is a scarlet coat lined with golden highlights around the cuffs, collar, and lapel. There's a flame pattern around the hem of the coat.

  "A bandit?" I utter, not conscious of my words.

  "Me? Nah, I took this off a smarmy bandit a while back. Said he wanted ta fight. I obliged, but the guy crooked after I threw the first blow. Was kinda let-down by the whole thing, ya know?"

  "Good for you, what do you want?"

  "Come on, kid. Ya don't have ta get all grumpy."

  "Then answer the damn question."

  Talking to this guy is making me uneasy. He's not doing anything wrong, but my gut's telling me that something isn't right about this dude.

  "Hey, which one of you is the strongest?"

  My spine tingles as those words fall out of his mouth. He's not here to do a meet and greet, but to fight.

  I raise my hand. "That's me."

  "You…really? A kid?"

  "Got a problem with–"

  "Not at all, good for ya, man! Ya gotta be strong in this world, age don't mean shit when ya die."

  He sounds somewhat condescending, but I think he means it. He might not be a bad guy like I thought; even I can get it wrong every once in a while. Though that nagging in my gut is telling me otherwise.

  "Uh, thanks, man… But who are you?"

  "Ah, yeah. Manners ain't my thing. Names Sid, the second strongest of Borghulda."

  This guy is the second strongest? With a physique like his, how could he only be the "second strongest?"

  "The first strongest would be the acting chief of the village, correct?" Albert asks my unspoken question.

  "The old man, yeah…"

  Horgmon didn't come off as weak, and a part of me knows he was holding back when he was facing us, but age could be a factor in that, too. He's not what you'd call a spring chicken, so I can't imagine he'd be able to beat this dude. Then again, there is that Santa Claus look-alike. I can't be too sure since I'm just guessing and sensing out their fighting spirit or whatever dumb crap like that isn't concrete.

  Alex approaches Sid, holding out his hand. "It's a pleasure to be acquainted with you, Sir Sid. My name is Alexander, and the boy over there is Proxy."

  "So damn formal, ya gotta loosen up." They shake hands, Alex's face twists in pain for a brief moment. "Sorry, controllin' my strength is kinda hard."

  That was less of an apology than it was to brag, not that I'm speaking from experience, of course…totally not.

  "That's fine, it only mildly hurts."

  "Mildly? Man, you're a riot!

  "A riot, where!?"

  "Seriously, ya making my sides hurt! Too…too damn…funny!"

  He's on his knees, laughing his guts out while banging on the ground. My initial impression is dead in the water, and I can't imagine anyone else being all that threatened by him either. A moment later, he's back on his feet, getting the last bit of laughter out of his system.

  "Woo, man, ya Anti-bandit guys are promising."

  "You know of us, yet you still wish to speak with us? I would be upset if the villagers–"

  "Forget about these pussies. Damn cowards when bandits come around. Makes me wanna puke. I'm nothin' like them… In fact, how about we talk somewhere else, huh?"

  "Of what?"

  "Somethin' I'm sure you'd love ta hear. I don't wanna be around these pests for too long." He gestures with his head, pointing out the villagers watching us from their homes. "Whatdya say?"

  "Are you asking for all of us to accompany you?"

  "Nah, just you and me. I wanna speak to the leader of this whole thing, diplomatic like."

  Marie steps up, hearing her cue to interject. "Actually, if you want to make any deals, then you need to speak with me as well. Also, I'll be doing the talking in his place."

  "Both of ya?"

  "Got a problem with that?"

  Hey! She stole my line from before!

  Sid shrugs and makes a raspberry sound. "If that's what it is, then I ain't gonna complain."

  "Also, I want to take three people with me."

  "Aye, come on now. We're already stretchin' this, I ain't takin' too many of ya with me."

  "Three, or we don't have a deal."

  "Marie," Alex whispers, befuddled by her assertive approach.

  "...Fine, three's fine."

  Her finger points to me first. "Proxy." She aims her gaze at Richard next. "Richard, and–"

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  "Me!"

  Zeal shows himself, popping up from wherever the hell. He's not paying me any mind, just focused on Marie's expression. He's more serious than I've ever seen him act before, not to say he was some goofball of a guy. Marie was probably gonna pick Nunnalé just in case things got really bad, plus Richard can catch anything suspicious in Sid's words. Zeal isn't a bad choice, but he and I are too similar, so it's kind of redundant. It also doesn't help that we can't stand each other.

  "What, unless you don't think I can hack it, right? Think I'd just be dead weight?"

  "I never said that…"

  "Then let me come with you!"

  "Whoa, kiddo, why don't we just calm down now. Hey, missy, how about you let him tag along? He's got an attitude, and I like it!"

  Marie's irritation isn't well hidden. She doesn't want to come off as unreasonable, but Sid throwing his weight into the dispute puts her in a precarious position on something that should've been as simple as saying who goes with us.

  Marie sighs, having to cave in to the pressure of expectations. "Fine, Zeal, come on. But you and Proxy stay away from each other, you two are so damn annoying together."

  I nod while Zeal mutters, "Yeah."

  "Finally. Let's get to steppin'."

  …

  Our walk takes us to the west end of the village. The further ahead we got, the worse the buildings were: burnt, torn apart, or just crumbled to bits. Not a single effort is being made to repair this place, unlike the central part of the village, from what I've seen.

  "This place looks…cozy, real cozy."

  "We made it our territory, bandits and the other folks don't come around here anymore."

  "Why not?"

  "Cause me the boys and are here. Unlike the rest of this shit village, we don't bend the knee. They come near us, we send them cryin'."

  "Sounds cool."

  "Sounds odd, considering that they didn't flush you guys out yet," Marie shares her suspicion, rubbing her chin.

  "Aye, we're actin' in self-defense. That Scar-faced bandit doesn't seem to mind that much."

  "That doesn't sound like Scar," Zeal states his trepidation. "...That guy would've turned you into a charred corpse by now."

  "Heh, well, he and I fought once."

  "Bullshit! I fought him and I barely came out alright."

  "That just means ya weak, simple."

  Zeal restrains himself behind gnashing teeth. That dig was just a matter of fact for Sid, nothing worth being called an insult, but he did sound more than happy to say it. However, his fending off that Scar-faced bandit, that part still has my attention. This man is strong if he's not lying about fighting a Source-user, and something about that is making my blood chill over. This looming sense of danger hasn't cleared even with his seemingly polite introduction. Too many "nice guys" became our enemies during this journey. It's too soon to judge, but I need to stay on guard. The moment Richard picks up on a hint of malice, we'll leave or take him down; I'm done being jerked around by assholes like that.

  "Here we are, home sweet home!"

  Amidst all these broken-down and burnt-down buildings, a large square structure stands tall. An extravagant, two-story building with a balcony covering the length of the second floor, with high guard rails to prevent an accident. The colors are faded and covered in charred spots; red is the only color I can make out.

  "What is this place?" Richard mutters.

  "The ol' warrior's hall. Back in the day, they would come here to train, dine, and just shoot the shit. Good ol' days, back when this village was worth a damn." His words are bitter with contempt, and he isn't hiding that fact very well, or maybe he wants us to understand that he feels this way. "When we go in, don't worry about everyone else, ya got nothin' ta worry 'bout. Although if they mess with ya, then ya on ya own."

  No one tenses up at this revelation. We're more than ready to handle ourselves when the time comes. Big fella over here just kicks open the door to his supposed "home", nearly tearing the hinges off.

  "LINE UP! GREET YOUR WARRIOR CHIEF!" Several young men, from early to late teens, line up near the entrance, getting down on one knee, facing the ground. A grand sign of reverence and submission to someone's will, viewing Sid as their boss, it's all too familiar.

  "Small-time delinquent groups would do this back home. They would kiss the ground of anyone at the head of the pack. They don't just do it because he's the leader."

  "Meaning he whipped these bitches into being his lackies?" Zeal crudely summarizes.

  "You said it, not me."

  Sid approaches a guy kneeling in front of him. His hair is as if a buzzcut and a mohawk had a deformed child; I'd rather go bald than have that cut, is all I need to say.

  "Yo, Magnus, I'm back."

  "Welcome back, boss! Please, allow me to take your coat for you!"

  "I'm good."

  The haircut disaster turns his attention to us. His face is lined with short cuts around his eyebrow, lips, and cheeks. He doesn't seem to be thrilled or bothered by us, but he is wary.

  "Quite the welcome," Alex says, clearly impressed by the mob boss's greeting.

  "Yeah, bein' respected does that for a person, blondie. Makes ya feel real good."

  "Yeah…so that seems." Marie's skepticism is clear to me. This guy is shaping up to be more and more like a punk than anything else. He strides with confidence, assured of his place above these guys. He doesn't look at them when speaking to what would seem like his right-hand man. Hell, they're keeping their eyes glued to the ground. In most cases, it would be disrespectful, but there are some groups that think the lackeys shouldn't meet their boss's eyes; it's a form of setting placements in an organization for the underlings.

  "Magnus, get a chair for the lady and make sure ya keep quiet." Magnus moves with silent footsteps, heeding his boss's words to the letter. "We can start talkin' when he comes back."

  Sid takes a seat on a chair that doesn't fit this beaten, decrepit place. It's more of a throne than anything else. It's the only thing in here that doesn't have a scorch mark, untouched by time itself. There are a myriad of blades on the back, pillaring into the shape of wings. Swords that could rain down death on those who face off against it. It should be for show, but with this foreboding aura oozing from it, it's far more than just decorations.

  "Richard? Can you see anything?"

  I can't outright say if he can see Source flowing around it. If Sid knows about Source, then we should play this close to the chest.

  "...Yes, but it's faint, like they're just…traces of Source."

  "So, what, good or bad, my pleb mind doesn't get it."

  "Probably both, it means someone hasn't used it in a while, but I have no idea how long a 'while' is in this case."

  "I see…"

  Magnus returns with the chair, placing it at a comfortable distance from Sid's throne. A shabby chair that isn't worth noting, but sturdy enough not to fall to shit when you sit on it once.

  Marie takes her seat, lapping her leg and crossing her arms, leaning into it. "Alright, let's hear what you have to say."

  "Right… We should work together ta wipe out the Fire Wraiths. Makes sense, right?"

  "What would you be able to offer us? We appreciate the sentiment, but we can't work with you if–"

  "You get the second-strongest on your side. Not a bad deal, eh? Plus, my men." He openly gestures to the boys still lined up near the door. "Best warriors in this cruddy village."

  "What about Chief Horgmon? Did you run this by him at all?"

  "Forget about him, ya ain't gonna get anythin' from him, just a bunch of disappointment."

  "From the chief?" Alex interjects with a question.

  "Yeah, all these old bastards in this village just wanna sit around, with their thumbs in their asses, and hope the bad guys don't burn too much of their homes… Heh, damn shame, real damn shame. This village used to mean somethin', ya know? We were respected, feared even. By the kingdom and other villages… Now, we're just a shell of that. Those damn elders, the chief just bendin' the knee for those bandits, and his grandson… Honestly, this place is goin' to shit, and it's gonna be even worse when that lil' shit takes the lead. Not a single backbone in that kid's spine. A bitch, that's what he is…" He leans forward. "All these chickin'-shit old bastards, and that damn kid! Preserve our way of life? What life!? Living like this is bullshit! We should go down swingin', not waitin'! It's always pissed me the hell off, I can barely control myself when I'm near 'em… I kinda just imagine rippin' their throats when I'm so damn close!" He breathes out. "...That feels better. Rage needs to be exhumed, not bottled. Bad for the body if ya keep all that in. Anyway, why don't we all work together? What do ya guys say?"

  He extends a hand to Marie, smiling all the while. He expects her to take it, no is not gonna be an acceptable answer for a guy like this. But there's no way we can say yes! This guy's just gonna use and throw us into the garbage when he's finished. But really, I just don't want this asshole around.

  I ball up my fist, attempting to control my anger. "Take that back."

  "Huh, what?"

  "That shit you spouted about Finn… That guy isn't a whiny bitch like you, so take back what you said."

  "Excuse me? Ya let your people just speak out of turn? Man, leaders these days, ain't got the stones to make their men fall in–"

  "Take it back, or I'll rip your throat out, you slicked-back douchebag!"

  The mask falls, that "open-like-a-book" smile is gone. He's angry, no doubt, but his expression doesn't show the depths of his anger, or any other particular emotion, really. It's just enough to tell me that he's annoyed with me.

  "Blondie, lady-leader, ya want to get your boy under control…before I put him down."

  "I should, shouldn't I?" Marie answers with a question, keeping her cool. "Yeah, I should…but then I'd be a hypocrite. You really do just sound like a whiny brat, from where I'm sitting. And the one who needs to get under control is you." I pull down my eyelid and stick out my tongue, and hit him with a middle finger for good measure.

  "How dare you, you cretins?" The fashion disaster yells, stomping towards us with his fist balled up. "How dare you speak and mock our boss!? He's the one true leader of this deplorable village of sycophants! Want me to murder you all, huh!?"

  Zeal walks up to him, bearing down on him. Zeal is a foot taller than the guy. "Do you wanna die? Keep yapping that mouth of yours, and I'll rip out that tongue, you kiss ass."

  Magnus' whole body begins to quake. There's this loud, nasty grating sound, growing louder with each second that passes. "Kiss…ass…? As if…as if you could be nothing more than a vulgar creature not worth an ounce of respect, you also are a vile, hideous creature that spouts something so…obscene." The noise gets louder, echoing throughout the building until something snaps. The floorboard beneath Magnus's foot is stomped in.

  "Yeah, what are ya–"

  "DIE, UGLY!"

  Zeal's body goes flying. He slams into a support pillar, caving it in.

  "Ya did it now… Magnus is gonna kill him now."

  "UGLY, FILTHY, NASTY, DISGUSTINGLY HORRIBLE! JUST DIE!"

  "The crazies just love us, don't they!?"

  Zeal stands back on his feet, having blocked the blow with his arms. "Wanna go? Fine, but don't start crying when I rip that ugly ass hair off your head."

  "DIE!"

  Another hard stomp on the ground sends a shockwave below our feet, vibrating the bones in my leg. This guy isn't a normal person, and that stance of his, one fist next to his stomach, the other aimed at his opponent. It strikes a familiar chord in my brain, but I can't discern what it is. His fists are heavier than a boulder, the way he throws his weight behind every strike and each step is ludicrous, and yet, he's putting Zeal on the back heel of those heavy ass boulders he calls hands. Just one hit is gonna put him down if he's not careful. Luckily, his opponent is batshit crazy, so he has a shot at this.

  He hits him right in the face, a solid right hook! That should've gotten his foe reeling from the blow. But the nutjob keeps his feet secured to the ground, not even budging an inch. He hammers his fists into Zeal's chest. The impact echoes a horrible thud sound. Zeal coughs up blood.

  "Zeal!" I'm the first to jump in to help him out. I try to help him up, but he smacks my hand away. "The fight's over, okay?"

  "N-no…it ain't!" The floor explodes, and an incredible burst of wind knocks me off my feet, booming inside my ear. Zeal's opponent is flung through the wall. Zeal is standing there, cracking his neck with a self-satisfied grin. "Whoops, I go too hard?"

  He isn't sorry, no, he's happy that he was able to put his enemy in their place, riding the high of using his ability to decimate someone. He's one of those people who loves to dominate his enemies, leaving no doubt that he's the strongest of them all. A part of me used to like that feeling when I was younger, back when I had to put effort into my fights with people. When I beat someone bigger, taller than me, that dopamine hit that I would get from feeling superior was the best… But, looking at Zeal, I'm glad I don't care for that anymore; it's just plain creepy.

  "You…" Zeal points to Sid. "Come here."

  "...Ya sure?"

  "Yeah, hurry it up!"

  "Fight ain't over yet."

  Zeal suffers a sudden blow to his head. A transparent figure with no features that represents an individual is standing tall in front of Zeal. It's the same height and frame as Magnus. It's oozing the same kind of energy I felt when Cade was using Source; this time, it's anger that exists for the moment and to be burned away. But that same feeling isn't coming off Magnus.

  "Ugly bastard...don't ever touch me again, filth!"