Chapter 5: Aestival Battlefield
'Huh?'
"A dormant beast? That doesn't make sense; wasn't he human?"
Hurriedly, Talvir turned around to face the corpse of his first kill – the headless soldier's body lying on the ground, rapidly drying up, his armor seemingly being a part of him.
Taking a step back from this peculiar phenomenon, Talvir stood frozen, observing the changes occurring to the lifeless form. The blood drained from his hands as realization struck; he had killed what he believed to be a person, decapitating him without even blinking in the heat of combat.
"Maybe Officer Bern was on point with his advice," he muttered. What had surprised him was how easy it was to forget until he looked again, to be fair he had seen bodies in worse states.
Death had been a constant companion for Talvir, ever since his "Oh, so kindly" relocation to the Outskirts with his mother. It served as a reminder of the harsh reality awaiting those unable to secure food or defend themselves adequately. The cold visage of mortality lingered in the narrow, dark alleys and sometimes sprawled openly on the streets—testament to the unforgiving nature of their surroundings.
'Thinking about it Alphon really outdid himself with that one didn't he, what a joke of a "father".' Vitriol, pure and unadulterated vitriol, was all Talvir felt at the thought of the man responsible for his existence.
Snapping out of his thoughts he focused once again on the Soldier's corpse. The tall strong man had become nothing more than a twig, woody to the touch Talvir found out. Raising his head and looking toward the battlefield, he noticed that no other bodies were in the same state as the one near him.
'Something is wrong'
Looking around hes started to reflect about his situation.
'Hmm, I am tired, not exhausted, but tired that fight really took it out of me. I am riddled with cuts they don't hurt much right now but I know they will. The moment I cool down a bit they will start stinging like a bitch. My pants are fine but my shirt is a glorified rag with all the cuts, still, better than nothing. My sword is utter shit to be completely honest, worn edges, torn of tip and indents ridding it I am surprised it cu..." Looking at the corpse again he mentally corrected. 'Tore through him.'
Analyzing the sword duel more deeply he realized a couple things.
'First of, what a way to throw away my life, rushing for a sword, making noise because of it and then engaging in combat without any experience handling anything other than a dagger was supremely stupid. Thank you [Blade Sense] for saving my ass.'
'Although it helped me, a lot, I clearly need training. My "slashes" were crude to the point were I could see it, plus, training at something you are good at is basically always a good route for success."
"In summary, I feel like shit, my equipment is shit and I am as stupid as shit. Not a good look if I do say so myself." Talvir muttered depreciatly.
'However, I really want to know why my guy turned into a stick. I don't like the fact that the rest of the soldiers a laying dead "normally" and the one I killed is weird, something is clearly wrong.'
With that thought, once again recklessly into action, he started walking to the nearest corpse, the battle had moved further away at this point, and the cavalry was no where to be seen, surprising Talvir. They seemed to have disappeared the same way they had appeared, from nothingness into nothingness.
Either way, he kept moving, slowly walking towards the mangled corpse of the fallen soldier. As he was approaching it, he noticed another corpse nearby covered by the slightly overgrown grass. It was in better condition but its fate was no different than that of the other one, both dead.
Talvir arrived at the mangled corpse, towering over it as he analyzed. The body was missing an arm and a leg, the arm seemed to have been cut through cleanly but the leg had been torn at the knee. The bone of the leg crushed, with the remainder of the leg covered in bruises and one clear imprint of a hoof. The cavalry clearly had existed then.
Lifting his sword he stabbed its head, his eyes looking directly at the dull, lightness eyes of the corpse.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Aestival Soldier Radix]
The voice once again making itself present.
Talvir froze, something was wrong, extremely at that. Out of instinct he raised he's head and looked around himself more attentively this time. Other than the withering corpse at his feet there were four other corpses laying around him including the one he saw earlier.
He ran to the corpse he had seen as he approached the first body, swinging his sword swiftly at its head, technique didn't matter now only pure damage. The hurried swing was horrible striking the head, rather than slashing it, cracking the head open with a bone chilling crunch.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Aestival Soldier Radix]
Talvir didn't stop however, repeating the process three more times, each with a different crunching noise, a gruesome detail which he deftly noted. Forever ingrained in his brain.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Aestival Soldier Radix]
[You have slain a dormant beast, Aestival Soldier Radix]
[You have slain a dormant beast, Aestival Soldier Radix]
[You have received a Memory: Aestival Flagon]
Some of the corpse he killed, a weird sentence which Talvir had never thought of being possible before, had definitely been from opposing sides, yet there was there was no different in their kill messages.
'Is this some kind of civil war? Why are they fighting if they don't kill each other? Where did they come from?'
Exhausted and laden with unanswered questions, he summoned the last reserves of his energy for a desperate sprint toward the tantalizing shade of the Willow. Step by step, he raced forward, his body drenched in sweat and blood, the worn sword now feeling heavier than ever. A droplet of sweat trickled into his right eye, causing a stinging sensation and fueling his growing frustration. His hurried breath faltering into a gruff, exasperated exhalation.
Unbeknownst to him, he had gone a considerable distance from the Willow during his time on the battlefield. The tree seemed farther away than he had initially thought. Yet, he pressed on, each step bringing him closer to the refuge he so desperately sought beneath the Willow's leaves.
Finally arriving at the refreshing shade of the Willow, Talvir pressed on until he was behind its trunk. He sat down—or rather, plopped down—with his back against the bark. The cool grass beneath him gradually sapped away the heat permeating his exhausted body. In the Nightmare, it was summer, he assumed, the weather usually didn't lie usually at least.
Under the Willow's embrace he rested for some seconds before finally realizing that one of the things the voice said was not like the others. He had received something. Opening his runes he looked for anything new.
**
Name: Talvir
True name: ----
Rank: Aspirant
Memories: [Aestival Flagon]
Echoes: ----
Attributes: [Sword Sense], [Mark of Divinity], [Flowing Soul]
Aspect: [Wretched Evoker]
***
A Memory, he had received a Memory, something he did not expect to receive so early in his career, or rather would be career if he survives through this. Focusing on it he found the following description:
**
[Aestival Flagon]
Memory Rank: Dormant
Memory Type: Tool
Description: "Out of necessity for the Aestival soldiers, the flagon was distributed amongst them, for thirst is torture."
Enchantments: [Quencher], [Fragile]
[Quencher] Description: "All liquids contained within the Flagon shall become drinkable, if the liquid is poison the effects will still be the same yet it will satiate your thirst."
[Fragile] Description: "Due to its rapid creation and replacement ease the Flagon can never resist much damage
**
After reading the description he slowly stood up, legs trembling as he forced himself to stand. The survival course had not been very useful until now, other than to open his runes, but it was its time to shine. Raising his sword he swung it at the Willow's trunk, Talvir was using it as a hatchet swinging the sword against the trunk, repeatedly even though exhausted. The bark of the tree was tough only little marks showing at first, yet as he swung and swung again and again a noticeable dent was starting to form in the five meter thick trunk.
Finally, after going at it for a good two minutes, a golden amber colored liquid started oozing out of the tree. Swiftly summoning the [Aestival Flagon] he gathered a good amount of it and drank it. The watery thick liquid made it to his mouth accompanied by the scent of freshly cut grass and a slight sweet taste, but the real deal was the feeling of his rising thirst after running on a hot summer day being quenched.
After he finished drinking he glanced at the battlefield, it was even further than before, making its way towards the edge of the cliff. With no signs of imminent danger and the exhaustion taking over he sat down against the Willow's bark once more, yet this time he fell in a deep slumber.
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Hey there its been a while hasn't it? Well I haven't been able to upload due to some personal issues in my real life, combined with the fact that I am older now. Exciting isn't it.
Anyways I apologize for not uploading but I will try to go back to my previous rate.
Love you my Dear Readers
Dr_Squalid