The Warlock Camp

When night came, Mack finally moved from his spot at the top of the hill and started walking in the direction he last saw the green dot, his ancestor NPC, or in the Arcane Legacy words, the light construct.

Mack, as all the warlocks NPCs around him, could see in the dark. A natural advantage caused by the destruction of the nine gates inside the body responsible for blocking Essence to leave and enter the body naturally and also responsible for converting the Essence in the body to an imprinted Essence.

Mages, on the other hand, could not see in the dark and had to use spells or technology to accomplish the same feat.

On a battlefield, any advantage could be lethal, and the mages came prepared with several ways to monitor the battlefield at night.

But just as Mack expected, the battles diminished a lot during the night. With occasional raids happening to keep the other party at bay.

Be the warlocks or the mages. Both used the same tactic at night. Retreat the frontline and raid the enemy camp with smaller units.

After walking a few minutes, Mack reached the warlock camp and waited close to the entrance of the camp.

He guessed that just like most of the warlock warriors, his ancestor NPC would come back to the camp at night.

Observing the light constructs walk by him. Mack could see the limitations of such a large spell being used. The light constructs had the same form as humans, but the details were roughly done. Just like a statue made by carving wood. But on the other hand, all the things used by those light constructs were the real deal. The clothes, weapons, and tools all looked like stuff made by a cube.

Mack guessed that was easier to use a cube to create those things instead of a spell.

Mack touched one of them to feel what it would look like. But the light construct reacted like he was annoyed by Mack and walked away from him.

No word came from that warlock light construct, but Mack was sure that they had at least a basic programmed intelligence just like NPCs from games.

The night at the camp was anything but a calm one. Several warlocks passed by the entrances, carrying mutilated or bleeding warlocks. If they were not light constructs, Mack may be already throwing up after seeing so many bizarre scenes of injured or dead people.

Some were thrown into a pile of dead bodies and incinerated, while others were carried to the medical tent.

Mack saw this and was not sure, but thought that maybe they didn't have the tradition of burying their fallen comrades, or this was specific to wartime.

Mack also saw a few of them eating plants, and tracing back from where they kept coming from, he saw a tent giving meals.

He was not sure if the food was also a light construct or real food, but he decided to go there later to check.

With all the chaos in the warlock camp, Mack's figure dis-tuned from the rest. Not only because he was the only living thing there, but because of his calm, and there was not a single warlock resting. All of them were doing something, be it repairing their gears, helping the injured, or serving food to others.

Only Mack stood still.

He knew they were light constructs, so there was no point trying to save or help them. But even so, he could feel the vibrating atmosphere caused by them. It was like all this chaos and this restless attitude from them urged Mack to do something too.

Unfortunately, he came way too late for this battle. All of them were already dead, even before Mack was born. And now he was the last one of them.

~sigh~

Mack took a hesitant step.

And another one, and stopped.

Then he put his sword on his waist belt.

And took a firm step, then he grabbed by the arm a fallen warlock. The poor man was carrying way too much weight and tripped.

Mack pulled the man. And helped him carry the bags of some sort of plant.

The man gave a quick bow with his head, and seconds later, both were now walking in the same direction.

To the food tent.

Even knowing they were just light constructs, Mack could not stay still anymore.

His heart urged him to help them. To help his own people. To help this doomed race of his. His mind could not stop his injured pride. He was in need of doing something.

After reaching the food tent, Mack dropped the bags where the man also dropped the ones he was carrying.

The man then walked off the tent and Mack stood there. Not knowing what to do.

He saw a few people cutting the plants and removing some kind of barbs and mixing them with something that looked like milk

The final thing looked just like a white burrito from Earth.

Mack grabbed one of the spare knives on the table and started doing the same.

One warlock looked at him, but a few seconds later focused on his own task again.

Mack removed the barbs from the plant using a knife and put the plant aside for the time being.

Grabbed another and did the same.

After half an hour, Mack put all the plants on a metallic plate and dropped the white liquid on them.

Mack did the same as the others were doing and revolved the plants in the white liquid using a long metallic stick.

After a few minutes, he removed it one by one, using something similar to a fork, and put it aside for others to eat.

Mack didn't know what he was doing. He just repeated the same processes the others were doing. But, for the first time in life, Mack made a 'chemical cooking'.

One that did not depend on fire to cook. Only in the chemical reactions between the white liquid and the plant.

And just like this, Mack, on his first day at the camp, had become a cook.

He was not planning this. His ancestor did not plan for this too. But this is life.

One step and a fresh new path of unknown possibilities is created.

Chaos in his most beautiful form.