Chapter 6

Why am I different?

The battle in the chamber raged on, each side fighting with fierce determination. The scarred man led his group with brutal efficiency, his swordsmanship a blend of power and precision. He barked orders, coordinating his team's attacks, but the woman's group was relentless. Her spear danced through the air, striking with lethal accuracy. Her commands were sharp, her strategy seemingly impeccable.

The fighters clashed violently, their weapons slicing through the air and colliding with bone-crushing force. Blood sprayed across the chamber, mixing with the dirt and creating a grim tapestry of gore. Altharus watched as the woman's group began to gain the upper hand, their relentless assault pushing the scarred man's forces back.

A warrior from the scarred man's group lunged at the woman, his axe swinging in a deadly arc. She sidestepped gracefully, her spear thrusting forward to pierce his side. He let out a gurgled cry, blood bubbling from his mouth as he fell to the ground, lifeless. Another fighter, a burly man wielding a mace, charged at her. She spun, her spear slicing through the air to catch him in the throat. He stumbled back, clutching his neck as blood poured between his fingers.

The scarred man fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness, his sword cleaving through the air with deadly intent. He faced off against the woman, their weapons clashing in a display of skill and raw power. 

Altharus could see the determination in the woman's eyes, the unyielding resolve that drove her forward. She pressed her advantage, her spear a blur of motion as she struck at the scarred man. He parried her attacks, but she was relentless, her movements a deadly dance that left him struggling to keep up.

The scarred man was no novice. His defense was formidable, each parry and block executed with precision. He gritted his teeth, his scarred face twisted in concentration as he fended off the woman's relentless assault. Her spear thrusts were like lightning, striking from all angles, but he held his ground, his sword moving in a defensive arc to intercept her blows.

Their fight intensified, the clash of metal ringing through the chamber. The woman's cold, stoic expression never wavered, her eyes fixed on her opponent with unyielding focus. She moved with a predator's grace, each step calculated to maintain the pressure on the scarred man. Her spear darted in and out, probing for weaknesses, but he was a wall of steel, his sword deflecting her strikes with practiced ease.

Despite her relentless assault, the scarred man's defenses held firm. He countered with powerful, sweeping strikes, forcing the woman to step back and reassess. She circled him, her spear poised, waiting for an opening. The scarred man seized the moment, launching a counterattack with a flurry of heavy blows that forced her on the defensive.

Altharus watched as the scarred man's strength began to tell. His attacks were powerful and relentless, each strike aimed to overpower and break through the woman's defenses. But she was quick, her agility allowing her to evade the worst of his blows. She danced around him, her spear flicking out to keep him at bay.

Their battle became a test of endurance. The scarred man's heavy strikes began to slow, his breathing labored. The woman, sensing his fatigue, renewed her assault with a ferocity that was both calculated and deadly. She feinted left, then struck right, her spear grazing his shoulder. He roared in frustration, swinging his sword in a wide arc, but she ducked, the blade missing her by inches.

Her cold, stoic demeanor never changed as she pressed her advantage. She thrust her spear forward, piercing the scarred man's thigh. He roared in pain, staggering back, but she didn't give him a moment to recover. Her spear struck again, impaling his neck. His eyes widened in shock, blood spilling from his mouth as he crumpled to the ground.

With their leader fallen, the remaining fighters from the scarred man's group faltered. The woman's group pressed on and took advantage of their enemies fear, cutting down their opponents with ruthless efficiency. The chamber was soon filled with the bodies of the fallen, the air heavy with the scent of blood and death.

The woman's group let out a cheer of victory, but she quickly silenced them with a sharp gesture. "I didn't expect to meet those trashes from the Duke Licht's household, but good job on taking care of them," she said coldly. "That was the Duke's youngest son and probably his guardian for when he entered his first trial."

The lean man, Kieran, nodded. "We need to find the next Harbinger Seed before it blooms. The Forsaken Expanse is vast, and we can't afford to waste any time."

One of her comrades, a lean man with a wary expression, nodded. "Yeah, we need to find the next Seed soon. We can't afford another ambush like this."

Altharus's ears perked up at the mention of an unfamiliar term. He listened intently as they continued, trying to gain any semblance of an idea what is going on and where he is.

The woman wiped her spear clean. "These Harbingers… they're getting worse. It's like the gods enjoy watching us suffer."

A burly man with a deep scar across his chest grunted. "Every time we face one, it's like they pull from ancient history or some twisted event from the Gods' Realm."

Another fighter, a slender woman with keen eyes, chimed in. "And once we conquer a Harbinger of a particular rank, we can't challenge the same rank again. It's always something new, always harder."

"Yeah," the lean man added, "and if we don't find the Seeds in time, those gates open and we get flooded with Ancient Creatures. Last thing we need is more of those beasts in our world."

Altharus listened intently, trying to piece together the fragments of their conversation. Harbinger Seeds? Trials? God Realm? What are they talking about? he thought, frustration gnawing at him. *Why do they seem to have memories and knowledge of this place while I'm left in the dark?*

He couldn't understand their terms or why they seemed so familiar with this strange place. It was as if they had knowledge that he lacked, memories that he was denied. Which made him all the more frustrated. These terms—Harbinger Seeds, Ancient Creatures—meant nothing to him. He couldn't understand why they seemed to know so much while he was left here feeling like a kid trying to understand adults talk.

"I still can't believe the Duke sent his own son into the Forsaken Expanse," The guy with daggers muttered, shaking his head. "Desperation must be getting to him."

The woman shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We have our mission. Stay focused."

The group continued their discussion, oblivious to Altharus's presence. He remained hidden, absorbing as much information as he could, but the more he listened, the more questions he had. He needed to confront them, to find out what they knew, but he also needed to be cautious. These people were skilled fighters, and he couldn't risk a direct confrontation without a plan.

Stepping out from the shadows, Altharus raised his hands to show he meant no harm. "Wait," he called out, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The fighters immediately turned, weapons drawn and ready. The woman's eyes narrowed as she assessed him, her spear pointed directly at his chest. "Who are you?" she demanded.