After the battle...

The sky fell, or rather the biggest storm obstructed the sky beyond the village from view, and the earth shook.

As someone more than used to fighting under less ideal situations, it took Talia less time to adjust to the shivering earth. Three of her team's opponents were dead before Rob and Talon were there.

Rob had this way of using poison pins without needing to get in close range. He wasn't the best of combatants, but he was a useful party member.

Talon crushed a man's sword arm with just one swing of his heavy as hells clab.

"Wait! Wait! What are you guys doing? We are on the same side, remember?"

One of the men was withdrawing with raised arms and eyes dilated. There were perhaps ten others behind him, and screams of innocents being attacked behind them. A bark sounded from the shadows somewhere behind them.

"We are on the same side?! You bastards just shot a child, and now you're attacking a bunch of innocent villagers. I'm going to kill you all."

She took only one step forward, heard the whistling sound of air being displaced, and turned in a blur to cut it straight out of the air. The archer had needed to stand on the slanting roof of a somewhat tall building, and he'd exposed himself to Aric's—

"Damnit! Where's Aric?!"

"He left with Jonas," Mania replied as she too stepped forward to join the battle.

Talia had just opened her mouth to ask why when a blur from down the street caught her eye. The archer was still trying to get back into cover when a plume of black smashed into his chest, and unable to move, plunged towards the back of the house with not so much as a shout.

He wouldn't die from such a small fall, but he'd likely broken more than a few bones. The rest of the enemies in the town weren't so lucky. A gigantic beast, white of fur, growled, and plowed through them so fast, Talia was left amazed. They screamed as they fell, though they weren't dead yet.

Then black plumes were shooting at the backs of those few who'd decided to attack the villagers. Somehow, the farmers had managed to hold them off, preventing most of them from entering the house.

Then the black blur was there, and screams rent the air anew as men started to die. All of it had happened not ten seconds after Talia had baited the archer. Something thrummed in her chest, and her lips curved up without her instructions.

'What was that white beast?' And that swordsman? She'd confirmed he couldn't use aura.

Perhaps he was at the threshold of mastery, but so was she. Yet she didn't think she could take him in a one on one fight. 'The guy could probably take a master.'

And then there was the still raging storm at the town's border.

"Eno! Nino!" the swordsman yelled, ignoring the celebratory noises the town's folk were throwing his way.

He seemed to be searching desperately. Then the fox girl replied in a pained voice.

"Over...here Hans. Where is the young master?"

She was in her fox form, and her brother was carrying her. The swordsman, Hans, looked toward the storm at their question, and a rock fell to the floor of Talia's stomach.

"Oh, gods, Aric!"

The young swordsman startled, almost like he hadn't realised they were here.

"What?" Mania asked, frowning at her boss.

"Aric is going to kill the young master."

And she started running before anyone could process what she'd just said, let alone herself. Why was she doing this? To save him? But why? Her head was a jumbled mess of questions without answer.

******************

James felt the minute his unholy power overwhelmed that of his enemies. He'd sacrificed something to call on such immense power, he knew, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care as the storm pushed outward.

The vortexes he'd created beyond it had already claimed many lives, but now that final push. He could feel it. His soul breaking, dissipating, turning into fuel for the storm. Would he, a strong noble born, sacrifice himself for a bunch of kids and a swordsman he wasn't sure he liked, and a town full of innocent people?

Another globule of blood shot out from his mouth. His arms and legs were shaking even as they tried to support him. The storm paused, almost like it had a mind of its own, and he felt something scan him, judge him.

And then the storm blew harder, stronger for only an instant. The spells from its other side quieted, and then it too spattered out and died.

'Not yet,' a voice, from his very soul, it seemed, spoke. 'Not strong enough yet.'

Somehow, James's whole being hadn't turned to wind. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to holler, to groan. But then there was more blood, and he wasn't sure his survival had been such a good thing.

Then his mana senses thrummed. He'd known the mark he'd put on the bow in the few moments he'd held it could one day save his life. Aric, after all, had the best chance of killing him in an ambush. Even if he'd wanted, tried, to make them his allies, James had a healthy skepticism.

He could sense the bow aimed at him, and he knew roughly where it was, but even the thought of casting a spell right now scared him. Where the hell was Hansworth? Where was Talia? Or maybe she was the one who'd ordered him?

He'd just survived death, and yet here death stood looking at him again. The arrow whistled through the air, and all James could do was try to move his body out of the way. But his body was battered and broken, and his clumsy crawl forward wasn't enough to save him from unimaginable pain.

*****************

James startled as he regained consciousness, his head swimming, pain wrenching his body to pieces. The smell hit him first.

It wasn't bad, par se, but it was different than anything he'd felt since awakening in the novel. He stared around at the bed in which he lay. The bed which seemed somehow less comfortable, much smaller than he remembered. The sheets which hadn't been washed for three days.

That was weird. Even if he'd been at an inn, a noble wouldn't—

And then he studied the rest of the stuffy bedroom. Clothes strewn about every where, a writing desk in one corner filled with a cacophony of books with more modern bindings than he'd been getting used to, and on the mirror across the room, a familiar middle aged face stared at him.

'So it was just a dream, huh?'

Just then though, his alarm started to blare. He'd woken up just in the nick of time. He had only one and a half hours before he had to be in the lecture hall. He rushed through his daily bath ritual, prepared a bit of toast and made a cup of coffee.

He was still buttoning his shirt when he started to bite into the still hot bread. He went back to the bedroom, looking for books that were long overdue a journey back home to their plinths in the library.

Then his eyes fell on something. He'd never had so vivid a dream as he'd been a part of recently. And he'd not hated it quite as much as he'd feared he would at the beginning. He'd liked some of the people in that world, if he was being honest. He'd liked being James Halden.

But the novel he held in his hand now wasn't one of the four he'd read hundreds of times.

At the end of the fourth book, the claws had gone against the hero, and Talia had fallen to an arrow straight through the heart.

The whole thing had disturbed him a lot. The only reason the claws had been found out stemmed from their organisation. It was true that they were villains, but being betrayed by their superiors...

Now in his hand the reader held the sequel to that book. How long had he been dreaming? The book had been slated for at least a few weeks release.

He flipped it to the back, reading the blurb of the newest addition in the series.

'Even though he hadn't wanted to, Jason Kon had to return to the North to continue his research into the revolution and their mysterious backers. But now the mysterious swordsman he met at the academy has picked up his sword again, and not to join the hero's party. And the spiteful young noble Jason shares a past with has just been officially disinherited by his father. He blames Jason for all his problems, and so another enemy rises to oppose the seeker of justice.'

The reader slammed the stupid thing down, a red hot anger burning in his chest. After three books of ignoring his existence, James suddenly reenterd the story as a villain. It didn't make sense though. The reader knew how James thought. Perhaps something had happened. Perhaps he'd gained ambition. Or maybe he'd always had it, but he'd been plagued with doubts?

And Talia.The people she thought were her comrades laughed and jeered at her lofty ideals. She did have her reasons though, and damn good ones too.

And the hero was a fool, being manipulated by the crown. He didn't know it, but he was making things worse instead of solving anything.

He wanted to go back. Somehow, he wanted to change things. He'd been working under the impression that he didn't need power, but perhaps he'd gone their for a reason. Perhaps his power, his position as a noble, his knowledge of the world, and his fledgling martial abilities could save this world from a darker fate.

Yes, power need not only be a bad thing. But then, wasn't that how most villains were born? He didn't know. He couldn't be sure where a decision to acrue power would lead him, but he had to try.

Then that left the one question that mattered. How was he, with his new found resolve, going to get back into the novel?

His vision swam, the room spinning as he moved, and then he was falling. He banged his head on something hard, but the throbbing in his temple was smothered by the approaching black.

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark, but not bad dark. And his bed, or wherever he lay swayed, and he could hear the clopping sound of iron shod hooves moving on a cobbled road. His body was still racked with pain, but he smiled as the darkness took him again.