Chapter 5 - Battle With Bundy

Two men covered in steel faced each other. A single stroke apart, their blades were ready to hack into the other. Their helmets had neither slit nor gap, metal plates moved over each other as the first man stretched his neck.

The second man suited in molten steel banged his faceless shield, a ritual before combat. He bellowed, a synthetic voice escaped the glowing faceplate. The single horn protruding from his forehead wailed doom.

The first man. The People's sword yelled, "Traitor!" His sword flew with the might to devastate a mountain the flaming knight's shield.

"Enough!" Siris fiercely rattled his brain in his skull, the pain brought him back to reality. These visions came form that cursed orb.

Siris grit his teeth. The damn demon chased him through the forest like a headless chicken, rampaging deeper and deeper unknown to him. It was too late when he realised Bundy cornered him. The mound of his figure towered over him, livid.

"Enough! Dare you say that to I. The goddess' prophet!" Bundy morphed into a black mass wrecking the high wood trees around him. A hundred meter tree fell over Siris. He sprinted to the side, dodging the fall. The impact produced a cloud of flying wood shards and dirt, knocking him to his knees. A dust cloud enveloped him.

"Die!" Bundy's malformed face shot through the dirt, together with an onyx spike straight for his open eye.

The flaming knight returned his stroke. Drawing an arc into The People's Sword unguarded left. The People's Sword raised his left arm, palm out. Creating a force wave that deflected the sword into the stone bridge they duelled on, blasting away the concrete behind his foot.

Siris unconsciously followed the man in the vision. Tracing the position of is palm, and letting the energy from his chest guide itself. Releasing a frantic wave, curving the spike around him, the pressure around it cut his palm.

The visions guided him, Siris accepted them and let the information flow. Siris felt his rifle guide itself to Bundy's core, soemwhere in the mass of flesh. To kill a demon, one needed to destroy its core. Otherwise, it will continue to live. At the same time he defended, his rifle roared. The .50 caliber bullet effortlessly tore through him. Bundy was knocked away, thrashing into the ground before becoming still.

He gazed upon the corpse of Bundy, who was breaking into dust. A faint croak left his open throat. Just in case, he shot Bundy a few more times.

"Vera..."

Siris didn't recognise the name. Things like this, there was no use thinking about them currently. He dropped himself against a rock, unslung his backpack and rummaged for a snack. Some dried meat, he began chewing on it.

More vision began playing in his head, freely. He experienced it as if at the theatre. The flaming knight had fallen off the bridge, into the massive clouds below. The People's Knight sheathed his sword across his back and said a prayer. Too muffled for Siris to hear, but he knew they meant something along the lines of 'I'll be seeing you again, god have mercy on your soul.'

Siris understood few things about the scene, he knew their names as part of the vision. Beyond that he knew nothing more. The sensations from every move reverberated in his own limbs, increasing the feeling of incongruity.

Sitting on the rocky spike at the end of bridge was a castle. The People's Knight entered, slaying foe after foe by rite of duel as he made his way up the structure. The man's fighting form fascinated Siris; his sword hacked and slashed, devoid of inefficiencies and hubris. A simple but reliable cut. The man excelled at chopping down his seemingly superhuman foes. Finally he arrived at the throne room. A massive hall of marbled tile and parallel arched windows. In the centre back of the hall, a statue depicted a woman in flowing dress wielding a short sword. At her feet the throne, sat by a figure in armour imitating crescents of the moon, traitor Malutah.

They both knew what to do. The People's Sword performed a ritual only known between their kind. A little sword dance, as deep energy welled around the two making the castle tremble. Malutah stood from his velvet throne, materialised a blade a shield in hand.

The scene fell apart instantly into fragments of pictures. Siris felt his body go limp, despite the protest of his brain. His consciousness going to sleep.

Siris enjoyed the peace brought upon by his sudden transmigration. It lacked the stress and tension he was used to. The reciprocated roar of explosions and fire, choking smoke and ash. The rustling of grass and clean air. The war was behind him, Terra was dimensions away, the demons a fragment of the planet's history he escaped from. In retrospect, it was relaxing. Siris never realising it but he could feel it.

To live was to fight, he was reminded of it all over again. The battle with the demons was still not over. That he didn't know how to feel about, at the very least it, a sense of purpose had returned. It was comforting to be back where he belonged.

__________

"Bah-" Dorn spat the bug that got caught in his mouth, then rinsed it with water magic. He could hear Alita suppress a giggle behind him. They continued their trek, following the trail of destruction that stretched for kilometres. All the way taking note of the footsteps found, identical to the ones from the cave dwelling the other day.

"Saphir, is our camouflage still up?"

"Should be." In the corner of his eye, he could see that she was also unsure. All around them, the dark was skin crawling. As if many eyes were watching from were they failed to catch as an [A] class adventurer party.

They came to the conjecture that this entity they were chasing didn't have a magic core. That was entirely possible, humans didn't have mana cores initially as well. That could explain the lack of disturbances or mana signatures in the air.

bang- bang- bang-

Faint gunshots echoed through the forest, accompanied by crashing and thrashing. They were probably fighting the thing that had been chasing them.

"Hurry, let's go." Dorn said, breaking into a jog. A jog by their standard was equivalent to three times the speed of a normal sprinter.

Climbing mounds of displaced soil they arrived upon a scene of past chaos; a massive tree lay fallen, by it a pile of dust getting smaller by the wind. At the edge of the scene, slumped against a rock they found a body.

Saphir gasped seeing the humanoid figure. Holding everyone back from rushing into the scene, she casted a protection spell first. Dorn and Atin inspected the humanoid figure whith Saphir while Alita sampled the dust in a flask.

"What the..." Dorn muttered. The figure was covered in armour, not regular armour but a military bulletproof vest and camouflage gear. Goggles, an army helmet, trousers and a strange exoskeleton lie device carried a large bag across his shoulders and right arm. Which hugged a disproportionately large rifle. Unlike his younger party members, an old man like him knew what these things were. Saphir, who knew multiple languages, couldn't recognise any of the writing on him.

Stuff from an era long gone, a hundred years ago. By the time he was born, only fragments of the old world's military remained. He was lucky to witness those.

Alita joined them, "Oh damn." she said upon seeing the figure

The figure was battered and dirty. Wood shards pierced his bag and sides, his gloved left palm bled slightly.

Dorn being the party's tank and leader stepped forward, to everyone's alarm. "Wait- what are you doing?"

"Checking him." Dorn said. He unclasped the helmet strap and removed it, revealing a head of black hair. Then he took of the cloth and goggles covering his face, revealing a youthful face. A human face.

What was a kid doing out here?

Dorn glanced at his party, they had the same shocked faces. They understood just as he did. Dorn picked up the boy, the others gathered his other things as Saphir treated the boy's wounds with a potion. Together, they rushed to HQ.