04 – First Blood

Ethan's heart thumped in his throat as he looked at the arrow's head glinting. Fortunately, Roland had grabbed it in an instant. The arrow hadn't hit Ethan, and it likely wouldn't have. Roland threw the arrow aside as Ethan heard a muffled grunt and glanced out the window to the right. An arrow had pierced the side of their driver, right between the shoulder and chest. Ethan whipped back into his seat just as another projectile smashed against the other side of their carriage, denting it. Roland immediately stood up with a calm demeanor and unsheathed his sword. "Lord Theodore, please remain seated. This inconvenience will be dealt with shortly."

Ethan blinked up, nodded, and clasped his hands around his knee while resting his head against the window ledge as Roland got out. Situations such as this weren't anything he'd ever dealt with back on earth, but he had plenty of experience keeping himself in check when fear took hold. He'd been a boxer, after all. Ethan tapped his finger on his knee, again and again.

"Die, you shits!" a voice yelled, then a meaty crash was followed by a pained groan. It was clearly someone falling over. Moments later, footsteps approached from the other side. A man swung the carriage door open. "Get—"

Before he could say much else, a sword pierced through his chest. He slumped and hit the ground without a word, revealing Roland standing with a blank expression. His eyes were different than anything Ethan had seen since his transmigration—Roland looked nonchalant even after taking a life, which was understandable given that the man had likely taken a lot of lives. Ethan closed his eyes, refusing to look at the dead body.

More footsteps grew nearer. Two sets. They stopped beside their carriage. "Well fuck, what a piece of trash." one man said, then lurched at Roland with a bloody shout.

The fight was over in an instant.

Roland simply disappeared from his position before Ethan. Reappearing behind the two bandits flanking him, he delivered an equally lethal strike to each in turn. Simultaneously, a sharp crackling and whooshing sound made Ethan tense. Spreading out on the floor before the carriage, a dark blue magical glyph buzzed like electricity, sending sparks of electricity slamming into the bandits.

Then, the bandits' bodies split in two halves, their blood sprayed across the dirt before they even began collapsing with electricity sizzling on their bodies.

Just as he'd felt movement in the air through [Magic Perception], a man materialized right in front of Ethan. Tensing, Ethan didn't know what to do

Roland shouted from outside. Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan's veins. Hand moving, he grabbed the bandit's hand and twisted it. The bandit tackled him, and with the tight space, Ethan felt the tip of a knife nicking the side of his cheek. The wound stung badly, and with it, Ethan's mind blanked and his instincts kicked in.

Roland swiftly spun, but not in time to stop the man from pinning Ethan against the bench.

However, it wasn't needed. Ethan used [Elemental Spells] and summoned fire all over his palms. A sizzling sound erupted as the bandit cried out and went for Ethan's eyes with his free hand. Ethan bit the bandit's hand, and only got half a mouthful of skin and cloth. The bandit reeled back and leapt backward from the sudden burning pain, crying out as he crashed. Ethan lunged at him, grabbed and force-flipped the bandit's hand, and plunged the knife into his throat with an aggressive grunt. There was a short, gurgled cry, before the bandit tried swinging the knife towards him. "Cunt... bastard..." his bloody mouth formed the words, his eyes staring fearfully, but Ethan pushed the knife aggressively.

Blood sprayed and gushed onto Ethan's mouth.

Then, finally, the man stilled.

The corpse's weight fell onto Ethan, hot blood spilling out of the bandit's throat and filling the air with an acrid odor. Ethan felt it on his face. Hot. Metallic smell. He saw it dripping down the bandit's throat, all across his clothes, even in his hair. It was heavy, almost. Layer upon layer, the heavy cloak of the man's life weighting down on his spirit.

System notifications flashed but he ignored it given that bile rose in Ethan's throat. His vision darkened, and a rush of blood roared in his ear as his heart thumped like thunder. A violent urge to vomit rose within him, his entire body twitching. He had never seen a man die in front of him like this before. Disgusting as it was, he gulped everything down, even the reality he had found himself in, the death, the violence, it all set in at that moment. However, he had no time to delve on it. Even though he felt like someone had squeezed his windpipe, like a bullet was tearing through his skin, he needed to act. Now.

Ethan flipped the man aside and sat on his knees, pulling out the knife from the bandit's neck. From his place on the ground, he glanced at Roland engaged with three bandits.

One slipped past Roland and made it to Ethan. They're trying to get a hand on me. Why? The answer was simple. Oh, right... I'm a noble, they can just put a knife on my throat and demand shit...

Instead of giving the bandit the upper hand, Ethan took a breath. Once. Twice. Now or never, thinking so, he raised the knife and dove headfirst toward the approaching enemy. Caught by surprise, the bandit merely moved his free hand to counter attack. His fingers grasping the bandit's arm, he twisted it away, giving him room to go straight for the eye.

With a meaty sound, Ethan plunged the knife through the man's eyes. Blood spurted with a slick sound. The bandit wasn't fast enough to make a full reaction, as a sort of instinctive scream of terror got stuck halfway and died out. Then, as the feeling of having ended another life settled within him, Ethan retracted the dagger and stepped back. His back slamming against the carriage, he slid down and pressed a hand against his forehead. His cheek hurt. He smelled sweat and blood.

Fuck... Fuck... Breathe. This is... I can't... Breathe.

A chill ran down his spine and his heartbeat roared. He took a breath, adrenaline still surging through his veins. The sick feeling didn't leave his stomach, his entire body twitched as if electrocuted every once in a while, and his eyes started going hazy, unclear. Black spots in his field of vision. Sticky warmth all over. Hot metallic odor in his nostrils.

"Lord Theodore!" Roland's voice acted as a way for Ethan to reorient himself into reality. Roland looked ashen, not because he was tired but most likely because he'd let Ethan get into such a vulnerable position. Roland glanced at the corpse, then Ethan, then back at the corpse again, looking tense, lips tight and hands clutched into fists. "Are you alright, my lord?"

"Yes, of course," Ethan said as he studied the wound on his cheek. I need a healing skill. However, he noticed how visibly distressed Roland was, and continued. "I'm fine. Don't worry. It's no big deal. For the moment, we need to clean up this mess."

Ethan could tell Roland was uncomfortable with the situation and Ethan's complete indifference, but the warrior dutifully obeyed his lord's commands. Ethan slumped onto his seat and looked through the notifications.

Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!

Your class, [Mage], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!

[Unranked Mage] -> [Initiate]

[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!

A [Quest] approaches!

Hmm, this is the second time I see the message 'A [Quest] approaches'... What is it? Why doesn't the system just give me the [Quest]? Are there conditions? Regardless, it seems that [Elemental Spells] just needed some use in battle instead of just plain old practice. Curious.

Ethan leaned back with a sigh. Now that his heartbeat wasn't drumming in his ear, the fear slowly ebbed away. All things considered, this turned out well, given the situation. However, now that he'd calmed somewhat, his eyes landed on the corpse right beside him, and that fresh scarlet blood seeping into the floorboards. The heavy coppery scent, the unmistakable smell of death. It all came crashing into him and he could no longer deny what he'd done. It had all gone so quickly.

No theatrics, the knife had just flown in, and the bandit had struggled, then stopped struggling.

Ethan stared at the corpses. With his hands on his lap, he gazed vacantly. For a single, stretched-out moment, the only thing he was aware of was the lifeless bodies right next to him, the sensation of having one less enemy standing in the way. One of the bandits had his jugular slashed. Another had a knife poking into his eyes. Ethan had killed them. Him. It was nauseatingly easy, taking another's life. It felt good. Ethan was disgusted at that thought, but damn did it feel good. I—I... I won. He wanted to grin, but he didn't.

Soon, the bandits were dealt with. Not a minute was wasted, and they cleaned up and got moving in a hurry, before Roland could throw the corpse inside the carriage out, Ethan stopped him.

He'd been staring at it, sitting there, silently. Bile would rise to the tip of his throat before he'd swallow it, a stone in his gut making his movements stiff. It felt unreal. When he took that step to make sure the bandit was dead, his eyes met with those of the corpse—with glassy black pupils that appeared frozen mid-realization that he was dying. Fearful, horrified eyes. Human eyes. Ethan stared into them, felt every fiber of his body clench, saw the smears of blood across the man's mouth where his desperate breaths had made him cough up, to live.

Ethan stared, not because he was a masochist or someone who derived pleasure from other people's misery. Rather, it was because he wanted this to never happen again. His reaction. It hadn't been optimal. He just knew he'd need to kill and spill blood if he was to survive, and thus, he needed to familiarize himself with the sight of death—death caused by his hands.

His thoughts were a little less orderly than he liked. That needed to change, fast. It would always be a burden, so he simply chose to stare, knowing he was staring down his weakness—at his fear.

After a solid five minutes, Ethan turned around. Roland's gaze met Ethan's. For a brief moment, the gaze was averted, the warrior showing clear guilt. Ethan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Roland, don't blame yourself. I understand you must have felt cornered and unable to react. Just know I appreciate you. Don't beat yourself up for it. There have been no casualties on our side."

Roland bowed his head. Ethan smiled, though it was strained. Roland had been standing there for a while now but hadn't wanted to interrupt Ethan's self-reflection time, despite being tense himself. The guards had burned the corpses. Soon, the men Ethan killed were taken out, too. Then they left for the woods.

A guard who appeared to be a [Mage] that had a spell called [Cleanse] walked to the carriage, and placed his hands near the gore-splattered interior. In mere moments, a rune flickered into existence, then, mana got sucked out of the guard, seeping into the rune—soon, the blood and even the smells were swept clean and everything returned to being a neat and tidy.

The guard staggered a little before his comrades stabilized him. Must be quite demanding, Ethan noted, nodding appreciatively as the guard stepped out of the carriage. "That's quite the useful skill," Ethan said, examining the results.

Roland gave a silent nod, no doubt feeling pretty damn bad about his failure.

The guard, on the other hand, bowed with a smile, clearly appreciating Ethan's recognition. "It's a pleasure to be of service, my lord. This humble guard has had this skill ever since he became a mage."

Ethan made an impressed noise. "I see."

The guard beamed, then bowed even more before walking over to his fellow guards, who patted his back at a job well done. Then, the horses pulled the carriage, and the carriage resumed moving. As soon as his back had settled into the cushion of the seat, an exhausting wave rolled over Ethan's body.

Before everything, however. I saw the rune. Ethan grinned a little, then willed mana into the shape of the rune.

It sputtered.

Ethan tried again, connecting different parts of the rune. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the rune sputtered again.

Throughout the journey to Deadwoods, Ethan kept at it.

He failed every time—

—and he didn't know why.

An immense headache assaulted him, and he had to stop his attempts.

***

The Deadwoods proved to be just what he'd expected. Dead. Charred branches and crumbling trees lay spread throughout. Roland looked around solemnly. Ethan was more interested in what kept this place the way it was. This land was, to put it simply, the most horrific location in the entire barony. It was a huge portion of a forest that appeared to be dead, thus why it had gotten the name Deadwoods.

Leaves crunched underneath Ethan's feet, and he studied his surroundings with morbid curiosity. The trees, branches and leaves were all dark in color as if something had scorched them. Many creatures lived here, animals like the usual game of deer, wolves, and foxes and sometimes there'd even been bears spotted. The dangerous thing, however, wasn't that the animals existed, it was that they were magical beasts. Mutants.

"Lord Theodore," Roland said, hand on his sword, eyes darting around in caution. "It is dangerous to be here—"

"Peh." Ethan waved his hand nonchalantly, much to Roland's shock at such an uncharacteristic behavior. "It will be worth it."

After all, I'm gonna have fun finding some goddamn tree ash.