“Katai!”

Silence, broken only by the muffled cries of the injured that lay around the village hall.

“Katai!”

Still nothing.

Silas wandered around the unfamiliar buildings, anxiously peering into alleyways and searching through buildings, looking for any sign of his friend. He was desperately hoping that he was lying somewhere, unconscious but alive, rather than the worst-case scenario. Unlike the handful of unfortunate villagers that still lay where they had fallen, or the fragrant, dishevelled bodies of the invaders who lay scattered about the place in far greater numbers.

“Katai! Answer me, damn you!”

His shoulders lowered ever so slowly, slumping as the silence stretched out. Lariss glanced sidelong at him, with a surprisingly sympathetic frown on her face. It didn’t quite look natural on her; the soft, almost vulnerable expression.

“Perhaps we should return and see if he’s turned up? He’s probably just… injured his leg and taken his time getting back?” she said, with no trace of the usual mockery colouring her voice.

Silas considered it for a moment, before nodding slowly. Perhaps he'd returned while they were out? He turned and started heading back to the hall at the centre of the village, his scratched and slightly blunted sword still in hand.

Lariss sighed and followed behind, trudging along wearily. She was bleeding from a nasty cut to her shoulder, but she stubbornly refused to get it looked at while there was other wounded waiting to be treated. The Waycrest villagers had been hit hard, with most of their standing Guard either dead or heavily wounded. The non-combatants however had gotten off relatively lightly, with only a handful of deaths from the initial attack. The bandits had seemed to focus their efforts on the Guard, probably hoping that once the able Warriors were dealt with, the rest of the villagers would either fall in line, or they'd easily be taken care of. That hadn't stopped the sadistic attackers however from taking swipes at the defenceless men, women and children as they fled.

As the pair made their way back to the village centre, they spotted several families hurrying towards Waycrest. The angry figures, wielding pitch-forks, hand-made spears and, in one case, a large spade, were arriving too late to make a difference. But that didn't stop them, the close-knit farming community willing to leave the safety of their homesteads to rush to the aid of their neighbours.

The meagre supplies that the groups were bringing with them would certainly help to save some of the wounded. The lack of medical Classes meant it wouldn't be enough for most. There would be many more deaths before the week passed.

Silas and his group on the other hand had gotten off lightly. Mostly thanks to them being mounted and the surprise of their attack. Their mounts had taken a few blows and would need some time to recover, but Lariss was the only rider who'd taken a wound - a lucky spear thrust getting through her guard. Apart from Katai of course, who could be lying in a ditch dead for all they knew.

Where could he be? Silas hated this waiting and hoping. He wanted to do something! Not just wandering around, checking buildings and hoping for some sign of his friend.

I should never have let him go off by himself, he thought morosely, he’s always getting himself into trouble lately. The thought almost stopped him in his tracks. Shit, am I becoming the responsible one? That… that can't be right. Shaking his head, he looked up and realised they’d reached the hall. It was easily the largest building in the village.

Silas eyed the singed and battered walls critically, spotting at least one beam of wood that was burnt most of the way through. Surely someone had checked the building before they started using it as a shelter for all the wounded. Silas' eyes narrowed as he spotted another half-burnt beam. He opened his mouth to comment on the fact, but was distracted by Yoto appearing on the stairs from the second floor. The quiet and unassuming man was frowning as he descended, not seeing Silas and Lariss as his gaze wandered along the row of wounded that littered the floor.

There were so many to treat that they'd quickly given up on providing proper beds and instead placed blankets and pillows on the hard wood floor. The only other comfort these poor men and women received was an occasional mouthful of water, provided by a pair of teary-eyed children carrying large flasks.

There wasn't much else the village could do for the injured. Feeding and watering them had been prioritised and bandages applied by several villagers, but they weren't Nurses or Herbalists. They had no way of restoring health or decreasing their recovery time - it was all going to be down to their natural regeneration. The Animal Breeders and the elderly Midwife were doing their best, but it just wasn't the same as preparing healing salves or potions of regeneration.

Silas’ hopes were quickly dashed when Yoto looked up at the pair and shook his head in answer to the unspoken question.

He turned and left the building, almost tripping through the doorway in his haste before collapsing on the ground outside, inhaling the smoke-tainted air with a grimace. He was so tired, physically and emotionally. He'd rest for just a minute and then continue the search.

Lariss joined him, leaning back against the outside of the building. Yoto stood nearby awkwardly, unsure if he wanted to join them on the grass, or continue searching on his own. His decision was taken from him however when a familiar figure appeared, leading a horse, and followed closely by two women.

“Is that Kenemen?” Lariss said, shielding her eyes from the midday sun, “Oh, we can ask him where Katai is!” She jumped up and jogged towards the group.

Silas sat up hurriedly, perking up with relief at the sight of the Questor. A moment later, his expression dimmed slightly as a thought crossed his mind. Was Kenemen going to be mad about him letting Katai run off on his own? Questor were some of the most powerful commoners in the Empire - he could do anything he liked and even the Nobles wouldn't bat an eyelid. An angry Questor… Silas shuddered to think what he would do.

Sighing regretfully, he followed after Lariss with a hopeful stride, along with the ever-silent Yoto.

As he approached the group, he examined the newcomers. The younger woman caught his eye immediately. She had a full figure, the kind of build he’d seen on a lot of female Warriors, but with less of the upper body muscle they usually developed. He wouldn’t call her chubby, but there was definitely a softness to her that he appreciated. On the other hand, her dull brown hair seemed to have a mind of its own, with tufts and waves running through it as it fell past her shoulders. It gave her a wild and unkempt look, as if she hadn't bothered washing for weeks. Examining her face, he couldn’t help but think that her features were completely unremarkable - apart from the impressively large scowl that seemed to only grow larger as the other woman let out a loud wail.

The older woman, who he could only guess was her mother, had very few similarities with her daughter. For one, she was much more rounded and had a pleasant, motherly face. She reminded him of a kindly old grandma, happy to give out treats to all the young children. Quite the opposite from the scowling younger woman. The mother seemed to be quite upset however, tears cascading down her plump cheeks. They could hear muffled cries of despair coming from her mouth, where it was pressed against the shoulder of her presumed daughter as she clutched the younger woman to her possessively.

His curiosity satisfied, Silas turned his attention back to the man he wanted to talk to. The Questor seemed angry already, his stride long and forceful, as if he were trying to put some distance between him and the two following him. The sight made Silas' stomach twist with anxiety - he was already angry and he had more bad news to bring to the man - something that he was directly responsible for bringing about.

Silas glanced down when he noticed a wad of dirt stuck to the man's chin. That was unusual for the fastidious man. Looking at his clothing, Kenemen seemed to be covered in dust and streaks of dried mud. It seemed the man had gotten his hands dirty in the battle after all.

“Where’s Katai?” Were the first words out of Kenemen’s mouth, practically growling the words out.

“Uh—” Silas almost stumbled as he tried to think of a reply. Once again, this was Katai’s area of expertise; getting them out of trouble and making up a story that mixed in enough truth to sound believable. It didn’t help that Lariss and Yoto were both there and unlikely to support a story he came up with on the spot. He mentally sighed and braced himself for impact.

“He’s been missing since the battle. He, well—he went after the Fire Mage while we attacked the rest of the bandits and we haven’t seen him since.” He said in a rush.

Silas waited with bated breath for the yelling and angry admonishments. He really did not know what to expect from the powerful man in front of him - from what he’d seen of him in the last couple of days, he seemed fairly reasonable and down-to-earth. Likeable even. But he’d never pushed his buttons, never seen him angry or even annoyed. He’d entered dangerous, unknown territory.

So he was quite surprised at the Questor’s response.

Kenemen sighed, clenching his fists together for a moment as he glared at Silas. Without even responding to his confession, he seemed to focus his attention inwards, disregarding the attention he was getting from the crowd around him. Closing his eyes briefly, he opened them and took off, not sparing Silas a second glance.

“… low expectations, but still… ignorant peasants… must do everything myself…” He muttered to himself, Silas catching bits and pieces as the man brushed past him.

Before leaving earshot, he slowed and called over his shoulder, “That’s Emilia, another Mage. She’ll be travelling with us. Make sure you don’t lose this one Silas, or you’ll be walking for the rest of the trip.”

Silas blinked in surprise. Another Mage and in Waycrest of all places? He looked up and re-evaluated his earlier assessment of the brown-haired woman. She still looked unhappy, her stormy blue eyes staring him down with a fierceness that surprised him. Ah, that explains quite a few things, he thought, looking at the older woman who positively howled upon hearing Kenemen’s parting words. Emilia patted her mother on the hand awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but unwilling to push her away.

Realising the Questor must be heading off to find Katai, Silas furrowed his brow and looked at his companions. Lariss shrugged at him and crossed her arms, clearly expecting Katai to return safe and sound now the Questor had returned from wherever he went during the battle. Yoto looked at him and quickly jogged after the Questor, an apologetic look sent in his direction.

Well, this is just great. He couldn't blame Yoto, he wasn't great in a lot of social situations and a bawling woman of maturing years was well outside of anyone's comfort zone.

Now what should he do, offer some words of comfort? Ask her if she wants to talk? Before he could somehow attempt to untangle the awkward situation, Lariss spoke up.

"So, a Mage huh?" She said nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by the weeping woman, "you have a Forbidden Class too?"

Silas and Emilia stared at her. Silas with surprise that she'd just come straight out with the question, and Emilia in open-mouthed shock at the accusation. Even her mother was startled into a brief silence, the incessant crying dying down into a wet sniffle the others barely even noticed, their attention squarely on Emilia.

"Of course not—how dare you! Are you insane?" She squawked out, her face reddening at the sudden attention.

"So, what are you then, what's your Class?" Unperturbed, Lariss continued her questioning, her arms still crossed as she stood, completely relaxed with the situation.

Silas rolled his eyes at the display. He could see the provocative challenge in her eyes and knew exactly what she was doing – he’d seen it before. Lariss was determined not to be at the bottom of the social ladder anymore. Even if she was still the youngest in the group.

He didn't say anything however, content to hear her answer. He was curious to know what she was; a Mage was so rarely heard of. He'd always had an insatiable appetite for learning about different Classes and Skills, even the completely mundane ones. That was the main reason he hadn't chosen a second Class yet; he just couldn't decide what he wanted to stick to. Nothing felt right.

Emilia stared daggers at the other girl, remaining tight-lipped. Lariss returned her glare, smiling slightly as if she were amused at Emilia's stubbornness.

Silas rolled his eyes again, sighing internally at their childish behaviour. Seeing how neither of them appeared to be giving in, he decided to speak up and try to unruffle some feathers.

"I'm curious too Emilia, I've only ever met one Mage before. It must be pretty amazing to have unlocked your Class."

Lariss huffed as he spoke up, clearly unappreciative of his attempt at peace-keeping. She loved a good verbal joust as much as anyone he knew.

Emilia shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she looked at him, her frown easing slightly. She shook her head. "I'd rather not say."

Silas considered his next words carefully. "No need to list your skills or anything. What's the harm in telling us the name of your Class?"

She crossed her arms and looked away from him. "You'll think it's silly. Honestly, it's not very impressive, especially for an Uncommon tier Class."

At this, Silas grew even more curious. What kind of a Mage Class could be considered silly? Uncommon tier Classes were always way more interesting than something Common like Warrior.

“Well, you know we’ll all be travelling with the Questor together, might as well spill the beans. He’ll tell us anyway you know; he can see your Class.”

Emilia threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! But you better not laugh." She drew herself and with a solemn look at the two of then, she said, "I'm a Dirt Mage."

Silas clamped his lips together, a bark of laughter almost escaping as he tried to tamp down on his amusement. A quiet squeak made him look up and that almost ended him. Lariss was smirking cheerfully, her own lips pressed tightly together as she tried her best not to laugh out loud, amusement filling her eyes as they shared a look.

Katai flew through the air, his world alight with the golden flames that consumed his vision. Flashes of intense heat washed through his body, leaving him shocked and trembling, incapable of doing anything but wait for the pain to end.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the pain came in waves, the fire around him flaring up and dying back down, again and again, in an almost whimsical pattern of torture.

He willed it to end; the consuming fire, the suffocating heat, the overwhelming pain. Everything.

He endured and willed for the end.

At some point in his torturous existence, he realised the pain had lessened. It had gone from all-consuming waves of suffering, to painful bouts of searing heat. It wasn't a huge step down, but it gave him hope.

Before long, the flames had died down to flickering silhouettes and he could withstand the waves of pain when they did flare up. Then to his relief, the flames winked out and the world faded to black.

He awoke to darkness. A feeling of heaviness covered his eyes, like he hadn't slept in weeks and lacked the strength to open them. Weariness weighed him down. He struggled to even lift his arm and realised that something was pressing down on his body. A moment of feeling around with his hand, discovering the scratchiness and give of the material, made him realise he was wrapped in a blanket. The realisation caused him to relax and he almost drifted back into slumber.

The sound of someone moaning nearby caught his attention. He turned his head, but something thick was covering his eyes and he couldn't make anything out. He slipped his hand out from beneath the blanket and raised it towards his face. His groping hand felt lumps of dried skin on his face, instead of the expected smoothness. His hand travelled from his cheek up to his eyes, expecting to feel a bandage, but instead a hardened crust of something covered his eyes.

A moan escaped his mouth, the sound barely heard as it scraped its way through his raw throat. He tried not to panic, the thought of being permanently blinded flashing through his mind. The thought of such an existence, one that deemed his Warrior Class useless and prevented him from ever exacting vengeance, drew another, louder moan from his cracked and sore lips.

Before the panic could truly set in, he heard a rustle of fabric. A cool cloth pressed gently against his face, patting the dry and scabbed skin tenderly.

"Don't worry Katai, you're going to be alright." A voice he didn't recognise spoke, gentle and low, "Your eyelids are stuck together for now—Mother Elise thinks the heat must have melted the skin together, but it should heal up just fine."

He relaxed somewhat, relieved that he probably wasn't going to become the village beggar. Well, he wouldn't have been anyway, since he was a Blood Mage and sentenced into servitude to the Empire, but still. It was a relief.

After some time, the unknown woman spoke up again. "I'll let your friends know you've woken up.” He heard the floorboards creak as she moved away, leaving him in the relative quiet. He could hear quiet murmurs and someone whimpering from further away. Someone was hammering away outside, the drumming sound thankfully too far away to be truly frustrating. A mere annoyance for now.

With nothing else to do, he turned his attention from his surroundings to his Classes and the messages that were waiting for him.

Sense Blood has reached level 4.

Lunge has reached level 6.

Lunge has reached level 7.

You have defeated Fire Mage (level 32).

Congratulations! You have gained 1 Warrior and 2 Blood Mage levels.

He stared at the results. That certainly hadn’t been worth almost dying. But he didn’t regret his actions. In fact, he felt a small glow of pride and renewed determination at what he’d managed to do.

He thought back to the horror of the day when he’d lost everything—Salah, his home, his village. Considering the battle, the ache of those painful memories lessened just a bit. The bandits had gotten exactly what they deserved. Now there was just the Necromancer… and the horrors he’d raised.

His hands tightened into fists, the dry, cracked skin tearing painfully, blood seeping into the sheets. As he drifted off into unconsciousness, his thoughts lingered on memories of Salah and the question of just what she might have become. He’d have to face her again if he was going to take down the Necromancer.

Katai's Status

Note: these changes are for the last two chaps combined.

Katai D’Castro

1st Class: Warrior – level 32 (+2)

2nd Class: Blood Mage – level 19 (+3)

Skills

Lunge (Expert) – level 7 (+2)

Parry (Expert) – level 3

Bash (Proficient) – level 3

Battle Cry (Novice) – level 4

Sense Blood (Proficient) – level 4 (+1)

Lacerate (Novice) – Level 8 (+3)

Bond of Blood (Novice) – Level 1

Attributes

Strength: 18

Dexterity: 19

Constitution: 29 (+1)

Intelligence: 15

Wisdom: 16

Charisma: 17

Magical Aptitude

Blood (Life): 62%

Water: 9%

Resistances

Spirit: -16%

Void: 31%

Blood (Life): 62%

Wither (Life): -16%