Author's note: Happy belated New Years' everyone! A year has passed since I started writing Crimson Sky. The story has since expanded in both narrative and scope, as though it took on a life of its own. Quite a few big developments are planned for this year and I hope all of you enjoy them. Though I may be slow to release new chapters at times, I will continue writing for the foreseeable future. Thanks all for your words of encouragement and good luck in 2016.

Just a few months after flooding destroyed much of the southern Amisos agriculture, a large thunderstorm has appeared once again, quickly covering the grasslands north of Tyrin. The dark clouds do not care for those who are still trying to recover, the starving villages and the ensuing chaos. Clouds have no minds of their own. They cannot feel pity for the plight of mankind. All they are is a manifestation of nature's laws.

The people of Amisos believe in the Olympian gods, beings of supernatural power who occupy a domain above the reach of mortals and who hold some interest in human affairs. By praying and making offering to the gods, the people hope to be spared from nature's wrath. On this day, those prayers were not answered.

The storm cloud is nearly 20km high and hovers at low altitude, occupying the sky from one end of the horizon to the other. Strong winds are already ripping leaves from trees and forcing the weaker trees to bend down. The earth absorbs the fresh rain as it falls. However, this is only the beginning. Soon it will overflow just as it did earlier in the year.

Zamorian warhorses push bravely against the elements as they carry the soldiers of Bloodmoon on their backs at full speed. Currently, a group of five is being chased by enemy riders. Among them are Inaya, Qasim, Mikel, Gamonias and Asher. Conspicuously missing from the group is Rigel who was at the back of their formation. His body can be seen lying in the grass further behind. The headless corpse of his horse is lying beside him, still bleeding out onto the ground.

"Rigel was hit by the enemy attack! We need to go back for him!" Gamo shouts.

He was located directly in front of Rigel and narrowly avoided the enemy's enchanted axe as it tried to cut him apart. Even though he didn't see the attack coming, he sensed the mana inside the axe. Had the targets been the three warriors instead, at least one would have died. None of them were prepared to face a weapon which could change course mid-flight. Ordinary magic cannot maneuver a weapon in mid-air like this.

Rigel wasn't quite as fortunate. He sensed the attack and moved to avoid it, but not fast enough. Although the blade only grazed him, it was enchanted with wind magic which left a nasty cut in Rigel's left shoulder blade. The axe cleanly cut off the head of his horse and continued to fly like an unstoppable missile. The horse collapsed mid-gallop and sent Rigel tumbling hard across the ground.

"Is he alive?" Asher asks the obviously concerned Gamonias as they continue riding with the enemy riders hot on their heels.

"He's in one piece! I can turn back and pick him up right now while the rest of you bait the enemy."

"No, don't do that!" Inaya objects. "You'll be killed along with him! The best we can do now is escape and free him later."

The strongest warrior of the group, Mikel, laughs.

"You scared now? Come on, we can take'em no problem, 'long as we watch out for that flying axe."

"I'm not scared, I just know better than to do something stupid!" she fires back, clearly offended by his remark.

"We can't just leave him behind. He'll be tortured and executed." Gamo complains.

Meanwhile Asher's mind quickly goes through various possibilities, his years of experience allowing him to think calmly even in this tense situation.

If I let Gamo go back for Rigel, both of them could end up captured or killed. Aside from the five chasing us, there's another five who aren't far behind. If we turn around, we'll end up fighting all of them at once.

Even without a mage's senses, Asher has a sharp intuition. He has a talent for making accurate, split-second decisions even with little or no information. Right now, that intuition is telling him the situation is bad. He is confident they can fight evenly for a while, but this enemy must not be underestimated, especially the mage with the enchanted axe. The man has a dangerous air around him.

"Gamonias, I understand your point but Inaya is right. We need to keep moving and hope all 10 of our pursuers follow. Rigel was warned of the risks beforehand. If he's lucky, he will escape on his own."

"That so, captain? You scared too?"

"Mikel, don't make me repeat myself. We are the right arm of the King. Our purpose is to serve him, not your thirst for blood. You too, Gamo, follow orders."

"Puh, fine. Whatever you say" the muscular warrior replies with a disappointed tone.

Gamo stays silent. He isn't happy with the decision but he also knows that there's no point arguing with Henin Asher once his mind is set on something.

If that's your decision then I'll trust in it, old friend. I just hope we don't regret this. Losing that young man will be more than a setback.

---------------------------------------------

Although Rigel managed to retain his head, he is in no condition to continue fighting. His shoulder is seriously wounded. A few weak bones cracked during the fall. The right leg is dislocated, making him unable to even stand upright. The side of his head is bleeding visibly after scraping a rock during the tumble earlier. Blows to the head are particularly bad for mages since brain damage can severely diminish spellcasting ability and is impossible to recover from. The brain cannot regenerate damage like other organs. It could end a mage's career for life. Healing magic and alchemic potions can repair wounds but only to a point. Worst of all, he lost consciousness.

As the falling rain intensifies and thunder rumbles in the skies above, the sound of hooves appears nearby.

"Hey, that one's still alive" a voice says.

A group of five armed mercenaries in leather gear arrive. Four of them carry swords and knives while the fifth one is a mage. Although they were chasing after Asher's team earlier, now they seem to have lost interest. One of them dismounts and walks closer to Rigel's body and says "You sure? Looks dead to me."

"Of course I'm sure. He's a mage too, judging from the aura."

"Oh, you're right. Still got a pulse even though he's bleeding everywhere. Won't be long now 'til he sees Hades though."

"Should we bring it back then? We might get some information" a third soldier asks his comrades.

"Didn't General Ulrich say to kill them all? Besides, the plan was to follow Titus and back him up."

"Haha, Titus doesn't need help from us. That guy could take on all six of them by himself, and then some. We're just helping 'cause the boss worries too much."

"I heard these Zamorians are supposed to be strong. They killed over a hundred troops and bombarded the camps all night, but all they do so far is run. Hope they put up more of a fight."

"Who cares if they killed a bunch of weaklings? This country's full of 'em."

Now the mercenaries stand around spouting idle banter and showing no interest in their initial target, nor their comrades who are fighting not far from here. Even if their loud voices wake Rigel up, he can't run or fight because of his wounds. It looks certain that his fate is sealed, however—

What a silly position to be in.

—a voice appears in the darkness that is Rigel's unconscious mind, a voice only Rigel can hear.

Let your attention slip for a second and now you're eating dirt because of it, not to mention your skull almost cracked open because of that jagged rock on the ground.

There are undertones of cynicism and mockery instead of the playfulness it once had.

...

Oh, is that anger I sense? Good.

...

So what? There's nothing special about that magic. Controlling an object with mana tethers is nothing new. Once he lets go of the axe, it can only move in a set pattern. 'Fire Tempest' is the same thing, only more flexible.

...

Alright then, what now? A bunch of mercenaries sent by those rotten nobles are about to finish you off. Feel like dying today?

...

Well then, it's not a problem if I take the reins for a little while.

...

That's awfully picky of you. Complain when you've regained your senses. Until then, pipe down so I can get us out of this mess.

Rigel's body squirms while lying on the ground. His free hand slowly pulls a small vial containing a healing potion out of his robes. He removes the cork with the thumb and sticks it in his open mouth awkwardly. Due to his wounds, every movement is very painful as if rusty nails are stuck in his joints. He simply holds the vial loosely and lets the alchemic liquid fall down his throat on its own. Some dirt and blades of grass also get in his mouth. He merely swallows everything as best he can in this difficult position. A slow healing process begins which is visible as flickering in his aura. One of the mercenaries notices the activity.

"Hey lads, he's moving. Looks like Schaf woke him up with his big mouth."

With a smirk on his face, one of the figures with a sword at his hip and thick leather shoes walks over to Rigel who is struggling to get up. He plants a kick right in Rigel's chest without hesitation, sending him rolling on the ground. Another cracked rib is added to his injuries.

"Since you're awake now, listen up. Schaf wants to put your head on a spike and Dax thinks it would be better to string you up like a puppet. We can't decide. What do you think, Zamorian dog?"

"Beg for your life and maybe we'll let you go!" another one says while snickering.

"Lads, I have an idea. General Ulrich does this thing where he cuts the throat at just the right angle, and if the guy can say something funny before he bleeds to death, he is healed as a reward!"

"That guy's a real pro at this stuff. I hear he's got all kinds of tools and techniques honed over the years. We should ask him to teach us sometime."

The mercenaries laugh together at the suggestion. Next to them, a disheveled Rigel is on his hands and knees. Dry blood and mud are caked on his hair. The rain washed off some of it, but now there is also mud covering half his face and his robe after the kick he received. An ordinary person would feel pity at this sight. For these soldiers however, toying with their enemies is one of the few sources of entertainment. Torturing captured prisoners was frowned upon during King Leo's rule, but these mercenaries from the Athenite Empire have no such restraints. Even as the rain falls and soaks their clothes, they act like they're playing a game.

"He's on all fours now. Lads, I think he's actually going to beg!

"Hahaha, seriously?"

Another soldier runs up and delivers a powerful kick to Rigel's chest, sending him flying again without any resistance. The group continues bantering and laughing like children. A few of the smiles turn into frowns as they look up at the dark sky. The rain and wind are intensifying and becoming harder to ignore.

"This is turning into quite the storm. We should hurry up and finish this job so we can get back to camp" one of them suggests. The other mercenaries nod their head.

The mage points to the direction their comrades went and says "I can feel huge waves of mana in that direction. Titus must be fighting already".

"Yea, enough playing around. Dax, finish it and let's move. I want to see Titus' fight before it's over."

Dax nods and pulls out a sword. He moves toward Rigel with full intention to kill.

Ending it so soon? Lost your appetite already? Such easily bored fellows we have here.

"Fireball"

With a wave of his hand, Rigel creates a medium-sized orb of magical flames which fly toward his would-be killer. It could be considered a surprise attack since the mercenaries didn't expect it from one who is half dead. His aura is weak and only flared up momentarily when the spell was cast. However, the magical flames are drowned out by the downpour of water from above, dissipating the spell immediately after leaving Rigel's hand.

"Puhahahaha!"

The mercenaries all burst into laughter at the same time.

"What the heck was that?"

"Did he just try to use fire? Hah!"

"There's got to be a limit to incompetence."

"Ahahahaha."

The loud laughter continues. Rigel is still crouching with one knee on the ground, his trembling muscles signaling the seriousness of his injuries. The potion he drank does its work in the meantime, but there's no way he can recover his full strength without plenty of rest.

Upper body channeling seems unimpaired. What about the lower body then?

Ice begins to form on the ground around Rigel and spread into the immediate surroundings. The grass is painted white with frost while a majority of the ice coats the soil beneath. The cold, wet ground allows the ice to form with minimal mana use. A jagged ring shape is the result. The five mercenaries watch with a mix a curiosity and amusement until the effect stops and Rigel's aura dims again. Loud laughter fills the air again.

"Ahahahah, was that supposed to be a Frost Nova?"

"Watch out fellas or you might catch a cold!"

"Oh my stomach, hahahahah!

Rigel gently closes and then opens his hands to check the nerves in his fingers. There is a numb sensation caused by the mana circulating through them. He smiles after noticing there is less pain than before. It shows that the healing potion is taking effect. Next, he uses both arms to firmly grab his dislocated leg. Using a sudden twisting motion, he snaps it back into its socket with a pained groan. He confirms the limb is in working order from the flow of mana, though the leg joint is swollen. It will take at least a full day before it returns to normal.

All mana circuits are in good condition despite the wounds. Excellent.

Everything was done with as little movement as possible so as not to alert his opponents who are busy laughing at his previous performance. From their perspective, he is little more than a dying man shivering in the cold rain. The magic is just a final attempt to put up a fight.

Since Rigel verified that he can still use his magic, it would seem the best course of action is to escape using teleportation. However, there is no intent to flee in the heart of the young man. An idea crosses his mind as the thunderstorm above continues to grow.

Mother nature is showing off her unrestrained power. We wouldn't want to waste this rare opportunity. The soldiers look eager for more entertainment so let us put on our best performance.

He rises from his kneeling position while building up mana in both arms. The mage in the other group notices the change in Rigel's aura, but there's no time to warn his comrades because of this Class 3 spell's short cast time.

"Cyclonic Burst"

A powerful current is created, but this time Rigel isn't using it to launch himself into the air. Instead it is directed at the opponents in front of him like a typical area-of-effect spell. The current is strong enough to kick up dirt and rip blades of grass. Rain also contributes to its blinding effect in a wide range around the central vortex. Being hit directly is not fatal by any means but it will blow an ordinary human off his feet.

"Watch it—"

"Guh—"

These opponents are not that weak, however. Two of the mercenaries, the mage and a warrior, manage to evade the brunt of it. An intuition acquired through a lifetime on the battlefield save them from this quick attack. The other three are sent tumbling backward a short distance before getting back on their feet. Faces twisted with anger and confusion stare back in Rigel's direction.

"Shit, that one actually hurt a bit."

"The little bastard is just messing with us!"

"He's got a death wish!"

Up until now they had intended to kill him mostly out of pity, since they didn't want to bother with carrying a prisoner back to camp. All of that changed in the blink of an eye with the last attack. Their laugher from before is replaced with raw bloodthirst. Rigel played them for fools and this perception is humiliating to proud soldiers like the Sons of Bellerophon. Even if it's 5v1 against a wounded enemy, even though they have their pride as soldiers, they cannot allow him to live. As members of the Sons of Bellerophon, being humiliated is worse than death. Each one unsheathes a sharp weapon; some with swords and others with axes or claymores. Their eyes almost seem to glow red with primal anger.

"Metastasis, Heart of Iron"

Rigel already made use of the time he gained. He knew Cyclonic Burst wouldn't do any significant damage. These opponents aren't like the unprepared barbarians he once fought in Zamora. They are true soldiers; men who lived through many battles and who take lives as easily as they breathe. Class 3 wind magic is quite strong but here it only serves to annoy and put some distance between them and Rigel. It will take much more to bring them down.

That momentary confusion he created was just enough time to cast two defensive spells which help him move in his wounded state.

Now then, let's kill each other like good soldiers. That's what we're here for, after all.

A blurry projectile zooms through the air toward Rigel. He dodges the throwing knife by mimicking a sidestep motion he saw from Selene during the battle of Lapithos, all while making sure not to miss a single movement from the enemy side. Every detail carries information which could be used to his advantage.

A split-second mistake cost us dearly against the other group. We won't be repeating that mistake.

"Die!"

The knife is followed by one of the warriors charging in with an angry shout, the two-handed claymore in his muscular hands threatening to split Rigel in half with one swing. A second warrior brandishing a shortsword follows silently behind him. Rain and wind should slow them down a bit, but will it be enough? They cover the distance in moments, barely enough time for a mage to prepare a defense.

"Earth Shield"

A large mass of soil is forced upward and forms a partial wall which separates Rigel from his attackers. A thud is heard as the 1.5 meter-long claymore cuts deep into the muddy structure. Unlike his partner, the second warrior changes direction to circle around the wall with the intention to aim directly for Rigel. However—

"Gah!"

—he slips and falls embarrassingly on the thin layer of ice which Rigel left on the ground earlier. The rain is slowly melting the surface, making it even more slippery than normal. Most of the ice breaks under the weight of the warrior's falling body, so it's a trick that only works once.

He actually planned for this to happen!? No, it must be dumb luck... Little tricks won't save him.

Appalled after seeing his comrades disgraced in such a manner, the enemy mage prepares his own attack. Rigel can't see him because of the wall but he can sense the surge of mana and its direction. This is enough of a warning.

"Come here you little bastard!"

The remaining two warriors, who had stayed back until now, dash toward him. Rigel also moves back to a safer position. An aerial magic attack falls where he stood a moment earlier. With this many opponents and his magic arsenal restricted by weather, he is forced to go on the defensive. The main weakness of magic is its casting time. Warriors are physically stronger and faster than mages. If they enter into sword range, it is an almost guaranteed victory for the warrior. This is especially true for the wounded Rigel who cannot match their speed. Even with magic dampening the pain, his muscles sometimes fail to move the way he wants. Ideally, he would set up a trap in advance and lure the enemy into it. Of course, that is very difficult with four warriors and a mage bearing down on him, each one capable of killing in a single attack.

"Ice Shield"

Moisture is pulled from the air and turned into a small, yet thick, shield of ice on Rigel's left arm. The shield cracks after receiving a warrior's sword and then shatters into pieces after a claymore hit. He rebuilds it on his other arm and continues applying defensive magic. He keeps his back towards the wind while moving to ensure his opponents are blinded by rain blown into their faces. With the elements working in his favor, the warriors cannot chase him at full pace.

Despite using every advantage, Rigel has no opportunity to go on the offensive. Warriors take turns and move in two at a time while the mage stays further back and launches spells. Enemy attacks are coordinated so they don't get in each other's way.

While stepping back every time a sword is swung in his direction, Rigel turns the ground into ankle-deep mud to slow them down, but they notice in time and move around the affected area. This magic was highly effective against the monsters in Lapithos, but human targets are smart enough to render it useless.

Even in their anger, they didn't become reckless. Showing such restraint in the heat of battle is the mark of a first-class soldier. It's a shame you chose to work for my enemies.

Rigel cannot run much longer. His legs are exhausted and throbbing painfully, begging for respite. Breathing is also becoming harder as the chase drags on. A part of him wants to teleport away from here and rest. Surely this fight isn't worth the pain. It doesn't accomplish anything. It would be better to retreat and fight another day, once he recovered. Anyone would think that. However, there is another part which demands the fight go on.

"Air Burst"

He gains some distance with one final leap combined with wind magic. The landing is difficult since his sore legs cannot endure the impact, so he uses earth magic to soften the fall. Seeing that the chase has come to an end, his opponents smile like hungry wolves and disperse in order to surround him.

"He can't run any longer! Finish him off, lads!"

"It's time to die!"

The mercenaries shout taunts and threats at the cornered young man, but they don't move to strike immediately. From the way he fended off their attacks so far, soldiers of their level know they are dealing with someone who should not be taken lightly. A cornered mage could resort to a suicide attack, killing himself but also those around him. They have seen it happen before on the battlefield. In such a case, they want to complete their encirclement and wait a few moments for their mage comrade who fell behind during the chase.

In front of them lies a mud-covered Rigel who unfortunately landed in a freshly-formed puddle, covering him in mud and soil for the second time today. His clothes are torn or cut in several areas which reveal a white cloth beneath. If not for the blood on his hair, this disheveled appearance would have people mistaken him for a beggar on the roadside. He maintains a low stance but his legs are visibly trembling from overexertion.

It would seem that victory is within their grasp and all the mercenaries need to do is take it. At the same time, however, they know that something is off about this situation.

I can't see a shred of fear in him. What's going on here?

Even without mana detection, the warriors have acquired the sharp senses of predators. They know, for example, when a cornered target is about to flee or fight back. Yet, they sense no such inclination from the dirty figure in front of them. This is natural, for Rigel is incapable of feeling fear in his current state.

The stranger part is his utter lack of bloodthirst. If a living creature is cornered with no way out, it will at least attempt to fight back in any way it can. However, Rigel shows no willingness to fight. He's just... empty. It's as though he's already dead, a walking corpse devoid of any capacity for emotion. This has been the case throughout their fight. Have they been fighting a corpse the entire time? The mere thought is too ridiculous to contemplate.

"Razorwind Torrent"

A magic chant is heard from their comrade who finally caught up to them. Seeing that Rigel isn't moving, he unleashes the strongest wind magic he knows. It manifests as a pillar of swirling wind that falls upon the unfortunate target. Unlike ordinary wind, those hit by this spell will feel as if they are being cut by hundreds of invisible blades. Without good armor or defensive magic, humans are turned into a bleeding mess. The mercenary warriors step back to avoid getting caught in the affected area.

"Glacial Fortress"

Just before the Razorwind engulfs him completely, Rigel activates a powerful defensive spell which encases his entire body in ice. Feeding from the water on the ground, a bluish-white cocoon emerges, protecting him from the magical wind swirling around him. After a few seconds, the Razorwind disperses and all that remains is the ice cocoon with only thin scratches on its surface.

"Hah!"

The warrior wielding the heavy claymore dashes toward the cocoon and swings with all his strength. A crunching noise is heard and the blade is stopped. It failed to penetrate the thick ice, stopping after cutting less than halfway through. This is the same attack which easily pierced through an Earth Shield earlier. The man tries to push his sword further in but finds he cannot. The structure is simply too hard. After he pulls out the blade, the ice immediately recovers its smooth surface by absorbing the rain falling from above.

"What the shit? Ice that my claymore can't break?" the man says with frustration written on his face.

"Don't bother. All you're doing is damaging your sword" the mage in their group replies. "That's Class 4 magic right there. With the rain helping it regenerate, it's a waste of effort trying to break it."

"So what do we do? Just stand around like idiots?"

"Waiting is the right move. A high-level spell like that can't be maintained for long. He also can't teleport or do anything else while inside the ball of ice. He's a sitting duck."

"Agh, this pisses me off! I want to pay him back for the shame he put us through. Killing him isn't enough. He needs to suffer!"

"I know what you mean. Either way, he can't run and we have him surrounded. Just wait like Schaf said" one of the other warriors responds.

"What about Titus and the others? At this rate we're going to miss the battle" another man realizes.

As flashes of light brighten the clouds above and thunder makes itself known, the mercenaries are busy arguing over what to do next. Some want to wait, others would prefer to find their comrades. The mage in their group doesn't join the argument because he's distracted. He notices a faint aura in the wet grass, an unnatural mana source. Reaching down, he discovers a small crystal-like object. It's shaped like a water droplet and has a clear, transparent color. The surface is smoothly polished, meaning it's man-made. The object would've been hidden by the grass if not for the small amount of mana it emits.

A magic catalyst? What's it doing here on the ground?

The only explanation is that someone dropped it. He knows the warriors don't own any catalysts and it's different from his own tools. A catalyst of this quality must belong to someone rather wealthy. The mage looks towards the ice cocoon surrounded by his comrades.

Could it be his?

Didn't your parents ever tell you not to touch other people's things?

And then, it happened. In less than a thousandth of a second, the entire field of view flashed white. That was the end. No pain was felt. It happened too fast for the brain to perceive any pain. By the time a sound was heard, his life was already extinguished.

*CRASH*

It was like divine punishment from the gods above. Enormous streaks of white lightning fell from the dark clouds and incinerated everything in their path. The air itself became so hot that it glowed. The electrical energy is drawn to the point of least resistance. This happens to be the human figures on the ground below. The metallic weapons they wield are little more than lightning rods.

True lightning has different properties than its magical imitation. It travels at a speed that the mind can scarcely comprehend, meaning it's impossible to react. It cannot be blocked or deflected like a magical attack. Unfortunately for humans, it also prefers flesh and blood as a conduit rather than leather armor.

Everything happened in an instant. The lightning found its conduits, five of them to be exact, and then dispersed into the soil below. The mercenary group collapses where they stand, like sticks in the wind. What remains is charred corpses wearing dirty leather armor, cracks in the earth caused by immense heat, and an intact cocoon of ice. The rain water which formed the cocoon's walls contains no minerals and is quite resistant to electrical energy. As a result, Rigel was spared.

He waits a few moments to make sure no more lightning is on the way and then ends the spell. The ice disintegrates into dust while his eyes scan the area.

This is more than I hoped. Mother nature can be scary at times.

The large storm clouds are filled with energy eager to be released. All Rigel needed to do was guide that energy toward his location. Normally there's a very low chance for humans to be targeted by lightning in an open field, which is why the mercenaries weren't afraid of wielding their metal weapons in a storm. The catalyst he left behind changed those odds by altering the ambient energy. After that, he just needed to keep the mercenaries in the area near the catalyst until nature provided. It didn't matter if they found the catalyst or not as long as they stood in the vicinity.

Magic is more than a tool. It is a way to understand the world. You, my friends, simply had less understanding than I. Carry the lesson with you to the Underworld.