The night is cold and the sweatshirt that the guard wear is not enough to keep him warm, neither is the fire. He looked back at the tents where his comrades are enjoying the revelries. He hated this, he hated being picked on by the others, just like now. He’s always been guarding the post if there’s a revel, well, in fact, he’s just a newcomer, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get the right to be part of it. They said to him that this is just part of the ritual, like hazing, but less torturing, his boss does not condone humiliation and tells everyone that they shouldn’t mess with each other.

He heard a whisper he is sure of it. He stands up and turns around, he slowly walks, his weary eyes scanning the area. He saw a shadow behind the tent. He followed it and once again he is spooked because of the cold wind and instinctively turn around. There is no one, but he saw the shadow moved again.

“Who goes there?”

Little did he know that someone is sneaking behind him, an effort to silence the brisk walk. He noticed it and its coming closer to him. He draws out his knife and lashes it behind. Once again, his intuition failed him again and his mindful imagination had played him.

He sighed in relief and was about to head back to his post but a certain man had caught him off guard. Alastor chokehold him with his arm and with a quick reflex, he snapped his neck. He hides the dead body in the bush and he entered the tent. It was nothing more but a stock room.

They pursue on for another tent but Alastor's cautious eyes lie down to a figure of a man that walks ahead of them. He passes without noticing them.

“Should we take him out?” Sherry asked.

“Too risky. First, we must find their weapons.”

He guided Sherry to the next tent with a discreet movement.

The guard who is taking the leak notice something that distinguishes the color of the field. A scarf laying on the ground.

He immediately finished his business and went to look at it. He finally witnessed the lifeless body of the newcomer. His neck was twisted and his eyes are wide open, suggesting that he was caught in surprise.

He pulled out his flashgun and his arm rose straight up then shoot it to the sky. Alastor and Sherry could see the red flash trailing up and to a certain degree, it glistered apart.

“Fuck.” Alastor cursed and he dragged Sherry to the next tent. There, they found guns that were arranged accordingly inside the crater.

“Grab as many as you can.”

Sherry didn’t think twice and carried two craters, Alastor is surprised.

“Are you gonna stare there or what?”

Alastor was yanked back on reality and he carries to one of the craters. They immediately passed and get back to their cover.

“Take these guns.” Alastor handed it out to the elf and next to the children. The elf stopped him. Her eyes are displeased.

“They’re just children. You do realize that you’re taking their innocence away?”

Alastor let out a heavy sigh, “Their innocence has already been taken ever since they were abducted by those fucktards. There is no need for unfitting remorse.”

“Unfitting? What kind of a man are you?!” The elf snapped out.

“Will you shut your mouth?” Alastor asked annoyingly, “Look if you don’t want them to kill for their survival, then, you will kill for their sake.”

Sherry taps her shoulder, “He’s right. But for now, we go.”

“Remember the plan, are you ready?”

The elf nodded she place flatly her palm lower down to his mouth and with a single breath, the wind began to storm the tents.

Alastor had already told his plan earlier. Considering that the enemy has a larger force, they need to play smart. One of the factors that they must eliminate is the weapon disadvantage, the enemies have a large stock of weaponry, in which they haven’t identified where it lies behind those tents, but they managed to steal two craters of it. It doesn’t mean they’ve managed to grab weapons they can win this fight, which is why they must get rid of the weapons of the enemy by burning all the tents since they don’t know which or how many stock rooms they have for the weapons.

Alastor didn’t expect that the elf, Sherry, and the children are any of use to it, which is why he plans to lure them – steal their attention while the others will make a run to the route that he explained to the elf before they execute the plan. If his abilities won’t fail him, he will follow them.

The wind violently shook the terrain, as its presence abruptly destroyed the rain fly. The gas that Alastor left sparked a fire as the firewood flew to the tents. It didn’t take long, the fire spread. The men that were enjoying the revelry run outside the tent.

All of them looked so confused about what just happened, but their instincts did not dull, and go first to the slave’s chambers. The man shouted that they'd escaped, the other one noticed that the number of craters was reduced.

“All of you, run.”

Sherry tapped his back, “Come back alive, okay. I owe you, my life.”

They made a run across the forest. Alastor slowly lifts his gaze to the darkened sky. The gloomy cloud stretched over the horizon and the wind made a light impact on the ground. He jumped out and ran towards his target.

Knives were flung and cut through the air. The blades were stuck on his eye and his chest. He pulled it out and run around the way to meet the enemy. He was surprised and didn’t react quickly, he stabbed on his throat and the enemy let out a long groan before life left on his body. He pulled it back and insert the gun into his pants. As much as possible he doesn’t want to create any unnecessary attention while successfully killing one by one his opponents.

The flame grew wild and spread in the forest before his eyes. Alastor limited his breathing to a minimum as he could now taste the crisp smoke onto his sharp nose, fearing he might lose consciousness because of suffocation. His knives found their prey again, blood spurted to his clothes and to his face as he dragged it – splitting his head to his neck.

The enemies breathe hardly as they were greeted by thick smoke trailing everywhere. Some of them were ordered to go retrieve the craters to the vehicles, others go to check the whereabouts of the slaves. They didn’t know that one by one they were being taken down.

He smeared the tattered tent with his knife and made his way, entering the tent that has not yet been fully engulfed by the fire he was greeted by fist threw right into his face. He stumbled back but he regains his balance and stands stead. When he looked back, he saw the nose of the gun.

Alastor shifted his weight and run away from the man. He kicked hard against the ground leaping in instant. The bullets flew and put a hole across the tents and hit the pole. He hides behind the barrels. His position was beyond three tents from the enemy’s position.

He recognized him. A single glance is enough to identify him, he’s the man who mocks him once before. What pissed him off the most is how he handled Alastor’s sword that is now dangling on his waist. What of the sword if the scabbard is unkempt and has grazes?

He is glad that the rest of the enemy is dead from suffocation or by now is running away from this hellfire of his making.

“You know what…”

“Please, don’t say ‘I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.’ So damn cliché.”

Hearing the source. He shot the barrels. Alastor side-rolls, evading the bullets piercing through and run around for a surprise attack, but his opponent is clever, he knows that these blazes are his doing. They’ve been confident because they know that he is wary enough not to do something that might put them into trouble. And he knows that he will use this as an advantage to take them down one by one.

He glances from right to left to his to the empty road and the blazing tent. Finally, his eyes caught on a certain shadow peering his presence as silent as a cat. He estimated Alastor’s position and shot it.

The shadow moves away, he charges across the tent and saw no one. He vanished like a thin smoke in the air. He is sure of it, he should’ve hit him, but his sudden movement suggests that he fails. Well, he did miss base on what he wanted to aim for but not entirely, he did manage to graze his chest – that is now releasing a low amount of blood spilling down his belly.

“I wonder, is it my men recklessness has freed you, or did you seduce the elf? Heh, it’s not like it matters now.”

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure it matters, because I am going to kill you, but you don’t deserve a quick death. First, I’m going to impale your knees and shot your arm both left and right, after that, I’m going to put a knife in your arm – shoot your knees – your legs and your torso until you won’t be able to move your legs and I will leave you here to die.”

“So smug. Just make you’re not all bark but with no bite!”

In an instant, bullets storm to Alastor's position, he moves out from the crouching position and goes, charges to the enemy. The enemy followed him with his gun. He ducks and allowed the foe to continue it rattling his gun.

He holds the knife by biting it and pulling his gun. The enemy went back several stops looking one by one and stopped for a second when he heard a clutch. He went closer, his gun was raised. What he didn’t expect was that it was Alastor. He thought he could have changed the momentum by stepping back, but he didn’t aim at the upper part of his body. Just like what he said, he shot his knees, each sharing three bullets. He grunts as he kneeled. He aimlessly shot in front of him.

Alastor shot beyond the tent estimated the position of the enemy. He groaned as the bullets got his right arm. He tried to pull himself over. He’s currently at disadvantage, his mobility dropped but his enemy is quicker than him. Alastor's knife flung in the air cutting through the tent and struck on his left arm. With great effort, he raised his gun and shoot where the blade came from. Again, it didn’t hit and for the second time, he was bit by the bullets.

The enemy is now trapped, without the ability to move, he could not possibly turn the wheels. Alastor slowly walks in front of him again, the fire had already spread to the dungeons and the forest.

“Fuck you.”

Alastor with a boring look reflected in his eyes raised his gun, answered: “I guess I have to kill you quickly.”

“You have the chance before. Why now?”

“Because I love to prove and to show how weak you are.”

“I see. Humiliation then.”

Without letting him finish the sentence, Alastor put a bullet on his brain. Taking back his items and placing his scabbard at his back – he ran towards the forest, to the location where he said they should’ve waited.

A vehicle stopped by and a man whose height broadened around seven feet jumped and landed from behind. His feet were heavy as it sounds walk and witnessed the disaster before him. His trusted assistant that oversaw torturing the captive ran along with his men and kneeled coughing hardly.

“What the fuck happened here?” His husky voice rang.

He slowly lifted his face and saw the right-hand man of the Hoarder. Even though the fire is strong, he couldn’t see his face but his stature, of course, is not something easy to forget. The thick cyan beard dangling along the crisp wind had made him recall the images of the brute man.

He stutters saying, “B-boss. It seems that the slaves’ revolts and managed to escape.”

“Didn’t I tell you to be careful and guard the area twenty-four hours?”

His voice hoarse, he may say it calmly but his annoyance was a mask in worry. His stern gaze landed on his men. A chill ran to his spine.

“I take it that you were outwitted by that mercenary.”

“We didn’t know sir.”

“You didn’t know? There’s a hundred of you here and you didn’t know?”

He grunts and looked back at his men. The station guards were scarce down to thirty, but none of them were in a condition to follow his orders. He looked back at the twenty men he brought and announced.

“No one will stop until we retrieve them back to their cages! We will hunt them till they don’t have places to hide!”

His men shouted in sync.

“Spread out!”

Alastor sprinted on top speed. He quickly shifted his position from left to right evading the trees. As of now, the fire is now far behind him. Jumping down the low terrain, he hung on a strong branch of the tree and landed on his feet.

He stopped in an open space of a forest. The lustrous view of the moon ahead of him embedded back on his retina. Alastor prepares for another run, he can’t let the tiredness get ahead of him, he must endure the pain or else they might find him.

“I see. So, you’re a predator as well.” A man calls out in the shadows. “No. Not yet, you’re not in your prime.”

Unveiling from the darkness, his cyan beard shone under the moonlight and his thick hair plastered on his back. His club is playing on his right hand. Alastor brows arches.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Alastor observed the man as he marches forward.

“Are you the Timber?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, it is now.”

The Timber smirks.

“My Inquiara magic is… Wind Drive.”

In an instant, he disappeared along with the shrill sound of the wind. He immediately drew out his sword, brandished, and held aloft in the air.

“Fuck.”

Just as he quick when he disappears; Alastor responded instantly to Timber’s attack. He shielded himself from his continuous heavy attacks, so much that it makes his boots dig and crack on the ground. He gritted his teeth.

“No wonder my men are dead right now. They’ve underestimated you.”

He braced himself as another blast of wind had disrupted his senses. The Timber disappeared again. Alastor closes his eyes, focusing. The tip of his fingers produces a light that is wrapped around his sword.

“You’re a Mana Folder as well, eh.”

The Timber revealed himself. Alastor made a run – pursuing the opportunity. It seems that the Timber does not plan to run, instead, he did the same thing that Alastor did, but it’s slightly different – it’s the wind that wrapped his club.

“For a low-class sellsword, you’re pretty good.”

“For an intimidating old man, you’re pretty talkative.”

As their weapons clashed – some nearby trees were sent flying. The shockwave that the Timber wind power cut through the air that it grazes Alastor’s cheek. He leaps backward, surprised by the power of Timber.

“Don’t hold back now.” The Timber taunted him.

Alastor cracked his neck and limbered. The two of them dashed, exchanging attacks, furiously swinging of their weapons. Each Timber’s attack, its wind sharply cut through every part of Alastor’s body, scraping his clothes from his legs to his shirt and to his face. “Oh, boy. You poor little fucker. You don’t even know the extent of your frail existence.”

Alastor already realizes if this continues, he’s the first one who’s gonna fall, or he will die. That’s why he decided to show the Timber one of his techniques hiding under his sleeves.

His hand began to emit light as he pulls out a knife and it engulfed it. He shielded himself from Timber’s attack, in that moment the Timber didn’t expect – Alastor threw his knife towards his face. His head instinctively moves sideways, evading the knife, but there is something different about it, the knife itself is surrounded by a faint light and it fades as his glance momentarily caught it. He looked down and sees that the real knife has not been thrown as Alastor had drawn back, that’s the moment he realized it, that knife that flew was nothing but a mere replica made by his mana.

It was too late to evade the strike as Alastor has threw the original knife to his abdomen, he lurched back, kicking the ground to somehow lessen the degree of impact, even though it is futile to assume that he will not receive any damage. The knife struck half on its stomach, he lost his grip, and the wind wrapping his weapon has gone.

He swung down his club when Alastor tried to make a run and jinked down – disappeared momentarily from his sight, but he did something he couldn’t believe. Alastor used his arm to shield against the club, pain erupted through his bones as his sword brimming in light cut through – piercing his stomach deep within that the tip of his sword came out in his back.

The Timber coughed blood and momentarily loses his balance, his legs turn into jelly.

“No doubt about it, you have the blood of a Predator.”

“It’s over now.”

“No, it’s not.” The Timber coughs, “As long… as this body pumped blood and breathe, I will never go down. But for you, fate will not be kind, unless, you understand what you truly are.”

“What? I’ve had enough with you damn lunatic.”

Blood gushed out from the Timber’s wound as Alastor pulled out his sword. He sheathed it back to its scabbard. He raised his knife and was about to finish Timber’s life when his flesh began to twitch violently disturbing his mind. He kneeled in distress as his mind began to usurp with pain.

The Timber looked so fascinated.

“It’s already started.”

“What the hell did you do to me?!”

“This one is not on me. I told you, you don’t know the existence of your frail existence.”

It didn’t last for a minute and the twitch is gone. Just as he raised his knife, he was blown by a strong gust of wind. When he looked back to the Timber, he was already gone.

Under the light of the moon, Alastor walks slowly and finally catches up to them. Sat before the bonfire, there he could see the children, Sherry, and the elf. He was about to get closer, but he was greeted by an unexpected guess.