Tus continued sitting in the same spot for four hours with his eyes closed. Gradually, he started feeling different things around him that brushed passed his skin. These feelings were similar to pressure that came in various sizes and temperature. Generally, they made him feel uncomfortable as he imagined himself being grasped, squeezed, partially infiltrated, and released by innumerable hands.

Even though his progress might seem quite fast, he still had a ways to go before actually absorbing the external energy.

“Rolon that should be fine for now. Milady said that we should go to a town soon to ‘recuperate.’” Worill walked over with an apologetic expression and when he said his last word, he brought himself closer to whisper, “She wants to get an inn and doesn’t want to sleep outside anymore. That is the primary reason.”

Tus opened his eyes and looked at Worill with a strange expression before whispering, “Why did you have to say the last part like it was something dangerous?”

“She is a bit defensive about such matters as she doesn’t want women to look weak and fragile. If I were to say it out loud, she might say I was sexist or something.” Worill whispered again.

Tus’s expression became stranger as his mouth gaped a bit, “Why would I care about something like that?”

“I care for my personal image.” Worill seriously stared at a bird in the distance.

“Good… good luck on your image.” With a lack of words to describe this situation, Tus closed his eyes again.

…………

An hour later

The group packed and walked along a relatively unused trail from the caverns. All of them moved in single file with Arl in the lead and Gargoyle overhead.

“The town we are heading towards is called Blemerm, under the Weirl regime. Typically, the Weirls’ are on neutral to bad terms with us, but Blemerm is the closest town to us so it is kinda convenient. When we get there, try not to get into trouble, or stand out. Especially you, Rolon.” Worill started speaking suddenly from behind Yarla while his eyes darted back forth between the trees like he was looking for something.

“This Rolon understands.” Ro(Tus)lon, who was in the very back, said before jerking his head to the side.

A whistling sound pierced through the air as an arrow flew while leaving distant after images, clueing in on its speed. Tus moved his head just in time as the arrow flew past him, splitting a sixty year old tree in half.

“This Rolon feels danger.” Tus whispered in an eccentric manner before snapping his eyes to the direction from where the arrow came from. The problem was that the only thing he could see was foliage.

Ruia placed her palms together, formed a green light, and forcefully hit them against the ground. A green circle expanded from that spot deep into the surrounding area. She closed her eyes and her sharp ears started twitching.

“Forty-two enemies, the lowest being a grade three, and the highest a grade seven. Weak individually, without special skills that I can see, but they have good numbers, and group battle strength.” Ruia spoke quickly and judged the situation.

“I knew it, marauders. They must have spotted us when we came out of the caverns.” Worill smiled as he said, “too bad we’re the ones stealing from them.”

Worill grabbed his cane, held it in the air, and blurred while standing still. The temperature in the area dropped as several serpents made of ice floated out from the cane before roaring soundlessly. They rushed into the nearby forest and several screams of pain arose from the surroundings all at once.

…………

‘That is kind of scary.’ Tus thought to himself as he looked at the twenty-two shivering people locked in shells of ice. They fearfully stared at the still smiling Worill.

“Tell me where your hideout is and place down all of your weapons, armors, trinkets, heirlooms, and, especially, money.” Worill said while checking his fingernails for dirt.

One of the marauders dressed with a brown cloak hanging from his obviously stolen armor indignantly looked to the ground, “We’ll die before sa…”

Another one who looked similar to a rat, excitedly cut off the other marauder, “If you let me go, I’ll say everything.”

“Idiot! Don’t you see that this is a psychopath?! He’ll kill all of us!” That one who was speaking before yelled.

“Maybe not!”

Worill brought out a piece of wood and started using it as a fingernail file. He listened to the would-be robber’s debate on the opposite side of the fence.

Yarla, his master, looked onto the situation indifferently before speaking with a tone hinting with danger, “We should probably get to Blemerm before nightfall.”

“Yes milady.” Like a dog facing his own crap, Worill rushed up to the rat-like man, and stood him up. He looked directly into that persons terrified eyes while emphasizing every word, “Tell me, where is your treasure house?”