Leaning on a nearby tree, he saw the others triumphant over the corpses of five beasts and more. One removed his blade from a corpse, while some laid themselves on the ground. It seemed exhaustion had reached them too. Spent and tired, he dragged his leaden self across until he was a few meters away.

His appearance startled the others as they hastily took up arms. The scholar raised his hands, indicating he meant no harm. But it did not matter if he raised them or not, for he looked like a dying man. Blood streaked his clothes and gore riddled his person. And his pale face only added to the effect of a wandering ghost.

If he was a stranger, he would arouse the suspicion of the people beyond him.

But a man wielding a greatsword relaxed his guard. Blood droplets dribbled from the tip of his blade. It was blood mixed of the beasts he slain, and his own.

“…Discal?” he asked, caution in his voice.

The scholar nodded, his throat parched.

The man dropped his sword beside him and slumped down, panting heavily. He gestured at the scholar to head over. The expressions of the others softened, with one surprised at the scholar’s return. In the end, they were glad danger had not come.

The scholar lumbered to where the others were and sat down. His endeavor of breaking through a beast’s ribcage had drained him greatly. His entire being and muscles ached in pain, the first time he felt since his change. He never expected killing two wolves by his own would be a monumental task.

But it was my kill, he thought with pride. A kill I solely earned with my own hands.

“How goes the chase?” asked Samuel, having recovered slightly. The question broke him out of his reverie.

“The two beasts are dead,” said the scholar after gulping down some water. “No help should come from the horde.” Seeing his leader gasping for air still, he threw the waterskin over.

Samuel caught it and proceeded to guzzle it down. He sighed in satisfaction, and replied “You did well.”

Discal eyes beamed, but before he could express his thanks, someone had chimed in.

“But I heard you went off to do battle on your own?” asked Kaele while cleaning her sword with the same diligence she had before. Her voice filled with worry over a companion.

“He did,” spat Miria, brandishing her dagger. “The fool left me, blazing off without a care,” she said while checking the blade with a careful eye.

She nodded with a smile after seeing the blade had not dulled. She then pointed the dagger at the scholar. “But he did good,” she said. “He might be a fool, and an insane one at that, but he did good.”

“Insane?” asked Kaele, stopping her cleaning hands.

Miria smiled strangely. “The fool lured a direwolf using his own hand,” she said while waving a hand her own. “And heaved the beast up for the kill.”

She downed a waterskin and turned to Discal. “Rather than a scholar as Nasha said, you seemed more of a madman to me.”

“I had no other choice,” said Discal in his defense. “I hadn’t expected to fight so soon. I just put trust in the items given to me by the Guild.” He showed the ruined vambrace on his left hand. It had gashes and holes running through.

“But rather that, I’m more curious on where you’d got your strength.” Miria said as she sheathed her dagger. “Even our boss, Samuel, is not as strong as you. With a single hand, you carried a struggling direwolf beyond your height,” she said.

“I’ve seen a few at our level who could do similar things, but they… were not normal. Some were not even human.” A sharp gleam was in her eyes.

Discal grew cautious. He did not know what to say, considering he was not fully aware of how the world worked. He was, after all, someone who grew up in a decrepit village of a vast, spanning Empire. He never had the chance to journey beyond the trifling palisade of his home; until he desired in becoming someone of worth.

He contemplated what must be done. He understood his change was no trivial thing, but he did not know to what extent. Maybe his change was a common occurrence in this world? Maybe people like him were not sparse at all? But in all the books he had read, not one had a character similar to his own. The closest he knew of was the phenomena of mana; an enhancer, like the Heroes.

Deeper in his thoughts, it led him thinking there might be no harm in letting them know. They could even help him understand what had happened to him. Discal’s eyes brightened up. He was a man of learning, and to not even understand the extent of your own person was blasphemy. He decided to speak of his tale in the Accursed Woods.

But when his mouth moved to speak the first word, his vision went dark. Alarmed, he swept his gaze as his perception was still there. He had not truly lost his sight, but everything just went… dark. He could see his own hands and feet, but any other than his own, he could not. Where he was, it was like the abyss.

Fear began to creep into his soul, and soon, tendrils of white fog rolled from behind him. It floated into his sight, and a look of abject horror formed on his face. He knew what was happening.

Unwillingly, he looked back and laid before him was the tree with a gash similar to the one on his chest. He did not know why he felt such despair.

Regardless, he held down the urge to vomit and stared at the dead tree, even as his vision blurred. His eyes strained themselves to look beyond the fog as more indistinct figures came into being by the sides. They stared too at the dead tree.

Eventually, he could spot an amorphous person slumped down below. The person had a crown and seemed exhausted, its limbs splayed out.

“Who…?” asked the scholar to no one. Then, the person’s head twitched and slowly turned to where he was. The scholar was astounded, curious and afraid of what this all meant. They both met eyes.

The strange person raised an arm, slowly, as if drained of life. It then raised a forefinger over where its mouth had to be. A regal voice sounded in the scholar’s thoughts.

Shh…

He was pulled out of the abyss, covered in cold sweat. He looked around and met the gazes of the others, vigilance in their eyes. It seemed not much time had passed, but enough for the others to know something was amiss. He decided to allay their doubts by telling them of his tale, but an image of the person with the crown appeared in his thoughts. He hesitated.

He gritted his teeth and decided to keep the details of his change. Prepared to deceive them with lies and half-truths, a robed person spoke in his behalf. It was Lucius.

“If Discal had the talent, as what the leader deemed before,” said Lucius, his voice placid. “Then quite possibly, he must have enhanced himself with mana.” He grabbed a random rock lying around.

“I’m sure everyone already gained some understanding in weaving mana, most especially our leader.” Lucius fiddled with the rock. “It would be a simple matter for a highly talented weaver,” he said, his hand covered in a gleaming sheen of light. “To replicate what Discal did to the direwolf.” He crushed the rock to bits and threw the pieces aside.

“Even with my vocation as a mage, it took little work to crush a rock. Imagine then for the true enhancers,” Lucius said, keeping his staff close.

“You saying the fool did all that without prior training?” asked Miria.

“You jest, Miria,” said Lucius. This time, he was fiddling with the mana core of his staff. “We’ve seen our fair share of prodigies back at our hometown, did we not?”

Miria sat silent. It made sense, but when she looked at the scholar, she thought, Him?

She could scarcely believe it to be true. This was the man who met teeth with his own arm. But when she recalled the accident of Discal underneath a collapsed wall, it had to be likely.

Still, it left a bitter taste for her as she had minimal progress in amplifying her own strength with mana. She just could not accept a greenhorn being better than her, though she chose to remain silent.

“I, too, learned how to enhance myself by chance, though the effects are slight,” Kaele said. “And for someone of Discal’s presumed caliber, it should be a minor matter in learning the trade instinctively.” She looked at Discal. “But why can’t I sense the mana around him?”

Discal had an answer, but he could not tell her why. He struggled to tell them, but his fear of being sucked into the abyss kept him from doing so. His expression twisted in pain.

Ronald chimed in, his person laid out on the ground. “We might be too weak, Kaele,” he said. “Even those high-esteemed mages of the Conclave are not confident in understanding the entirety of mana. Right, Lucius?”

Lucius grunted in affirmation.

“Regardless how,” Ronald continued. “We have another capable member in our party, yeah? He’s one of us, and to persecute him for hiding his cards is folly. It seems the person himself does not even know why.”

“…Fine,” said Miria, after looking at the rueful smile of the scholar. “But as long as he mean no harm.”

Discal could only nod. This five was an odd bunch, but it made him glad they did not took his silence in ill will.

Under the pretense of Lucius and Ronald, the party accepted the scholar’s abnormal strength. And with the day coming to an end, they took their equipment and head off for somewhere to camp.

But as nighttime took over, the corpses of the wolves they left spawned creatures of the night. From the trees, spindly limbs formed into sight and came down. They scurried forth for the dead wolves and wrapped them in silk for a later feast. They brought the cocoons back to their abodes, high above in the cover of the trees. They hid themselves in the wake of the night.

But some stayed below, agitated they were. Their mandibles crackled, as if speaking in a strange tongue. Soon, more of their brethren reformed themselves under the canopy of the forest.

Countless eyes gleamed as the mandibles below crackled with glee. The crackling stopped, and dark figures loomed overhead, basking in the muddled moonlight of the night sky.

Below, a crimson color flowed from the remaining corpses and their mandibles crackled once more. They began to move and led the parade by following a trail of blood, heading away from the field. The ensemble above stalked closely, jumping from tree to tree.