The Novel's Sidekick

Q: How did Leahlyn Eather die?

A: The specifics are unknown. She was on a trip to Manas along with her son, Scar, but an organised assault transpired on them, where Scar accidentally killed her.

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"What are you intending, Althan?" I asked in a level tone. "Don’t do something on the spur of the moment… something you will regret." There are many ways to divine something, and Althan, as an apprentice, should know that, too.

Althan smiled and sheathed the sword, but did not let go of it. He approached me again with my sheathed sword. Without warning, he shoved the sheathed sword into my gut, holding back nothing.

I coughed out another chunk of blood as the cold snow hit my face—not the least bit soothing. The blizzard was rising every moment, but the noble son's revenge worried me the most.

Even if he didn’t murder me, which I’m certain he wouldn't, will he leave me at the state to continue on with my tasks?

Althan stopped attacking after thrusting the sword in my gut, and then his underlings let me fall face-first on the snow.

Before, I could manage to bring out some strength, but now it's almost impossible. If only I could have triggered the suit, but there were too many ifs in it.

For a moment, I had thought Althan was done with his torture, but boy, I was wrong, and I learned it quite painfully. The noble son shoved his foot on my head while hammering the sheathed sword onto my back again and again, yelling like a madman.

The cold snow helped me freeze the tearing wounds on my face. Some of it got into my mouth, but I had worse things to worry about.

The prototype False-ward of Ruthalynian was thin, and it was damaged easily without the protection of spirit force, though my attention was only on the pain.

I could not think of anything but the pain, however, I didn’t draw back either. Tears came out of my eyes, and I shoved my face even further into the snow. The ember burned intensely, almost done detoxifying the drug, giving a surreal control of the primal force. However, the chains were still on me, limiting my options. I need to think of something quick, something clever.

The pain in my face and back warmed my body, and suddenly I felt no more cold. The agony reached my bones; my blood was rushing in fury. The pain was still there, however, a rage took over it mostly. So, it was the dormant bloodline that was acting up as I experienced pain.

The hammering on my back stopped, leaving me with an inflamed back, throbbing in indignation. Still, my face hurts more than that. I wondered if I could stand up now. Not that I tried.

If I did that, it would only be welcoming Althan to beat me more. I had already learned that the vengefulness of a noble was not something to be scoffed at, and challenging him would only make it more burdensome for me.

Did I act like a fool? I wondered instead. Why did I treat Althan like he was a fool? Why did I think he couldn’t harm me directly like this? Was it the knowledge that made me confident?

How can I forget about the cruelty in the book? I have certainly become complacent with my growth and forgotten about the cruelty of Shrankor. The Empire, even though it stood proud with six princedoms in harmony on the outside, was entirely different on the inside.

Each high prince may talk civilly to one another in public, but there was nothing else but loathing in their minds to one another. That was the only way the empire was standing. If even half of the six high houses worked together against the empire, it would have fallen years ago, but the cunning emperor found a way to fight the high princes among themselves, freeing the empire from that internal threat.

I should have known and prepared for that. Even though nobles like Althan looked harmless from the outside, they were no less poisonous than snakes. And here I was, reaping what Scar had sowed. I can't actually blame Althan, but that does not mean I don't hate him.

"Now for my elbow," Althan said, exhaling out a deep breath. He shoved the sheathed sword right in the middle of my elbow and was about to twist my left arm against it, but then something happened that stopped him.

No, I have done nothing yet, though I am still trying. It was actually a bombardment that came from the other side—the direction of the other peak, where my aunt and her partner were. Shailyn!

"Bloody hell!," I screamed. "Althan, this is serious. Let me go. My aunt was there."

The noble son did nothing, his gaze fixed on the direction of the bombardment.

"There is a fucking warlock here," I screamed at him, however, that was not all that I did. "Let me go, you bastard."

Althan did not, probably thinking I was only asking for an easy way out.

"Easy there," he said, and was about to twist my arm. "I will let you go after you have paid back enough."

In pain, I snarled, "I'll see that you do, BASTARD." Power surged through me, but I've to work fast, as it would only last for a brief moment.

Grounding my teeth, I roared. The blood was already on my head, and there was no reason left in my mind after the torture and the bombardment. I tried to lunge up with my full power, and the agony only fuelled my conviction. But even with all that, it still wouldn't be enough, so I helped Althan break my elbow. I tried to seize the sheathed Punisher, twisting my left arm around it.

A cracking noise came before, and I lunged hard, twisting the sword in between my elbows.

Althan's knee, which was on my head, fell, and I seized the sword away from him, rolling on the snow. My right arm was already in no condition to hold onto something, but I still held onto it, before turning over to the other arm and unsheathing it. Still rolling.

The underlings come at me, and a couple of them even threw spells of fireballs and stones at me. I ignored them and shoved the sword against the engulfing chain that was wrapped around my waist. But without spirit force, it won't be able to cut it. Fortunately, I have a solution for it as well.

In the sparing moment, I cut my palm, running it against the blade and poured blood into the sword, trying to trigger Fury, one of the feature of the Punisher. I was not so sure if I could trigger fury, but with the potent rush of rage in my blood, I managed it fine.

The nail sword blazed in a crimson glow as it cut the chain, ignoring its engulfing property. It even damaged the suit in the way. I will take that as long as I can free myself.

However, before I could cut off the anchor and free my spiritual energy, the stone splinters and balls of flames charged at me. I ignored all of them, rolling on the snow, as more than a couple stuck me. Their evocative spells were still not up to par, though it was far more painful in the cold.

Not even a moment have passed. I kept on rolling to escape from a few of the spells, as my good arm was working to free me. Before I could stand upright, I jerked my good arm violently as the flaming sword cut through the engulfing chain, flinging away the few that were coming my way in the glory of the ember.

As the chains split, the engulfing ended. All the chains got loose, and with a jerk of my body they fell off me, as I felt a stream of freedom flow through me, and with the freedom came back my power.

Power surged through my body, pushing away the momentum of weakness I felt. There were those throbbing agonies too, my back, elbow, and face were still aching from the pain Althan inflicted. but I ignored that. There was no weight on my body, nor was my spirit force sealed. I am free, finally.

A part off me wanted to do the same to Althan. A part of me wanted to make sure Althan felt no less agony than I did. But that had to wait. Shailyn needs me now.

The disturbance I felt before has not stopped yet. Though it was not like the first bombardment, the spirit force was whirling violently in that direction, undulating the natural flow.

The punisher still held onto its fury as I watched the few dashing at me, bearing their weapons. The archers among them shot the arrow, and so did the Lesser talents, who kept on showering their evocative spells. But all of them turned futile as I swung the Punisher in the arc of a full circle all around me. I failed to manoeuvre it in a proper stance, however, the result was the same.

A full ring of fire formed as it flung away all the underlings and their leader.

I looked in the direction of Althan, who was staring at me with utter horror on his exterior. My mind was still fuming with indignation, but boy I like that face. That utter shock, that horror. I couldn't tell if my scowling face reminded him of his past trauma, but that doesn't matter now. Althan can wait.

I crept towards my belongings and collected my bag from the snowy ground, triggering the steam releaser in my back and on my lower body, elevating me a few metres into the air.

The old false-ward seemed to become quite rigid after all the damage it had been inflicted on, but it was still working. Fortunately, it was still working.

"It isn't over." Leaving those words to Althan, I shot in among the tall trees.

The Fury of the Punisher finally rested, and I felt an impaling weakness in my body as well as in spirit. Fury pulls power straight from the blood essence, the life root, and I pull more than I need with the sudden outburst of the dormant bloodline.

'Everything is alright. I'm in control.' I did what I'm best at, which is, of course, pretension. 'Everything will be alright.'

I tried hard not to think about the weakness, the aching face, and the anguish in the back. And then there was my broken elbow. It was actually easy to endure the pain as the enduring flame was still burning in my blood. I could focus my attention on what's important. Emberheart bloodline is about anger and pain, it's about emotion. I burned the anger, the pain and focused on what's important.

It would pain me a lot if something happens to Shailyn and Noyar, and I don't think I can stop that with the bloodline.

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