The Oracle Paths

1050 A Commander's Life-Debt

When the dust kicked up by the relentless arrow onslaught finally settled, the once teeming and vibrant canyon presented a scene of macabre destruction, torn from the darkest nightmares of Hades itself. Of the mass that had stood there moments before, only Jake and the conscript by his side remained; they were the sole survivors.

Amid the sprawl of fallen bodies, the two of them stuck out like a glitch in a matrix. Most chillingly, they were untouched - not a scratch, not a tear in their ragged clothing, and no blood marred their forms. It was as if the volley of arrows had consciously veered away from them, guided by some ethereal force.

However, the true story - if observed - lay in the shell-shocked expression on the face of the drunkard, who teetered to Jake's right. What this soused warrior had witnessed just moments ago was so jarring that it would forever redefine his perception of raw power.

Desperately searching for his now-missing flask of liquor beneath his frayed and stained linen shirt, the inebriated barbarian let out an almost relieved huff when he couldn't find it. Lost during the turmoil, he figured.

"Guess today's as good a day as any to go sober," the man remarked with dry humor, his mind replaying the shocking events. Even the way he spoke sounded sober compared to a minute earlier. He'd never sobered up so fast.

Only moments ago, as the cliffs had crumbled, unleashing an arrow deluge so thick and menacing, the barbarian, like everyone else, had braced for the end. He'd never in his wildest dreams anticipated that the unassuming, seemingly frail lad marching beside him would reveal himself as such a monstrous force of nature.

First, the barbarian recalled a profound, almost mournful sigh emanating from Jake - a sound that carried the weight of their world's sins. Following that, he witnessed Jake's slender hand rise, as if to shield himself from the blazing sun. Then, reality shattered.

As the first massive arrow, resembling a giant spear from his vantage point, bore down on him, the barbarian's eyes widened, anticipating his imminent death. That unblinking gaze gave him a front-row seat to the impossible.

Like a striking serpent, Jake's hand shot out, nonchalantly snatching the arrow from its deadly trajectory. The shockwave's gust from that act alone was palpable, even in the barbarian's muddled state.

But the truly horrifying spectacle followed immediately after. With a swift twist, Jake reversed his grip on the arrow, wielding it with supernatural speed. The outlines of his arm became a blur as he employed the arrow, deflecting the incoming barrage with unflappable composure.

All the while, Jake remained rooted to the spot, as if he bore more weight than the massive arrows seeking to end him. Every one of these supersonic missiles was effortlessly repelled, forced to crash elsewhere around them. In moments, they formed a massive semi- circle of steel bars, akin to a makeshift cage.

"T-terrifying..."

Before them rose this crescent palisade of arrows, towering as tall as giants, a haunting testament to the jaw-dropping heroics that had just unfolded. Peeking through the gaps of their self-made prison, the now stone-cold sober foot soldier could glimpse beyond, a sea of steel beams jutting from the earth as far as his eyes could fathom.

The once undulating tapestry of hills, cliffs, and canyons had been obliterated. And with this new, unobstructed vista came the knowledge of what had wrought this heavenly judgment.

"H-holy shit! An army?!" The shaken man blurted, stumbling back in shock. His eyes, once fogged by liquor, were now bulging at the sight of the sea of foot soldiers charging their way.

If any booze lingered in his system seconds ago, it was now thoroughly banished. Two greenhorns against a juggernaut of an armed force? That was pure lunacy.

Well, one greenhorn. Because the unsuspecting youth next to him? More like a god of war masquerading in human skin. Recognizing this, a glimmer of ease returned to the drunkard. Not full-fledged calm, but a semblance of it.

As for Jake, his attention lay elsewhere. The crease on his forehead held dual inquiries: Were they the last men standing from their regiment, and how did this tide of soldiers survive this cataclysmic arrow rain?

Unlike the overwhelmed soldier beside him, Jake's purview wasn't so narrow. From where he stood, it was evident that this enemy battalion bore similarities to their own decimated unit.

Their patchwork attire and mismatched armor indicated the majority were raw conscripts, like them, with a smattering of battle-hardened veterans boasting legit gear. Faced with such an expansive rain of destruction, they should've been obliterated, vanished without a trace.

Yet, against all odds, this greenhorn army, vast as it was, had emerged almost unscathed.

Before he could piece together this enigma, Jake's solemn expression shifted as he picked up on a feeble, erratic heartbeat not belonging to the man he'd just saved. It was weak, yet its proximity was undeniable.

"Ehhh... Didn't think he'd pull through, but in hindsight, it makes sense. If I had to place a bet on any bastard walking out of this alive, he'd be my top pick," Jake mused with a hint of dark humor, although he didn't quite feel like laughing.

The mighty warrior's condition was dire as hell. His chest skewered by three projectiles, his battered body covered in a grotesque curtain of gore, hung over a meter above ground, sustained only by the grim tripod these arrows created.

Miraculously, his heart had dodged a killing blow, but both his lungs were punctured. The third arrow had shot through his lower abdomen, yanking a good deal of his guts along with it. Had the brute not been so damn resilient, powered up by his Lumyst Aura, he would've been toast long ago.

Unfortunately, he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. If he passed out, his Aura would fade or at least weaken considerably, being largely tethered to his mental strength.

To keep him breathing, Jake had to act immediately-and act he did. He had hoped not to reveal his true prowess, but at this juncture, that ship had sailed.

Halting before the barely conscious commander, he grimly assessed the wounds, tuning out the warrior's faint, almost unintelligible mutterings: "It should... not have... happened... The Soulmancer... King... Is in... danger."

"Sounds like you're up shit creek," Jake remarked sardonically, rolling his eyes. "Now shut up and let me work my magic." In a swift motion, he shattered the arrows with a mere flick of his wrist.

Then, with a deftness that blurred the eye, Jake yanked out the impaling arrows, and with a surge of telekinetic might, he roughly put back organs and spilled blood where they belonged, swiftly casting a simple healing spell with just a thought.

'Simple' but only for him. Had the revered Lifemancers of the Lustra Plains witnessed his spellwork, they'd be on their knees, begging him to teach them.

Even with most of his powers on the down-low, his latent mental prowess was still badass enough to wrest control of the warrior's vitality, all while channeling a slice of his own life force. On top of that, he used his finesse with telekinesis for a surgical precision way beyond this world's primitive civilizations.

Blood clots got blasted out, each organ slid back into its spot, and shredded arteries were neatly stitched together. The warrior's lungs too sealed up in a heartbeat, and the instant they were whole enough to function, a bone-chilling scream of agony echoed throughout the flattened canyon.

Feeling your guts and bones shift and regenerate at such a blistering pace was just that excruciating.

A few seconds later, Sank-Uk, practically wrestled from death's doorstep, finally stopped his teeth-gritting scream. With a voice that was raspy and spent, yet full of gratitude, he murmured,

"Thanks. I won't forget this mercy. From now on, my life's in your hands until I've squared away my debt."

"Yeah, got it. Whatever floats your boat, commander. It was no

biggie." Jake dismissively waved off the warrior's solemn vow with his

usual nonchalance, clearly having bigger fish to fry.

Like, for instance, the massive army of fleeing soldiers closing in on them. Even from this close, even a drunk could tell these soldiers weren't the indigenous folks of the Lustra Plains, but looked eerily like them, both in racial features and in gear.

If some sloshed rookie could see it, then so could Jake and the commander. What truly got their goat, however, was what lurked behind that retreating army.

Because now that the mountain range had been blown to smithereens and the land's lay drastically altered, there was no obstructing their line of sight. The commander could barely make out its existence, but with Jake's supernatural sight, he could see it as clear as day.

A sprawling city... ablaze. Havocspire Citadel had fallen.