A few hours later, around noon, we're cautiously probing the national border, looking for enemy recon units like ourselves. Currently, Syfeid is equipped with the same bow that I saw when we first met. Unlike before, now he's carrying it in his hands, the knife sheathed.
I didn't notice it before, but his bow looks fantastic. I was previously caught up with smooth talking my way out of trouble, far too preoccupied to ration much of my attention towards a bow hidden by Syfeid's hulking body.
The bow is just a shortbow without any noticeable thrilling attachments or oddities, and yet the mesmerizing patterns graciously applied to the carving selfishly draws all attention to itself like a clown at a funeral. The brown rainbow consisting of caramel, cocoa, beige and true brown unhesitatingly flirts with all who views' eyes without a shred of modesty, further enticing a deeper appraisal, which leads to a double take of questioning, for the more one looks, the more glamorous the bow appears.
In my whole life, I've never seen a single bow in the same league as the one before me.
"Yo, Syfeid, I can't help but appreciate your bow. May I ask as to where you obtained it?"
Surprisingly, Syfeid looks at the bow, then back at me while a scowl on his face.
"You know, I've never shown someone this bow without them saying the exact same thing. At first, I was enthusiastic, but now I can't help but shudder in annoyance. It truly gets annoying when you get pestered by people enquiring about something of yours for years."
So that's how he feels about it?
...Ugh, he's gone and made it awkward.
We continue to walk together in silence for a few more minutes, until Syfeid extends his arm across to my chest, signaling me to stop. I present him with a quizzical look, requesting his reasoning. He ignores me and gets low to the ground. I follow suit and realize that my heartbeat is steadily inclining. The thrill of sneaking around enemies pumps hormones in excess through me; my breathing gets heavier and rougher.
As I eat dirt, Syfeid is busy surveying something deeper into the forest than I can spot for myself. Syfeid slowly moves behind some fern bushes, still not breaking view with whatever he's looking at. I pull myself around to the backside of a hefty oak tree, hopefully out of view from the opposition. As I still don't have a firm grasp on where they are, I could have a foot sticking out somewhere. I'm not worried about such a situation, however, as my feet are wrapped in a crude, yet camouflaged material that blends nicely into the tough soil of the forest.
We maintain the position for a minute, then shuffle through dirt and bushes to get closer to our target. After a certain period of time, I finally identify what exactly we were approaching. In a small clearing, devoid of bushes in the proximity, were a small group of lightly armored men. They were crouched in a circle, seemingly doodling in the dirt. They are probably planning out how to take out our outer guards so the main troop can plow through undetected.
Upon realizing that a force big enough to confidently siege the fort was probably just bordering the forest, a cold sweat flashed through my body. Such a force could easily subdue me, and bury me in so deep into the ground that I'd never see the light of day again.
Syfeid finally looks at me after prolonged neglect. He then speaks in a hushed, yet not whispered voice.
"Here's the plan: We're gonna kill them all. Do you think you're up for it?"
Woah, already? I'm gonna kill someone already? Ehmw. I don't know if I'm prepared for this, but I guess I have to.
"If you're confident we'll succeed, then I have no issues," I respond.
Due to the scarce amount of bushes in the circumference of their camp, we are forced to halt about 100 feet from the nearest point of their camp. Syfeid draws his bow, nocks an arrow and draws the bowstring back a decent amount.
"The second I shoot, run 45 degrees to the right, stop at the edge of their camp and fire a continuous flamethrower at them while running in a circle around them. Can you do that?"
Good question.
"I'm not sure, I haven't attempted to run around while using magic yet, but I think it's worth a try. Worst case scenario I'll stay still while firing, then move and fire again."
"O~kay. You most likely can't. It's an extremely difficult skill that I've only seen a select few perform."
Low standards are the best standards.
Syfeid notches an arrow, draws his bow back, and lets the arrow fly into the temple of the nearest soldier. It makes a sickening crack on contact and the man collapses instantly. I bolt for my position just as the other soldiers react to their fallen comrade.
They all draw their weapons, only bows and short swords, and turn towards me yelling indistinct things. I pay them no mind and attempt to direct the flow of mana from the ground to my arm while alternating legs to compensate for the fact that only one leg is touching the ground at a given time. I fail; my palm only heats up a bit.
It appears I can't accumulate enough mana to project magic yet.
I change my strategy and attempt to continuously draw mana from both of my legs, however, due to the nature of trying to draw something from nothing my mind starts to feel a little funny.
I quickly stop as I reach my target and attempt to stop, but I plant my forefoot onto something slippery. My foot slides far in front of me and I land square on my back. Despite normally having the wind knocked out of me, I'm fine. I get up as quick as I can and turn towards the enemy.
Only one clear thought resonates through my mind, full of nothing else but chaos and panic: 'Burn'. I let the muscle memory control me as I let fire rain trample the entire encampment while still only thinking of burning.
After screams of agony stop and the smell of burnt flesh enters my nose I snap out of it and let the fire die out. I gaze into the scene sprawled in front of me in horror and fear, for I'm the sole cause for the amount of damage normally caused by a gas explosion.
The negative feelings welling in me slowly seep deep into the back of my mind and fresh, new emotions arise from the depths.
Did… I do this? Huh…?
I feel dazed and confused, trying to bargain with myself over the chaos caused here.
I faintly hear yelling and screaming in the back of my mind.
Are there people... no... enemies... still alive? Oh well... I'll let Syfeid deal with it. Hmm... but there's no one in front of me? Where are they? Where did they go?!
I feel aggravated and aggressively attempt to find any survivors amongst the flaming bodies.
Where are they? Where? Where?
I begin to pick up bodies and shake them violently, hoping they wake. Most fall apart in my arms; some stubbornly hold themselves together.
"Hey! Rigel! What's up? Did you remember something?"
I hear Syfeid calling for me at the edge of the flames, still in safety.
Wait, I'm basking in fire. My clothes are gone, and I'm mangling dead bodies further. Corpse mutilation might even be a crime.
But the screams are still there nonetheless.
WHERE?
"Syfeid, do you hear those screams too? Where are they?"
I call out to him.
"Rigel, there's no screaming, you got them all." A trace of solemnity laces his voice.
"Huh? Is that right? I guess I killed them all then. Not much to be said. Haha."
I brazenly walk through the fire back to Syfeid; the roaring and crackling of the fire still persists around us.
I notice my frantic- erratic, perhaps- breathing and sense of fun conscious inside of me.
Was that… fun? Did I enjoy… killing those people?
He eyes me extremely warily. Taking note of that, I walk up to him and stare back at him.
"Well, now's a good of a time as any," Syfeid says to me. "I'll admit, I don't believe you at all. Your story has holes in it. You were aware of politics and warfare, yet claim to know nothing of magic. You have an impeccable talent for magic as well, and here you show me that in just a day of practice you can erase an entire camp?"
Well shit, I've fucked up.
The uncomfortable clawing of anxiety wells up in my chest and I feel a slight blush come across my face.