Mac took a deep breath. He had decided that baiting this mysterious enemy to a confrontation would work better than doing nothing. He just needed to think of a flashy way to do that.
And for better or for worse, Mac came up with a not-so-appropriate idea on the spot. It seemed he had recovered his usual state of mind, meaning that he would only keep his worries and fears inside of him and "face" his problems with a carefree attitude.
Mac was about to start his act to drag his foe out, but then he remembered that he still had time to prepare himself more. Playing the reckless character was a great pass time of his, but sometimes he still managed to squeeze his efficient side into the real world.
Mac carelessly dropped his spear, and, as many times he did this night, he stuck his hand in one particular pocket.
Hai was seemingly bought to her senses when she heard Mac's mighty spear hit the ground. It was like Mac's brash attitude moved her heart in the same way that it destroyed the intense mood of their situation.
Hai then noticed that when Mac withdrew his hand from the pocket, it was emanating a faint cyan light. "Just like that time!" Hai thought as she remembered how Mac activated the weird Komyu Stones before.
"What are you doing, Mac?" Hai asked as the feeling of dread returned to her. "Are you planning to..."
But Mac purposely interrupted her before she could reach the compromising part. He had assumed that she would probably mention something about using a Komyu Stone, creating a risky situation that could trigger their hidden guest. The prospect of communicating with someone unknown from afar was likely to bother their opponent.
But, considering Hai's severely limited knowledge about Mac's capabilities and runes in general, she was unlikely to deduce what he was doing anyway. Mac would often gloat about how many exploits he could pull out of his belongings.
"No, this is not what you are thinking, Hai," Mac said as he gently touched the hanging thread with his glowing fingers. "You haven't seen something like this yet." He then proceeded to slowly follow the line with his fingers downward until he reached the dangling head of his war hammer. It was like Mac was making a presentation to Hai and whoever else was there.
Mac's hand shared its glimmer with the web as it went along, but when Mac grabbed the head of his weapon, weird marks presented themselves with a sparkle.
Hai could not be sure of herself, but she presumed that those marks were runes. Those symbols were different from those in the Komyu Stones, but they emanated a similar light.
Mac did not bother watching his victim's remains, still stuck on the head of the war hammer, being blown off as the runes appeared. There was a chance that Mac's action could also trigger his enemy, so he quickly grabbed his spear from the ground.
There were probably just a few seconds before the sun engulfed the moon, but Mac could be dead before the coming of the day if he faulted. But there was also the chance that he would welcome the morning as the victor if he played his cards right.
Mac was about to taunt the enemy that would not appear, but someone was dying to say a few words to him before that.
"Y-y-you... wicked dingbat!" Luterio spurted the ground with blood so he could speak. "You... demon! Your end is nearer than mi-!"
But before Luterio could finish his own taunt, blood flooded his mouth and throat once again. With a cracked mouth and two of his limbs torn off his body, he still found the strength to insult Mac, his abuser.
Mac laughed, seemingly unbothered, but he still did not turn to look at Luterio. But when he was about to start his play again, Luterio painted the earth redder as he prepared to say more.
"You will die! Squashed you shall be as the miserable insect you are! The might of Erapta will put all of its children in their selected place!"
Hai watched, terrified, as Luterio spasmed on the ground due to pain while he profaned Mac with ominous curses. A sight to be revisited only in her nightmares.
And Mac, as unmovable and untouchable as he believed himself to be, would be lying if he said Luterio's words didn't affect him. Those words jolted memories of a distant past and destinies of a near future to cloud his mind.
If his enemy attacked right at that moment, Mac would probably not react fast enough, and he would join the earth in a flash. But it appeared that he was either fated to live as he was or to suffer a painful and slow death because Mac and Hai were not the only ones standing still.
When Mac came to himself, suppressing his worries for a later date, he hurriedly, and finally, managed to challenge whatever was to come.
Mac pointed his spear in his left hand in the direction where he felt the stare coming and proclaimed. "To the fearsome who hides before the disaster that anguishes his comrades of war, show yourself and face your end-bringer!"
Hai looked where Mac pointed. She secretly and physically wished Mac was making a fool of himself and that no one was there to prolong this dreadful night.
And for a few seconds, nothing happened. Besides the cracks from the fire and the hasty breath from the injured tribals, silence reigned as Hai, Luterio, and Mac waited, wishing for distinct outcomes.
And rewarded they were; with their worst fears, merriest hopes, and predictable expectations, respectively. But, naturally, only one of those three was pleased.
From the darkness the fire did not lighten, a single man, unarmed and peaceful, showed himself. His demeanor was the near-opposite of Luterio, but the similarities in his appearance gave away a predictable development.
"The man who killed my father." Hai whispered in fear as she fell to her knees.
"Father of mine, you are here!" Luterio vomited blood as hope filled his crippled body.
"A cultivator! What a wonderful way to end the night!" Mac sneered at his enemy and his luck.
The powerful cultivator calmly stopped as his gaze softly landed on Mac. No rage or malice was blemishing his complex, just a calm and eternal look. It was as if he wasn't looking at the kid who tore apart his son in cold blood.
The muscles of the cultivator were well-defined but not on the pulsating level of his son. But Mac knew this enemy in front of him had the speed and the strength to kill him before the sun had the chance to bathe them in its light one last time.
There is no need for a cultivator to build his physical power as the energy that flowed in his spiritual veins gave them the vitality and might to harvest an army of one hundred men.
Typical weapons were useless to them as the edge of their elbows was sharper than any blade an ordinary blacksmith could produce. Their clenched fist could break boulders that war hammers could only dull. No bow could surpass the length of their throw.
With all things considered, a fifteen-year-old like Mac that couldn't even cultivate would be nothing but a passing fly to a cultivator, barely a bother. But this wasn't the first cultivator Mac faced, and he also wouldn't be the last.
"Huh! For someone who has been hidden for a while now, you sure look like someone that could have his way on the battlefield." Mac said as he forced a smile. He tried to fish for some information from this enemy before the contest.
In turn, the cultivator demonstrated the difference between father and son in his actions. He only lightly laughed and looked at the man that tortured his son with amusement and delight.
"Mac Key Kast..." The cultivator finally said. His voice sounded fair and smooth, fittable for the image of grandeur that cultivators usually had. "The bane of my kingdom of Erapta, but yet, nothing but a cripple before his coming of age. Truthfully, even without the destiny and the strength, I have nothing for you but respect."
The cultivator talked with elegance and respect that Mac could never compare to, but somehow, Hai felt a sense of dread from his words that even Mac did not make her feel. Yet.
Mac squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh, thanks, man. Appreciated." He talked without bothering to hide the sarcasm. "Does that mean you will leave this tribe and never come back? Out of respect for me?"
The cultivator laughed again with joy. "Indeed, I will have to leave this redded place in the new day as there will be nothing more to me here but grievous memories."
The cultivator looked at the fallen corpses of his known and then at his son. "It is fittable that the bane of Erapta would also bring disaster to my own." He said without an inch of grief on his face or voice. "But it saddens me that I could not be of help for them, as that would have sullied their honors and mine."
"Father!" Luterio splurted out as he crawled on the ground. "Forget my honor, and please... strike him down!"
"But still..." The cultivator seemed to pay no mind to his son's pleas. "I can not face my life ahead without your life, Mac Key Kast, for you have hurt me and caused me great distress."
Mac said nothing in return as he glared at his potent enemy. Instead, with a violent but precise motion with his right hand, he spun the detached head of his war hammer. It was going so fast that the likes of Hai and Luterio could only see a blur. If that weapon with a revigorated purpose hit an ordinary person, It would completely destroy them and still continue on its merry way.
The cultivator received Mac's threat with glee and tranquility. "For my honor and ideals, I could not interfere in the battle of my people against a single weaker foe. But by the might of Erapta, I will avenge their demise. I hope you will not hold a grudge against me in a different life, Mac Key Kast. But for so you may have an honorable death, I will allow you to strike first. Go ahead an end through your very best!"
Hai could not muster any strength in her legs as the pressure from the cultivator increased with every word he left. She could barely make sense of his words as she did not have the heart nor the teachings of a warrior. Hai did not know what would happen to her home and herself if Mac died now. The girl was confused and frightened and felt like her whole life was about to be decided by someone that could not be called a human.
While Hai was having her third or fourth mental breakdown of the night, Mac found himself excited about the coming fight, and his confidence awakened. The fact that he would have the first strike made things profoundly easier for him.
"These cultivators, I swear!" Mac thought as his smile grew alongside the pace of his spinning improvised weapon. "Thinking themselves above the unpredictability that infringes every mortal. I hope you will not think ill of me at your end!"
Unaware of what Mac thought about his near death, the cultivator leisurely glanced at the shrinking moon. Even if he told the world and himself that he respected Mac, he could not care enough about the last attack of someone that could never cultivate.
"And in the morrow," The cultivator mustered the energy to say Mac's farewell words from this world. "The greatest man without potential will fall, and the cultivation realm will not care."
"Hmph, So that is how it is, huh?" Mac knew what the cultivator was doing, and his instinct to banter overwhelmed his nonexistent desire to stay quiet. "At the brightening of the night, another one will fall by my might. He will not be missed."
The fight was about to break out. Two individuals who could not be more arrogant than the other. One would have their arrogance justified, and the other would not have the chance to regret theirs. And just like the rare instances where cultivators faced non-cultivators, this battle will be over in an instant.