Branches whipped past, stinging Terem's face, but he continued to magically empower his legs, only caring to get as far away from the town as possible. Nothing had changed at all; except his situation suddenly had become worse than when he arrived in the village. Well, this wasn't completely true. He now had information, albeit no supplies. But, his rudimentary items could all be remade while his newly acquired skills and information would prove vital to his survival and future plans.
After running for what seemed like hours, but actually amounted to 54 minutes, Terem cut his strength enhancement. He gradually slowed down before coming to a full stop.
Before he could properly wind down, fatigue blindsided him causing his abused husk to slump onto the damp mossy ground as his muscles collapsed from the strain of overexerting his unexercised body.
By Terem's estimate, he had just run over 8 miles and the two moons showed that the time was well past midnight. They were further away from each other than the ritual night since they followed different orbit paths in the sky; one heading east to west while another was tilted slightly and floated more northeasterly.
Terem shook his head, clearing his mind, before choking down some nearby moss to sate the intense thirst. This helped to assuage the cracking in his throat and fill his stomach, but he knew that it would return soon.
Thinking back though, he didn't know what he would have done to fight Charles. Terem remembered the stifling aura that bore down upon his body when Charles decided to release his killing intent. He had thought that he was at least strong due to his mana refinement, but in front of that man, he could only feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Not to mention, Charles never released any semblance of magic even though he possessed a relatively stable, if not stagnant, magic circuit.
Terem berated himself for his naivety. As a newcomer to this world, he was already disadvantaged from the start. There was almost no way to bridge the gaps between him and the residents of this world in both strength and knowledge. The natives of this world even had the advantage of time over Terem. Simply put, there was no way in hell that he would be able to beat an average soldier, much less a captain of the guard.
Unless... the rumors were true. Terem's eyes glistened. A spark ignited deep within him, clearing away his mental fatigue and pushing his mind back into focus. If his existence was what it was rumored to be, just maybe, his triumph over the archlich wasn't a fluke. And even better, perhaps he could pull it off again.
He needed a teacher or a test subject to confirm the rumors and luckily he knew exactly where to find one. However, he would never be granted information for free. A theory formed in Terem's mind, but he would need his full mental focus to succeed. He had to beat an immortal being whose age was only known to the Gods themselves. And thus, he decided to sleep.
Meanwhile, Davarose knew that Terem was scheming something. He had long since learned to recognize when Terem resolved his will to complete a task. The problem was, what was he planning?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Terem awoke early the next morning. Sitting up, he scanned the area for edibles. After all, basic survival prerequisites needed to be met before he could enact his plan.
After an hour of scavenging, Terem found himself sitting at the edge of a small tributary stream while eating the remaining berries he had successfully scavenged from the area. Full and satisfied, he took a short nap to convert his recent meal into much-appreciated energy and, more importantly, mental strength.
Once his body and mind properly awoke, Terem began preparations. Now that he could think adequately, Terem worked diligently at meticulously ironing out his grand plan before nightfall. He knew that any shortcoming within his plan could result in a literal suicide. He had to be both precise and in control of every variable possible to ensure the best odds possible.
At first, he focused on regaining the supplies he had lost in the village: his nut bag, rope, and, most importantly, a rock knife around four inches long. Along with these, he gathered a basic provision of berries to replace the seeds and nuts that were previously stored within his pouch.
Once everything was in his hands, he climbed a nearby tree and lashed himself firmly to a high-up branch. The preparations were complete and so, his third trial upon arriving occurred.
"Hey lich, do you believe someone can escape their fate?" Terem spoke aloud, feeling that it suited the situation better. If anyone heard him, they would think the man in the bowers was a lunatic. Hell, he considered himself a lunatic. At least, his mind was reverting back to insanity, preparing for the plan to come.
'And why should I answer that?' Naturally, Davarose avoided the question, clearly suspicious about where the odd choice of questions would lead and what information Terem was fishing for.
"Oh, nothing much." Terem laughed. A maddening guttural noise grated past his throat before clawing itself out into the still night air. The squeak of bats responded; leathery wings approaching from the distance.
"I just wanted you to tell me truthfully, how long has it been since you last experienced the joy of pain?" And with that, Terem thrust his makeshift knife into his knee.
A fountain of blood spurted forth from the newly created wedge. A crimson rainbow stained Terem's rapidly rising and falling chest. The night air shied away from the madman laughing at the unfairness of the world. The unfairness of life: the unfairness of... everything. But, he never resented the world for making him different. After all, everyone was different and original in their own right. Terem knew that, he had seen that.
Within Terem's mind, two voices vied to be heard. One voice screamed in agony that had, not once, been felt in centuries. The other simply mocked the first. It laughed, it cried, and then... it questioned. Something unexpected had happened.
Terem felt a quaver within the space of his mind; a paltry nagging feeling that something is awry. The mental link grew hazy for a moment before flickering back on. Probing with mana sense, nothing felt off, but Terem smiled as his brows folded inwards. He had unknowingly walked upon a wealth of good fortune.
For good measure, the dagger ripped out of Terem's knee before pummeling down with the force of his mana enhanced biceps behind it. Bones shattered as the muscles below the knee fell limp, left to dangle off the green tree branch.
And then he spoke aloud.
"So, Davarose, where is the nearest neighboring kingdom?" The single question echoed out into the dreary night air while the red moon shone overhead.
Davarose did not answer. His mind was in shock. Never before had he experienced so much pain other than when his face melted. Impatiently, Terem spoke again.
"Davarose, Davarose, Davarose. Let me tell you a story. You see, I was born 46 years ago."
'What? How!' Davarose interrupted, but Terem barged forward, unphased within his maddened state.
"I lived in a wealthy household with these five little voices in my head. Just like you, they irked me to no end." The smile he kept upon his lips grew wider as he spoke, revealing bloodied teeth. His eyes quivered and crimson droplets dripped down to the forest floor nearly 30 feet below. He continued, his body now bracing against the tightly tied restraints. "Unfortunately, family is a curse. They found out about my friends and sent me away."
'Argghhhh, shut up and bandage yourself. Are you a sociopath?' A fierce wind picked up, blowing frigid air across the open wound, and yet Terem didn't flinch. Instead, his eyes grew more frenzied and his fingers began to caress the dagger, treating it as an old friend rather than a crude tool.
"You know, they did horrible things to me there. You see, the voices told me so. I hate them, but they offered me a deal, you see~. They would stop if I killed, killed anyone really. I just had to kill and kill until they shut the fuck up!" Terem's face adopted two different shades of red and his voice carried across the clearing. A roost of crows flew off in the distance, articulating their annoyance with shrieks and throaty screeches. At this point, Terem almost forgot what his objective was. He had nearly lost himself in anguish and anger. Without warning, he stabbed himself in the gut, twisting the jagged blade slightly to open the wound enough for blood to slightly flow. Davarose, not accustomed to pain, writhed around.
'What do you want... brat? Tell me!! Ahhhhh!' And yet, Terem continued, unphased by the lich's suffering.
"Eventually, I got out. And you know what I did next? I killed. I became a mortician too so I could kill better! I know how to inflict the most pain possible without killing a man. I could continue all night if I need to!" Terem burst out in another uproarious laugh, effectively shifting the knife blade in his abdomen until his amusement turned to a fit of tumultuous hacking sounds.
'Fine! I get it! Just what the fuck do you want! Tell me, please. Just, no more pain.' Davarose had finally broken down. Terem's smile broke into a grin. Apparently, immortal beings weren't used to being tortured. This was the moment he had prepared for. Everything was set up. The interrogation could properly commence.
"I want to know where the nearest kingdom is. Only once you tell me will I stop."
'Okay, I'll tell you. Just follow the setting of the red moon and you will arrive outside of my domain. So now, please stop this madness. It hurts. Please!' Davarose, at this point, was mentally shedding tears as he suffered at the whims of an inferior mortal. Without any feasible escape from his torment, the lich was left with no choice but to give up the simple information, reasoning that he would take his revenge no matter how long it took.
Terem, however, had other plans. Slowly he directed mana towards his shattered limbs to create a pathway for the blood. This was accomplished instinctively since Terem didn't actually know that it was possible to physically control and manipulate his body with mana.
Nevertheless, he leaned as far as his rope binding wound allow and grabbed his limp foot. Hefting it back onto the wet branch, he began to slowly twist until it had bent towards his chest.
'You brat! I thought we had a deal! Stop this insolence immediately. Ahhhh!' Davarose's string of curses was cut short as Terem broke his pinky toe.
"What deal? I don't remember making one." Terem cackled at the gathered bats. They ignored him, abandoning the two to their own sadistic game. "Now I seem to recall that you can sever the mental link. What do you think would happen if I helped you with that?"
Davarose only felt fear as a tendril of mana began poking at the place his soul was bound to. Terror enveloped him as he realized that, in his haste, he had brashly shut off the mental link, exposing the connection between his parasitic body and Terem's mana flow. Terem, who had been following his mana flow throughout the process, didn't miss the discontinuation of mana and zeroed in on it when the link reopened, both identifying what it was and utilizing it to get rid of a detestable parasite.
Like this, he finally found out where the lich had latched his soul.
For the rest of the night, a sadistic voice echoed through the forest, only stopping when the desperate unheard cries of the immortal lich faded into oblivion.