It was no mummy, nor a zombie, even though it walked like one. The giant, limp body on its shoulders had its feet dragged through the sandy ground, as it was much bigger than the figure carrying it. Its tumbling steps were slow but steady.
The slave camp was still in chaos. Not long ago, the news about the Overseer and several noble guards dying had made its rounds, causing widespread panic among both slavers and guards. Some even considered fleeing towards Dagger's Rock Town and escape from the island before Barbascura searched for someone responsible, but the increased danger of the forest scared them off.
Most of the camp's forces had come to the same conclusion. Either they found the culprit, or they created one. Even though the first option was preferable, the second one, while unlikely to succeed, would be their last hope of survival.
While guards and slavers were both searching for the culprits and potential victims, it was no wonder the figure with the giant man on his shoulders stuck out like a sore thumb.
"Hey, doesn't that look like the Rampage Bear they were looking for? The one carrying him should be Edgar's slave," asked the taller one of a pair of guards.
"Where is the merchant then? And why is the Rampage Bear naked?" a fat guard asked in response.
"How am I supposed to know? Let's just stop him for now."
Two guards saw Sturm tumbling through the camp and approached him, oblivious to the dead expression on his face. The tattered clothes and Reinhardt's battered and bruised body they did notice, however, which was the only reason the two found the bravery to approach the famous mercenary by themselves.
"Boy, Reinhardt seems hurt; why don't we bring him to the witch? He seems way too heavy for you. What do you think?" The taller guard stepped towards Sturm, not even worrying about the mere slave; he dealt with those on a daily basis after all.
Only when he reached a meter distance from Sturm did the young slave finally stop walking to look at him. The lifeless eyes made the guard jump for a moment, but he quickly calmed down that unsettling feeling he was experiencing. No matter what, a slave would never be a threat to a commoner.
After telling himself it was fine, he finally tried to lift the Thunder Merchant's guard captain off Sturm's shoulders. All the while, the boy was still observing with blank eyes. An injured beast could still be lethal, so the guard tried to be as gentle as possible to avoid waking up the slumbering beast.
If they managed to shackle the Rampage Bear before he woke up, not only would they be labeled heroes in the slave camp, but their monetary reward would be substantial as well.
Sturm did not resist, and the manacles were soon in place. They promised to help him bring Reinhardt to the healer after all. Only his life mattered now; everything else could wait. With their help, they would reach the witch a lot sooner.
The command structure had already collapsed, and none of the camp's forces opposed bringing the perpetrators to the healer first. Keeping the perpetrators alive would net them a considerably higher reward than handing in their corpses. Instead of stopping them, most guards and slavers chose to accompany the escort, hoping to be able to share some of the captor's contributions.
As a result, the group escorting Reinhardt and Sturm grew larger and larger, finally reaching a force of over 200 guards and slavers standing in front of the witch's hut. The original pair of guards that had spotted Sturm carrying the former mercenary took it upon themselves to personally deliver the Rampage Bear to the healer.
"W… Miss Healer! Please, come out and take a look at our prisoner. Everything points at him being the culprit of the Overseer's death," the tall guard called out.
It took no more than a few seconds for the old woman to come out running to her front yard. As the slave camp's healer, she was also responsible for keeping the Overseer and other nobles alive. It was just that they had been completely exterminated from this world, not even giving her a chance to attempt healing them.
The old wrench practically power walked towards the giant man the two guards were carrying.
"The Rampage Bear? Isn't he supposed to be that old fools guard captain? Are you telling me Edgar is responsible for this disaster? Where even is he? He better pray I won't catch him before the nobles do!"
As the witch kept ranting and complaining, she finally checked Reinhardt's condition. Upon looking at the former mercenary's paling expression, a frown appeared on her wrinkled face. After quickly checking the pulse, she looked up in rage.
"You FOOLS! You dare bring a corpse to me? Do you think I can resurrect the dead, or did you not even check his pulse?" It was important that everyone knew that one of the culprits had arrived dead and that she had nothing to do with his death.
The tall guard and the fat guard looked at each other in shock. They had been so happy about catching the Rampage Bear and being able to shackle him without resistance that checking his pulse had not even crossed their minds. All the other guards and slavers accompanying them thought the two had already done so and did not question their decision to bring Reinhardt to the healer.
Even though handing in a dead culprit would be a commendable achievement as well, the reward would only be a fraction of handing him in alive. The two guards could have prepared an epic tale of how they managed to subdue and kill Reinhardt in combat, but now that they had already claimed to capture him alive, no one would believe them.
As the remaining escorting camp forces were discussing if there would even be enough of a reward to split between all of them, and the two captors were discussing their next step, Sturm stepped next to the witch.
"I want you to heal Reinhardt."
The witch looked up, annoyed by someone interrupting her examination. She did not recognize Sturm and tried to shoo him away.
"Shoo, boy. I am at work here, go back to the other and don't interrupt the adults at work," said the witch.
"Heal him, or you die."
<
"Who do you think you are? Are you a slaver or a guard? How dare you threaten me? You either get out of the way or…"
Cold eyes, without a hint of emotion, were staring at her. Whatever this was, it was no ordinary teenager. There were rumors about some mages being able to resurrect the dead, necromancers they called them, and the stories about their undead were bone-chilling. The witch had seen plenty of death and suffering but never had she seen eyes so devoid of life.
If those necromancers were real, then she imagined their minions' eyes to look exactly like what she was looking at. She wanted to further rebuke the teenager for interrupting her but found no strength to do so. Somehow, she knew that the consequence of opposing the boy would be her demise.
"Listen, boy. I am sorry, but he is already dead. I can't help him anymore," said the witch in a shivering voice.
Sturm showed no reaction whatsoever, as he simply kept staring at her. The two guards stopped their discussion, feeling something was out of place when they saw Edgar's slave annoying the witch and decided to punish his impudence. As the fat guard turned around to get a whip from one of the slavers outside the witch's front yard, Smiling Joe stepped out of the group.
"Hey Gordon, I know you and Alton caught the Thunder Merchant's Rampage Bear and their little slave, and I won't fight you over that achievement. But I have some history with that slave, so could you let me handle this? I have specifically brought this special whip because I found out who you caught." Smiling Joe's signature evil smile showed his enthusiasm.
The boy had been under Edgar's protection, so he had never been able to make him suffer a little bit more. Another slaver had tried to sabotage the little slave and tried to pin it on him. It had almost worked, and all his contributions had almost been transferred to that slaver for allegedly exposing him. Technically, Sturm was not responsible for the other slaver's schemes, but he had a part in it, so he had always wanted to vent his pent-up rage on the boy.
Gordon, the fat guard, did not mind it. Their contribution, no matter high or low, was already set in stone. If Smiling Joe wanted to play around a little, then he had no reason to stop him.
"Heal him." Sturm kept insisting in a hollow voice.
The witch saw Smiling Joe approach with the cursed whip, but despite discovering that the teenager was nothing but a slave, her uneasiness remained. She decided to step away from Reinhardt and take cover behind Alton; none of the usual despise for slaves could be found in her voice as she kept trying to reason with Sturm.
"Please understand. There is nothing I can do. It is too late. He is already gone, maybe even to a better place. Why don't you try to bury him and give him the final respect he deserves?"
Smiling Joe humphed as he saw the witch trying to reason with a lowly slave. From his angle, he could not see Sturm's lifeless eyes and believed the teenager was simply desperate because he had been left behind. Edgar had still not been found, so the merchant had probably abandoned him as well.
A little bit of whipping would bring the boy back to reality; he was sure of it. While Smiling Joe readied the whip, Sturm's eyes showed the slightest hint of emotion after listening to the witch's words.
Deep inside his soul, a tiny flame, which had almost been completely extinguished, started flickering. Darkness around the flame started slowly retreating, showing memories of his time with Edgar and Reinhardt. The only family he had ever had, not in one, but two lives. As his life flashed before his eyes, he arrived at the moment Reinhardt told him to use the desire for revenge as fuel to keep going.
Edgar was gone, only ashes already scattered by the winds remaining, but Reinhardt was here. The strict but clumsy and loyal guard captain deserved a proper burial. Both of them had gifted him a chance for survival, giving up their lives in the process, and he, in response, had given in to despair.
The sharp pain of the terrible whip slashing open his skin flowed through his body, but instead of damming the flame, it only served to further fan it. Reliving the traumatic experience defibrillated and revived Sturm's dying soul.
<
Lightning flickered through Sturm's eyes. The once lifeless eyes beaming with power, scaring not only the hell out of the witch but also Alton. Those were the eyes of a god preparing for divine punishment. It penetrated their souls, awakening an instinctive, genetic fear all humans had but never experienced.
Sturm's mana cells turned into lightning, his veins turning bright whitish-blue, just like Edgar's had hours ago. Boundless energy coursed through his cardiovascular and nervous systems, manifesting itself as lighting snakes coiling around not only his eyes but the whole body. Unlike Edgar, Sturm's body was not on the verge of exploding, but the energy transformed him instead.
The result was something deemed impossible, as every mana cell was converted into a completely lightning-attributed mana cell. Even archmages had never broken through the limit of 30%, which was the reason it was universally claimed to be a limit set by god.
As lightning scorched Sturm's surroundings, the cursed whip once again flew towards him, only to be burned to ashes. Smiling Joe did not even have the opportunity to scream before the electricity devoured him next. Gordon and Alton attempted to flee, but outrunning lightning was a hopeless endeavor, and they too became tributes to Edgar and Reinhardt. The witch tried so as well, but the lightning simply skipped around her, as it did with Reinhardt's corpse, the fright causing her to fall unconscious.
The hundreds of slaves and guards looked in shock at the terrifying display of power. Three commoners had disappeared in the blink of an eye, annihilated by a mere slave. They wondered if that was how the Overseer and his noble guards met their end, and fear froze their legs, only a few managing to run away in panic.
Terrified to their core, the sound of thunder awoke primal fears as they looked at the slave cloaked in divine lightning. Deep inside their hearts, they knew; the avatar of a lightning god had descended to enact punishment.