Three days later.
A man came running from the west. Stumbling on his own legs and barely avoiding the trees and rocks on his path.
The man was a warlock. He was running for hours already.
Raz, seeing that figure approaching, knew what it means.
The mage army was moving.
Raz wondered why only one came. But thinking again, he knew the answer, they probably were found by scouts and one stayed for the other to leave.
They lost another warlock.
Raz's face darkened and went to help that man that barely could breathe, his lungs were almost popping out of his chest because of running.
The others warlocks around came too, and that warlock started to tell his story.
Between fatigue and barely any time to breathe, the man told them what they already expected to hear.
One day from now, and the mage army will be here. But scouts would probably come earlier.
Raz, hearing what the man said, made a quick count with his head. The crystals would run for a hundred hours. Three days and a half had already passed.
Raz looked at the still unconscious Mack.
He had around 16 hours of crystal Essence left, and the mage army would reach here in 24hrs at maximum.
The problem was the scouts.
If only one or two appeared it would be fine, they could quickly eliminate them. But if was a squad, it would take longer and a battle would ensue, and Raz knew that if a battle ensued, the others would notice and would flock like bees to where they are.
Raz wondered if he should stop the runic circuit and take Mack and leave.
But he also knew it would be all for naught. Their last hope was for Mack to reach a breakthrough.
Raz gave another look to the unconscious Mack, and started talking with the warlocks.
They were going to create a perimeter of one mile around where Mack was. Roughly at the edges of the small forest they were.
Only Raz would stay with Mack. His last line of defense.
Seeing those warlocks going, Raz's heart became heavy. He knew they would not come back.
They would buy any possible time for Mack.
Their last hope.
Raz looked at Mack, still unmoving, white as a corpse. What if he died?
Raz shook his head. Better hope Mack was still alive, otherwise there was no meaning for him to still struggle. Mages have won the battle and Raz knew about the other battles ongoing on the planet.
In his mind they were still there, fighting the invading army, in his home planet.
And Raz knew the status of the other battles. All lost.
This was the last one.
And Raz only wished he could save someone.
His initial plan was to save his disciple and make him escape the planet.
But after seeing Mack, his mind changed.
That deaf warlock was progressing faster than any know warlock to this date.
Not only that. His odd methods plus his ruthless would make of him the perfect warlock. If he could survive and pass his methods to his descendants. Raz was sure the warlock race would never face extinction again.
Raz passed his eyes over Mack's body. He could see the broken arms and legs and the sunken torso caused by the pressure of the runic circle. The air in there seemed so dense that the own figure of Mack distorted from time to time. It was like looking in a mirror of water.
Raz removed his gaze from Mack and started to check his daggers and sword.
He needed to make sure he would be ready for the next days.
Raz went to a trunk by the side and seated, facing west, then took a small dark rock from his pocket and started to pass over the blade of the sword.
The smooth, calm and continuous metallic sound of a blade being sharpened permeated the woods around.
Behind Raz, inside the runic circle, in a pressure caused by essence density so strong that would make any human from Earth to become dust, lay Mack.
Almost sunken on the red ground, Mack's body stood still and unmoving, but right now, unknown to Mack or Raz, the tip of Mack's right little finger moved.
Just a slight movement that no one saw or will ever remember.
Life was just like that.
The most priceless moments would always be a fleeting instant that no one pay attention to.