"Ah, shit..." A pale, haggard young man cursed bitterly as he struggled to move his legs faster through the forest.
He was exhausted, his body drained entirely of energy, yet a bitter laugh broke from his cracked lips.
"Hehe... ah, what a shitty way for the plan to go up in flames."
He belonged to the notorious clan of bandits branded as the Black Stingers, and their latest plan was simple: infiltrate a meager village hidden away in the mountains, gather intel, then strike. For the past few weeks, everything had been going well. Despite the need for subtlety, they had succeeded in infiltrating a good number of men into the village ranks.
"Just a backward village, my ass. Those aren't normal guards, dammit...!"
Pushing through the forest bushes, the man came to a stop. His torso leaned forward as he stood supported with his hands against his bent knees. His chest heaved and pumped, turbid air escaping his lips as he drew deep, panting breaths.
"Dammit," he cursed, his vision swaying before him.
The morning sun's rays trickled through the dancing gaps of the forest trees, casting shifting shadows across the ground.
For a few more moments, the man continued to pant and catch his breath, the sounds of trees and morning chirping providing a haunting backdrop to his senses. Every movement or rustle teased his instincts, rendering his mind restless, and he found himself taking longer to recuperate his stamina.
Cold sweat formed on his forehead, trickling down his ashen pale face. The guard uniform he donned stuck to his body like an extra layer of skin, and his arms trembled in place.
"Shit. I have to calm myself down," he muttered, clenching his fingers, and proceeded to take in deeper breaths of air. He felt his lungs fill and his racing heart slowly settle slightly. The throbbing migraine from mana exhaustion receded a little, but a deep sense of apprehension and weariness still lingered, albeit more subdued.
Of course it did. There was no way he could let his guard down as long as he remained in the territory around the village.
But then what?
"Then what? I'll obviously regroup with the main clan outside of the village region and warn the boss and the others. The plan has been compromised..." Coming to a conclusion, the man straightened up, took a deep breath, and sighed deeply.
Reflecting on his companions left behind, a stifled bitter chuckle escaped the man's lips. "Those bastards..."
Taking a step forward to continue, he sharply halted. His head jerked suddenly towards a specific direction, his wide eyes filled with apprehension fixated on a bush swaying roughly. Amidst the natural sounds surrounding him, he swore he heard approaching footsteps from within that bush.
Internally cursing, the man prepared to dash in the opposite direction when a rough voice called out to him.
"Wait," the voice said steadily. "It's me."
Out from the bush emerged Borris, his figure embraced by swaying shadows. His brown eyes settled on his colleague before scanning the surroundings.
"Borris," the man muttered in relief, feeling his heart rate settle. The tension of the moment drained the stamina he had barely managed to recuperate, and he slumped to lean against his knees with both hands.
"So you got out, huh?" He threw a side glance and a crooked smile at Borris.
"Marco."
Dismissing his colleague's remark, Borris approached him, stepping out from the embrace of the forest shadows, and asked grimly, "What happened?"
Marco lingered for a few seconds, catching his breath. He stood up straight, his expression solemn and his eyes glazed over Borris. After another deep sigh, Marco slowly regained his composure.
"Simply put, we were found out," he said steadily. His demeanor suggested he was no longer on the run.
Borris's expression grew grimmer, his brows furrowing. "What does that mean? We were supposed to execute the ambush today. How did they discover us now?"
Marco shook his head. "I'm not sure myself. If they had known about us earlier, they wouldn't have waited until now. It suggests they only discovered our plan recently."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he brought his fingers to his chin. "Most likely, this happened yesterday, right under our noses. Now everything's been turned upside down. Our ambushes were thwarted, our men subdued. I barely managed to escape before running into our group, and since then, I've been unable to contact the boss or the others preparing to raid the village."
A short moment of silence followed Marco's explanation, the sounds of the forest prevailing.
"That still doesn't explain anything," a third voice cracked through the tense silence as a slouched figure of Bowen stepped out from the forest behind them. His expression was squeezed with beads of sweat leaving a trail down his face, and his low voice sounded hoarse. He held onto his side with one arm and breathed heavily.
"What happened to you?" Marco raised a brow, clearly surprised to see Bowen in such a depreciated state.
"What do they feed these country guards?" Bowen spat out in response, recoiling from the pain spreading from his ribs. "Shit. I think two of my ribs were done in from that blow," he gritted his teeth and walked closer.
Borris's solemn expression deepened as he exchanged glances between the two, his voice resounding grimly.
"And? What do we do now?" Borris shifted his gaze and attention to Marco, who by now had slowly begun to regain some of the lost color in his face.
"If the situation truly is as dire as you make it out to be," Borris continued, "it would mean we aren't safe if we don't get as far away from the settlement as possible. Our covers have been blown, our plan ultimately thwarted. You say they've somehow intercepted our men, which also means our chances of receiving reinforcements are slim, especially now that the village is aware of a possible raid."
It was all different when they still had the element of surprise. Marco remained silent, his eyes calmly closed in thought.
"Well..." His lids fluttered open, and his eyes rippled as his lips curled sinisterly. "There's still one thing that might turn the whole circumstances around," he mused.
Marco lingered, his smile unfaltering. Reaching into his clothes, he pulled out an egg-shaped spherical object the size of a football and held it open for his colleagues to see.
The eyes of Borris and Bowen widened in shock.
"That's the..." Borris stuttered.
"I see," Bowen's lips twisted into a smile, clearly understanding Marco's intentions by pulling out this device.
Meanwhile, Marco nodded, his expression growing still and solemn, his voice flat and lifeless.
"Yes. The situation has changed, but we might be able to salvage whatever little we can with this," he said, tearing his gaze away from the device and focusing it on his accomplices.
His dull brown eyes grew glassy.
"We can still cause a stampede."
The forest seemed to respond to his words; a powerful draft of wind pushed through, ruffling the trees and bending their crowns in a looming second that seemed to hold longer. The weight of Marco's words was evident, and a stifling silence prevailed.
However, in that short moment, time seemed to break and reattach itself as the three men failed to recall what happened. There was a muffled sound of wind, then the sharp point of a dagger drawing a crescent behind Marco.
Bowen was the first and quickest to react.
"Watch out!"
With the dagger's point inches from Marco's neck, Bowen roughly grabbed Marco's collar and pulled him away from the danger.
"What-!"
A sharp yelp broke from Marco's lips as his body was aggressively pulled away, causing his legs to stumble and threaten to fall forward to the ground.
The blade drawing an arc for his neck missed the target and tore a barely audible whistle through the forest.
By the time Borris came too, the three men instantly back stepped a couple of times, putting as much distance between their attacker as instantly possible at that very moment.
"You bastard, what the fuck was that—!!" Oblivious, Marco proceeded to curse out his colleague, cradling closely the spherical device to his chest, but his voice instantly drowned and a sharp stinging sensation traced the back of his neck and down his back from a chilling voice he heard from behind.
"Hey," the voice was cold, the single utterance instinctively drew the guards of the three, but their faces drowned in a myriad of changes and confusion when they turned to the source.
"Right now, you just said something interesting. Mind telling me more about it?"
It was a kid.
In the previous position where the three men stood a couple seconds ago, was a young boy donning a similar version of the village guards leather armored uniform. Dangling from his side was a sheathed sword, and in his arm was a wielded dagger, the point glinting against the sunlight.
His glossy black hair that seemed to absorb and deter the light fell forward over his face as his head hung low.
His voice was flat, no trace of hostility or emotions followed his next words. There was no anger, no cold blood like before, no bloodlust, no fear, no rage.
Just inexplicable void, and yet the men felt the hairs on the back of their neck stand and prickle.
'Isn't he..."
It was at the same moment Borris recognized the young boy. Once more his facial expressions flashed with a myriad of confusion and changes.
Amongst them was weariness from the sudden chilling feeling he gave them, and relief for the obvious feeling he was a mere child.
"Mhm? Aren't you one of those kids?" Bowen voiced the similar thoughts his companions shared, and with each words that followed, he felt his muscles and brows relax, and so did the others.
It was just a kid.
But.
'How did he get here? '
'How long has he been following us? '
'I couldn't even detect his presence, even now? '
There was something deeply unsettling about his appearance, and as if the world seemed to reckon alongside them, the forest seemed to drown in an eerie stillness they failed to realize early.
The young boy shifted on his feet and all three of the men found themselves involuntarily twitching. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of their faces and their heart beat fell deeper and heavier.
The young boy straightened his back and raised his head revealing a thin, amiable smile blossomed warmly on his lips.
And smiling equally like so, his lips parted and his voice resounded gently once more.
"Hey, c'mon, why don't you tell me more about what you were talking about, ne~" his words sounded cheery and lively.
Upbeat even.
Yet Marco, Borris and Bowen, all three men felt dread.
'His eyes...' they all thought.
His eyes devoured.