Mark looked at the man who spoke while silently deactivating his ability. That was what he was talking about, right?
'Or maybe my presence is just unwelcome?'
Lamanting inside, he tilted his head with an invisible question.
To his confusion, the soldier simply shifted himself back on the slope and closed his eyes, not even sparing the slightest explanation for his request. Though, it seemed that the soldier was probably talking about Mark's emotion manipulation, as the man looked at peace.
Yet there still was a sense of curiosity. A multitude of thoughts had sprouted in his mind from the simple request of the soldier. Perhaps the answers would help him realize what was missing.
Subtle discontent found itself on his face.
"Are you going to explain why you asked me to stop, or are you going to be ordering me around like some sort of captain?"
The surrounding soldiers grumbled, but he stifled their annoyance with his ability. At the same time, he instigated some proactiveness in the man who he was confronting.
He watched as aggravation grew on the man's face, almost as if he saw Mark as one of those pestilent rodents that commonly scurried around the trenches. Rising from the slope with a frown, he pointed at something on his sleeve.
A dust-covered, rudimentarily patched emblem depicted some sort of status, albeit too covered by mud to make out.
"It's major to you. Now get out of my sight and leave me be. And for the last time, stop messing with my goddamned head!"
Mark stopped for a moment, but the major's words had the opposite effect.
Still unsatisfied, he stretched his mind and instigated a plethora of random, vivid emotions.
The major's face contorted under the overbearing influence of colliding sentiments. Onlookers watched with some morbid curiosity, hoping for a new source of entertainment.
Launching himself at Mark, the major immediately started a vicious assault, striking at any opening he could find while ceaselessly advancing. His blows were mostly blocked, but some were able to slip through the defenses.
Some soldiers nodded and were wowed, finally having found some amusement in the dreary, disdainful trenches.
However, no matter how many punches the major landed, he only felt a sense of dread coagulate in his mind, turning heavier as his assault continued. Alongside that imposed dread was a personal ire that only served to fuel his viciousness.
Mark endured the sudden rain of blows and made sure to shift his body in order to reduce the damage from the hits that connected. He was slightly taken aback by how the major was fighting.
It felt like he was confronting a madman. His assailant disregarded his safety while focusing on an overwhelming offense, almost as if his attacks were committed in self-loathing and unforgiving hatred. Yet, the major was only half-mad. Each attack was done with precision and decisiveness rather than with senseless desperation.
There were two ways to overcome the assault. The first one was to wait until the attacker became worn out and couldn't continue with the same vigor. The second method was to find the right moment to launch a counterattack.
Waiting didn't seem like the best approach. Endurance and stamina were two things that, despite not having much food or morale, were abundant in the trenches with the continuously building resentment of the soldiers.
The major would probably finish the fight before he showed the slightest sign of fatigue. That left only the second option.
As a straight blow connected with his ribs, Mark moved back slightly, seemingly disoriented with his whole side open for a heavy strike from the side. At the same time, he subtly stretched his mind and installed a nearly unnoticeable bit of rashness.
His bait worked as the major retracted his arm to launch a heavy attack at the opening.
A fist was sent flying in an arc toward Mark's flank, but at the last moment, he leaned back, causing the clenched hand to graze his abdomen and continue past. The major was off balance.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, he stretched his mind and sent his assailant into a state of shock while grabbing the back of the major's head, viciously pulling it down into his rising knee.
Gasps resounded from the onlooking crowd as they watched the spectacle of a reversal. The person they thought was losing had suddenly come back with a seemingly decisive blow.
Blood trailed from the major's nose as he stepped back, disoriented.
Mark calmly approached the dazed man with a certain degree of vigilance.
He cruelly rammed his fist into the place where his knee had previously connected.
"Are you going to answer me now?"
Once more, he struck the bloodied portion of the major's face, sending him back onto his previous resting black on the slope.
The beaten man remained unmoving as he gasped for air. Blood freely fell from his nostrils like twin waterfalls. Not an effort was made to stifle the bleeding. He simply remained there, defeated.
His eyes listlessly looked forward, not focused on anything. His expression was almost pathetic.
Standing above his beaten opponent, Mark looked down with a slightly disdainful, yet nevertheless placid visage. Bruises and torn skin were apparent in his appearance, but his poise betrayed no sign of weakness.
He ignored the slight applause that the onlookers celebrated him with and instead pierced the major with his gaze as if threatening him into speaking.
After some time, the bloodied man raised his head and finally met the victor's gaze. He tried to say something but seemed to choke on his blood.
A small coughing fit ensued.
"What do you want?"
Mark squatted down so that the major didn't have to raise his head.
"Tell me why you know about my ability."
The major sighed.
"It becomes obvious after being under its influence for so long. At some point, telling apart my real and fake emotions became as easy as breathing."
His words only confused Mark more. How would he be so acquainted with having his emotions manipulated when this was the first time he used his ability on him?
Slowly, he voiced his doubts.
"Aren't... the abilities of the Blessed all different?"
Blinking, the bloodied major regarded Mark with equal doubt.
"Are you high? Of course not."