The sun was setting on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rocky path as we advanced. Days had passed since our last battle with the mercenaries, yet something still gnawed at me. The clues, the information we had recovered... it all seemed to point towards Alokta, but in a way I hadn't anticipated.
We walked in silence, me leading, followed by Kimpa Vita, Luther, and Kael. The fatigue from past battles was etched on our faces, but the feeling of being hunted, constantly watched, kept us alert.
Suddenly, a sensation crawled down my spine, that instinct that had become second nature over time. I raised my hand, signaling the others to stop.
"Something's not right," I murmured, every sense on edge.
Kimpa Vita moved slightly ahead, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows before us. "I feel it too."
Before I could react, figures materialized from the rocks and trees around us—armed men, emerging from the darkness. Mercenaries. But this time, something was different. They all wore the same strange symbol on their armor, an emblem I hadn't seen before.
Eyes fixed on their gleaming weapons, I mentally prepared for the battle. But something immediately struck me as odd. Their stance. These men weren't ordinary mercenaries. Their movements were synchronized, calculated, as if they had undergone strict military training. These weren't just bounty hunters. They were coordinated. Organized.
"Alokta," Kael whispered beside me, his face tightening with fear.
I tensed, the mention of Alokta stirring a palpable tension. Why would they send mercenaries? Was this an official mission, or something more clandestine?
I didn't have time to think further. The fight broke out in an instant. The mercenaries lunged at us, and I drew my sword. The air was filled with the sound of clashing steel, war cries, and spells cast by Kael and Kimpa Vita. Their movements were quick, precise, but these mercenaries weren't easy prey. Luther fought fiercely by their side, but it was clear he struggled to keep up with the frenetic pace of the battle.
I unleashed my Sylvan Knight abilities, manipulating the roots and vegetation around me to block some of the incoming attacks. Roots burst from the ground, entangling the legs of mercenaries, while others were violently thrown back. Kimpa Vita, on her end, used her Celestial Arrows, tearing through the air with swift and precise strikes, dealing holy damage to each enemy she hit.
"Kael, to your left!" I shouted as I dodged a sword strike. He cast a magical shield just in time, absorbing the blow from a mercenary before countering with an elemental spell, freezing the ground beneath his opponent, causing him to stumble.
Despite our coordination, these mercenaries were different. They weren't fighting for money or the thrill of violence. They had a mission, and that made them all the more dangerous.
One mercenary, larger than the others, seemed intent on testing me personally. His blows were precise and powerful, and I had to focus all my energy on parrying and dodging. At one point, I pushed him back with a wave of roots, but instead of retreating, he fixed his eyes on mine and growled:
"You can't run from Alokta. Not now. Not with what Kwame knows."
Kwame.
The name rang in my mind like an alarm bell. Why would he mention Kwame? Was he involved in all this? My thoughts blurred for a moment, but I didn't have the luxury to dwell on it.
"What do you know about Kwame?" I roared, my blood boiling.
The mercenary smirked, but didn't answer. He continued his attack, and I was forced to retaliate.
Kael and the others had managed to repel most of the mercenaries, but the rage inside me was growing uncontrollable. I blocked the mercenary's sword and violently threw him to the ground.
"Talk!"
The mercenary let out a raspy laugh, even as he bled. "Kwame... just a Paladin-Knight, right? A man without noble blood, and yet, look at what he's become. Do you really think he's... innocent?"
His words lodged in my mind like a poisoned arrow. Kwame, a Paladin-Knight... how could a man born outside of nobility reach such a prestigious rank, reserved for the rare few in Alokta? Such an ascension was practically impossible. Only two men in Alokta's history had ever achieved this title, and none of them were of humble origins. So why Kwame?
Doubt seeped into me, cold and unrelenting. My fist tightened around the mercenary's collar, my face dangerously close to his.
"Tell me what you know."
The mercenary, gasping for breath, smiled, further igniting my fury. My fist came crashing down on him, again and again. Kwame's words, the enigmatic looks he had given me, everything began to piece together in my mind. What was his connection to Alokta? Why had he never said anything?
"Alaric, stop!"
Kael's voice echoed in my ears, but I couldn't stop. My blows rained down on the mercenary's already bruised face, my rage spiraling out of control. The mercenary, barely conscious, managed to mutter weakly: "Mercy... I'm getting married... I... I..."
But his words didn't reach me. All I saw was an enemy before me, an obstacle to be destroyed. Kael intervened, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me back with force.
"That's enough! He's defeated!"
Breathing heavily, my fists bloodied, I looked at the mercenary, now motionless on the ground. Around us, my companions stood frozen, shocked by what they had just witnessed. The silence was heavy, suffocating.
Kimpa Vita finally broke the stillness. "He was no longer a threat, Alaric."
I glanced at her, then at Kael, who seemed almost pitying the mercenary. They didn't understand. They didn't know what this meant. Kwame, Alokta, the shadows looming over everything. How could they understand?
Kael took a breath, his jaw clenched slightly, but his eyes remained soft, almost pleading. "We'll find the answers, Alaric. But this isn't how you'll get them."
I remained silent for a moment, wiping the blood from my hands. The doubts continued to gnaw at me. Kwame. Paladin-Knight. How could he have achieved such a rank without a hidden past, without something darker behind it all?
The mercenary's body lay still, and the rest of his comrades were either defeated or fleeing. But instead of victory, I felt an even heavier burden settle on my shoulders.
Doubt. Betrayal. The seeds had been planted.