As soon as Kaelith vanished, Hamira staggered back, her form seemingly unchanged, but something fundamental felt missing. Her first instinct was to claw at the golden ring encircling her finger. She pulled, scratched, and even attempted to channel her energy to dislodge it, but it was futile. The ring wasn't merely on her finger—it was fused with her very essence.
Her frustration grew as she reached out to her zombie army stationed outside the cave. Nothing. No response. It was as if they'd been erased from existence. The air around her seemed quieter, heavier, devoid of the presence she had commanded with pride. Her thoughts, usually sharp and calculated, were now scattered and tangled.
But Hamira wasn't one to wallow for long. Within a minute, she regained her composure. Her pride as a commander demanded it. Gripping her spear tightly, she levelled it at Reibar, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound resolute.
"Who was that? What have you done to me?"
Reibar was a kind guy but he was not some child forgetting all the screams of innocent people of willowfield and what this monster had brought down to the people he cared for.
"Bad girl," he said, his voice chillingly calm, echoing the same mocking tone she had used against him mere moments ago when he was embedded into the wall. "You need to be disciplined first."
Hamira faltered, taking a step back., She wanted to lunge at him, to drive her spear through his chest and regain control, but her body refused to move for that action as if she totally were incapable of hurting her 'master'.
reibar gave her a glaring look. One glaring look with the intention of making her feel pain, and that's it. That was all he needed to think of and not even a second passed and Hamira's whole body shook from the pain from every cell of her body. For a brief moment then it stopped but it was enough to bring her onto her knees and she was panting heavily.
"Killing you won't be enough," Reibar growled, his voice low and venomous. "You'll feel the pain you've inflicted on those innocent people. Tenfold."
With that he gave her that glaring look his brimming with anger and her body was shivering badly again, as if it was experiencing continuous bolts of lightning or was put into a burning cauldron, more .... the intensity of this pain was more than that....at each second she felt like she is going to die the very next moment but her sense of pain gets back to zero and instead of pain getting dulled she felt it again this time even more intensifying. Whereas there was no injury on the body from the outside it was like her soul itself was being crushed.
Reibar straightened, his fury still simmering as he turned toward the cave entrance. "I'm hungry," he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though addressing no one in particular. "Of course, I would be after being nailed to a wall for three days straight. I'm going hunting. You can wait for me here."
Hamira can't even think of spending one more second with this continuous pain and he was going to abandon her for who knows till when?
Her pride, her resolve, even her hatred—all of it crumbled under the weight of the fear consuming her. She reached out, her voice barely above a whisper, broken and desperate.
"P-please... don't... go."
The words spilt out of her, stripped of arrogance, stripped of power. The once-proud commander of thousands now knelt, trembling, her pride reduced to ashes in the wake of his wrath.
Reibar stepped out of the cave, the fresh air a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness he had endured inside. His gaze fell on the sword in his hand—the one the Headmaster had given him. It wasn't an ordinary weapon; the Headmaster didn't deal in ordinary things after all. As Reibar stared at the blade, it glowed faintly, a light blue hue rippling across its surface as if responding to his thoughts. It was some sort of enchanted weapon and he had a feeling that he could cut through anything with this.
He gripped the hilt tightly, the memory of Gareth flashing through his mind. Just like Eric, Gareth had been a swordsman—skilled, determined, and honourable. Killing him in his zombified state had been a tragedy, but now, as Reibar swung the sword experimentally, he felt something stir within him. His movements were sharper, more precise. It was as if Gareth's mastery had been absorbed, merging with that of Eric's he already had. Each swing felt instinctive, carrying an expertise that wasn't wholly his before.
But that wasn't the most intriguing part.
Reibar paused, his free hand moving to his chest. He could sense something—something new—near his heart. A faint hum, like an unseen pulse, resonated within him. He closed his eyes, recalling the lessons from the orphanage library.
Every living being, he had learned, had three major systems within their body. The circulatory system, powered by the heart, keeps the blood flowing. The nervous system, commanded by the brain, governs all bodily actions. And finally, the mana system—a network invisible to the eye but vital to life. The mana core, located near the heart, was its centre.
Mana was formless and intangible, and its potency varied greatly among individuals. A farmer who spent his life tilling the fields might have a mana core as dim as a dying ember, black and inert. No matter how hard he tried, such a person would never harness magic. It was a birthright, a gift meant to grow only if someone puts dedication into it —or so Reibar had believed.
Until now.
For the first time, he felt it—his own mana core, pulsating faintly. It wasn't black like the farmer's. No, it was red, vibrant and alive. The realization sank in. This was Eldrin's doing. Eldrin was a proficient mage talented in air magic of the four basic elemental magics. The air mage had spent his life mastering his craft, and now, that mastery belonged to Reibar Valenhart. He felt sorry for the old man and cursing himself he was not strong enough to save him and others from that horrible ending which none of them deserved. His anger and hatred for Hamira just growing further.
Without hesitation, he sheathed his sword and focused. It was like he just knew how to do it. With a deep breath, Reibar willed the mana to move. A gust of wind swirled around his feet, lifting him off the ground.
His heart raced as he rose higher, the cave shrinking below him. But exhilaration quickly turned to chaos. He wobbled, the wind beneath him spiralling out of control. His body spun wildly, flipping end over end like a runaway cartwheel. Panic set in as he fought to stabilize, his arms flailing uselessly.
With a final surge of concentration, he managed to break the descent, but his landing was far from graceful. He hit the ground with a thud, tumbling to a stop in a heap. Groaning, he sat up, brushing dirt from his face.
"Well," he muttered to himself, coughing. "I guess this is going to take some practice."
Reibar's stomach growled a low, rumbling protest that made him wince. "Damn it, I'm starving," he muttered, pressing a hand to his abdomen as if to silence the noise. "I will take the flying for later need to fill my stomach first".
With no food in sight, he decided to take action. Picking a direction, he started running, his eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of wildlife. The thought of fresh meat spurred him forward, but as he sprinted, an idea struck him.
"If I can't find it fast enough, I'll just make myself faster."
He concentrated, channelling the air mana he had sensed earlier. This time, he didn't aim to lift himself into the sky. Instead, he directed the wind to propel him forward. A rush of wind and power surged through his legs, and he shot off, his speed much faster than it used to be. Totally unnatural for a human being.
Unlike flying, running felt natural—intuitive. He didn't need practice to master it; his body adapted in no time. Each step became lighter, as the wind coiled around his feet, driving him faster and faster. A faint grin touched his lips.
But his triumph was short-lived.
No animals appeared. Not a single rustle in the bushes, no signs of movement in the trees. Just silence. Then the realization hit
"Ah, of course," he groaned, slowing to a stop. "How could anything still be alive after that bit*h turned everything into her undead puppets? Stupid of me to hope otherwise."
He leaned against a tree, catching his breath. Frustration simmered beneath his hunger, but it was tinged with a grim satisfaction. "Good for her," he muttered, a dark glint in his eye. "Let her rot in that pain until I find something to eat. She'll have plenty of time to think about what she's done."
Pushing off the tree, Reibar resumed his search, this time with steely resolve. He would find food. And when he returned to that cave, the real reckoning would begin.
It was already evening when he came back with the game, 5 hours had passed, and dam what a sight of this confident Hamira it was! It was just a mere 5 hours since he left her with this punishment of suffering.
Hamira Beelzee was gasping for air, her tongue out as if she had just lost her mind. All drenched in the puddle of her own sweat, urine and faeces. A stark testament to the torment she had endured.
Reibar set down his catch, his gaze cold and unwavering as he approached. "Well, well," he began, his tone dripping with mockery, "what has become of the mighty Hamira Beelzee? It's been, what, just five hours? And here you are, reduced to... this."
He crouched slightly, looking down at her with a smirk. "Can't you even tolerate a little punishment? Tsk, tsk. You're a bad girl, Hamira. No sense of dignity whatsoever. Lying here like this, drenched in your own mess?" He shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Come on, you're supposed to be a grown woman, aren't you?"
His words weren't just taunts—they were daggers, meant to humiliate her further.
The air around him seemed heavier, he stood over her. Hamira, who once commanded legions of undead, couldn't even muster the strength to lift her head.
Reibar clicked his tongue. "Pathetic," he muttered, turning his attention to the fire he needed to build. The game he'd brought back was fresh, and he had no intention of wasting time or sympathy on her.
"Ugh," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with disdain. "I've seen roadkill more presentable than this."
Shaking his head, he moved toward the clearer part of the cave, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the stench without leaving entirely. The last thing he needed was for her pathetic state to ruin the meal he'd worked so hard to secure.