The dust from the battle slowly settled. Only one seeker survived. The losses were huge, but the beast finally fell. If we hadn't managed to blind the monster, we'd all surely have ended up as its dinner.
What happened left me in shock. Adrenaline, guts, and staring death in the face—it was definitely too much for my modern mind. I'd never seen that much blood, not even in the worst slashers. Although I'm an adult, I know the nightmares from this battle will haunt me for a long time...
Oleg collapsed. He sat down, leaning against a tree, gasping for air.
"I'll skin that bastard alive," he choked out through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath.
"It must be worth quite a lot," I replied, sitting next to him. The trophies were probably one of the bonuses seekers received after a successful hunt.
"I don't give a damn about that mutt's fur," he said with contempt.
"What?" I was confused. "Who?"
"That fucking Tom," he hissed through his teeth. "That treacherous bastard."
What?!
"What happened?"
"What the hell do you think?" he shouted, losing control of his anger. "We attacked a monster that had already evolved."
"And Tom?" I asked cautiously.
"When we went to fight, he wasn't there anymore. That flea took off!" His voice was full of rage.
So that's why I didn't see Tom's body anywhere...
"I thought..."
"You thought wrong," he interrupted me, his voice softening. "He was supposed to cover Lefty..."
I fell silent. What could I say?
"Then everything went to hell..." he continued, his face hardening in a grimace of pain. "The wolf caught Lefty, threw him into a tree, and Righty..." The words stuck in his throat.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
A heavy silence fell, broken only by Oleg.
"You fought bravely," he said, smiling weakly. "If it weren't for you, I'd be dead too..."
"I couldn't let someone who still has to teach me a spell die," I replied, trying to lighten the mood.
"Ha, you really are special, boy. A second-class wolf as your first trophy..." Oleg laughed with difficulty, but it didn't sound like genuine laughter.
"Second-class?" That term intrigued me.
"It's a scale for mutant strength... but that's not important," he answered, getting up. "Help me, we need to get back to camp."
I stood up and gave him my hand, helping him rise. He groaned as he straightened up and leaned on my shoulder. He was heavy, but he didn't put all his weight on me—he knew that despite his weakness, I was barely standing on my own.
Dragging our legs behind us, we reached the camp an hour later.
"I've witnessed the death of companions many times..." Oleg started, breaking the silence. "But this... this massacre..."
"It's horrible," I said, sitting next to the fire. "All because of Tom..."
When I first met them at the village mayor's house, Tom seemed like the most "human" of the group. He reminded me of myself back in high school—always drunk, partying, living for the moment. But appearances can be deceiving.
"Let's not talk about it," Oleg replied, tired. "Revenge tastes best cold."
"What now?" I asked, unsure of what to expect.
"Now... I'll teach you the second spell."
"Already?" I was surprised by this decision.
"I see it in your eyes, boy," he smiled slightly. "You can't wait."
"If you're tired..."
"No," Oleg interrupted me. "It's just a short incantation."
I waited, fascinated. Yes, it had been a massacre. Yes, many people had died. Yes, it was hard. But since I arrived in this world, this was the first chance I had to learn magic. Oleg knew me well—he could tell I couldn't hold back.
"I'm starting, listen carefully."
The seeker began his throaty chant. I won't hide it, he was off-key, but I tried to catch every syllable, every word.
After four seconds, he finished the incantation.
"Was that shorter, or was it just me?" I asked, a bit surprised.
"Yes, that's true," Oleg explained. "This spell is called a force shield. At least, that's what seekers call it."
"And professionally?"
"I don't know, unfortunately I'm not a mage..." he answered, looking at me with a slight sadness.
He really wanted to be a mage. I can feel it...
"Alright," I said confidently. "Now it's my turn!"
"Remember," Oleg reminded me. "Articulation and tempo."
"I know, I know..." I replied, trying not to lose focus.
"Well, go ahead," he urged me, smiling gently.
I focused, calmed myself, and began the incantation. Every word, every syllable had to be pronounced precisely. Slowly, I moved through the sounds, until finally, I spoke the last one.
Then, in front of me, appeared a translucent, bluish, flickering membrane in the shape of an oval, about half a meter in diameter.
"Is that... a shield?" I asked, amazed by the effect.
"Yes, it's a protective spell," Oleg answered.
"Could it deflect the wolf's attack?"
"Maybe one," Oleg pondered. "I'm not sure. The strength depends on the mage's power."
"And what about magic? Does it deflect magic too?"
"Yeah, but..." he added, thinking. "This spell is quite versatile. Every mage knows it."
Interesting. A defensive spell, but what are its limits? I need to test that in practice.
"Why don't I feel tired when I use it?" I asked, unable to stop myself.
"Unfortunately, I don't know..." Oleg shrugged.
Maybe the spell uses the caster's energy only when it absorbs an impact? Or only when it's destroyed? So many questions...
"And what about the first one?" I asked, going back to the previous spell. "What's it called?"
"A piercing projectile."
"I assume that's the common name?"
"Yes, at least that's what seekers call it." Oleg explained. "I don't know what mages call it."
"Thank you, Oleg," I said, feeling grateful. "Without you... I'd still be nobody. But now at least I have some purpose."
To be honest, the first impression he made on me was bad. Always complaining, criticizing, with a demeanor that didn't appeal to me at all. But as they say, don't judge a book by its cover. Who would have thought that this surly giant would turn out to be someone who really did a lot for me? Despite his repellent behavior, he was the first person in this cruel world who began to mean something to me.
"You're welcome, really..." he began, but didn't finish. Blood sprayed across my face.
The tip of Oleg's saber was sticking out of his head. The light in his eyes immediately went out.
The tip of the blade slowly withdrew from his head. I looked up. Standing over him was none other than the blond young man with empty eyes—Tom.
Oleg collapsed.
Frozen, I helplessly watched his body twitching in post-mortem spasms.
"W-w-what?" I groaned softly.
I was afraid to lift my gaze.
"Listen, kid," Tom said in an emotionless tone, "I don't kill children."
I was silent. I couldn't get any words out.
"Go back to your village and never leave it again."
Then he left the camp, taking his belongings. And he walked away.