[Fynn's PoV]
[Right after the Vaki Beastmasters Massacre]
'Really? He killed the elves too?!'
If Fynn wasn't there personally, doing his best to keep Juliana alive, he would have never believed this story. For someone who had no energy to be this strong... it was impossible!
There was never a single warrior he ever knew that was this strong without any energy–and he had 2 decades of experience to boast.
It wasn't that fake experience some humans claimed, where they figured that spending a few minutes on a battlefield validated their petty squabbles. No, he was always in the mix of battle and its horrors.
Even the greatest warriors who could lower their energy output to a miniscule amount at a moment's notice still had some to detect. If he was any of the other people who lacked any energy, he would've been a mere civilian.
Clearly, he was an advent of destruction.
Even a human like himself– who has fought battles for over 2 decades– was nothing compared to a single orc, elf, or fallen in combat. Yet this man was cutting through them like butter.
As he looked at the elves lying on the battlefield, some so battered and disfigured they no longer even remotely resembled their usual grace, he saw his own fallen comrades. Rows upon rows, years upon years of death. Faces he had almost forgotten as they, too, were unidentifiable once war was done with them.
Tyrnia, Egure, Batali. Ghesta, Fern, Tyko. All of their names were etched into his mind, untarnished by the loss of their physical selves. They were all like him, footsoldiers trained to fight to the death. And that they would do, taking the lives of as many of the enemy's footsoldiers as they could.
But eventually, the Walkers would arrive. And then...
Fear gripped Fynn like a snake that had found its meal. Slowly, as if fearing the results, he raised his head to look at Amelia. Her face wasn't caved in yet... her skull wasn't ripped apart... she wasn't bisected at her torso. In fact, she looked peaceful. As if the fallen had ripped all of her worries away.
Or that man, when he killed them and saved her.
A small gust of air brushed his hand that was supporting Juliana in the way he was told to, causing him to look down. He heard her wheeze even before he saw the low rise and fall of her stomach. A small smile snaked along his face as he bit his lip, instinctively thinking there was a stick to chew.
'Dang it!' Fynn shook his head as he licked the wound. Blood was washing over his tongue like a river. It reminded him of the time this one soldier kicked his face in with a boot.
That might have been the best thing to have ever happened to him. War did produce some of the hottest nurses.
'And kills them.' Fynn closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of slow, rhythmic breathing that was filled with life.
And then they shot wide open as the earth trembled and an intense energy crackled along the entire battlefield.
'M- more enemies?! What kind of dungeon is this!'
He had already figured that they had entered a tempered dungeon, one that was modified by some larger guild so that they could enter a higher-ranked dungeon for cheaper. But even this was too much to be a tempered dungeon...
A small sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head and reached for his bow. Juliana groaned but he paid her no mind as he was preparing for the worst.
If Nick was overrun, they would be the next targets. With the way this dungeon was constructed, it obviously had some type of objective to survive a certain amount of time.
Once that time ran out, whoever survived would instantly leave the dungeon. It didn't make much sense, but that's how these ones worked.
He nocked an arrow on his bowstring as he watched Nick fight the dwarves. Apparently, those sturdy cave dwellers were the next wave Nick had to defeat.
They were slow, so Fynn was confident he could buy time for Amelia's escape should Nick die. Sighing before accidentally biting his lips again, Fynn thought about all the battles he'd fought in his life.
About how no one really cared either. He was a weapon for a bit of time, and now that he was rusty he was also useless– cast aside trash.
Even after all the wars were done he still could do nothing but battle. No actual job would want to hire some human who thought himself a warrior.
The only reason he could stay afloat these last few years was because of Amelia–and maybe Yck to a lesser extent. Without her support over the last few years, he'd be dead.
So as he watched Nick fight against the dwarves, finally seeming to have met his match, he prepared for the worst.
And the worst came.
While Fynn was watching Nick he saw something from the corner of his eye–a glint of light. The light was moving, fast.
Squinting his eyes in disbelief, Fynn watched the light move toward them–which he now knew was a lake.
'A lake in the land of the dead? What?!' He almost couldn't believe his eyes; the impossible was clearly shown to be possible.
And a moving sea could only mean one thing...
It contained the creatures of legend, the Mizukai. The ones far more immortal than even Elves and far more dangerous than Orcs. They were one of the few races Humans never bothered manipulating, instead electing to allow their self-exile.
That's because there was no way they'd survive an encounter with one.
Fynn looked at Nick and saw that he was still busy with the dwarves. Then he turned to Amelia, unconscious but peaceful all the same now that she thought herself safe.
Setting Juliana down on an elevated rock, he pulled back his bowstring and readied to fire. No human has ever defeated a Mizukai before, but if one were to be the first, it would be Nick.
'Stupid dungeon couldn't have just had some goblins.'
Prepared to stall for as long as possible, he fired his arrow into the sea. Before it even connected he was already drawing another.
His hand was a blur, as well as his bowstring, as arrows fired so quickly they could be bullets from a machine gun. The sea remained perfectly clear and pristine, not a single blood trail rising through the waters.
There was no moment of pause, no hesitation. Even as his attacks proved futile, Fynn did nothing except fire even more arrows.
50,
100,
500,
More and more until it felt like infinity. Today, he was truly testing his bottomless quiver.
Then the perfectly pristine sea was right next to him. The water was so clear that he easily saw each and every one of the ugly fish.
Their stupid face looked indented like an uglier version of a pug. They had large, beady black eyes and a single dorsal fin over their head. An impossibly small neck connected a massive head to their tiny, skinny body.
If it wasn't for the legends, he'd have wondered if it could even fight since it looked so weak.
A trident burst through the water as Fynn nocked another arrow, gliding straight through his shoulder and into the sky. Fynn screamed and gritted his teeth but nocked the arrow all the same.
Another trident shot out of the water, and another and another. Each one that hit him was a hit Amelia wouldn't have to take.
If he could just fire this arrow... it could be a Mizukai Nick didn't have to kill– one less step to save Amelia.
He screamed as he assumed the role of a protector many comrades before had done for him. There was quite a lot of time he had borrowed in his life and he was planning to give it all to Amelia here and now.
His vision turned blurry as another trident cleared through his midsection but he still pulled back the bow string.
As the trident went straight through his throat, he let go. Though he was decapitated he could hear the scream of a Mizukai. Did he really get one?
Was he the first to kill a Mizukai?
As he traveled through the Aether, he smiled, feeling that Amelia would survive this.
'I'm going to keep your seat warm, ok. But that doesn't mean I want to see you anytime soon.'