The air felt different now, heavier with the weight of Achem's actions. The journey through the forest was silent, the usual sounds of birds and rustling leaves replaced by the eerie quiet that followed the brutal confrontation. The mercenaries walked in tight formation, their steps measured, their gazes shifting occasionally to Achem. They had seen him act with cold efficiency, and now there was an unspoken understanding that their lives were in his hands, just as much as his own survival was in theirs.
Achem's mind was a storm of thoughts, every part of him still recoiling from the violence he had just unleashed. His knuckles were white, clenched tightly around his sword hilt, though his grip had long since become unconscious. The man he had tortured, broken, and left to suffer, lingered in his mind, his blood still fresh in the earth. The memories of Rogar had come back to him, flooding his thoughts again in a dark, intrusive wave. He was still not sure how much of that life was his, how much of it was a stranger's, and how much had been forced upon him.
The summoner's cryptic words had only made things worse. "Your soul doesn't belong. Rogar's memories are there, but the essence… it's foreign."
What did it mean? Was he a copy of Rogar, or was there something more at play?
"We're moving too slowly," Lysara's voice broke through his thoughts. She was walking beside him now, her expression tight, eyes narrowed. "If they're watching you, we need to act fast."
Achem's gaze flickered to her. He hadn't expected her to approach him directly like this. Lysara was always one to stay aloof, but now there was something different in her. Her stance was assertive, bordering on demanding. She was a leader in her own right. He wondered if she was seeing him in a different light after the brutal interrogation.
"I know," Achem replied, his voice low but steady. "But where do we go from here? We need answers, but we're already too exposed. If they know about me, about Rogar…" He didn't finish the sentence. The implications were too vast. Too dangerous.
Lysara seemed to read the tension in his voice. "Then we need to go to the source," she said. "Not just the summoner, but the people pulling the strings behind this. Someone's orchestrating everything. And we need to find them."
"Where?" Achem asked, meeting her gaze.
Lysara glanced toward the path ahead, where the dim light of dawn was beginning to break through the canopy. "There's a city to the east. Far enough to be out of reach, but close enough to be of interest. It's where the mercenaries get their work. Rumors of a 'higher power' have been circulating there. People who know things. People who can help us."
Achem weighed her words carefully. He had little trust in anyone, but he was beginning to realize that he couldn't do this alone. He had no choice but to follow the path she was suggesting. Even if it led him deeper into a web of deceit, it was better than wandering blind. And, perhaps, there was something more in that city—something that might give him the edge he so desperately needed.
"Alright," Achem said after a long pause. "We head for the city. But we don't trust anyone. Not yet."
Lysara nodded, her lips curling slightly in approval. "Agreed. We've come this far on our own. We can't afford to be anyone's pawns now."
They moved quickly after that, keeping their pace swift and deliberate. The forest began to thin, and the light from the rising sun filtered through the trees in long, slanting rays. Achem kept his senses sharp, every rustling leaf, every shifting shadow a potential threat. His body ached from the fight, the adrenaline wearing off, but the surge of determination within him kept him going.
As they emerged from the forest and onto a narrow dirt road, Achem's mind shifted back to the question of who else might be watching him. The summoner had been only a small part of a larger picture. They were part of something bigger, something that reached beyond the forest's borders.
He couldn't shake the feeling that his arrival in this world—his very presence here—had set off a chain of events he wasn't ready to handle. He wasn't Rogar. He wasn't anyone's pawn. But there was something tying him to this world. Something far more complex than a simple twist of fate.
As the group walked on, Achem noticed that Garron had fallen into step beside him. The old mercenary's face was set in grim lines, but there was a kind of respect in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"You've got a fire in you," Garron said after a moment, voice gruff. "A fire that burns hotter than most I've seen. Just make sure it doesn't consume you."
Achem nodded stiffly. He wasn't sure if he wanted the fire to burn out, or if he wanted it to rage on until it swallowed everything in its path. He wasn't sure who he was becoming in this world. But one thing was certain—he wasn't going to back down. Not now. Not ever.
And as they made their way toward the city, the promise of new answers lingered on the horizon, just out of reach. Achem could feel it in his bones. The threads of his fate were beginning to unravel, and he was ready to pull on them, no matter where they led.
In the distance, the city loomed. Tall stone walls rose into the sky, and the faint hum of activity could be heard even from here. It was a place of power, a place where anything could be bought—or stolen.
"This is it," Achem muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "Let's see what secrets it holds."
And so, they moved toward it, the city's gates standing before them like a challenge. The answers he sought, and the ones he feared, were waiting inside. But Achem was ready to face whatever lay ahead.
For in this world, it was kill or be killed. And Achem wasn't about to let his fire be extinguished. Not yet.