Capítulo 19: Freedom Comes With A Price
Though it didn't seem to be enough as an unorthodox maneuver came from the man; as he managed to leap out of reach from the spinning slash, he looked up to see the sword being flung towards him like a spear.
What–? He threw his sword?! He thought.
It felt like a dirty trick, but an effective one nonetheless.
"Ghh!"
Just as the tip scraped against his forehead, he invoked a blast of wind, knocking the blade back, but not before the man sprung towards him and threw his fist straight into his gut.
"Pyuh-!" He spit out.
The gut punch sent him tumbling backward as he manifested a protrusion of stone from the ground behind him to stop his tumble. He quickly picked himself up to see the man catch his airborne sword, rushing towards him again.
It was terrifying to be faced against; the bald-headed criminal, layered in scars and wearing heavy leather armor, had such palpable bloodlust that was solidified by his status as a cruel, unforgiving person.
This time, he threw his hands around, tossing compressed blasts of wind in an attempt to keep the man at bay, but the expert swordsman danced around his blasts–hopping off of the walls and flipping around.
Something…! Think! He told himself.
If wind didn't work, he switched it up, planting his feet against the ground as he invoked magecraft that allowed him to manipulate the stone around him, creating small, sharpened projectiles that launched forward swiftly.
The bald swordsman deflected the incoming stone arrowheads, but one managed to stick him in the arm.
"Yes–"
Before he could celebrate, he realized the man was still pushing forward, grunting as his shoulder bled, but seeming even angrier than before.
I have to do something…! He thought.
As he racked his brain, an idea came to mind, but he was reluctant to do it. It was something definitely risky, but as he watched the man evade his spells effortlessly, he decided a risk had to be taken.
He held his hand forward, concentrating as he drew further sweat from his pores while blood trickled down his forehead.
Feel it heat up your blood; condense that destruction into the palm of your hand…! He thought.
Visualizing the flames, it bore into reality as the small fireball swirled in front of his palm, but he wasn't done yet.
In addition to the element of fire, he manifested a swirl of wind around the newborn inferno, feeding it precious nutrients as the flame as its pale orange hue became a howling vermilion–
Just as the man dashed towards him, he unleashed the oxygen-fueled flame while stabilizing his spell-arm with his other hand.
"Ghh-!"
"--!"
The criminal's eyes widened at the last moment as once the young boy released the fed flame, it filled the width of the dingy corridor with its burning wrath.
He nearly fell back from the massive expansion of wind that came from the flame's birth.
Holy shit…! He thought.
The floor trembled beneath his boots as the great flame burrowed through the hall, swirling and displaying its destructive nature.
It flashed its fangs for only a moment, but that seemed to be enough as once the flames dispersed into smoke, he could see the figure of the man standing in the hall.
"--"
All of the flesh on the man's body was charred; turned to a complete black as he lingered there for a moment before falling flat on his face.
"...Huff…huff…"
He stood there for a moment, still holding his hand forward while catching his breath. The walls and floor were charred as well, laden with black burn marks that sat in the wake of the destructive flame.
As the spell had left with an explosive percussion, his ears were left ringing as he watched ashen particles flutter in the air before him.
It wasn't just the bald man that had turned to a crisp, but the other child trafficker he had finished off prior. Experiencing the wrath of the combined magic he had used, he was stuck between a spectrum of emotions for a minute.
After gathering himself, he remembered–
"Irene!"
He ran forward as his right arm was numb at his side from releasing such a potent amount of mana.
"Ngh…"
His entire body was in pain, but he pushed forward, moving up the staircase and finding a wooden, steel-reinforced door sitting at the top.
Of course, it was locked.
He drew in a quick breaths, preparing himself before–
"Gh!"
Slamming his shoulder against the door, he was bounced back, nearly tumbling down the stairs before catching himself.
He only weighed maybe thirty kilograms, not much more than a sack of potatoes, that much was made obvious as the door didn't budge in the slightest.
"...Fine, then…!"
Taking a step back, he breathed in as he raised his left hand forward, exhaling in unison with the wind invocation, commanding a pressurized shot of air to blow the door not only open, but flying off of its hinges.
"What the–?! Ghkk-!"
To his fortune, the heavy door blasted forward into the next corridor, slamming directly into one of the criminals that was guarding the area.
It was an instant knockout as the metal-infused door collided with the man into the far wall, trapping him beneath its weight.
"--"
He carefully walked into the corridor, holding his open palm forward as if it were a tangible weapon.
"Raaagh–!"
From the nook in the right wall, a tall, bearded man roared out, attempting to take him by surprise as he immediately responded with a powerful wind blast.
CRACK.
It was purely by reflex, having flung the giant man back and knocking the back of his head against the jagged corner of the stone wall.
"--"
As he stood there for a moment, still holding his quivering hand forward as a defense, he looked at the slumped over man whose eyes were open, but looking a hundred yards past him at nothing.
Trickle.
Blood seeped from the back of the man's head–it was an accidental kill. Either way, he gulped and moved on, not looking back as he navigated through the rancid-smelling building.
Through aimless stumbling and turning around corners, he found his way into a vast courtyard that led outside. There was no roof overhead except the veil of the stars in the night sky.
In the center of the dingy courtyard was a campfire, and a sole occupant sitting beside it–he recognized the man with just a single glance.
The verdant cloak and belt-like straps around his trousers and sleeves, a head of frizzy, light-orange hair and a constant smile:
Rubert…He thought.
It was the man who deceived him; the man noticed him as well, slowly getting up as he picked up his dark-brown scabbard with a smile.
"...Oh? You're a slippery one, aren't you? I doubt you could have escaped without running into a few of my friends…You killed them, didn't you? I heard the Dragonheart boy was a talented mage, after all," Rubert said casually, "I told Owen to take your legs, but he didn't listen. Oh, well."
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