Damian stopped overthinking and just started singing a random song while creating a runic circle with his fingers. The soldiers were getting pushed back; the monster’s body was just too tough and fast to take any lasting damage. Valoris had managed to deliver some good cuts, but he was constantly on the move, dodging the humongous claws that tore everything in their path to pieces.
Glowing hot red on the snow beneath, Damian finished the runic circle and released a pillar of fire hurtling toward the monster, catching it off guard and lighting its behind on a fire. However, the monster immediately spun 180 degrees, throwing all the soldiers away with its giant body moving so fast, and summoned its very own dark blue circle.
The fire pillar burned Frostfang, but the skin was too thick, and the contact too brief.
In just a few seconds, the frost breath came rushing once again, clashing against Damian’s fire pillar, both canceling each other out continuously. However, with each passing second, Damian was getting pushed back with the more powerful frost breath.
‘How the hell does its spell work so fast? Do monsters not have any form of necessary actions to perform or delay before such stuff works?’
Then again, monsters could only perform fixed attacks—they couldn’t learn anything new. It was like their abilities were printed by a machine, while Damian and the others had to write by hand. Humans were even further behind, using will and voice to form runic circles. Stuck in this unequal exchange, Damian didn’t have enough mana, and his fire pillar wasn’t as strong or fast as the frost breath.
Continuing the supply of mana to the fire pillar, Damian created another green runic circle. Valoris came back just in time, jumping high with a glowing golden sword that was supposed to land on the monster’s head, chopping it off, or at least cutting it deeply.
But the monster’s senses were too sharp; in the last second, a huge paw came between Valoris and Frostfang, resulting in the monster only losing half of its front leg.
The blow was indeed powerful. Frostfang was disoriented in pain, screeching loudly, but the frost breath did not stop at all. It poured mana into the attack in massive quantities like it was nothing. Five huge, sharp air blades launched from Damian’s green runic circle at incredible speed, burying deep into Frostfang’s head and sides, making it screech even louder.
At last, the frost breath was broken, and so was Damian’s fire pillar, which had emptied the last of his mana.
Both the boy and the monster fell down into the snow—one in a deep slumber, the other in an eternal one.
________________________________________________________________________________
When Damian awoke from his mana drain, his body had recovered enough mana to not make him too tired, but it was still below 20%. A fire crackled nearby. Damian sat up and felt the warmth of fire in front of him.
The soldiers were sitting or sleeping all around—some maintaining their weapons, some mending their wounds, and others just lost in thought, looking at the two lifeless bodies of their companions.
They all noticed him but said nothing, not even showing the usual caution they had when he was around, fearing he might run away at any moment. Finally seeing for themselves that he could have run away before whenever he wanted to, a kind of acceptance was established.
“Are you okay? Any injuries?” Valoris asked, resting with his back to the cave they had somehow found and dragged him into.
Damian crossed his legs, getting into a comfortable sitting position, and moved a bit nearer to the fire.
“I’m good,” he replied.
“Thank you,” said Captain Valoris after a minute of silence. Everyone around them stopped what they were doing and looked at Damian’s small figure. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes said it all. Damian just nodded without looking at them and ignored them.
“How far are we from the border?” Damian asked. He could sense small creatures and some unranked monsters outside the cave.
“Not far. The snow got worse, and about half an hour from the place of attack, we found this place. We decided to make camp here for tonight.”
“Did it die?”
“Yes, it did. You killed it.”
“No, we did. On my own, I would have only run… not far at that,” Damian chuckled. No one around joined him in laughter, but subtle smiles appeared on the faces of people around him. They were the ones who had made it. They had survived.
“Here, we got a lot of meat off that thing,” Captain Valoris pointed at some leftover meat that they had specifically saved for him. Damian graciously accepted and ate in peace. There were three mages in their group of twenty-five; sadly, only two had survived, and even that one was injured when Frostfang threw them all away.
So only one functioning mage was left, and he looked tired, chanting and healing people in between breaks.
Some people’s injuries were more serious than others, and they needed at least some relief. The mage wouldn’t be able to do it alone. Damian didn’t want to lose his mana again, but if these people died, it would leave a sour taste in his mouth. Finishing his food, Damian took his handwritten book of the spell collection out and turned to the healing spell page.
This one was done by one of the senior mages in the army camp, and it was the most unique healing spell Damian had seen. It was more effective than the normal ones, so he copied it. It was still a basic healing spell, though. He really wanted advanced versions of it, but healers were rare, so he never got a chance to observe a proper one.
The soldiers around him noticed the book suddenly appearing out of thin air and murmured but didn’t question it. They had all seen spatial storage before—the army kitchen had some in which they bought and kept supplies. It was pricey, though, and they hadn’t brought one along.
After completing his study of the runic circle and drawing it a few times without completely finishing it, Damian was ready, and even his mana had recovered to 36%.
Damian closed his book, put it away, and quietly walked over to the healer who was tending to everyone in line. He bent near the next person and chanted some mumbo jumbo while creating the golden healing runic circle. Damian really needed a stronger healing spell. Even his dream of mastering wood-style magic remained just that—a dream.
Maybe he could find someone on the border who could teach him, provided he wouldn’t be dead by then.
The injured knight’s body glowed near the wound where Damian aimed the spell, and it healed a little. Damian didn’t notice, but both the healer and Captain Valoris were watching him like he was a godsend angel.
Damian didn’t realize it, but very few people in this world were true masters of all disciplines—a man who could fight like a spellsword, use and control spells like a mage, and was built like a pugilist was a treasure like none other. Any lord would kill to have such a kid in their service to raise and make into a formidable warrior, a pillar of their strength.
Only the best of mages could use light magic; the elements of light and chaos were not easily manipulated. Only skilled mages could do that. A spellsword rarely had enough proficiency or control to learn light magic since it had very few offensive spells, and most warriors considered it not useful to learn. Not many even had a light affinity, so it wasn’t a clever choice anyways.
Damian didn’t know how lucky he was to skip all the hand signs, mental images and the flawless chanting.
Both the healer and Damian were tired after the grueling healing session that lasted for a full two hours, but they had finally done enough to keep everyone out of critical condition and make them able to walk. The rest could be done later. Valoris and all the other soldiers who were still awake applauded in encouragement for their lone healer and Damian.
The other healer was also good enough now that his injury had been healed, though he was still out cold.
Finally, tired and warm, Damian fell asleep near the fire and only woke up the next morning when one of the soldiers woke him up gently. They continued their journey, leaving the wagon behind. Damian stored the supplies in his spatial tool, and everyone applauded once again. These people had gone insane; it was really embarrassing.
Valoris also gave him a large, glowing dark blue mana stone to keep in his storage, most likely from the Frostfang. It was the biggest mana stone Damian had held, he had seen some like these in the premium shops but never up close. They walked through the snow; Damian didn’t weigh much, so he hitched a ride on one of the skinny soldiers who was on horseback.
Damian, once again ignoring all else, got busy practicing his runic circle drawings, trying his best to remember how that dark blue frost breath runic circle looked. But he only remembered half of it; the rest kept falling apart again and again.
After a good full day of walking with no more problems, even the snow had stopped falling, and they made good distance. At last, they emerged from the forest. In front of Damian’s eyes was a vast, snow-covered plain with big mountains in the far distance. The day had suddenly become very low in light here; actually, it felt gray.
There was no sun in the sky; the sky itself was covered by gray clouds that seemed way closer than they should. Damian knew about the sun and cloudy environments, but no one had mentioned the wind. It was as if a powerful wind was blowing continuously from the direction they were supposed to go—toward the Ashenvale border.
The winds did not seem natural at all, just like everything else in this place. It also started suddenly, there were no winds a minute ago, and Damian was sure if he traced his steps back a bit it still wouldn’t be there. No one had to say it, Damian had already guessed where they had reached.
The Dreaded Lands.