"And now what? I have no doubt that the damn mage is on his last legs!"
"My shot was perfect," said Luca Moretti, his voice lacking soul. His eyes, pupil, iris, and sclera of an intense uniform black.
"Shoot again! Kill him! I WANT HIM DEAD!" resonated the voice of the demon. "He's dangerous," he finally thought. Luca aimed with his usual skill and shot again at the staggering vagabond. There was no error in the aiming process, and the power of the weapon was sufficient to easily cover the distance to the target, and even a much longer one. "Again, Luca Moretti!"
The next shot was as precise in theory as the previous ones, and generally like any shot from the enslaved marksman of The Sword of Faith... However, for the third consecutive time, the projectile did not hit Antorique Veluard.
On the verge of fainting, Tori managed to see the body, once again unconscious, of Caterina Bellini tied with a thin, flexible, and seemingly hard branch. A wooden instrument of the same type, similar to a very long and elastic whip, had protected him from the bullets, although the mage would not find out about that until later. And, while the world faded for Tori, the curious branch carried Caterina's body deep into the forest, while in the distance he could hear a shrill and familiar girl's voice shouting excitedly "He survived, Lady!". The vagabond's body, which had finally lost consciousness, bounced on the ground.
"The damn witch, the damn witch is still wandering around there!" thought the annoyed demon. While Carlino Castellanos' body began a slow reconstruction, the corrupt spiritual being swore to himself that he would exact revenge no matter what. He would make the damn mage pay, the damn witch too, and destroy everything they defended. He would lay waste to that little town, annihilating each of its inhabitants slowly and painfully. No matter how long it took to recover, perfect the operation of his pawns, strengthen himself, and prepare the assault. He would not fail for any reason in the universe. He had never hated anything as much as Antorique Veluard after the recent confrontation.
Tori ran through Lilystone, constantly struggling with the heaviness of his legs. The town was burning. The Brotherhood Temple was reduced to ashes, and outside, a charred body caught his attention. The vagabond approached and saw the unfortunate corpse of Guardian Robben.
Octavius, with one arm missing, hung by the neck from a subject at least two meters tall. The glimpse of a desperate gesture asking for help was the last thing Tori saw of the young acolyte alive; the pressure of the enormous hand separated the head from the body of the youth. The vagabond, with limited mobility, can just see and nothing more.
In the distance, he could see the small police office in absolute ruin. In the midst of this, he saw a man he could recognize. The assassin of The Sword of Faith, in a bloody dance, swept through dozens of terrified townspeople, who ran in vain.
Along the destroyed path leading to the Green's territory, a young woman with blonde hair spun around herself, emanating destructive energy in all directions, consuming everything in her path. The huge Bull that charged furiously towards her was immediately incinerated by the woman's macabre Qi. Jasmine, furious, invoked the roots to strangle Babi's killer, however, a precise shot to the temple ended the young girl's existence once and for all. Tori searched for the origin of the shot and managed to spot the assassin of The Sword of Faith in the distance. So, he decided to take that route; however, he did not manage to take a step when the enormous torso of George, separated from the rest of his body, collided with him and made him step back, then fell at his feet. Horror was in the sturdy man's gaze, and from his open mouth, two small hammers protruded through his throat, those that adorned the symbol of The Brotherhood.
"So... So soon..." thought Tori, observing the hellish scene around him.
"Oh! There you are!" heard the vagabond, before a macabre blade pierced his heart from behind.
"I'm starting to get tired of these damn visions..." thought Antorique, who woke up abruptly. As he returned to the real world and reconnected with his body, he began to feel the pains in the multiple wounds that were far from healed. "How much time has passed...? Where the hell am I? ...As far as I remember, I was supposed to die, or something like that," he thought, observing his surroundings.
The bed was curiously comfortable, the blankets were made of soft moss and dry leaves. The room—if it could be called that—was illuminated by what were fireflies to Tori, located inside a trunk large enough to accommodate that small but comfortable space. The enormous tree also had its version of windows and doors. These seemed to be made of smart branches, which had diverted their rigid original route to make room for openings.
Upon standing up, the mage noticed that his most severe wounds were covered by a mixture of bandages and leaves. "Sage...?" he wondered. In Windhaven, due to the climatic conditions, the variety of flora was very limited, so Tori had never been good at recognizing plants, trees, or flowers.
Outside the strange natural room, the moonlight illuminated what seemed to be a common room in a Novordian forest version. The vagabond headed towards what seemed to be the exit of the room in the trunk. Although the place had a comforting aura and was undoubtedly beautiful, Tori had to inform—and blame—the Guardian Robben for his last eerie vision.
The larger opening, which he assumed was the exit, was covered by thin branches that he guessed worked as a sliding door, and indeed that was the mechanism, so the mage cleared his way and prepared to leave... Only to come face to face with the forest witch.
"You're not going anywhere, pathetic excuse for a mage!" said the woman, with a gruff tone and raspy voice. Bordering on fifty years old, with short hair matching her height, and artificially bright red hair, Rose, the owner and mistress of the place, slapped him so hard that for a few seconds, the young vagabond felt like the battle with Castellanos was not over.
"Who the hell do you think you are, old hag!? ...And why instead of a hair salon did you let a dog bite your hair and then dip your head in a paint can?"
And, just to keep the balance, the next slap landed on his other cheek.
