The fragments of the core were heavy and extremely sharp. He poured the last of them into a small bag, tightened the strap and hung it on his belt. Zee 's hands dropped to his knees, blood still dripping from his thumb. A dark, thick liquid pooled in a small puddle at his feet, mingling with the dust. His eyes darted into the distance, so he sat for several hours.
The air around was filled with screams, the rumble of collapsing buildings, and the clatter of many feet. What happened was supposed to be genocide, but surprisingly many different creatures survived. Now they were clearing rubble, putting out fires and looking for survivors.
The tree fell, its branches densely covered the palace square, which turned into an impenetrable forest. The palace itself ceased to exist, leaving behind rare fragments of the façade, which are the last evidence of its existence.
The crackling behind back did not at all attract the attention of the archmage, who plunged into a blissful void. There were no thoughts, but bitter feelings remained outside, along with grief and noise.
A thick branch fell down, cut off by the blow of the sword. Ophelia emerged from the foliage, cutting her way to her cherished goal. Her face was covered with already dried blood, and her clothes were tattered. Only a pair of leather boots, tightly laced up to mid-thigh, were unharmed.
- “You! You killed my father! You killed us all!” - Her voice trembled, now and then breaking into a scream. She raised her emerald blade and rushed at the archmage .
He slowly raised his head and looked around. "Then it's time," said a voice in his head.
The outlines of Zee 's figure blurred, he was close to the elf and whispered something in her ear.
The sword fell out of her hand, and her legs stopped obeying, and she sat down on the ground.
- “What did you do?! What have you done to me?!” - She screamed at his back, getting weaker and falling into a dream – “I will take revenge on you, you will die! I will torture you for all eternity! I swear!”
The flow of anger quickly dried up, losing sight of her goal, the princess burst into tears
- “Dad, don't leave me... dad...” - Repeating one word, she lost consciousness.
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A slight movement of the hand and dense foliage parted before him. The tree crackled and began to line up in a smooth road along which he walked, bending around dips, cliffs, houses and large pieces of stones. The journey was long, but he did not remember anything. Only the monotonous sound of footsteps.
Stepping outside the barrier, he looked back.
Magic quickly fade, a couple more days and the evergreen grass will turn yellow, the leaves will wither and fall off. A week and this place will be overflowing with soldiers and mercenaries, ready to profit from the remnants of a magical city. Gather artifacts, valuable resources. Capture the slaves. A shock awaited the market, an influx of goods that was rare but constant - now these are the last of the last. And, of course, elf meat. The great famine is near and for solving this problem, the nobles will pay everyone.
It didn't bother him at all. He didn't care at all.
- “Gifors?” - He asked himself a question, chuckled and opened the map. The pointer shone far to the east. He tightened his belt and set off.
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A hand engulfed in flames almost touched his face, burning his skin. The tall man grabbed the thin wrist and smiled, baring his sharp teeth.
- “Oh, you magicians, you never change” - He said cheerfully and turned his hand. The old man's elbow straightened out, and his body leaned down. The mercenary made a short blow and the joint turned inside out with a terrible crack, and the old man yelled.
- “Teacher, no!” - From the balcony of the second floor, a boy in a robe of a magician, waved his wand and released a ball of flame.
Like a snake, the man twisted, moving away from the blow. The second ball was already close, obscuring the shape of the third.
“And the boy is not so bad,” thought the mercenary, grabbing the ankle of the old man prone on the floor, with a long hand. Using the still-living magician as a shield, he took the blow of the flames. A short scream, heat scorching hair and there was a lull.
The student could not believe what he had done. Especially when the body of his teacher, who saved him, who raised him, was flying towards him. The blow from the corpse knocked him off his feet, pinning him to the floor.
A charred face touched his face. He wanted to scream, but he received a blow to the temple and lost consciousness. Wake him up, it was not meant to be.
The mercenary took out a thin and long knife, and plunged into the young magician's neck. After wiping it on his still-smoking robe, the man stretched.
- "Hmm, one more and the job is done" - He said and followed along the dark corridor. The path quickly led him to a roof. A wonderful view opened from the low tower. – “I think it’s great to live here in the summer, warm, light breez . Oh, look, they even made a swing in that tree! Indeed a great place”
He took off his bow from his back, took out a long arrow and put it on the bowstring. In the distance, the figure of another magician could be seen, who was running towards the nearest hill.
- “It was worth placing the teleport pad closer, and what were they thinking about?” - He chuckled and took a few deep breaths, calming his mind and body. The string tightened, almost touching his earlobe, a deep breath, silence, peace, focus. Exhalation.
The arrow flew off and pierced the back of the head of the magician, who fell to the ground.
- "Hooray! Got it! Tell someone, they won't believe! From this distance, the first shoot! Cool!" - The day started off great and went on like that. One more job done, soon his purse will be full. But the main thing is the process itself. Dynamics, tension, battle! New, albeit short acquaintances.
If someone asked him : “Who is the happiest person in this world?” - Mar would have answered that it was him, without lying a single drop.
It remained to pick up a hefty stone that they studied and you can go home.
He descended into the building, wandering a little through the intricate passages, he approached the door, decorated with exquisite carvings of animals in the garden. It was locked up.
“Probably it!”
One kick and the door swung open. The room turned out to be a dining room, rather gaudily furnished and stocked with books, like every other room in the tower. Including toilets. While using one, you still need to remember the rules of propriety, even if you came to kill the owner of the house, you should not piss on his coffee table, Mar was surprised how practical it is to keep a book in the toilet for certain purposes. Now he was going to buy a few and even make a small shelf for them.
A dark-haired monk sat at the table and drank tea, lazily flipping through the pages of a small volume of poetry.
- “Oh, Mr. Mar, and here you are! I already thought I would not wait for you” - the Monk closed the book and put the cup on the saucer, stood up.
The mercenary sensed the danger and decided not to go into details, attacking right away. The hand with the dagger aimed exactly at the monk's eye when he said something. Mar barely had time to bend his wrist before a blade coming out of thin air cut it off.
“It looks like they lied about the number of magicians. But one more, one less.”
The mercenary bent over and threw his leg forward, striking in a wide arc and breaking the magic sword. But the magician acted unusually, approaching for a punch. To give back, his reaction speed and physical qualities were very, very good. But they could not be compared with Mar.
The fight was not easy, he had to block the blows raining down from the side of the monk, or the magician, take them apart. In addition to everything, he conjured, calling for all sorts of things, striving to ruin a great day. It couldn't have happened.
A long spike, made of black metal, appeared in the mercenary's hand and pierced the centipede, leaving it frozen in the air.
The monk tried to say something, but a stream of blood sprayed from his mouth. The second thorn sank into his thigh.
The mercenary was fast. Too fast for a human.
The third spike was already approaching the throat of the magician, as he shouted .
- “Jollier! I came with a contract!” - The hand of the mercenary immediately stopped.
- “I'm listening to you carefully” - A smile cut his face again.
- “I'm sorry for the little introduction. But our contribution to your cause will be extremely generous and it was necessary to make sure of your skills” - The monk sat heavily on a chair, catching his breath. The spikes disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. It was necessary to heal the wounded leg, but there was no place, and no time.
- “How generous?” - the mercenary asked.
