Romanoff Dukedom: Eschira Forest (4)

Several meters into their walk, Ulysses had an impetus to relieve himself. He clicked his tongue hard, annoyed that nature had called for him. He nudged Aaviren by the shoulder, whispering for his comrade to signal Ivar on his behalf.

The young Brosch waited for Ulysses to smirk, thinking it was one of his pranks.

'Who would talk to Ivar when his nerves are on edge?' Aaviren thought, giving a scoff at Ulysses thereafter.

However, no indication that Ulysses was joking appeared on his countenance.

Aaviren nearly rolled his eyes, yet refrained from doing so out of mere courtesy. He crossed his arms as he nodded his head to agree to Ulysses' request.

To Ulysses' lament, with no time to spare for his first step to relief, Ivar's voice heavily resounded in his and Aaviren's head.

"Get down!"

Even before their minds could process what was transpiring, the bodies of the two young men heeded to Ivar's command that came out of nowhere. The next thing they saw was Ivar's half-transformed hand, claws embedded on the trunk of the tree beside him.

"Come out. Don't you dare think that you can fool me any further than this." Ivar spoke, seemingly scratching his throat with the intensity of his growl, as annoyance crossed his face.

Aaviren and Ulysses hurriedly took a stand and positioned themselves behind Ivar. Obviously enough, they were aware that an enemy had presented itself. They proceeded to scrutinize their surroundings as thoroughly as they could, not letting a single leaf deter their surveillance.

Hoving into view as it walked out of the shadow of a far-off tree was a hooded figure. They commenced their stroll with wide-open arms, assaying to look innocent despite its cover having been blown.

"Stop right there. Who are you?" Ivar said as he dislodged his claws from the tree.

He then rotated his wrist that was covered with fur, feeling the strain of his on spur of the moment transformation.

In lieu of a proper response, the entire body of the hooded figure began to quiver, turning more aggressive by the second.

All of a sudden, it hollered out its amusement, laughing hysterically with the echoes in the vicinity of the forest. The voice was rather ambiguous that it was difficult for the three young men to discern the gender of their opponent.

"The ability to assimilate with a creature's shadow, I thought it wasn't bequeathed to its successor because of the sudden passing of the holder. Who are you? Do you know that you're violating a law put forth by the Empire regarding this ability?"

Indeed, an ability that was as threatening as such became a source of conflict between a myriad of tribes. The ability to combine one's self in the shadow of another creature, it wasn't given a name. It was only dubbed as 'that ability'.

That ability had little to no weakness. It only required its sole user to make the slightest of noise possible when it's in effect. Both the light and the dark were advantageous for that ability.

As Ivar had said, that ability could only be given to one user per generation, and there was no method to replicate it. As a consequence, there was a special law stating that this ability was not permitted to be exploited within the territories of the Atreschivel Empire.

In the event of non-compliance of the ability-user, the empire would be sending all of its forces to execute the violator.

Heartily laughing for approximately a minute, the hooded figure soon bent its upper body. Thereafter, their feet staggered, making them fall on their knees. As it happened, the hood of its cloak was brought down, revealing the countenance of the enemy.

The three young men were nothing short of astounded, their eyes widening as if they were going to escape their sockets.

"You," Aaviren's breathing hitched as he pointed a finger at the perpetrator. "How dare you show yourself in front of us."

"It's surprising to see you here," Ivar uttered with much spite, nearly spitting the words out of his mouth. "Are you trying to escape your night duties? Perhaps, are you trying to escape now that the runaway has been caught?"

Ivar Chroly's limbs were crying out for blood. His muscles began to cramp and assaulted him with a burning pain, urging him to pounce on the enemy afore him. However, he resisted with the aid of his rationality. He knew better than to attack an adversary while oblivious of its full capabilities.

The man proceeded to heighten his senses that were already on alert, disallowing a slight movement from his enemy to pass his cognizance. Aaviren and Ulysses followed suit as they made their way to the positions that would enable them to encircle the adversary.

While the three men were commencing their preparations, they prepared their bodies to accommodate their inner beasts.

In the intervening time, the body of their enemy started to tremble yet again.

The enemy's behavior stimulated the wariness of the three men as they readied themselves for a possible attack. To their relief, the enemy's movements shortly died down without any ruckus arising out of it.

The silhouettes of the four individuals were encompassed by the dried leaves, shot up in the air by the rough gust that abruptly visited that area of the forest. Ivar, Aaviren, and Ulysses quickly fixed their eyes on the enemy lest allowing it to escape towards the city. It would be worse if they received a surprise attack from it.

Although, when the leaves finally touched the ground after a few seconds of descent, an empty space in the middle of their encirclement welcomed their gazes.

The three hurriedly surveyed their surroundings, pushing their senses beyond their limits. They didn't dare make any sound, finding the hampered whispers of the woodland obstructive. Only their gazes, together with the strands of their hair that were being caressed by the wind, were free to do their thing.

The rest of their bodies were petrified.