~XX~

Hedric lowered his bow as he watched Alaric and his allies sprint across the battlefield and into the woods. The Hunter grinned beneath his hood. He whistled and his men looked up at him. He made a motion with his hands, and the soldiers all nodded and split off, disappearing into the brush.

Crouching low to the ground, Hedric began to move swiftly through the trees. His hunt had begun.

•

•

•

Alaric was completely silent as he and the others moved through the forest. He kept a keen ear to his surroundings. He knew he had to be weary of every last detail around him. If he wasn't, he would die. Hedric was infamous for his habit of treating his enemies like prey, hunting them and wearing them down till they cannot run any longer.

Hedric tended to enjoy the hunt, but, if you are enough of a threat to him, he will not hesitate to catch you off guard. Before you know what even happened, you'd be dead.

"Alaric." Came a voice. He turned, looking over at Brigham who was staring at something. Alaric followed his gaze and spotted motion in the trees ahead.

Looking back at Brigham, he was about to signal something, but then the sound of a snapping bow came followed by the scream of an arrow flying at him. He quickly ducked behind a tree as the arrow flew by, striking another tree further off.

Alaric placed a hand on his katana, and as soon as he did, felt something rush through his veins and take him over. He suddenly leapt out from behind the tree, his expression focused and devoid of emotion as he sprinted in the direction of the enemy soldiers. The sound of snapping bow strings exploded in his ears, but it didn't matter.

He ran and ran, bobbing and weaving as arrows whistled past him, one grazing his cheek, drawing blood. But they failed to bring him down.

Alaric came upon his first opponent, or rather, the first victim in his onslaught. The soldier tossed aside their bow, drawing a short sword and swinging at Alaric as he came close. Alaric sidestepped and crashed his elbow into the soldier's jaw using his momentum for extra force. Then, as the man stumbled back, he swiftly beheaded him, blood spraying across the trees as his severed head tumbled to the ground.

Without even giving the corpse a second glance, Alaric locked onto a new target and dashed towards them before the body even touched the ground. Snapping bowstrings came from all directions now, but no matter how hard they tried, it would seem they could not hit him.

Soon, the forest was filled with the screams and anguished cries of the Mortadirian soldiers as they were cut down one by one. In the end, Alaric stood over the last soldier, covered in blood as he held out his blade at his side. He was breathing heavily and liquid crimson dropped from his blade in a pool of red at his feet. All around him was corpse after corpse.

A cold lifeless expression was drawn across Alaric's face. It was almost as though he too was one of the corpses at his feet. His heart was still thundering in his chest, and an exhilarating rush still reverberated through him. It was such an addicting thing, not necessarily the act of taking life, but the act of putting your own on the line. To put all you have, to stake everything you are on the edge of your own blade as it glints and shimmers, flying through the air, is the most intoxicating feeling of all.

"Alaric…" came a voice.

Alaric spun, sword raised to the newcomer's throat. But then he faltered. It was Grifford, staring calmly at him from beneath his hat.

"Calm yourself." The old man spoke. "They are all dead. You killed them."

Alaric's blade lowered slightly. Recognition and self awareness came back to Alaric's eyes.

"Grifford.?" He said.

"Holy shit.." came Brigham's voice now as well. "Ya killed em all.. on yer own. We didn't even have to do anythin.." the man looked at Alaric, who avoided eye contact. "Ya were truly made for war, weren't ya?"

"Brigham. Watch your words." Grifford spoke. "No one is made for the sole purpose of war. They are simply given those skills for something greater."

"We still have yet to find the Hunter." Alaric said simply, ignoring the conversation altogether. He flicked his blade through the air, blood splattering across the foliage.

"Alaric. Listen to me." Grifford spoke. "You need to keep your bloodlust in control, do you understand? Or else.. I fear you will become no more than-"

A loud crack resounded through the forest, the sound reverberating through the trees. An arrow rushed past Alaric, tearing through his ear before skewering Grifford square in the chest.

It was almost like the world itself broke. Alaric saw the arrow as it sank into the old man's chest, deeper and deeper before plunging into his heart.

The jingasa fell, hitting the ground a few moments after Grifford's back came to meet the mud. The hat landed softly, then sank into the mud and blood. The arrow protruded from Grifford's chest like a thorn on a dazzling rose. But now that rose withered away, the life fading from it as it lost its color and sank away into the diseased soil of a corrupted world.

Grifford was dead. The old man lay there, motionless and lifeless. The light in his eyes faded out, leaving them gray and cold. At first, Alaric felt something burning in his stomach, though his expression never changed. And then it began to subside as the thought came to his mind- 'this is war. And death is simply a part of this process by which one nation overtakes another. Death, whether it be of ally or foe, is to be expected.'

To anyone, this thought process would seem cold and heartless. You would not be wrong. But this was Alaric's way of coping with the event. He turned it all off, all sense of emotion he blocked out of his mind.

"DAMN YOU, YOU BASTARD!!" Brigham roared, turning to the forest. His face was red and his eyes were wild. "COME OUT AND FACE ME, COWARD!!"

Alaric glanced at the raging bull of a man. He figured there was no way to calm Brigham down, it would only result in being attacked. Alaric decided to leave Brigham to rage whilst he disappeared into the trees. If anything, Brigham's tantrum would work as a distraction.

Alaric sank low to the ground, hidden beneath the brush, as he made his way in the direction the arrow had originated from. He stopped now and again, glancing back at Brigham to make sure he hadn't been shot down as well. Sure enough, he was still raging. It seemed that the Hunter didn't have any intention of striking Brigham. It was likely that he knew Alaric was trying to find him.

Alaric began to get the feeling that the Hunter was targeting him over his allies. And just as that thought came to his mind, he heard the snap of a twig to his right. Alaric shot up and dashed behind a tree as he heard the sound of a snapping bow and an arrow deftly thudding into the dirt where he'd been.

For a moment, Alaric stayed behind the tree. He could hear the Hunter move as he knocked another arrow into his bow. Pulling out his katana, Alaric held the blade out to his side, using it like a mirror to see around the tree. As he did, he could see a hooded figure just barely as they dashed out of sight, bow in hand.

Alaric lowered his blade, drawing his wakizashi now as well. He had to make the Hunter fire his arrow, that way Alaric could rush him without worrying about being shot. Taking a deep breath, Alaric leaned to his right, the same direction the Hunter had been running, and dashed out from his cover. He tried to lean forward, staying low, as he sprinted.

He stopped behind another tree, breathing heavily. He cursed under his breath. He didn't so much as see or hear the Hunter, much less did the hooded man fire his arrow at him. It seemed that the Hunter knew what Alaric was trying to do.

Alaric raised his katana and peered into it, observing the forest around him… nothing. The Hunter was nowhere in sight. And then came the sound of a snapping bowstring. Alaric ducked suddenly, lurching forward as an arrow sank into the tree above his head. As Alaric dashed forward, his eyes widened as the hooded figure of the Hunter exploded out from the brush, dashing to point blank with Alaric as he raised an arrowhead to his throat.