Beyond the Borders

"Excuse me. Who is Zmey Ashbane here?"

Ronan's aggressive movements neutralised, and Nero had released him. Silence stretched. Everyone glanced at the open door to the backyard.

The green-jacketed messenger was there. They gave him a silent questioning look. Zmey was different, though. He only raised his brows while locking eyes with the strange man demanding him.

Zmey asked in a calm tone, maintaining a close watch as if he found him suspicious, "What do you need me for?"

It was the golden-haired messenger from the administrative quarters. He still had the brown rolled paper in his hand.

The ladies whispered among themselves.

"He's a Task Recruit," the braid-haired one, having a calmer exterior, whispered.

The man told Zmey, "I need you to follow me."

Zmey raised his brows. Seriously?

....

After verifying his position, from the random talks the ladies had, Zmey decided to follow him. Seeing their instructor's stamp on the sheet of paper made him more sure.

Zmey and the man exited the clinic. The door guarding the entrance to the unit creaked behind them. A barely-there path ran near that gate. It led to a corner Zmey had never passed through.

This was where they plied. The man got on his horse instead, moving it at Zmey's pace. It wasn't like this bothered the other guy, though. He knew he was nothing more than an amateur.

One side of the path was the fence of the clinic unit and the other side was a row of trees. And underneath these symbols of nature were possible shields from the scorching sun.

Zmey winced a little. Something kicked in. He rubbed his back.

He gaped a little as he noticed everything was numb, unlike what he had expected.

He sighed.

'It doesn't hurt at all.'

But... who was the shooter?

That moment, he caught the man looking at him. He cleared his throat.

"So, you are...? I mean, your name," Zmey asked. He ignored any hierarchy here.

"Lys Lebedev," the man replied, appearing to not care about the tone either. "I am a Task Recruit, those who carry out small assignments within, or outside in the heart of the kingdom. We wear mainly green uniforms... like those you might have met during your awakening..."

'Oh,' Zmey recalled the guys who injected them with the serum, and he nodded. But he kept the realisation to himself.

"You will face tough missions that will likely draw from your own life. I am not too sure of the time. But I bet you will regret making it to the top three," Recruit Lys said.

Zmey glanced at him, finding interest in what he had to say as he had felt when Nero talked back then as well.

That moment, he recalled what Nero had told him.

He had said, with those innocent eyes and calm voice: "I can't defeat you, so I intend to make things easier for myself. To avoid a long, boring fight, knock me out instead. And take the win."

Now, Zmey found a question lingering in his own heart.

'Why did I do it? Was I that selfish and desperate for the win? I didn't hesitate at all before knocking him out.'

Lys creased his brows. The person, supposed to be curious, was neutral. And eager to listen. Yet, distraction had caught him and did not pay him any mind at all.

He jotted him back to his senses with a loud call, "Hey!"

Zmey heard him right away. He glanced up.

"What is it?"

Lys asked right away, "Were you even listening to me at all?"

"I don't think you were saying anything."

This made Lys chuckle for an unknown reason.

His shoulders seemed raised above normal level, as a matter of fact. As if harbouring something only he had an idea of what it was.

"Well, you're a warrior, whatsoever. You don't need to always listen to orders... You can create your own based on the current situation."

"That might be true."

The moment Zmey had been wishing for arrived when they reached the far corner. But the journey didn't stop there - not that he expected it to. Not reaching the corner showed they were not making much progress.

....

The journey led them outside the gate of the Magic Sanctuary.

The warm, vibrant outside world greeted Zmey again. And as always, he ignored it.

There was nothing valuable there, he believed. Even worse than any silent danger he had had inside the sanctuary.

He had so many questions for the man. But he wanted to keep to his silence for now. He was more concerned about their destination than anything else.

They passed the most lively parts of Eldengrove. On the way, Lys bought two rice balls, and Zmey accepted one when offered. Somehow, he didn't want to make things awkward.

One thing he discussed for a while with Lys was... seeing someone torturing three people with a long whip at the market square. It must be painful.

But, Zmey assumed their reactions to the whipping were too exaggerated. Lys explained that these were those who violated one of Eldengrove's laws. It forbade parents from marrying their underage daughters to an adult.

Eldengrove's culture and tradition varies from that of Solvardia and the others. 

He added that, as Zmey already knew. Well, he was afraid he had no idea of anything.

The fact that the girl hadn't turned bald yet meant her parents married her off. On that note, the Soul Whip would punish her parents and the suitors. It was the creepy-looking red whip Zmey saw in the castigator's hand.

Two flogs of the Soul Whip, and you're already inching towards snapping the thread of your own life. Yet, the enforcer would use four of these to flog the accused.

If the suitor was the one who threatened a family to marry an underage girl, then half his wealth would go to them. The government would freeze the other half for six months. But if he were not wealthy, then the enforcer would flog him ten times with the Soul Whip.

That was already an execution.

No one had ever survived past five floggings.

Zmey had turned back and glanced at the chubby man, who was sprawling on the ground in pain.

Unable to move his body, blood seeping through his skin. It was either the suitor or the father. Whoever he might be, he had given him a smile that conveyed annoyance.

Lys caught him doing so. His brows creased.

....

And finally, they reached there. The front of a gaping wide entrance. A wide field stretched out before it like an uneven carpet of green. Wildflowers and patches of tall grass dotted it.

A dark maw carved into the rocky hillside of the cave entrance. Its jagged edges and twisted vines looked like teeth. It was as if the earth had opened to swallow anyone bold enough to approach.

They were about eight metres away from the cave.

Zmey's eyes never left the watch of dark motes drifting at that gaping entrance.

'What a creepy experience, I suppose.'

He then looked at Recruit Lys, whose smiling face looked towards the entrance. This man somehow seemed to be hiding another one deep inside.

'He doesn't seem that weak. Much stronger than me, I guess. I could borrow his strength in there for a while... But wait, he brought me here. There must be a tangible reason why I would want to get through that door...'

Lys, as if reading his mind, said:

"Ah, yes. We never talked about why you're here. Definitely because of soon getting very 'important' to the sanctuary and the world."

"Important?..." Zmey interposed, demanding more explanations. "That's a vague way to put things."

Lys pointed at the cave. "Some things will freak you out inside, but that's only for the first time. The battlefield beyond the borders will be an ocean of blood.

It rises with the deaths of bonded comrades. Their wishes and goals usually disperse into the air like ashes. Elites die... everyone can. And most... will.

On that note, I will be testing your strength today. I will teach you some things as well... that might be necessary to keep on fighting with the last ounce of strength when you get outside the borders..."

Zmey cut in. "Why should I listen to you? You're not even an elite fighter..."

Lys chuckled. He shrugged. "Well, someone might have messed up along the way to one. No more questions. Come on. Show me what you've got down there... bold pal."