A Fool’s Kindness

"Hey!" Sam bounced toward Caelan, vibrating with excitement. "Guess what?"

"You finally exorcised the mess demon from your geek cave?" He didn't take his eyes off his report as she spoke.

"Nooooot yet." She blushed, body coming up and down in excitement. "People really liked the last cosplay pics on my socials."

"That's nice, love." He gave her a quick smile—mission accomplished—before returning to his work. "Really proud of you."

"Soooo, I was wondering…" She used her cutesy voice, reserved for when she wanted something.

"Yes?" He put down the tablet. He could always work his way through it later.

"The followers always seem to like when you show up," she said, puffing out her chest. "Lots of comments asking if my husband is single and whatnot. And so, I request we take more pictures of you in cosplay!"

His inner self let out a loud groan. His outer self, on the other hand, just sighed. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

"For sure!" She gave him an ear-to-ear grin. "Come on, it'll be fun! Plus, I can't miss any chance to exhibit my catch to the world."

"Alright." He barely had time to brace before Sam launched herself at him, knocking the breath from his lungs. "What the heck, woman?"

"One of the pictures is a princess carry. Might as well practice now." He chuckled at her before scooping her up and tossing her petite body over his shoulder. "Hey, I said princess, not sack of potatoes."

"Say that when you get lighter than the potatoes."

He got punched all the way to her improvised studio at the back.

-----

With one final stretch, Caelan took a deep breath and got into his stance. Five quick straight punches in quick succession followed. Right, left, right, right, left! He followed that with another combo. Leave no time for his shadow opponent to react.

Right, right, left. A quick backstep to avoid a counter. Then finish it with a right hook.

"Whoever you imagining is having a mighty bad day." Nashoba leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. "You sure you good to be beating ghosts around?"

In response, Caelan opened and closed his fingers. No pain or discomfort at all. "I'm fine. Have to spend all the energy I got from all the bedtime."

"I know what ya mean. Broke both my legs once. Had to deal with Doc grumbling in my ear for a whole month." The young man cleared his throat, his voice turned into a hoarse imitation. "Next time, I'm not putting the painkillers. That might teach you some common sense!"

"Did it?"

"Dunno. He never followed through on that threat.." He shrugged. "Anyway, now that you healed absurdly fast, what're you doing??"

Days of bed rest gave Caelan plenty of time to think. He had lost his bag when he crashed into the lake. Meaning no gear other than the clothes on his back. Couldn't contact Seraphina or Lucien either. For the foreseeable future, he could only count on himself.

And all the while, the Executors and his stalker kept closing in. He could almost feel their eyes on him.

First, let's assess the options.

He could walk into the nearest Hunter's Office. Flash his shiny Anthurian citizenship around, ex-noble or not. Then, I wait for the Executors to roll out a red carpet to my funeral.

He could lay low on the surface. Train his body, and craft more tools, before doing anything else. The problem with that option involved the strict timeframe. He couldn't afford to miss the school year. Who knows how much further the story could diverge?

Or he could set a trap for the cloaked figure. Caelan had no doubt they survived the crash. This option would require meticulous planning. But would give him what he needed the most.

Answers. On a variety of subjects.

Who was the figure? Why did they hunt him down with such ruthlessness? And the worst question of all—were they carrying the Rot?

With how his infection progressed, Caelan had his doubts cleared. The aberrant force from his world had come to this one. How or when it didn't matter. Only the figure deserved his focus and attention for the moment.

I need allies. A lone soldier can only hold for so long before the line collapses. But a squad? A squad can punch through an army.

"Say, Nashoba…"

The young zoakri raised his hand. "Told ya, no one other than my Mooma calls me that. And she's halfway into cuckoo land."

"Fine, Nas." Caelan held himself back from rolling his eyes. "Say, is there any way for me to meet this Doc of yours?"

-----

The displaced followed Nashoba through the busy streets. The Walled Outpost of Vatra. Controlled by Anthurian forces, it served as a trade hub between the many tribes.

Caelan watched a movie with an open-air market, which excited his young mind. Its colorful scenery, with people bargaining for goods all over, enticed his imagination. But they couldn't portray the smell of spices drifting into his nostrils. Nor the scorching heat permeating his body as he trailed behind Nashoba.

He couldn't help but smile at the scene. Part of him wished he could have stopped to sightsee.

Another day, when things had calmed down.

"I'm impressed no one noticed my disguise yet." He scratched his head, on his now ebony hair. "How does a mechanic know how to put on those fake ears again?" He held himself back from touching the outfit.

His guide whispered back as they stopped to let a cart pass by. "I'm a man of many talents. This one is real useful, with the Verdant Dawn acting up lately."

They passed by graffiti showing the symbol of the group. A paw print, with vines around it, forming a sun. Below it, a sketch of a pig dressed in the traditional Anthurian noble attire. Pretty sure I saw the same thing back home.

The organization had started as a peaceful movement, but an internal schism changed things. Now some cells employed guerrilla tactics to attack topsider sites. Insurgents are the same, regardless of where I guess.

Nashoba stopped the pensive Displaced in his tracks. "Wait! Topper convoy." He pointed with his head to an armored vehicle escorted by soldiers. "Better wait till they go by."

He recognized the men in uniforms from the game. Traditional infantry from this world, they carried long staves and swords with a commanding presence. Their white and green armor showed some wear and tear but well-maintained. These soldiers have seen combat before.

The ex-soldier counted at least twenty men in tight formation around the escort. One man operated a mounted cannon atop the vehicle—a design Caelan recognized from the games. It was meant for transporting prisoners.

By instinct, Caelan's eyes swept the windows. Narrow streets—cramped, easy to funnel troops. A textbook ambush site. Worse, the enemy had the advantage of terrain. A bitter taste crept up his throat. He'd seen this before—different uniforms, different tactics, but the same inevitable carnage. The Children were the same, back home.

To the right, an archway dominated the space above the streets. There, Caelan saw how every window had its curtains drawn. Looking to the opposite side of the street, he saw the same pattern repeat. On the ground, he noticed many people with long cloaks, perfect for weapon concealment.

He grabbed onto Nashoba's arm. "We need to leave, now!"

As Nashoba questioned him, Caelan caught movement at the edge of his vision. A cloaked man, taking off something from inside his clothes. Before throwing it at the armed soldiers.

"Get down!" Caelan pulled him down to the ground, just as the explosion happened.

They had made their way into an insurgent attack.

From the windows, more explosives and arrows rained upon the soldiers. They scrambled for cover while sending blasts of pure essence in retaliation. Doors slammed open, and insurgents with swords crashed into them.

Caelan yelled to be heard above the screams around. "Get up, now!" He pulled at Nashoba, both crouched down as they jumped behind a bus stop. "We have to go back to your house."

"No!" An explosion, too close for comfort, made the Zoakri flinch. "They gonna lock the whole outpost down! We've gotta get to Doc's place for shelter!"

Caelan looked from behind cover at the situation. The attackers had reached the convoy, blasting open its doors. Only to be met with the lilac beans of essence from more soldiers. Anthur set a trap of their own!

At the expense of dozens of bystanders.

"Fine, give an alternative exit point. We must…" He stopped as the displaced noticed something amidst the chaos.

A little girl—crouched down, hugging her knees. Right in the middle of the street. No sign of how she got there. Noticing his pause, Nashoba turned his eyes to her. From them, Caelan saw the same shine he had seen many times before.

Right when someone decided to make a stupid decision.

"Oh no, don't…" His grab attempt failed, with the dark-haired youth already on his way. A bestial growl left his mouth as his blood boiled.

Surrounds scanned, Caelan noticed a fallen insurgent close by. A bow at his loose hands, a quiver at his back.

Caelan scanned his surroundings. A fallen insurgent lay nearby, a bow loose in his grasp, a quiver on his back. Better than nothing. He ran for it, snatching them from the corpse's stiff fingers. Its lifeless eyes stared back in silent judgment. "Oh, shut up." He muttered to it. "Not like you need it anymore."

Nashoba tried to pull the girl away, talking to her with hurried words. Whatever he said had no effect to dissuade her from moving. Just knock her out already! Caelan detected another attacker about to throw an explosive, right in the direction Nashoba struggled with the girl. Praying he would have enough strength this time, Caelan nocked an arrow and shot it.

The arrow struck the insurgent's throat just before he could throw the explosive. The charge detonated, sending pieces of him—and those close by—scattering across the street. A severed arm landed beside the girl, who recoiled away from it. At last, she let Nashoba pull her away.

"This way!" Caelan followed Nashoba through the streets, arrow ready to fly. His legs burned at the effort, but not as much as his runs from weeks prior. Another positive aspect of his reinfection.

With his guidance, the group zigzagged across hidden alleys and lost corners. Caelan tried to keep track of the labyrinthine passages but soon gave up. He realized the sounds of battle from behind repeated in the distance ahead. Multiple strikes. What in the blazes is their objective?

They rounded the corner—and froze. Four Anthurian soldiers. Four tense stares. Four hands inching toward weapons. Caelan barely had time to register them before their eyes locked onto the bow. They all came to the same conclusion about the situation. The soldiers raised their staves as Caelan lifted his arms.

"Wait, I'm not…"

They fired essence blasts at them, bathing the shadows in purple hues. Caelan jumped behind the corner for cover, but not Nashoba. No, he raised the girl as if to better show her. "We have a kid with us, you stupid…"

He went down once he got hit in the leg. Somehow managing to spin around to shield the girl from the fall.

A calmness descended upon Caelan at that moment. It felt like putting on familiar slippers after a hard day's work. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then pulled four arrows.

He picked up archery as a teen, just a way to escape his family. Somewhere he could focus on a target, rather than their expectations. He'd gotten good. Better than he expected. And speed archery, his specialty.

All that long before he got enhanced by the Rot.

He came out of cover, one arrow sent after the other in quick succession. Aimed at the unarmored part of their legs, each stroke true. The men yelled and moaned as they rolled around, beaten.

Warmth spread through Caelan's body. "If you can hear me, Leopold, I told you—next time you show up, you owe me."

The girl kept pushing at Nashoba, tears flowing down her face. "Stay with me, Nas." He nudged him. "You alive there?"

"Just… taking a beauty nap, is all." The zoakri tried to chuckle, only to wince in pain. "Always wondered how it felt to be hit by those. Never thought I would find out."

"You get used to it." A quick examination of the burned area of the wound. It didn't look good. "Can you walk?"

"One way to find out…" He held onto the wall for support. As soon as he put weight on the leg, he collapsed. "Nope, you're gonna need to carry me."

"Thanks, Sherlock." Caelan ignored the raised eyebrow as he picked him up in a fireman's carry. Once he got settled he turned to the girl. "I'm going to need you to hold on to me, alright?"

"Hey, this whole getting-carried thing ain't so bad. I see why nobles love it." Nashoba tried to laugh at the situation, despite everything. Now, that's one strong man.

She nodded, tiny hands grabbing at his clothes as he picked both up. Right arm wrapped around Nashoba's leg and holding his arm. Left, hugging the girl close to him. Muscles screeching in protest at the effort.

"You'll still have to give directions."

"Sure thing." He chuckled as Caelan trotted with loads in tow. "Wonder if this is how nobles feel in their fancy transports."

"More like how the ox feels carrying the cart, in my case."

After a long trek across the urban jungle, they reached an inconspicuous door. Easy to miss and blend into its surroundings, it led somewhere below ground level. With no available hands, Caelan kicked at it until a man a head shorter opened in, face red as a tomato.

"Hey, you doc?" Caelan strained to let the words out, his legs about to give. "Sure hope you take house calls."