Rivalry

As Paul heard Zaell mention "hunter license," his curiosity piqued. He glided down, approaching Zaell with his bow and arrow still aimed at him. With an inquisitive look in his eyes, Paul asked to see the license Zaell had mentioned. Paul had never laid eyes on a hunter license before; his father had lost his years ago, calling it unnecessary. The mystery of the license's appearance intrigued him, and he was eager to finally see one.

Zaell rose slowly, keeping his arms raised in a gesture of surrender. The sight of the stranger levitating moments ago still stunned him, and the campfire's dim light revealed the stranger's striking emerald eyes. Those eyes were mesmerizing, stirring memories of grim tales about the extinct green-eyed people. With cautious movements, Zaell retrieved his hunter's license from his pocket, ensuring his other arm remained raised in a non-threatening manner.

"This license is genuine," he said, extending it towards the enigmatic figure.

Paul's eyes gleamed as he took the license. Just as he was about to examine it, Black, mistaking it for food, snatched it with a quick bite. Paul dropped his bow and arrow, frantically grabbing at Black's jaws to retrieve the license, hoping it wasn't too late.

"No, Black, that's not food. Give it back," he grunted, struggling to pry open the cub's strong jaws. After several attempts, he managed to retrieve the license, now wet and damaged.

"You stupid little wolf, why did you do that? I just fed you," Paul scolded Black, a mix of anger and disappointment in his voice.

After witnessing his hard-earned license being destroyed, Zaell was consumed with rage. He after all had poured all his savings into acquiring that license, hoping for a profitable return to pull himself out of debt.

Seeing Paul drop his weapon and get distracted, Zaell charged at him, delivering a powerful blow that sent Paul flying into a nearby tree. Black, tucked inside Paul's clothing, fell to the ground with a startled whine before barking wildly at Zaell.

This onslaught caused Paul's face to bleed, crimson streaks running down his cheeks and dripping onto the forest floor. Realizing the imminent danger, Paul quickly countered, weaving through Zaell's furious punches and retaliating with a swift, powerful kick that sent Zaell stumbling backward. Paul didn't waste a moment; he swiftly recovered, and flew towards Zaell to deliver a series of ferocious punches. He tried to lift Zaell off the ground but struggled with his opponent's weight.

Seizing the opportunity, Zaell grabbed Paul's legs with a strong grip, yanking him off balance. With a swift, brutal motion, Zaell then grasped Paul's neck, slamming him forcefully into the hard earth. Paul gasped for air, his lungs burning, his vision blurring around the edges. Desperate, he fumbled for a nearby rock and, summoning all his remaining strength, hurled it at Zaell.

In a startling display of ability, Zaell held out his hand, and the rock shrank, crumbling into a grain of sand as it reached him. Paul was left stunned, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of what he had just witnessed. Before he could react, Zaell pounced again, his body poised to deliver a devastating body slam.

Paul evaded the attack at the last possible second by slipping using his flying ability, causing Zaell to crash into the ground with a painful thud, injuring himself. As Paul descended toward Zaell, breathing heavily, he said, "Let's stop before we kill each other. We've already taken enough of a beating."

He extended a hand and proposed a truce, acknowledging the toll their conflict had taken on both of them. Reluctantly, Zaell accepted the gesture, signaling an end to their confrontation. They both limped towards the campfire, checking their fresh injuries as they went. Settling in front of the fire, they began to laugh about the absurdity of their fight.

"You're strong, Zaell. You almost killed me," Paul said, a grin spreading across his face. "By the way, my name is Paul Alkantar, and this is Black, my stupid wolf. Sorry about your license. Believe me, I know the pain of saving up for something important. I should pay to repair your license."

Paul extended his hand in introduction. Zaell shook it, showing respect. "I'm sorry I snapped," he replied. He took a piece of meat from the campfire. "Here, feed your hungry wolf before he decides to eat us," he joked.

Paul laughed as he stroked Black, scolding him lightly. "So, how much is that license?" he asked.

"Fifteen silver. I know it's expensive; it took me months to save that money," Zaell replied.

Paul was stunned, recalling his father telling him it was 100 gold pieces. He had a lot of gold coins in his bag, saved from his earnings and the coins he looted from his slain fellow villagers. "What do you mean fifteen silver? How much silver is one gold piece?" Paul asked, perplexed by the price discrepancy, thinking his father must have lied to keep him in the village longer.

"One gold coin is equal to a hundred silver. Why? Can't you afford it?" Zaell asked, hoping Paul could repair his license.

Paul was in disbelief as he reached into his bag and began counting the gold pieces within. The realization dawned on him that his humble village was secretly prosperous, awash in a wealth of currency. 

'But why are the homes so modest only constructed in rocks and wood...' He thought as he further struggled to comprehend the village's unexpected wealth. 

He remembered his trips to the Omp village market, where gold coins were the only currency he ever saw. His mind raced back to the times he sold half a doe's meat, each sale bringing in three gold coins, equivalent to 300 silver coins. The figures were staggering—he could have earned enough to buy a license in just one day. As this realization settled in, he was consumed by confusion and frustration, questioning why his parents had kept this hidden from him despite their knowledge of the outside world.

Thoughts raced through his mind, and a realization struck him—this hidden wealth might be why their village was attacked and why so many of his fellow villagers, including his parents, were taken. He remembered losing track of the trail he had been following earlier that day. Urgency seized him, and he hurried to Zaell's side.

"Do you know if there are any slavers operating around here?" Paul asked, his voice trembling with adrenaline.

"I do," Zaell replied firmly. "I think they are the same people who took my bag as they are also known for being bandits."

Paul stood up, grabbed his bow and arrow from the ground, and began emptying his bag, removing items he no longer needed to make space inside. He placed Black inside the bag, the wolf cub's head popping out before it immediately fell asleep.

"Zaell, do you want to get your bag back?" Paul asked.

Zaell nodded, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Good. I want you to join me and lead me to their location. Do you have any clues? I'll pay you three gold coins for any information about their hideout now, and ten more if you help me eliminate them," Paul said seriously, handing Zaell three gold coins.

Zaell accepted the coins, having never had gold coins before, his expression determined. Paul appeared ready to act at any moment, the fire of resolve burning brightly in his eyes.

"I can sense you're troubled, Paul. It's clear from your eyes that it has something to do with the slavers you're searching for. I don't have the exact location of their base, but I have a strong suspicion about where it might be. I was planning to head there alone tomorrow, but since we have a common enemy, I'm willing to join forces. I've dealt with a few bandits on my journeys, and it seems urgent—waiting until morning might not be wise. We should leave now while it's still dark," Zaell said.

Paul carefully took one of the potions Dellie had given him as a gift. As he slowly drank half of it, a radiant glow spread through his body, causing his wounds to miraculously heal. Recognizing the potion's effectiveness, he offered the remaining half to Zaell, hoping they would both be in top condition for the battle ahead.

Zaell was utterly mesmerized by the effects of the high-quality potion, feeling a surge of healing energy as he drank the second half. As he observed Paul's simple wooden equipment and accessories, Zaell couldn't help but be puzzled about Paul's possible affluent background. When he noticed Paul's wooden prosthetic legs beneath his clothing, he marveled at how Paul managed to fight so effectively and move so skillfully. Witnessing Paul's remarkable ability to take flight, Zaell felt confident that they could work well together as a team.

"Paul, before we start, I think it's important to share some background about ourselves. It will help us work better as a team. I'll begin by telling you about my abilities. I'm skilled in blocking and protecting those around me. Additionally, I'm versed in boxing and with durability to that of a carabao. I also have the unique ability to shrink and regrow any item I touch. Watch this." Zaell demonstrated his ability by adjusting the size of his shields.

Despite feeling unsettled, Paul viewed Zaell as a reliable ally in battle. He introduced himself, detailing his skills with a bow and his wooden legs. In return, Paul shared the tragic story of his village and parents, explaining his deep desire for vengeance. As night fell deeper around them, they prepared for the battle ahead.