Chapter 29: A Void

The three terrifying adults had burst into the house and slaughtered their parents and eldest brother in a manner beyond horrific.

No matter how desperately the victims pleaded, the expressions of these intruders remained unnervingly placid. As if they weren't ending human lives, but merely butchering livestock.

"These energies should suffice for a while. I adore this sensation!" One of the dark magicians closed his eyes, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face.

"Two more. Hand them over," rasped another, the one clutching the neck of a teenage boy. He discarded the limp body and licked his lips, his aura dripping with malice.

Seeing the gnarled, branch-like hand reaching towards them, the two younger boys were paralyzed by absolute terror. Warm wetness spread across their lower garments. The desiccated fingers closed with crushing force around their tender throats. Pinpoints of vital essence began leaching into the magician's grasp. The boys felt a terrifying weakness seep into their limbs, an unbearable, suffocating discomfort.

The dark magician had only just begun his grim harvest when the other two suddenly called out a sharp warning: "Knights approach!" The magician gripping the boys cursed under his breath. His fingers convulsed, snapping the fragile necks with brutal efficiency, extinguishing the two young lives. The three figures then exploded from the cottage, vanishing swiftly into the surrounding landscape.

Minutes later, a squadron of knights clad head-to-toe in plate armor thundered past the window. Only a few bothered to push the cottage door open a crack. A glance at the carnage within was enough. They withdrew without a word. The commotion outside faded. No one came to tend to the scene. Official knights held noble status. They wouldn't sully themselves handling the grimy corpses of commoners. Perhaps, if one of those glancing knights remembered later, they might send word to the corpse-collectors...

Surveying the expanse of vibrant greenery before him, where vegetation taller than a man choked the forest floor beneath towering trees, Glen voiced his skepticism: "This is the destination?" The Old Man was crouched, examining something on the ground. His reply was vague: "Approximately." "Alright. Though three silver isn't enough," Glen stated flatly. "Five silver," the Old Man countered, rising to his feet, his tone indifferent. "You are wealthy," Glen remarked dryly. The Old Man offered no retort. Instead, he tossed Glen a small vial. "Apply this. Masks scent." Glen caught the cool vial, its material unfamiliar. Uncorking it released a potent herbal aroma that immediately sharpened his senses. He didn't ask questions, simply smeared the thick, unguent-like substance over his exposed skin.

"Follow closely." The Old Man plunged into the dense undergrowth first. Glen summoned the Wolf Toxin's power, a fine layer of fur momentarily prickling across his skin, and followed.

The thick vegetation reduced visibility to less than an arm's length. Yet the Old Man navigated as if he could see straight through it, leading Glen unerringly forward. After half an hour of arduous trekking, they emerged into a sudden clearing. The Old Man stopped abruptly, raising a hand. Glen, sensing the tension, froze instantly. "Magical traps," the Old Man hissed low. "How can you tell?" Glen scrutinized the open space ahead. He saw no obvious anomalies, yet an oppressive sense of wrongness hung in the air. It was unnervingly silent. The Old Man's eyes were razor-sharp. He now held a small pouch, its origin unnoticed. He scooped out a handful of fine powder. Then, with surprising agility for his age, he dropped to all fours, crawling forward like a lizard. Glen observed, mildly impressed. The Old Man's physique is formidable. That maneuver demands significant upper body strength. "Step precisely where I step. Follow." Obediently, Glen placed his feet exactly in the Old Man's hand and knee prints, moving steadily behind him.

Periodically, the Old Man would scatter pinches of the powder onto the surrounding ground before continuing. Only when they reached the very center of the clearing did the Old Man rise. Glen couldn't contain his curiosity any longer: "Old Man, how did you detect these traps? And what was that powder you scattered?" "This place appears undisturbed," the Old Man began, carefully stowing his pouch, "but the topography is deliberate. Observe closely. The arrangement of the plants, the water pools... they form a pattern reminiscent of specific runes. It's an exceptionally sophisticated ward. Few would notice because there are no overt signs – human or animal." "And the powder?" "Merely an aid. Helps pinpoint the trigger loci of the traps. Though... it's not a skill just anyone can acquire. Requires absolute, hard-won experience." Sounds incredibly advanced... Glen was impressed. "How do you know all this?" The Old Man met Glen's gaze, his voice still level. "I was once a Doctor of Magicology from the Suosilum Delong University in the Kingdom of Zenn." Glen: "!!!" If Glen recalled correctly, Suosilum Delong was Zenn's premier institution of learning. And the Old Man held a doctorate from there? "Then you can—" "I am not a magician. Therefore, I cannot wield magic," the Old Man interrupted, simultaneously unslinging his hunting rifle. A Doctor of Magicology who couldn't cast spells? Glen's eyes widened in utter confusion. "Anyone can study magicology," the Old Man explained, seeing Glen's bafflement. "But not everyone can be a magician. Excelling in magicology allows one to serve those who can wield magic. Someone like me... even Legendary Archmages compete for my services. Potion formulation, spell matrix calculation, incantation sequence deduction... these are my domain." So... a super-assistant, Glen summarized internally. He pressed further: "Besides the enormous expense, what other barrier stops someone from becoming a magician?" "Certainly," the Old Man confirmed. "To become a magician, one must possess an elemental affinity rating of at least sixty percent. Below that threshold... pursuing magic is a futile waste of time." Glen nodded slowly, absorbing this. "Enough talk," the Old Man abruptly raised his rifle, his voice hardening. "We've been detected. Deal with the trouble first."

Glen showed no surprise; he'd already heard the swift, furtive footfalls approaching from a distance. He turned towards the sound source. Five figures, draped in black robes and emanating palpable malice, burst from the treeline, charging directly at Glen and the Old Man. Their hands elongated, fingers transforming into scythe-like claws wreathed in swirling tendrils of dark energy. The lead assailant lunged, his clawed hand slicing through the air with an audible shriek, aimed straight at the Old Man's chest. The Old Man faced the attack with unnerving calm. His grip on the rifle remained steady. His finger tightened on the trigger.

BANG!

The bullet struck true between the attacker's eyes. His charge halted instantly; his head snapped back, and he crumpled to the forest floor, skidding several feet before lying still. The remaining four closed in without hesitation, converging on the Old Man. Glen braced to intervene, but then he saw it. The Old Man wrenched his coat and shirt open, revealing his chest. Revealing... a gaping, lightless void.

Before Glen's disbelieving eyes, a torrent of thick, impossibly black, prehensile tendrils exploded from that void. They lashed out with blinding speed, wrapping around the four attackers. A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing as the figures were wrenched apart, reduced instantly to shredded cloth and scattered viscera. Just as swiftly, the tendrils retracted, vanishing back into the abyss on the Old Man's chest. The Old Man gasped, clutching his chest as agony contorted his features. He collapsed to his knees, then onto his side, sweat sheening his face. Veins stood out like cords on his neck and temples, bulging grotesquely as unspeakable pain wracked him.

Glen stared down at the shuddering form. "You could have let me handle them. Why endure this?" The unleashed power clearly came at a terrible cost. It wasn't something to be used lightly. Against mere foot soldiers... it made no sense.