Harlan arrived at the inn. His backpack was lying on the ground where he left it. The warrior ignored the silent rebuke. "Stay, I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said in a tired voice. Then he entered the inn and walked up to his room without looking at anyone.
The next day, when he woke up, he inspected his body. Large patches of pink flesh covered it. He prodded them gently. "It tickles, but no pain. Healing nicely." He got up and started putting on his clothes. "I still got it," he added, chuckling quietly.
Harlan gave himself the time to go around the village, giving his farewell and distributing gifts. Then he left. On top of a small hill, the man looked at the peaceful settlement behind. He could see thin trails of smoke from chimneys. A few people on and about. The cow grazed quietly, guarding the coziness of the place. "This is definitely worth fighting for. Worth dying for," the warrior said, his eyes far away. Then fate gently slapped his cheek. He awoke from the trance and resumed walking.
Harlan had walked for a few hours, the trail was straight, so he didn't even stop when his eyes glazed over. As his eyesight returned, he sighed. "You could have warned me sooner." He laid his backpack against a tree, cracked his neck, and went to stand in the middle of the road. While waiting, he charged his body with some of the mist embedded within nature's life. A bird stopped singing and watched him intently. Then it decided it didn't like what was brewing and flew away.
The warrior waited a bit longer. He rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at stealth. But maybe it would have worked with someone else. "Come out, I know you're there. All five of you." There was a shuffle of leaves. Five young adults surrounded him. They all wore the same tight-fitting black uniform. "Hunters' pups," muttered Harlan. He held his hand high, palm open. "There's no need for anyone to get hurt today."
The tallest of the hunters looked at the companion next to him. A small-framed teenager with a light brown curly mop. "Is it him?" The boy looked at the warrior nervously, licking his lips. "He sounds weird, but he is a mist user. A strong one." The tall one nodded, his face grim. "Then we know what to do." Another hunter, a young female with dirty blonde hair in a ponytail. asked, "Shouldn't we wait for Dhorros?" Harlan, still with his hand up, smiled and said, "Yes, you should definitely wait for Dhorros." Two almost identical hunters, those who hadn't spoken yet, stepped forward. "Shut up, we were not talking to you. You're already dead."
The one-armed warrior looked at their feet and said, "I'm compassionate and patient. But I have my limit. You're standing on the edge, don't take another step." He then looked at all of them in turn, slowly turning to lock eyes with each of them. "You still have a long life in front of you." Then he paused, pondered, and corrected his statement. "You still have some life in front of you, don't throw it away when there's no chance at victory."
The tall one said, "On my signal." Five shadow weapons were summoned. The brothers swung two maces of darkness, leaving a trail of black smoke. The female held her spear, which pulsed and undulated slightly, emanating an aura of sickness and decay. The curly-haired one held a dagger. The weapon was shimmering slightly, the wielder was shaking. The Tall one had a large shield of shadow, tendrils of smoke protruding from it and twisting in the air. He moved forward to protect the smaller hunter.
Harlan shrugged and cracked his neck again.
The tension was palpable. Another bird tried to pretend he wasn't there. He now wished he had followed his friend and flown away. The young hunters' gazes were fierce, their lack of experience replaced by their burning passion. Harlan tried one last time, "You should really wait for Dhorros." A deep voice echoed through the land. "I'm here." A towering man walked purposefully and joined the circle of hunters. The young hunters looked at him expectantly. "Stand down," he ordered. They let their stance fall, but the weapons remained in their hands. Then the leader looked at Harlan and bowed slightly, never losing eye contact. "Thank you for letting my pupils live."
Dhorros then looked again at his students. "None of you can help here. Run back and tell the others. I'll take care of this myself." When none of them moved, he added sternly, "Now!" The female let her weapon dissolve into a stinking cloud, took two steps backward, before turning around.
The short curly-haired hunter tugged on the sleeve of his friend, shielding him, "Let's go he whispered." The tall young hunter slowly nodded. They shuffled around Harlan, keeping their distance, the shield still pointed toward the warrior. One of the last two was walking away when he noticed his brother was not following. One young hunter remained, his fury burning hot, "We weren't trained to flee. I'll free the world from those monstrosities!" With a wild cry, he charged, swinging his mace wildly. It looked like he was holding a torch of darkness, burning cold, and ravenous for destruction.
The one-armed warrior waited in perfect stillness until his enemy entered his zone. Harlan's arm moved lightning-fast, tracing an arc in the air. There was the flash of a pink claw shredding flesh. Then the two parts of the hunter's body flew through the air. The legs tumbled around, limbs locked in a weird position, and the torso rolled on the ground, leaving a trail of shredded intestines behind. Harlan wrinkled his nose at the familiar stench. Dhorros looked down, shoulders slumped, and sighed, shaking his head.
The four remaining young hunters stepped forward, weapons in hand again. Dhorros faced them and, with a roar, he summoned a massive shadow axe; as tall as he was, with a blade as large as his shoulders. He slammed it on the ground, and it felt like an earthquake. The bird decided that, after all, there was still time to flee. The hunters' mentor growled, "The next one who disobeys orders, I'll kill him myself!"
The young ones didn't doubt for a second that it was a promise. They back away, their body uncontrollably shaking under the pressure. The last one was the brother, his eyes wide, locked on the corpse of his twin. He startled back to reality as the great axe embedded itself in the ground one pace away from him. After a glance at Dhorros' furious expression, he tried to turn away. The gigantic hunter told him, "Go, I'll take care of it." Trailing his mace behind him, he walked away. Then, as he passed a big tree, he let out his pain, grief, and anger in one primal roar. Part of the trunk exploded on impact, a large crack crawling up the tree.
Dhorros faced Harlan and yelled, letting his booming voice carry to his fleeing students. "So you think you can take one of us like that? You're going to pay for that." The one-armed warrior rolled his eyes. He made a hand gesture for the hunter to wait while he was thinking about something to say. "I'll kill anyone who stands in my way, no matter who it is!" Then he looked at the hunter, cocking his head in a silent question. Dhorros waved his hand palm down, just about average.
The axe flared in pulsating darkness. Harlan started to jump on the balls of his feet, letting his eyes embrace the whole of his opponent's movements.