Perceived Fate

He went to the golden egg inn where he munched down on a few of the heavenly gifts. He checked the time and found that his scheduled diner would be in an hour.

So he stopped his actions and went outside again for training.

Stances melded into forms which collected brought about a martial art. With the enhancement his movement became more fluid and his attacks displaced more air.

His speed had increased, such his power had been brought to a new level.

He only stopped when he heard the voice of Jameson calling over.

“Malum, now that was some fine swordplay. Since when where you so quick ey? Maybe I should do some meditation.”

Malum laughed and said jokingly, “Sure mate, inner peace had brought about my inner strength.”

Jameson followed Malum into the restaurant and they both joked and ate for the whole night.

By the time Malum returned to his bed, he couldn’t help but think of a time when he was happier.

Sure the painful reformation of his body hurt, but it fulfilled his purpose and then his dinner with Jameson was anything but miserable.

He was happy but it couldn’t help but bring a frown to Malums face.

`It can only go downhill from here.`

Such a thought ruined such a good moment and instead left Malum sad and angry. Sad because it was true, and angry because it had ruined his mood.

He considered the pessimistic idea and where it’s flaws lay.

When he got to the fifth one, he yawned and realised he was supposed to be falling asleep. He ignored his own argument and decided to leave it for the next day.

Still, he couldn’t help but frown as he drifted off into a dream.

With not long left until there second wave, Malum got to work trying to set himself up as best as he could. Enhancements could only be done 5 days after one another otherwise the effects would be diminished and his likelihood of survival free-falled.

So he kept it to the recommended amount on the recommended schedule. He was willing to gamble basically everything, but there was one exception: his life.

His thoughts turned stormy but they soon relaxed as Jameson entered the room and a smile crawled onto his lips.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

Malum replied, “As I’d ever be.”

And the two pulled up their packed bags and walked out the door.

They crawled back onto the carriage and experienced another lovely trip back to the Outpost. At least the views were good on the way, every other sense however had experienced another dose of trauma.

Getting off with an aching back, Malum felt his head again to see if he needed to take another potion. The ride didn’t help in his diagnosis but he decided to take one anyway.

Intuition had yet to return but his headache had pretty much disappeared, only occasionally would he get a sting of pain.

At least now he was on standing on the ground breathing in fresh air. He looked over to Jameson who looked as miserable as ever.

His resting face didn’t do him justice at all.

Malum joined up with him and they then descended into the mess hall. The big feast before the big day.

They ate, ate some more, and then ate some more on top of that. By the time they were done, everyone was feeling as stuffed as one could be, nobody complained though, they all knew how valuable the energy would be tomorrow.

Once done, they went to sleep for the night. Any and all rest would be good, and with his bed now familiar Malum manged to get some quality hours of sleep.

He awoke to the sound of the morning bell. Usually he would already be up by now but it seemed his sleep last night had truly been fantastic.

Quickly getting his gear on, Malum headed out to see the troops already lining up.

He joined Jameson who gave him a glare but they had a newbies to receive so they changed focus to that.

In they came all toned as any good miner would be, with callouses on their arms like weavers.

Unlike the Northern front the Southern fronts training scheme lasted 6 months and aimed at producing far better soldiers rather than sacrifices.

They were many reasons why that had been the decision but the main one was that 3 months just meant another died man at the end of the month, and they died to quickly to make it worthwhile.

These were premium sacrifices, one that would last mostly through the hell of hells.

They quickly got assigned and the newbies joined there new groups. Some took in many and some only took in one. With only one dead last month they got themselves a replacement and because there were a few left over, they also got yet another one.

Daris and Harris were brothers and Harris had begged the commander to put him on this Section. Considering the 4 subsections, strategically there were likely better places but turning down a begging man you were sending off to kill didn’t exactly raise moral.

They hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years and Malum looked to see Carl practically bursting with joy.

He could swear he heard the man mutter, “Double the newbies, double the stories...”

Malum turned off his ears as Carl properly voiced his questions about the two’s dating life and sadly they didn’t end at `none`.

In fact it never ended.

They even ate before they left and yet still by the time they had arrived Harris was still talking about his 8th girlfriend.

Or was it his 9th by now. Malum didn’t care and thankfully reaching the crossroads meant that they could split up. Now he just had peace and quiet with his own friend.

They waved off the other three and continued the short journey to their battlegrounds. Jameson continued to stare off into the endless sea of nothing and Malum didn’t do much different.

Both enjoyed the views, and on their travels they had learned quickly to enjoy the silence.

It came to an end not soon after. Coming onto the narrowest point in the river and Jameson crossed over. He gave Jameson a prayer and a playful salute before he split off and went downstream to where he had set up before.

He laid down all the things he would need and sharpened his swords as best as he could. He had medicine spare, he had snacks, and he had a new Martial art ready to test out. The demons weren’t going to be hunting him, today he was going to be doing the hunting.

As the sun rose to its peak, another day of blood began.

Jameson pulled his sword from his sheath to match the coming demons pace. It charged as fast as a horse and yet when Jameson met the beasts horn with his blade, it wasn’t the horn that won.

Instead, his blade carved through the horn and through the head of the demon. It’s eyes gave him one last glare before he saw the life drain from the demon.

He looked down to wipe the sword of its blood when the thought of time came to his mind. An hour had past since the wave had began so that left 23 hours of murder left to carry out.

He flicked his sword of its blood which revealed it familiar metal gleam. Jameson could only smile as he remembered the first time he laid eyes upon it.

As the first and only successor of his house, he had received the sword when he was only a young child. Once he was healthy, and his parents had decided to only have a single child, the sword was given as a sign of his inevitable rise to head of household.

It was a marvel of creation. As sharp as a demon tooth whilst also light enough for even an untrained man to hold. What it truly exceeded at though, was its durability.

He had sharpened the sword 2 times in his life, once every 5 years of his consistent use. He was only small but he remembered parts of the ceremony as if they were yesterday. It was one of his last memories of his father.

He spilt the blood of another demon. His mind however continued to reminisce.

His smile, his hair, his armour, his sword. The words were lost to time, but the image was all he needed. His father looked strong, mighty, righteous; he was everything Jameson aspired to be.

The Baron, and yet he never lived up to his title.

Instead he was here, culling demons to protect his enemies.

He sword grew more violent; he inflicted more pain then was needed and he went for the heart in particular.

Jameson let fury overcome him as he became the devil of the battlefield. It may have costed him more stamina than what was needed but Jameson had more than enough to afford it.

The whole charade of his house, one of the last shreds he had left and yet they couldn’t allow him to have that anymore. Next they would be coming for his sword, and such a thought brought only wrath to Jameson eyes.

Thankfully, he caught onto to his emotions as he began to make movements to irrational for his brain to ignore. As an instructor such form would have him condemn them to extra harsh training and yet he himself was no doing exactly that.

He breathed calmy and let himself calm for a second. He cut down to his left as he knew the demons wouldn’t give him the rest but he certainly could if they were dead.

He fought on and remembered his house remaining in his possession and whilst they could send him as many threatening letters, they couldn’t actually force him to see it, neither could they just take it.

He smiled at their grief and continued his battle. Occasionally he would see his friend on the other side fighting he own set of demons and he would smile at his success.

Jameson let his emotions run cold as he then turned back to the demons he faced. No longer would they bleed for his fury, now they would bleed for death and death only.

Jameson looked over to the other side of the river. Burning flames had erupted once again and Jameson wandered why Malum did it.

He could always ask him.

Night had was beginning to fall which meant he was going to need to adjust his focus. In the dark his eyes weren’t of much use because the torches range was frankly terrible so sound was his sense of choice.

His years of hard work paid off though, as he could now tell exactly where a sound came from the second he heard it.

The flames would help with some limited vision and he wandered if that was why his friend did it. A light-source?