I'm excited to step into the light of the sun once more. As much as I despise the sun and its cruel games, it has possibly been months since I have felt its warmth. It would be the perfect end to the perfect day to bask in its light and see the mountain scenery with normal vision. I'm not disappointed when I remove the barrier to the cavern and find more darkness.
"Of course, the sun isn't going to shine when I want it to. Typical sun. Following its own agenda. Doing whatever it wants. Selfish prick if you ask me." I say to no one in particular as I step out of the cave and into the less dark night. Thank goodness the moon is at least shining brightly.
"And who is asking me now? No one, because I'm just your basic order-taking grunt." I continue my rant. As I make my way up the mountain. "Well, not anymore. I'm alone now, and I'll take orders from no one. Not even myself can tell me what to do. I will only do what I choose to do."
At this point, the rant has become a ramble. I don't know. Maybe it's the quiet company that makes me feel so talkative. It could be the warmth of the moonlight bringing out my cheery disposition. One thing is for sure, the moon does a lot of lifting while using borrowed light.
"You would think if you borrowed all that power, you would keep it for yourself." Now directing my attention to the reliable moon. "That's not what you do, though, is it. You give off your borrowed light. You're consistent too. That is what I like about you. Doesn't matter if you have a lot or little borrowed light. You give it all. Makes you wonder what you could be if you kept all that light to yourself. Well, I for sure am one to appreciate your kindness, Mister Moon or Misses. So thank you."
That tirade took a turn for the worst. Did not see the gratitude coming. I guess I do have a lot to appreciate. I'm not going to let that get in my way of complaining.
"Typical gratitude. Always trying to change people's attitudes. Creeping in when it assumes people need it the most. Did you ever consider people could benefit from dwelling in their pit of misery? You can climb out of the hole but still have a hole in your path. Looking past the hole doesn't fix the problem either. 'Face your holes.' That's what my old man probably used to say."
The climb up the mountain is actually peaceful. Being out in the open and not in a cave is refreshing. I'm taking in deep breaths between complaints absorbing the mountain aroma. Not being in a stagnate cave air is a step in the right direction.
The occasional bugbear squad keeps out of sight, which is considerate. If my perception is to be trusted, there are four squads—thirty bugbears. Mostly, they are more interested in finding a cave than in noticing me. It helps that I am actively masking my presence.
"The only scent to be smelt is rocks." Admittedly, I'm grasping at straws to form a legitimate complaint. It is hard to be upset about fresh air. Despite the beautiful setting, I persevere in critiquing. "You know what I want to smell after weeks in a rock? More rock. Sedimentary, metamorphic, shoot even igneous, it doesn't matter, give me all those good rock smells. Trees are for the birds. That's what they say anyway.
"These rocks would be much better if they were more reliable steps. Probably good friends with the sun. Most likely, talk about the pleasantries of being inconsistent. I for sure am not buying it."
More nonsense is shouted out into the mostly silent night for the entire trip up the mountain. With the littlest self-reflection, I can see why I was alone in the desert. Come to think of it, that is probably why I am alone now. Maybe misery isn't good company or something like that. I would like to ask my followers to weigh in, but they seem adamant about staying hidden.
Their efforts to remain hidden have been impressive as they've run from cover to cover, tiptoeing up the mountain. This could be an elite squad based on the discipline they are displaying. Or, well, not displaying. If nothing else, I keep my complaints flowing for my followers. Part of me is smiling, knowing they must endure all of my nonsense.
It makes no sense why they haven't attacked yet. Perhaps the bears are waiting for the right moment. My perception tells me no trap is waiting for me at the top of the mountain. Maybe they are hoping I reveal some secrets. I like to think they just enjoy my company. We very well could be in alignment with some of my mountainside concerns. I know I haven't sunk into shadow because I enjoy theirs for now.
Reaching the mountain's peak, I step into my shadow and disappear. Not wanting to lose sight of me, my stalkers quickly pick up their pace and approach the peak. They are taken aback when they don't see me up there with them.
"Where is he?" The highest ranked soldier asks.
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"How are we supposed to know? We followed you the whole time. Maybe if you weren't trying to spy, we could have dealt with him as soon as he left the cave." A frustrated squadmate responds.
"Yeah, I agree with Vex. Had we just attacked him from the beginning, we could've been plundering the cave with the other squads." The bugbear says between big gulps of air. He and the other lower-ranked squad members are paying for the strenuous hike up the peak.
"Right." The leader chimes in once again. "Plunder a cave that has already been plundered. That is top-of-the-line wisdom." Aggressive growls enforce his words. "We take care of the one that has already taken the riches from inside the cave, then we go back for more if we aren't satisfied. Now find him."
Following the leader's command, the squad spreads out, searching for me.
In total, there are seven soldiers. There is the leader, a third-ranked lancer with water mana, and two second-ranked lancers. One is darkness, and the other is water aspected and goes by the name Rex. The remaining four are only of the first rank with earth, fire, death, and life energies. One squire, two rooks, and four pages. A strong squad, if what Gene said about cultivators is accurate.
"Be ready." The dark rook speaks out. "I can sense a filthy form of darkness here." Upon the rook's warning, the squad regroups into a cohesive unit. The dark lancer begins casting a spell, and I take that as my cue to charge.
I dash to the casting dark lancer pulling out shadow blades. I appear next to him and deliver a savage blow to his exposed neck. To my surprise, the blades cut through his neck without actually cutting his neck. Uncanny. His casting stops as he falls to the ground. With a hand on the new corpse, I pull us both into the shadow. We disappear from the rest of his squad.
Adding the extra person puts a strain on my core, adding some tension that will increase the drain of my stamina. I switch to my death core thinking I can create a corpse while in the safety of my realm. That is a mistake. My shadow shroud unravels, ejecting the two of us from my domain.
The bugbears are quick to react to my sudden appearance. They cast a volley of spells and curses. I dive out of the way, switching back to my shadow mana. When I hit the ground, I am back in the safety of my realm. The corpse I left behind is obliterated by fire, ice, and rocks. Above the corpse is a nasty toxin I don't want to get close to.
The squad forms a tighter group keeping the life page well protected in the center. The water lancers, Aggressive Growler and Rex, hold spears of ice at the ready, while the earth lancer creates shields from rocks.
The life page begins chanting—the mana around the squad spikes. Fire and death lancers gain more bulk to their already impressive forms. Drawing swords, they keep their eyes alert. To add to the intimidating stature, the death page touches the dead companion lying next to him and doubles in size as he absorbs the lingering pale mana.
At the moment, I feel conflicted. I know that the bugbears are the aggressors and that I am well within my developing moral compass to wipe them out. It comes down to me not enjoying the slaughter. Fresh out of the Greater Shadow Realm, my hands feel stained. So many beasts died because of me, and how I treated Calmy still eats at me. Before that, it was goblins and kobolds. Even fighting off the hundreds of spiders weighs on my mind.
It is tough being the final judge of whether something lives or dies. And yet that is where I find myself again and again. Sure these bugbears will be able to put up a fight. They might even injure me. It won't be fair, though. All things considered, I have a surmounting advantage. To me, they are another wounded drake.
Appearing back on the main realm, I put my hands up, showing them no aggression. "Leave this island now, and there won't be any more death. Stay and die."
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