A lively atmosphere permeated the arena where one of the enslaved children, Gar, was suffering in pain. For the audiences, his anguish was their mere entertainment, something to cheer and gamble upon.

  "Place your bets here, c'mon gents. This is a high stakes opening," a bookie with a round hat announced.

  People spilled drinks on one another as they rushed to place their bets, the air thick with the stench of alcohol—and gore. A crowd pressed in around the bookie, shoving coins forward and shouting their wagers:

  "Two minutes."

  "Five minutes."

  "Three and a half minutes." Among others.

  Coins upon coins piled on the bookie’s table. Each was a wish; a wager to earn from the suffering of the slave inside the arena. The longer he lasted, the more they earned.

  Then, silence fell. The crowd held its breath, eyes fixed on Gar. With one eye on their watches, they waited for his death.

  Amidst them, two figures—Elsyn and Corvus—silently stood with somber expressions.

  Elsyn was deluged by a storm of conflicting emotions, yet her mind stayed fixed on the words she had spoken: kill Gar.

  The thought unsettled her, but she remained resolute. She knew this was the only gift she could give her friend, even if cost her own conscience. She was ready to bear the expense.

  Corvus looked at her, wanting to confirm if she truly meant what she said. He knew the cost of taking a life all too well, for others—and for oneself.

  He wanted to warn her: There's no returning from this.

  Yet, seeing her determined eyes, he did not. He swallowed his words.

  Elsyn glanced at him and nodded.

  Corvus nodded back. He drew his knife, sharpened it with the Unity, and flicked it toward Gar.

  Zipping through the air, the knife entered through Gar's back, and pierced out of his chest. A swift, ignoble end.

  Gar was no more.

  Gar’s body slumped and did not move again.

  The audience was stunned. The silence of anticipation gave way to a lull of confusion and disbelief.

  Then realization swept through the crowd—they had lost their money. The arena erupted in commotion and uproar.

  People, suspecting foul play, demanded their money back. The bookie’s men stepped in to control the crowd, while the bookie quickly secured his gains and fled the scene.

  Greedy and opportunistic—each true to themselves.

  Meanwhile, Corvus and Elsyn had slipped out of the arena unnoticed.

  Elsyn walked a few paces ahead of Corvus, her face unreadable, yet her mood unmistakably grim.

  Corvus quickened his pace to reach her, though he had no idea how one was supposed to console someone who had just lost a friend.

  The people he knew reveled in killing and chaos; violence was their comfort, carnage their norm. Sensibility was a dream none ever entertained.

  After thinking hard, Corvus said, "That boy, Gar... he could've been a magnificent fighter. A shame."

  Elsyn looked at him: "You're not very good at this, are you, Corvus?"

  Scratching his head, he asked, "Was it that bad?"

  Elsyn quietly nodded.

  "Another thing I'm not good at. The list keeps increasing, doesn't it," Corvus added in a low tone.

  After a few seconds, Elsyn said, "Still, thanks for trying... and for your help." Her mood visibly uplifted.

  A smug smile formed on Corvus's face. She thanked me. How bad can I be if she was thankful; I must be overthinking my flaws.

  He was not. But for the lack of precedents, he thought so. Satisfied at his non-existent ability, they marched out of Bleakmoor Hearth.

  A few hours passed before they reached their cave. Gar's death still weighed on Elsyn's mind, but she did not let it show.

  Entering the cave, she saw a bizarre scene: her sister peacefully resting on the blanket. Not outside pulling one of her shenanigans.

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  Elsyn was momentarily taken aback.

  Lea noticed Elsyn and Corvus, and dashed toward her sister. Her radiant smile lifted the gloom from everyone's mind. Hugging Elsyn tightly, she asked, "How was your journey, sis?"

  "It was... I... guess?" Elsyn faltered to answer. Raising suspicion in her sister's mind.

  "It was very productive, Lea; your sister did very well. In fact, you can say that I was the second fiddle in our expedition this time. She did all the heavy lifting, though I was the one who carried her on my back," Corvus said.

  After a few slow breaths, Elsyn composed herself, and said, "Yes, 'squeak. All in all, our journey was worthwhile... I'm glad I was there today." Her last words heartfelt and solemn.

  "Really! Tell me then what'd you learn, sis?"

  "Yes, Elsyn, you haven't told me what you learned from Hugo yet. We have to leave as soon as possible; this mountain is not safe," Corvus pressed with urgency.

  Although, priorities other than mere safety also weighed on his mind; this he kept to himself.

  Elsyn put her hand in her pocket and removed two meatballs and offered them to Lea: "Here, try these, 'squeak."

  Lea quickly grabbed the delicious looking meatballs and gobbled them up: "Tasty! Do you have more, sis?"

  "No, 'squeak that was it. Now, time for some intel sharing. Everyone sit down."

  Lea and Corvus took seat on the blanket; Elsyn began briefing them on the information she had learned today, especially from the shop owner Hugo.

  "First of all, Bleakmoor Hearth. It's not under the banner of any empire like the Velmoria Imperium or the Covenant of Eldara. Here four factions—more like gangs—are in control. I learned the name of only two of them, the Silver Cartel, to whom Hugo belonged, and the Frostbound Legion, whose members we saw at the arena..."

  She pasued and added under her breath, "Those bastards."

  Shaking off her feelings, she asked, "Corvus, do you know something about them?"

  He silently shook his head.

  Lea nudged him and said in a hushed voice, "Hey, how come you know as little as I do? Aren't you supposed to be this big general or something."

  He, too, in a hushed voice replied, "It's Vice-Captain not general, and cool guys like me don't learn about geo-political gibberish. That's a task we leave for nerds, like your sister."

  Giggling a little, Lea remarked, "Yeah, she can be very strict and boring sometimes; 'squeak brush properly, sleep on time, don't bring stray animals, don't go into burrows."

  Corvus nodded approvingly, then added, "Right... But you should really avoid burrows, though."

  Elsyn noticed her two students not paying attention: "Are you two listening?"

  "Totally, sis."

  "You were speaking about those Legion guys—the soldiers, yes!"

  Elsyn was baffled at the abysmal span of concentration these two possessed: "That was minutes ago." Her brows twitched in exasperation.

  She really wanted to hit something—or someone. But she relented.

  "Don't fret Elsyn, you'll be with us all the time, so just tell us then if something's important. Besides, the Hearth's politics is the least of our concern for now," Corvus argued, defending his and Lea's unruly behaviour under the guise of logic.

  Elsyn was speechless.

  "Weren't you the one who eagerly wanted to know what Hugo told me—and you too 'squeak?" She said.

  Lea hid behind Corvus, who again put up a solid defense, at least in his mind he did: "We didn't know it was just some humdrum politics. So it was anticipation of the unknown, rather than the fact itself, that made us excited."

  Lea innocently nodded.

  Elsyn sighed. Having lost her patience with the two hopeless cases in front of her, she summarized sharply:

  "Fine... Just remember—the worst of Bleakmoor Hearth comes out after dark, during the night wars. That’s when the four factions turn on each other in bloody skirmishes, sometimes for power, sometimes for no reason at all. We can’t cross at night, no matter what."

  "I see..." Corvus thought for a while, then continued, "Elsyn, Lea take as much rest as you can tonight. Tomorrow we leave with the first light."

  The siblings nodded.

  Tonight was going to be their last night atop the frozen peak.

  Elsyn lit the bonfire and placed chunks of meat in it. However, Corvus gestured her to stop.

  "What? Do you again want to try your hand in cooking?" Elsyn teased.

  "No. I'm going outside to meditate, I've heard it helps in raising a Mundukar's power. I'm not sure how effective it will be, but we need more power for the road ahead, and this is all I can think of right now."

  Corvus knew he was strong, but not invincible. His body, though it had healed considerably, was still far from whole.

  And so, a quiet hunger stirred within him—a thirst for power. Yet he knew little of the appetite men carried for that same power: a hunger so consuming it devoured everything around them... and, in time, themselves.

  "Corvus, I think you're plenty strong already," Lea said.

  He saw the little girl and smiled: "Thanks, Lea. But what makes you say that—you haven't seen many strong people yet. Have you?"

  "No, but I saw you tear into that crack," Lea said, pointed behind her at the crevice that Corvus had widened as her hinding spot. "And you defeated that snow leopard that sis spoke. Oh! and didn't you say you carried sis on your back? That's no humanly feat..."

  Time itself seemed to gulp and freeze.

  Lea despaired. Her face paled and terror made her forget to breathe. She risked a glimpse at her sister's face—shrouded in an ominous light.

  Elsyn stared at her.

  Lea quickly looked at Corvus as her last hope.

  "Okay, I'm leaving. Take care," he said abruptly, and fled.

  When he would return was anybody's guess, but from the look on his face, he was in no hurry to return—only to flee Elsyn's wrath.

  Left alone with her sister, Lea knew today was going to be long night for her. A very long one indeed.

  A little away from the cave, Corvus was sitting in a cross-legged posture.

  Glad I escaped that. So glad.

  He was trying to meditate to elevate his prowess. However, he had no idea what to focus on, so he simply concentrated on his body: from his fingers to his shoulders, from his toes to his legs, from his neck to his abdomen, and from his head to his back.

  The act felt easy and natural. He could feel his flesh and bones simmering with energy—restless, potent, alive. Slowly, he tried to control and strengthen it. The process was slow and exacting, but steady. He was making progress.

  Gradually, he became more aware of his power's nature, of its shape and intent.

  He had attained Unity in the crucible of violence; his powers, as a result, had come to embody death.

  Now, he sought to sharpen it on the anvil of peace.

  The irony was not lost on him.

  However, fate had different plans for a man of death like Corvus.

  The sky darkened with overcast clouds, veiling the land below in its shade. Warning the creatures below to seek shelter.

  Cold gust swept past Corvus, while his hair rose in the air. He did not think much of it.

  Mere moments later, air cracked as a white line of supercharged lightning plunged—leaving a gaping hole in the clouds. In the blink of an eye, it struck the mountainside near Corvus—followed by a deafening boom.

  The mountain trembled. The heavens were pierced by light.

  And Corvus, the man of death, lay unconscious beneath it.

  End of Arc III: A Smile and A Blade

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