From Within The Makeshift Cauldron

  The knight stabbed his sword into the ground with the raging flames scorching his body. His equipment burned, and the leather bag carrying his other javelin crumbled into ashes. Charring parts of his armor that couldn’t stand the heat. He embraced the inferno with his body as his aura flared in defiance. It was brief, but he could tell from the howling wind that the vortex that imprisoned him was wavering. Something had gone wrong with the watchman's plan, and from the faint silhouette beyond the embers, he could see Tucker stagger.

  A sign of weakness that could easily be exploited. Yet, Quincy didn't do that. He could march from the shackles of the vortex and attack the watchman, but his conviction wouldn't let him. He needed to overcome this, not by running but by facing his opponent head-on. The inspiration for his azure aura was similar to that of ice. A reflection of his life spent in the cold winters in the northern territories and a perfect counter to the rookie's vortex of flames. With his hand tightly grasping the javelin, his aura came to life. Answering his call and freezing the surrounding air, just enough to keep the flames from engulfing his body.

  There was only one word that came to Quincy’s mind.

  Remarkable.

  It had been ages since he had met such a worthy foe that would fight like this. Despite the conditions, despite the odds stacked against them, and with that he would give them the greatest respect a knight could deliver. One that requires the entire fabric of his being.

  He wasn’t as strong as the knights of the current age, but in his time, four-star aura knights were outstanding. If the third star was to hone your aura into your weapon, then the fourth would be to apply properties to what you honed. Such a feat was standard in today’s age and many had ridiculed him for being a banner knight of low prowess.

  But that didn’t matter to him.

  Loyalty and honor, the proud principles of his knighthood, and the words of his Lord were all he needed. His sole purpose in continuing to serve. A passion that would never wither like the everlasting flowers in the barren north. Unyielding to the conditions of the world around them.

  The aura around him roared as he raised his arm, angling the javelin at the center of the fleeing figure. His vision was clear, and it seemed like, for a moment, the world had changed in his view. The cold wind gently brushed his face as fields of snow came into sight, shifting the surrounding terrain into one from the north. A fleeting second of clarity was all he needed and with it, the javelin soared once more.

  With a flick of his wrist, his arm whipped forward. Hurling the projectile at an astonishing spear that tore through the fiery vortex in its wake. Once the weapon left his hands, Quincy fell to his knees in near exhaustion. Sweat dripped down his chin as shards of ice emerged from the trail, like proud pillars that supported his cause. Each inch it crossed froze the ground with a thin layer of black ice and darted towards the center of Tucker’s body.

  In a matter of seconds, the projectile had already made its way to the young watchman, but before it could land. Gale dove down from the skies and tackled Tucker with all its might, while Newton came from the other side and launched a spike made of ice at the javelin. Narrowly changing the trajectory of the object as the icicle shattered against the brute force of the weapon.

  Tucker’s body ached as blood dripped into his right eye, dying his vision in a crimson hue. His arms trembled as he tried to stand. Looking behind him, he could see Quincy’s charred armor emerge from the steam that filled the makeshift stone cauldron. The vials in his pouch had shattered from the impact, and there was nothing he could do to treat the remaining injuries.

  Yet he didn’t give up. Tucker pulled out several gray cubes filled with mist and crushed them in his hands. The smoke filled the area and immediately blocked Quincy’s view.

  The knight had expected more tricks, but after awakening his world, he never expected the tow on his body to be so great. He had finally broken through the hurdles that many others had ridiculed him for. Yet the cost of manifesting his world nearly caused him to pass out from exhaustion. Was such a feat too much for his old soul?

  He shook off the thought and freed his sword from the frozen ground. Even if it was a burden that strained his body, he had to fulfill his goal. He needed to capture the watchman.

  The banner knight rose from the ashes and frost. Urging his broken body to stand once more as he took a step forward. His metal boots crushed the frozen blades of grass, and in an instant, he kicked off the ground. Forcing his aching muscles that cried out in pain to move. He endured, just as he always had, and charged through the smoke.

  It was careless, but he couldn’t afford to draw it out any further. The situation had changed, and he needed to adapt accordingly. He scanned the area, eyes darting around frantically in search of his opponent. And finally, he caught sight of the green cloak fluttering in the wind. Several meters away from his current position and past the deep crater he created from his initial attack.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  In a heartbeat, he dashed forth with a surge of adrenaline. Leaping over the crater, he kicked off the edge, yet his heart stopped at that moment. His breath grew short, and his eyes immediately fell into the crater in shock. The swirling breeze of energy that had manifested at the last possible second caught him off guard. He was certain that he saw the watchman retreat into the forest, so why was it that Tucker was below him with one arm holding a bow and another drawing its string?

  Every instinct in Quincy’s body told him that Tucker’s attack was dangerous. Far more dangerous than anything he had seen in the past few years, but at the same time, another familiar spirit appeared from the corner of his eyes. An owl with bright blue feathers on its wings and a large white body. Spirits were typically invisible to those who lacked affinity unless they had reached a degree where their physical forms directly interacted with the world.

  The spirit had threads of essence forming from its wings, weaving a shard of ice that seemed to briefly hover before shooting forth like a star in the night's sky. A sense of dread filled his mind. He needed to block one of the attacks and endure the other. That was the only choice he had.

  Yet his mind was spiraling into chaos for the first time in his countless years of peace. Two question lingered. From what he knew, a single contractor couldn't have three spirit companions, so how was it possible for this young watchman in front of him to possess them? Was this a new feat that the current generation of watchmen were capable of?

  One by one, more questions filled his mind. He gritted his teeth in disappointment at himself. He had been careless, but if there was one thing he was confident about, it was that no matter how many spirits someone had. The spirits couldn’t be stronger than the one that brought them into the world. Such laws were the foundation of Arcadia and one that couldn’t be broken no matter how hard one tried.

  Using every fiber of his body, Quincy gathered his aura into his blade and swung it at Tucker as he released the bowstring. The verdant arrow rushed forth to meet the blade in a desperate act of resistance, yet fear filled Quincy’s mind once he saw the corner of Tucker’s lips curled upward.

  His sword easily broke the arrow made of wind as the icicle buried itself deep into the side of his body, penetrating his aura's defense in one swift blow. A mouthful of blood spewed out from his lips as he quickly adjusted his form to minimize the damage. The shard’s force flung him sideways. His body repeatedly slammed against the floor before crashing against a tree with enough force to shatter its trunk.

  The old knight had made a lapse in judgment but grabbed hold of the broken trunk. Tearing the splintering wood while pushing himself to stand. It felt like the world was spinning. Spinning in a downward spiral of dread yet he stood in defiance of it. Focusing on the young watchman, who climbed out of the crater.

  Tucker stared at the half-dead knight with pitiful eyes. He knew he would have been dead long ago but had managed to outwit the knight at the very end. The last attack took everything in him to conjure, and the fact that Quincy decided to block his attack instead of Newton's was the sole reason he won. His condition was slightly better than Quincy’s, but fatigue had already set in long ago, and he no longer knew how long he had spent in this battle. He couldn’t afford to keep track of time, not against someone like him.

  “For what it’s worth..." Tucker forced the words out with each ragged breath. "We weren’t the ones that summoned the demon.”

  As the words left Tucker’s mouth, Quincy froze in place and stood still. Tucker could tell the knight was in no condition to fight, and frankly, he wasn’t either. His body was in a constant state of pain, and his spirit essence was nearly depleted, but the more significant issue was the burning sensation in his heart that constantly stung as he tried to draw more strength. After borrowing Sally's spirit essence, something had gone wrong. It felt like the flames had devoured every bit of energy in his body, making it all the more difficult to replenish. If it wasn’t for Gale sharing their essence with him, the battle would have long been over.

  “Do you swear it?” Quincy firmly asked.

  “I swear.” Tucker kept his guard and held his sword before him. “There was a teleportation platform buried deep within the sewers of the city. We wanted to use it to escape but got ambushed by the demon there. I swear we had no intentions of unleashing that thing in your city. We did what we could and lured it out without endangering the civilians.”

  Quincy felt the blood drip from his frozen wound. Between the gaps where the ice met his flesh. His armor was torn open from the impact, and he didn’t have much time left. The knight staggered in place but forced himself to stand by using his sword as a way to support himself. His blade dug deep into the roots of the stump as he held onto the end of the hilt.

  “Go,” Quincy's voice steady and unwavering. His gaze fixated on the young watchman before him.

  Tucker watched as the knight stood there. Blood was seeping out from his lion-shaped visor, and the large fragment of ice covering the side of his body was beyond gruesome. If it wasn’t for the ice, he would have surely bled out, and with how long Tucker had spent here. Quincy’s reinforcements would soon arrive.

  The watchman pulled out the last grey cube from his pouch and instantly crushed it, obscuring the knight’s vision as he leaped backwards. He could try to finish the knight, but he knew that Quincy still had enough strength to defend himself. The resilience of veterans wasn’t something to scoff at, and his goal wasn’t to kill whoever came his way. It was to extract with the package.

  Wind blew through the forest once more, swaying the branches of the trees and blades of grass. Quincy could feel the breeze gently brush against his armor. Watching as the smoke slowly dissipates over time. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do. Parts of him knew that if he didn’t awaken his world, he would have won the fight. But besides serving his Lord, it was a lifelong dream of his. The sensation of the world changing around him and the soft snow of his homeland brought emotions he had long forgotten.

  One that he wished he could cherish just a second longer.