He’s alive. A wave of relief goes through me and weakens my knees. The blade has destroyed his eye and damaged his brain, but his nervous system hasn’t yet shut down. Working furiously and not stinting on mana, I gently pull the blade out, my magic using the blueprint of his body to restore his brain and then his eye to the way it was a moment ago.

  Only then do I look up, realising that my distraction could have meant dire things for the greater battle at hand.

  Fortunately for me, I have capable companions. Not only have they continued doing what they had been doing before, weathering the storm of blades with grim endurance, but the perpetrator has been dealt with too.

  Emerging from the den are my other Pathwalkers and Warriors, magic and weapons already engaged as the Warriors charge those of their counterparts who are still fighting. Metal strands have wrapped around Flying-blade’s feet, tripping her and sending her to the ground. Tarra is currently crouched over her with jaws gaping open, her clawed fingers wrapped around a thin blade dripping with one of her potions and Flying-blade’s blood.

  As for the rest of the battle, almost all of the invaders are now down. I see darts sticking out of Plant-shaper and Earth-shaper’s necks, their eyes half-closed in exhaustion as they lie sprawled on the ground, metal bonds binding them too. Plant bindings have taken Ice-shaper, and Water-former down, but the first is still fighting. A moment later, I sense a current of air propel three darts to strike at her vulnerable neck, Windy and Tarra working together to take down our enemies. It isn’t long before her control over her ice spears becomes weak as the darts stuck in her neck feed her their poison. The other two are already lying limply on the ground.

  I see the enemy Healer backing away, her clawed hands raised in the air, only to be surprised from behind as River, her jaws gaping, grips her around the neck, her claws piercing the other Pathwalker’s skin. The Pathwalker soon drops to the ground, whatever River chose to coat her claws with this time quickly overcoming the healer’s resistance.

  As for the Warriors, it seems that free of needing to counter the invading Earth-Shaper’s powers, Jumpy decided to take up my task in my absence, opening rifts below the battling Warriors and dropping them into it. That frees up those who were fighting them to hem the others in even more. Being far less practised at Earth-Shaping than even I am, she’s only managed to do a few in the time it took me to heal Catch, but even that has taken some of the Warriors out of the battle.

  The others have either been killed, taken down and bound to the ground with bindings of root, branch, or woven fibre, or have actually surrendered. The last small group of three Warriors, seeing that all their brethren have already been defeated, have chosen to stop fighting. Their weapons thrown to the floor, they’ve sunk to their knees, their clawed paws lifted in front of them with open palms facing the sun.

  Even as I watch, Joy returns out of the forest, the Warrior who had grabbed her at her side. She’s limping a little, but otherwise looks alright. More of my people pour out of my den, and I sense the relief among them all at both escaping from the small space and seeing that the invaders have been dealt with. It isn’t long before the chances of any of these attacking samurans getting away are practically nil, though several of my fighters remain vigilantly on watch for any signs of renewed resistance.

  We’ve won, though my heart aches at our losses, a fire still burning in my belly. Even the still-smoking group of charred carcasses isn’t enough to make up for them. Fortunately, Catch isn’t one of our dead, though I castigate myself for not making a plan for Flying-blade specifically – I was hoping that she would be caught off-guard from the waves of wind and water, but evidently she was still able to create some mischief with her telekinesis.

  Our enemies definitely came out worse from this fight, though. I cast my eyes over the battlefield – three Warriors surrendered, seventeen are trapped in one way or another, six Pathwalkers are alive, and I can make out enough of those I killed with my intense fire attack to see that at least seven Warriors and one Pathwalker were caught in the blast. A number of other Warriors lie bleeding on the ground from battles with my own fighters – not dead yet, they might be able to be healed. From her groggy yet apprehensive look, Flying-blade knows that she really screwed the pooch here.

  “Tarra, what are they all being affected by?” I check.

  Mana inhibition potion – my extra-powerful one. I didn’t want to take any chances, she tells me succinctly. Her extra-powerful one? That must mean the one she managed to infuse a drop of Pure Energy into after blowing up far too many other trials.

  “Good call,” I confirm, though make a note that I need to clear their bloodstreams if I want any of them to be able to use magic within a week. Though given this unprovoked attack, I’m not at all sure I’ll let them have it. Maybe not ever. And it was unprovoked, no matter what Flying-blade might say – she’s the one who challenged me to a Hunt; she’s the one who lost because she didn’t do her homework properly. “River?”

  A paralytic, she tells me, looking down at Healer at her feet with disdain. She can still use her powers, but will be unable to move for a while. I nod in response, sending her a sense of appreciation which she returns.

  “Alright, is anyone injured?”

  My question is met by silence for a moment as they all let anyone seriously injured speak first. When no one does, the rest of them chime in with reports of minor injuries – cuts and bruises for the most part, though one Warrior does report a sprained arm. Apparently he deflected an attack from another Warrior badly. All the wounds which they might have suffered previous to this battle seem to have been healed already by Tarra and her potions.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I order Healer – from the small red village – to heal our people and then once she’s done, she may heal the invaders who are close to death. Cuts and bruises among my own people take more precedence over even critical injuries among those who attacked them. Still, I’m merciful enough to ask River and the Warrior closest to her to pick up the invading Healer and drop her next to some of her own Warriors.

  “Heal your people or not, I don’t care,” I tell her callously. “I’m not wasting potions or my own mana on them, not considering what they’ve done to us this day.”

  The situation under control, I eye the group of seventeen Warriors and six Pathwalkers who are still in a decent enough condition, even if more than half of them are currently neck-deep in the ground. And there they will stay until I’m convinced that it’s safe enough to let them up. They, at least, are alive – unlike so many of my own People.

  The thought gives me an almost irresistible urge to just stomp through the battleground and use my Strength to destroy their skulls in retribution for the pain they’ve caused my village. It would be practically a merciful kill, certainly better than th one poor Flicks suffered.

  But I do resist it. Not only would that be killing them in cold blood and crossing a line that I have set for myself but…that would be too easy. For them. Pain, and then to whatever awaits the soul after death. Nothing more. And nothing for us save a momentary sense of satisfaction.

  No, I want them to pay for what they’ve done with their lives, though not in the traditional sense. They came to destroy our village? They will be responsible for rebuilding it. I’ve only got two months left in this world. I’m determined that by the end of that, these samurans won’t be a threat to my village – one way or another.

  But first, I need some information. And I know exactly who I’m going to start with.

  Striding forwards to the Pathwalker lying bound in roots at Tarra’s feet, I roughly grab her lower jaw and send a sharp prod of flesh-magic into her.

  Not intended to do anything other than give her a painful jolt to bring her to full awareness, it’s easy enough to do. It doesn’t matter that there’s no Bond between us and our status as enemies no doubt causes her to resist me as thoroughly as she can. With anger still burning in my veins at her attack, even though we’ve been able to repulse it with no further casualties on our side, I easily overcome her resistance for such an undirected and blunt attack.

  “You!” she spits with an angry grunt. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

  “And it’s no thanks to you that I am,” I reply grimly. “Though I suspect that your allies are cursing ever cooperating with you.” Her eyes widen.

  “You killed them?!”

  I grin at her, a toothy, humourless grimace which is very much the threat that samurans take it as.

  “And if I did, it would have been your fault. You chose them to be sacrifices, don’t deny it! A delaying tactic so that you could invade my village with impunity!” I throw the words at her like the knives she threw at Catch. Like the spears that pierced through Trinity.

  “I did not think that you would kill them!” she spits in return. “But perhaps I should have – a monster like you!”

  “As opposed to a monster like you?” I demand, my fury flaring again at her sheer hypocrisy. I clench my fists at my side so as not to reach out and strangle her. “You invaded my village, killed some, tried to capture others, and yet you dare call me a monster?! I killed even fewer than you did in that village which tried to stop me coming to my village’s aid. A Pathwalker, and no more. Yet you’ve killed close on a hundred of those who called this village and its surrounding area home!”

  “We did not kill that many!” Flying-blade spits. “A single Pathwalker and a handful of Warriors. And those only because they refused to surrender!”

  “Unlike you,” I tell her savagely, “I consider all those who live in my village to be people, Evolved or not. Samuran or not. Now tell me, exactly why did you come here to kill my people and destroy my village? And if you dare tell me that it was just because you didn’t like it that we won the Hunt, I swear to God that I will end you right here and now!”

  Flying-blade looks at me with both fear and contempt in her eyes. And then she turns her head away, remaining silent.

  “Tell me!” I roar, gripping her jaw again hard enough to tear the skin between a few of her scales. I wrench her jaw around to face me. “Tell me!”

  The fear flares brighter in her eyes and spikes, but she still remains silent.

  Realising that I’m practically panting, the speed of my breathing far too high for the situation, I take a moment to breathe in slowly, controlling the release just as much as the inhale. My anger cools a little, making me realise just how close I am to losing control; just how easy it would be to create an inferno inside her, blowing her to pieces – and losing her secrets with her life.

  There’s more than one way to skin a cat – or get information out of a samuran. But my tried and tested method requires me to be far calmer than I am.

  I therefore take another long moment just to breathe, imagining the heat of my anger emerging with my breath. I wonder if it’s just my imagination that the air wavers a little before my eyes.

  “Fine, have it your way,” I tell her with a shrug when my anger has cooled sufficiently. Flying-blade even dares to look slightly hopeful, fear leaving her eyes to be replaced by more of that contempt from earlier. Clearly, she doesn’t realise what’s coming. “Dominate.”

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