Eventide Scriptures I - The Shattering of an Era

Chapter 10.3 - Invasion (Part III)

Cold sweat drenched Eiran's nape, his own heartbeat loud in his ears. His hand withdrew from the sword hilt. He was almost lost control.

The reality would not have unfolded that way because despite Sciast's relaxed demeanor, his strength was unfathomable. Even someone inexperienced in combat would not misjudge him. If he had truly attacked, Sciast would have crushed his helmet and head while picking his nose with the other hand.

"Hey!" Sciast turned, making his cold sweat wish it could hide back into his body. "You look pale. Report if you're sick. I don't want anyone ill on the ship."

"I-I'm not. I–"

"ATTAAACK!" The shout cut off Eiran. Dozens of Isofean warriors emerged from hiding around them, weapons drawn.

"Told you your Artifica cannons were as useless as an impotent stud," Sciast said.

"My objective is to resupply. Total destruction was never part of my origin set of goals," Neuvane replied.

Eiran panicked like the other Terzionite sailors. He drew his sword, unsure who to aim at. Torchlight revealed fierce faces approaching from all directions. Among them were also those with Adventurer and Monster Hunter Guild insignias.

Before the two sides could engage, black figures emerged from the ground between them. They wore white masks and wielded dual-bladed daggers. Though Eiran had never seen them before, their reputation preceded them. They were the Terzionite shadow division, The Wraith.

Wraiths moved like a black wind, slicing through enemy ranks. Their dagger flashed, their swings were brief and always lethal. They killed their second victim before the first one hit the ground.

Eiran turned at the sound of clinking metal. The gleam of weapon made him raise his sword to block. From the clash, it was clear his enemy was exhausted. He pushed the enemy back. The distance allowed him to inspect his enemy.

"Jeth!" he cried out, muffled. Jeth's face was covered in wounds, but he could not be mistaken.

Jeth swung his axe, and he deflected it. "Jeth! It's me!" He whispered through clenched teeth, but Jeth kept attacking. He then tossed aside his helmet so Jeth could see clearly.

"Die, you Terzionite cur!" Jeth raised the axe above his head with both hands. Eiran stumbled backward and fell seated. The axe blade glinted towards his forehead.

Swish! Jeth's throat was slit open, his blood splattering Eiran's face, and he collapsed like a dropped stone. Eiran had seen it just before – a White Mask slipping a dagger across Jeth's neck before vanishing. And as he realized, the sounds of battle had ceased. The Isofean had been slaughtered.

"You fine?" A voice from the side made him turn. He almost leaped like stepping on a sea urchin when Sciast offered his hand. Eiran's hand trembled as he took it.

"We are heading back to the harbor," Neuvane commanded. He had no choice but to follow.

At the harbor, the soldiers and sailors were busier loading goods onto the ships after Neuvane ordered to set sail within an hour. This chaos allowed him to blend in.

While loading cargo, he pondered his options. First, he could slip away. But then Fhon, Violet, and his friends would never be avenged. Neuvane and Sciast would escape far away without facing any consequences.

The second option was to set sail with them. He might get a chance for revenge. Or perhaps get caught, his underarm vein sliced – enough to bleed for hours but stay alive – then hung by his legs as shark bait.