The Mak Toras Chronicles

Chapter 23 - Manhunt part I

The sun had reached its highest peak in the sky; noon was here. It was a perfect day for sparring in the woods behind the mansion. The family was preoccupied with negociating business policies to the other foreign companies like the Schnee Dust Company and Atlas's technological department. With that, Tanner found himself walking alongside Chad into the woods. Warm air writhed under the lush greens above and around his neck. It was a soothing sensation just as memorable as the warmth by the fire in the grand living room, a feeling that crawled through his spine gladfully. It was a force no one could see but can recall its embrace at a moment's notice, not unlike the trained huntsmen and huntresses in the world—much like his brother Chad, and what he aspired to become one day.
But first came sparring from days when they first started. He was not as adept as his siblings, but could easily displace other trainees at his age—whenever he scheduled to train temporarily at Signal Academy. However, Tanner never attended public school but was instead taught at home; by the time he could walk, talk, and show a lust to fight, Tanner trained early on alongside Chad and his other siblings, though Chad was around the most to help him with wielding swords and knives alike. While he learned everything else such as the sciences, mathematics, and history from his parents, Chad took charge with pre-huntsmen training him to be a fine warrior among his fellow man. Stemming from a child's dream, it soon became fate that would guide Tanner's way, Chad continuously kept telling him.
Warm air continued to flow past them as they walked into a dirt clearing. Sparse tree cover surrounded them like an clutter of people in the public square, providing an excellent scenary that also acted as a boundary to their sparring field. It became commonplace after years of training in the clearing being so close to home, isolated amongst the flora, and almost completely free of Grimm. Though as seemingly safe as it was, the Grimm were never once overlooked when out in the forest. Turning a blind eye to the Grimm was forbidden in the Eterna household, knowing their enemy would wait until all guard was lowered to strike. Tanner knew this well, and even held his blade close while spanning his vision to the wall of trees around him. No matter how many times he came to train, he was always wary of these familiar surroundings. His eyes soon locked on with his brother's after his sweep of the area they stood in, upon which his sword exited his sheath with the excited metal singing its brief song of a blade drawn to the air. He readied his blade in tandem with Chad's sword, keeping it as steady as possible with full, undivided attention.
"Alright, bro, today we're going to pick up the pace, and focus on your reactions and how fast you can excute and counter," said Chad while he spun his sword, "I'm looking only for your readiness and stance with this one. After today you should learn to deflect any attack without the need of your aura." Tanner could already feel his blood slowing down. For so long, he had been able to deflect attacks with his body freely without the need of any weapon. Now being asked not to do as he wanted, he can feel anxiety steadily creep onto him. Staring at his own minature reflection upon his sword, he paused to zone out before turning back to meet his older brother's gaze.
    "Alright, but go easy on me," he said hesitantly. Chad smirked cheerfully at his request.
    "I can't guarantee anything, Tanner. Trust your instincts."
    He felt taken aback being brushed off. Regardless, he kept his blade ready and circled him while his brother only stood there as if he had no plan of attack. Bowing his head in supplification, he saw Chad close his eyes and drew his sword close like a vigilant statue. Every step began to feel heavier onward. Tanner could sense the supsension building, waiting for Chad to make a move. He had known him to be quick and the cut-to-the-chase type when fighting quick skirmishes and pulling back to gather his strength between sessions, but this was different. Chad made no such movements, not even the slightest twitch of a muscle. Just being around his still figure spelt ambiguity and trouble for Tanner. There was no telling how soon his brother would strike or if he even would attack at all. Still, he kept his eyes on him, feeling his own energy building up inside, waiting to lash out and make the first strike.
    Within a fraction of a second, Chad darted forward and took him by surprise with a quick blow to the left. He felt his consciousness and thoughts leave him as his body took over and hold up his sword to meet his brother's blade. The loud clang of metal signaled Chad to strike again, quickly swinging his blade to the right. Again, Tanner parried the incoming sword, though a rush of energy and nervousness staggered his posture. The strikes came unexpectedly, even with his eyes on the opposing blade. Most skirmishes he could keep track where his brother was. Yet this attack left him mentally stunned like waking up sluggish in the morning. He felt the ground disappear behind him trying to step back. Chad, on the other hand, stood perfectly still, watching him like a hawk.
"Good, but your stance is off," he said spinning his sword once again, "try to let your body take control rather than your mind." He looked completely unphased. It left Tanner unsettled as he regained posture.
"How does that make any sense, Chad?" He asked obliviously. Instead of hearing any counter to that question, he only saw Chad smile. Not long, he felt a rush of the winds charging towards him as Chad lunged forth, taking Tanner off guard. Not even the speed of firing neurons were fast enough to act as he received a swift swipe to his left torso. Were it not for the energies and souls they possessed, he would have been seriously cut. Still, he treated as if it were a real blow. But it did not stop there. Within seconds of the first blow, the rear of Chad's sword came slamming down from above. Tanner held his blade to the sky to meet his brother head on. The swords gleamed together in the sunlight, locked in the fires of combat. Looking down upon him, Chad held firm against the push of his younger brother.
"Does it make sense now—how quickly you reacted?" He asked Tanner.
"But I'm never ready."
"Exactly. You focus too much on one aspect of your opponent, they will tear you asunder with no mercy," lectured Chad, "even so, your body reacted accordingly to my attacks despite not knowing my fighting style." It puzzled Tanner the more he tried to break it down in his head.
But wouldn't I need to think about my next move?
His thoughts were interrupted by the metal singing as Chad shoved him away with his sword. He was not the least bit done with his sentence.
"As much as it helps to be steps ahead of the opponent, you have no idea what tricks they have up their sleeves that could shatter your strategy. Sometimes improvision is necessary, just like how you defended against me. In a layman's terms, bro, adapt and become one with the battle, and it will be yours to command."
Time seemed to slow down whenever Chad would give a lecture. The world would freeze still, and Tanner would feel like he was in a trance. It was not uncommon for Chad to get carried away teaching a battle tactic to Tanner in the middle of training—at the same time it was not uncommon for the latter to be zoned out in vast universe inside his mind. Words would come and go, though some stuck around to create structure to such lectures, while some were lost to the chasm. There was no way of telling if those words would return in his head, whether he heeded them or not. Perhaps one day they would be brought back into the fold, where his ever-growing conscious can refine them into structured, complex thoughts.
It was not until Chad charged again did Tanner regain control of his wandering mind. However, he was not absent this time. In a mere second, the eldest brother launched a series of slashes to which Tanner responded appropriately to each strike. Surprised with his own feat without actually being there, mentally, he proceeded to try and return a few blows back to Chad. A swipe to the left then the right, did his sword fly. Alas, his hopeful counters were short-lived as Chad blocked his bladed counterargument. But he was not at all displeased from the sound of his laughter.
"That's more like it!" Exclaimed Chad. "You're catching on well." At that point, Tanner felt flustered. He had never been one to precisely match the description of what his brother would ask of him during skirmishes, but tried no less. Like winning a battle himself, he could not help but smile back at his little victory. Even if he did not fully understand Chad's point, he was happy to embrace the rush of combat.
His thoughts could not keep up with his movements as Chad struck again. Within a swift motion of his sword, Tanner continued to follow with Chad's erratic patterns of attacks. It appeared he was picking up speed. But it all paled to Tanner's impeccable responses to each blow. Yet he could tell he would slip up eventually. Despite his performance, it usually is too good to be true; the same mistake he made last session when he foolishly thought he had gained the upper hand in his offense, before being taken by surprise with a bloody nose. But it was not like that day at all. It was a time to rejoice now, to see his brother proud. An hour to make his faults rue this day made his smile brighter than the sun.
    That smile, however, would not have dominion of his facial expression for long as his sense of smell got the better of him. A peculiar stench reigned in the air so much he turned his attention from Chad to the treeline behind him. It was a foul stench like something died and had risen from the grave after months had passed; the stench of death. Something was here and watching him. He scanned entire the treeline for any movement but to no avail as he turned back to Chad, who was frozen and staring at the same patch of forest he was.
    "Chad?" Said Tanner warily. No response came. His attention was more focused on the treeline than anything else. But that did not stop him from raising his sword.
    "Tanner, get behind me," said Chad with his voice dropping from a cheerful to solemn stance, much to Tanner's paranoia, upon which he turned his head back to the patch of brush that had stolen Chad's attention with a fresh pair of red soulless eyes.
    Every hair on his arms and neck stood up and froze in fear along with his tingling skin. It was a rushing sensation that brought terror more than euphoria ever could. He had seen those kind of eyes many times before and knew they only brought destruction and horror wherever they traveled—the eyes of mankind's greatest enemy.
    As Tanner drew his steps back to pass his brother, a mass of black fur and smoke, resembling a humanoid variant of a wolf, rushed out from the foliage towards Chad, who had launched forth a battle cry and his sword to meet the vicious beast, an alpha beowolf. It stood taller than the smaller warrior but did not pose any difficult obstacle to the blade.
    Claws, teeth, and all, the beast cast its weapons against Chad's gleaming sword. While it held its left sickly, dark gand, he dodged the right paw, stealing his blade with him and struck it in the side. It responded with a ferocious growl and spun to try and catch the huntsmen, only to miss and receive more slashes to its back. Blow after blow, black smoke arose from the inflicted wounds and faded away into open air. Those very wounds would continue to run freely as Chad repositioned himself after dodged another fury of swipes. The beowolf only grew more impatient with each misplaced attack and started to swipe its fur-draped arms wherever Chad could possibly move after letting a loud roar travel into the wind, leaving merely spine-crawling echo of terror.
    From only meters away, Tanner could do no more but raise his sword with no enemy to fight and watch his brother chop and slice away at the Grimm. He had faced smaller versions of these beast before but could never come to keep an intact sanity against them nonetheless. Every aspect of this beast chilled his bones past the would-be freezing point of blood in cold fear. Spikes, claws, teeth, even the skull itself was the stuff of nightmares as its creator had intended them to be, haunting mankind's dreams since the day they came to be. No animal on Remnant could cone close to a horror like the Grimm, nor compare to their lust of humanity's fall and damnation. Whatever animals that have encountered, and might approach along the way, the creatures of Grimm only stood to defend their turf and young from these horrid beasts, but no more—not even hunt them for food, something that frustrated Tanner to no end. If only they too would participate in the same form of action like mankind to smite these nightmares back from whence they came; that if they had shared the same chagrin as he did to this hellspawn. But now was no time to wonder if a pack of wolves or bear would come to huntsmen aid.
    Nothing quelled the anxiety of his eyes witnessing the fight between man and dark beast. As skilled as Chad was in the art of combat, the Grimm were no force to be trifled with. Every inch of them metaphorically spelled death in bold, black print—especially to huntsmen who might have fallen before them. While they did not possess the skills and precision of a huntsman, they made up for it in bulk and ferocity. With it, for each second that passed by, it seemed that Chad's strikes were only irritating the beowolf more than it was damaged from previous blows. The fighting pair started to resemble a one-sided deadly game of cat and mouse now; one wrong move meant trouble for Chad. Although the beast proved to be tough, Tanner never lost faith in his brother, no matter what enemy he faced. If there was one thing he knew, instinct was their best ally, especially when all logic and prediction have fallen to ambiguity. The Grimm were unpredictable, looming from predatory to defensive within short notice that could easily catch their victims unaware. Combine the uncertainty and their deadly, horrific variations, they became humanity's most feared enemy, with their influence growing by the day; there was no end to the ever expanding darkness.
What Tanner hated the most came from the gnawing pain of watching others before him fight the terrors to keep him safe, only for himself to be unfit to assist them; everyone seemed to cast a shadow over him. Long had he hoped to overcome that shadow one day. But in the now, he merely stood aside the battles he yearned to be in, the danger of fighting up close and personal with enemies such as the Grimm only giving him an exhilerating sensation. It was irresistable yet not within his reach for someone his stature.
Even now, he felt the thrill of the fight still lingering inside him as he watched his brother batter the Grimm. He held himself back from interfering but was in a losing battle: the Grimm, starting to get the upper hand on Chad with its monstrous bulk, struck him back. He felt a cold clench within his chest upon witnessing Chad's aura begin to diminish—the protective barrier of the huntsmen was wading. Tanner recalled his lessons on aura from prior training sessions: the projection of a person's soul that, when focused, can shield them from harm, heal wounds, and overall benefit the warrior in combat. When spent, they were at the mercy of their perpetrators; Chad was no exception.
The agonizing chill grew unbearable. No longer could Tanner fight the urge, and within moments he found himself flung at the mass of black fur with his training sword pointed forward. He felt his own body acting autonomously hurling straight into the danger before him and plunged the blade right into the left leg of the beast with its back turned. But that did not stir the Grimm, much less dull its anger as the red, menacing gaze reared around to meet Tanner's small physique. The subconscious movements that once took charge were short-lived—for after the strike, his joints froze in place. In one fell swoop, he felt a large paw swat at him, sending him soaring through the air like the birds themselves. The force behind that hand was enough that he could not regain his footing, and hit the ground tumbling into the base of a tree with a thud. His world briefly went fuzzy, ringing his senses like a bell. Never had Tanner felt such a force in his days of training, amidst of all the sleek cuts of steel or the bludgeoning of bony fists—this was brute force taking him aback,
Yet despite the throbbing pain, there was a sense of excitement tingling under his skin. Whether it was surprise at how strong the Grimm are or the fibers of his body giving away, it was almost pure bliss. He wanted more of it, but at the same time was intent on saving his brother. Except his anxiety and worries had all been for naught. For in his blurried vision, he witnessed Chad take advantage of the distraction. In moments, the balance of combat shifted to the huntsman as he swiftly cut and sliced through the diverted beast, who dissolved away into dark mist upon death.
    Regaining his composure, Tanner could breathe—aside from feeling the wrath of a well-deserved blow; still, he felt wobbly upon standing. The adrenaline, however, would not settle, and the disoriented, numb sensation only brought stimulation to his pleasure. As his vision returned to the clear light, he looked backed to Chad's composure; the in the sunlight to have triumphed over darkness.
    It was a delightful sight. Like a knight in shining armor, Chad drew his sword back into its holster and gave a noticable grin to Tanner, although there was a lack of girth behind it.
"That took guts to charge in like that, but please don't try that again, bud," Chad said brushing off the sweat on his face.
"I just wanted to help—you were in trouble," rebutted Tanner.
"You could've gotten yourself killed," Chad continued and paced toward his younger brother. "I'll admit, you caught me by surprise. But for the sake of those you—,"
A large crash through the trees cut off Chad before he could finish his words. From the commotion and disturbance, the earth shook as the steps of a larger, menacing Grimm appeared into the fold. Unlike the previous interloper, it was adorned in spikes and plates that formed an exoskeleton from the chest up; compared to the Grimm before itself, it was a veteran of the lesser beowolf who had seen many battles—and most likely killed many huntsmen. The beaming eyes of crimson were full of hatred and hunger for its next victim, who happened to be standing right before it. Off guard, and right for the picking. Before Chad could react to the looming danger, a large claw scooped him off his feet and threw him into the air like a ragdoll.
    Like a kick square to his gut, Tanner felt his anxiety cave in on him and his world sinking. The attacks from the previous Grimm left Chad exhausted and exposed, his aura completely failing against such a large opponent. Now with an even larger Grimm thrown into the mix, it made his predicament much worse. It was do or die as the Grimm closed in on him. From Tanner's point of view, it looked to be the end for his brother—unable to intervene or fight back.
    But that was not at all the bigger Grimm's motive as its head swiveled over to meet Tanner's gaze: small, insignificant, and an easier pick of a fear-stricken target. Turning away from the vulnerable huntsmen who could do no more but turn and toil over his breath, it lumbered over to the younger huntsman, who was without the slightest clue to do in the face of an inevitable demise. The earth broke as it walked, tearing the dirt and scarring its path like a mutilated corpse ravaged by vultures.
    The world began to grow dark. Each step brought with it a cold whisper of oblivion as death himself closed in on him many times his own size. Tanner could do no more but freeze once again. Even the razor tip of his blade was not enough to comfort his bravery in the face of adversity as it decayed into anxiety. There was nothing and no one that would come to his rescue, despite throwing himself into danger to save his sibling; fear and anger brewed together like scalding hot soup—unable to be consumed and yet still able to leave a burning scar if he dared enough. His instincts were also tied into a knot as his thoughts rummaged amongst themselves. He felt the need to flee, but at the sake of his courage. It would earn him another day of living but would tarnish everything he aspired to become: a warrior. A huntsman—for the people of Remnant. It was his duty to face more monsters like the hulking mass that stood before him. Yet no matter how hard he tried to salvage it, the bravado abandoned Tanner and left him to bite the dust.
    This was it. This was time to prove himself, to make his last stand—to do or die. Hesitating no more in a fit of rage at his odds, he rushed forth with his sword ready. But what last pinch of hope and chance Tanner had left was relinquished all too soon to the verdict of the Grimm's hand. With one swat, his sword flew right out of his hand and into nonexistence just like the hopeful fighter within him did. Save for dodging another strike by the beast, he jumped back petrified of his enemy.
    It was over. It was about to end. He wanted to make his brother proud while he fought an adversary much greater than Tanner was, just like Chad had encouraged him to.
Fight to the bitter end if you have to.
    The words rang in his head since the day they were spoken. But it meant nothing now. No glory would come to him. Not like the wrath of a dying star, but much akin to the dwindling glimmer of a smaller star; going all quiet and cold into the night. All he could feel left within him were the last reserves of his energy. Tanner did nothing but put his hands out in front of him, hoping they would do something as he was about to be mawed to death. He closed his eyes as his fate was sealed and the end ready to take him.

    The darkness took him. In its deafening silence, he waiting for a stab into his flesh, a bite, or something that involved Tanner being violently dismembered and screams of horror. However, he heard nothing. Not even the air around him flew into his ears. Everything felt...still—unnervingly still.
    He opened his eyes, fearful of what he might see. A claw, a gaping maw of teeth, or a fresh set of red eyes. But nothing. Nothing matched his descriptions at what he witnessed. Within an instant, his fear went to surprise as he watched a previously abhorred beast fall to the ground headless and bleeding black smoke before finally evaporating into the air. Everything was still.
    Tanner was at a loss for words. It was only moments ago he could feel death's foul breath and embrace. The mass of dark fur was instead dead and gone. He began to ponder for an explanation as he turned to Chad, who was still in the midst of recovering. Brainstorms that had currently been brewing were put on hold as anxiety took hold once more. Much to his surprise, it was not much of Chad's health as was the shocked expression on his face that somewhat frightened Tanner. He grew hesitant to speak to him as Tanner walked over to him.
"Ch-Chad...?"
There was no response from the rigid face. Yet there was movement as he stood up and slowly regained posture. Tanner was almost certain he would never hear from him again. But that worry was soon exiled out of his consciousness.
"I don't believe it, Tanner," said Chad. At that point, the panick returned to his mind.
"I-I don't know, I just—." Before he could finish, the shocked look turned to joy.
"You did it! You found it, bud," exclaimed Chad, patting him on the shoulder. Tanner was now more confused than ever. He had been taken aback enough by killing his first Grimm but somehow, he know making a head spontaneously explode was not the reception he was expecting.
"I don't understand," said Tanner in disbelief. Chad gave a wide smile like he had a surprise behind his back like it were a birthday gift.
"Don't you see, man? You found your semblance!"
There was that word again: semblance. Tanner recalled wondering about semblances just prior to the Grimm intrusion. Despite having thought about Chad's defensive aura throughout the battle, he had long since heard semblance tossed around in previous training lessons. It partnered itself to every huntsmen and huntress on the planet, acting as an imbued, hidden power each warrior can wield to their advantage. As far as Tanner new, that is. It was so close to common knowledge but just far enough where he had no real grip in what this semblance meant. Speaking his mind, he wasted no time to address this to Chad.
"What's a semblance?" He asked, feeling like he missed something important. But Chad was not about to be condescending to this exciting discovery.
"It's your own natural bound power, a projection of your aura that defines who you are. Everyone has a semblance hidden away within them and no two semblances are the same; each is unique for every wielder. But man, you got some wicked power to make something explode with your hands."
    Tanner looked at his hands top and bottom. He knew he did it without looking but was still lost on what exactly happened from the moment he closed his eyes to a dead Grimm. Surely, he thought, there had to be something his brother witnessed in between. Perhaps a bolt of energy would suffice.
    "W-what did it look like?" He asked.
    "Last I looked, like a faint stream of energy—something. I don't know, but it's surely a blessing," replied Chad.
    "What about yours?" Tanner said in wonder for Chad's semblance.
    "Mine? Well, I can materialize weapons out of my own aura."
    "So you can make weapons appear out of nowhere?"
    "Made of aura, yes," said Chad plainly.
    "Well that's unfair," pouted Tanner. From which, Chad let out a good hearted laugh.
    "It's unique to everyone. Either way, as joyous as it is, I'm more impressed that you stood against formidable odds much bigger than your own stature, I'm proud of you, bud." Chad said fatherly. Tanner, however, had recalled not too long ago of being scolded for charging into danger.
    "But you told me not to fight; that you wanted me to stay out of it," said Tanner calling out his brother's contradiction. Yet Chad was quick to correct himself.
    "And you have proven otherwise: you're a fighter, just like me. I should've addressed your eagerness to hunt those beasts, since you're that willing," he said boldly, "but for now, I think that's enough training for today. Outstanding work today Tanner. Next time, I'll teach you to focus that energy more so you can perfect it—just like your brothers and sisters."
    From that, he could not help but smile to his brother's reverence. It was just as he hoped he would receive for his skills. One day, Tanner thought, he wanted to be like Chad—to be just like the warriors of old; the old, noble fighters his ancestors were that have valiantly sworn to protect Remnant from the darkness.
    Now was a day to rejoice. Now was a day to bask in the little victory he had not only for training and combatted the darkness but a winning victory for himself and rewarded with newfound knowledge of his power.
    He could only revel and hold his chin high in this achievement on the walk back. It was a start for sure.