Chapter 3:
A Favor for the Mountain People
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When I came to, I had absolutely no idea where I was.
I sat atop a rock in the middle of a forest, the ground a thick carpet of grass and leaves.
The sun was high in the sky—just past noon, maybe?—and the only sound was a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. The wind carried the scents of fresh grass and damp earth, the aromas mingling briefly before rushing away again.
I stood up and looked across the unfamiliar scene in front of me, trying to remember what brought me here. That’s when I noticed my attire.
I was draped from head to toe in a pitch-black cloak, and wore gauntlets inscribed with ominous symbols. In one hand, I held a large staff that could only be described as sinister-looking. I was pretty much the textbook image of a Magus.
While I tried to come to grips with my appearance, my body suddenly began moving on its own.
A black flame appeared at the tip of my staff, shooting into the forest and reducing a nearby tree to a charred husk. The tree shattered as it hit the ground, filling the air with soot.
My hand raised the staff into the air, as if satisfied with the black flame’s power. I heard a laugh—mine?—from somewhere far-off.
I used the black flame again and again, burning all the trees in the area before finally leaving the empty clearing and heading into the forest.
Everywhere I looked, I saw dense undergrowth and thick foliage. There was no path to lead me, yet I continued marching purposefully through the woods until I came upon a simple dirt road. The trees were trimmed on either side, giving me a clear view.
I raised my staff again and summoned a black ball of energy. It grew larger and larger until it surrounded me. It only lasted for a second, however. Then the black sphere quickly shrank again and faded away. When it did, I found myself in a slightly different place.
Looking over my shoulder, I understood what had happened.
About ten meters back, I could see the trees and shrubs where I’d left the forest. The spot was marked by broken twigs and crushed-grass footprints.
Apparently, I’d used some sort of teleportation magic.
Seemingly satisfied with this method of transportation, I continued teleporting at a quick clip through the forest, following the road.
After some time, the trees grew sparser, and I got a clear look into the distance.
The road stretched beyond the forest, merging with a path that wound among a series of rolling hills. I looked up to find the sun on its downward journey, slightly lower in the sky. I turned onto this new, serpentine road and began teleporting along it, moving between the hills.
I soon encountered an extravagant carriage stopped on the side of the road. It seemed wholly out of place in this tranquil scene, and the sight of it filled me with dread.
Multiple arrows had been shot into the carriage—and the man sitting in the driver’s seat. One of the four carriage horses had collapsed, likely due to the arrow in its neck. It bled everywhere, still hitched to the carriage.
Even more noteworthy, however, were the men fighting all around the carriage.
One side consisted of soldiers on horseback, wearing light armor and armed with swords and small bucklers marked with the same crest. Their backs faced the carriage as they fought. They were clearly guards in service to some important noble.
The other side were rough-looking men who shouted obscenities as they tried to surround the guards. There was no uniformity in their weapons or armor, suggesting they were bandits.
There were over twice as many bandits as guards, and the bandits seemed to be winning through sheer force. The situation was already beyond saving, the guards dropping one by one. If I didn’t intervene, the bandits would reach the carriage in a matter of minutes.
I readied my staff, and was quickly engulfed in a massive black ball.
A moment later, I stood about a hundred meters from the carriage and the battle. No one seemed to have noticed my presence.
I raised my staff again, calling forth a black flame and shooting a volley of fireballs toward the bandits. My aim was true, and each fireball struck its intended target, engulfing several men in flames and leaving nothing but ash and bone.
“Gyaaaaaaaaugh!!!”
I watched, thoroughly pleased with myself, as the remaining bandits—hot-blooded and aggressive only moments before—looked around wide-eyed and terrified as their comrades screamed in agony. The guards were also uncertain as to what was going on.
One bandit finally caught sight of me. He pointed in my direction. “That’s the one! That Mage over there!”
Several other bandits turned in response, raised their weapons, and charged toward me. However, nearly all of them fell to my flame attacks before they even got close, leaving nothing but a pile of blackened bones on the earth in front of me.
I approached the carriage, vaporizing the remaining bandits along the way.
The devastation and destruction I wrought were indescribable, yet for some reason had little impact on me.
One bandit called to a hulking man nearby. “We better get outta here, boss! That guy’s somethin’ else!” He shot me a quick glance before turning tail and running.
I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye and shot another black fireball. It hit the bandit square in the back, and quickly enveloped him, eliciting a bloodcurdling scream that lasted until his lungs burnt through. He silently writhed on the ground, crumbling to ash.
“Damn you, you evil mana-sucking son of a—”
The boss screamed all manner of obscenities in my direction, although his voice quaked with fear. Either out of anger at his own weakness, or possibly sheer desperation, he lifted his axe and threw it at me. It grazed my pitch-black cloak before hitting the ground behind me with a thud. My hood fell back, revealing my face for all to see.
Everything went silent for a moment as the survivors around me held their collective breath.