Redemption

I decided it would be best not to suppress them. They could return later, but in a more perilous situation. However, the discharge of tears didn't lessen from the unmatched feeling of guilt flowing through my body. My stomach churned about. I wanted to upchuck because of both the physical and mental agony.

Inferus, captain of the 1st wizardry unit in the Guthixian army. Such a title would strike fear into normal opponents. I only hoped that the enemies would be considered "normal", though.

We marched on in what seemed like an indomitable manner. I perhaps felt the strongest sense of bravery at that time, but it was only because I wasn't thinking.

Staff firmly gripped in hand, walking with a gallant gait. Even the unique shade of my green robes struck fear into my subordinates. There was no reason to be afraid whilst debouching behind a sight like that. My nine followers looked as adventurous as myself.

The unsual environment only added to the suspense. Since the Sixth Age God Wars began, the forces of Zamorak and Saradomin battled on a forlorn wasteland in the northernmost section of Gielinor. The relatively recent volcanic eruptions formed a whole inhabitance alone. It was the perfect area for Zamorak to assemble his armies and bring chaos to his former nemesis. After he succeeded in doing so, Guthix and his forces intervened so that balance may replace havoc. That is the cause which we fought for.

The ground wasn't too hard nor soft, like dirt. One's vision was never altered by the time of day; The smoke-filled atmosphere blocked the sun's gaze ever so slightly. It wasn't blindingly brilliant or gloomy, giving a perfect sight to battle with. Although the temperature was higher than usual, the tough soldiers adapted with ease.

In the midst of our march, a faint light appeared in the air. It grew brighter until the shot of fire was visible. Thankfully, it landed on the ground a short distance ahead. This wasn't over, however. Somehow a group of Zamorakians found us before we found them.

As practiced, I called forth a volley of returning blasts. Fire filled the air from my teammates' staves. Still retaining my heroic posture, I prepared for the dark wizards to come.

The spells proved ineffective. Both of our groups contained ten men. Through the fog came one necromancer dressed in a long, dark robe. A second later there were four men at his side. These weren't the group leaders. The unsual formation of the enemy struck fear into me since I didn't know what to expect. Our unsophisticated arrangement seemed inferior.

This isn't what I expected. The remaining necromancers were in sight. Their experessions were the opposite of mine - a look of fearlessness mixed with malice was written on each of their faces. They shared the joyful the opportunity of being able to fight. My confound demeanor proved contagious - the other troops were perplexed as to why I would be so stunned.

My allies held their staves tightly while I nearly dropped mine. The enemies drew closer. My heart skipped several beats. Instinct took over as I involuntarily stepped back a few times. Before long I was at the defense of my comrades.

"Captain, what are you-"

Everything natural took over at that point. The necromancers eagerly approached my men. I witnessed the first casualty of my side being slaughtered with a single swift combo of motions, but my mind was focusing somewhere else.

Adrenaline began to flow through my veins. I turned on the ball of my heel and rushed away. One of the others blocked the way so I pushed him to the side. Turning back to inspect the welfare of my unit was the least of my concerns. Eyes fixed ahead, I sprinted with more energy than I had ever had.

The afflictive shrieks of the others didn't register in my mind, but I could hear their echoes after the event. Stumbling up a hill, I held my staff with my mouth and crawled forward. Almost to safety.

From what I heard, the outcome of the match was clear. I was doubtful that a single member of the Zamorakians could have been harmed. My senses took over after what seemed like an eternity of fleeing. My legs were too feeble to support the rest of my body. I was worn out in every aspect.

There is only one way to solve this haunting emotion. I only just proved how worthless my life really was, so I might as well use it attempting to accomplish something.

I took out a pocket mirror to observe myself. After fixing up my appearance only to boost my own self esteem, I took my staff and stood up.

Wherever the necromancers were located, I needed to find them.

I wasn't sure whether this surge of pride came from heroic boldness or foolish egotism.

Chapter 1

I once heard that the thirst for revenge is a deadly sin, but I had already fallen victim.

We were travelling east. Our encounter with the necromancers was direct, so they must have been going west in a parallel manner. Therefore they came from the east.

Scratching my lengthy green beard, I took out a compass.

I had fled south, almost perpendicular to the direction we marched. After a short while of figuring, I pinpointed the best direction to move in. I studied that during the war against the Saradominists, the Zamorakians would restock on supplies after each battle despite the outcome. Because the battle I just recently missed was bound to be quick, the necromancers would be heading back to where they came from. My only concern was to find where it was they resided at.

Considering the fact that my squad didn't travel very far and they couldn't have without abundant supplies, they likely came from a stronghold; a military town would be too far out in the battlefield to exist. Such elaborate Zamorakian edifices as strongholds were established deep into the strip of land separate from the rest of Gielinor. All ten of them should be there, probably for a day or two before moving somewhere else.

I didn't know how probably it was that I would actually find the necromancers, either. At the same time, I didn't mind. A tempting voice somewhere in the depths of my mind told me I shouldn't find them. Perhaps it would be better if I committed suicide. I have the materials to make it painless, and everything would be over afterwards. I would feel no more guilt for the ones I let down. It wouldn't matter what happened after my death since I wouldn't experience it. Besides, the other route for death was torture by my foes.

I shook my head from side to side in the hopes that these selfish thoughts would disappear. After fixing the unkempt hair of my scalp, I continued to plan my attack. I had the advantage, after all. The element of surprise is more expedient for battle than those engraved into any rune.

My arsenal should be superior to theirs. The Staff of Jas was my most valued possession. Guthix himself decided that I should own the tool symbolic of the elder god. Formed from a fragment of the Stone of Jas, it had the power of the four basic elements, thus dropping the need to carry runes. It was also indestructible to earthly materials. Although the wood composition was not as hard as most others, it contained the power to regenerate lost matter at an unmatchable rate.

That gave me a slight boost in power, at least. Because magical strength mostly relies on the user of a weapon rather than the weapon itself, I was around the same level as any other mage. Not to mention the staff could only allow me to rearrange the elements rather than create them. I was only grateful that my enemies couldn't unexpectedly disable my armament.

I also was given a tactical knife as a secondary weapon. If I were to lose my staff somehow I would use it, but otherwise I'm too inexperienced in blades to make it useful for something other than assassination. The material was only mithril as well. Any bladesman was bound to use a blade of a harder substance.

My uniform was intended to give me more of a mental than physical advantage. Dark green robes with white cuffs and a cyan belt gave the impression that I was an elite follower of Guthix. The thinness of the cloth diminished their use as protection, however. I would take an impact just as well naked. The interior rags of my attire only helped to prevent being otherwise bare.

Excluding a compass and mirror, the last of my possessions was a bag of several bread slices. The captain of a squad wasn't meant to carry the supplies, of course, so it was only enough food to last a day. The Zamorakians were certain to have looted my fallen comrades' corpses, so the modicum of bread was all I could live off of.

And since I wasted so much energy with my adrenaline, I ate the whole of it at once.

That limits my search for the necromancers to one or two days. This would be enough if luck was on my side.

My knees grew fatigued. I removed my thick sandals, ran my sore feet through the chilled black ash of the surface, and re-equipped them with a bit of cleaning from a water spell.

Standing felt soothing. I felt more appreciative of the meager winds which swept across my face. With a period of stretching I was prepared. At that point my act of vengeance begun.

Chapter 2

Walking alone made me feel open for attack. I twisted my head around about every twenty seconds, although checking my rear every two minutes would be equally safe. As adroit an adventurer I was, apprehension would not let go of me.

Something appeared up ahead. In the fog it seemed to be the base of a tower. I held my staff across my body diagonally with both my hands. Cautiously shifting forward, the sight became clear within several steps.

My observations were correct; it was a base of a tower. However, it lacked the remaining portion of the tower. A wall only slightly darker than the ashy ground stood before me. It was an abandoned or halted Zamorakian stronghold. Either way, there was a minuscule chance of inhabitance which I had to be careful of.

Gripping my staff tighter, I edged forward. The height of the wall was about my size: 180 centimeters. Before long I was nearly touching it. Peeking my head higher, the far portion was empty. But that didn't eliminate the chance of a surreptitious enemy planning to use the lack of space between us for an instant kill. To solve this, I silently encompassed the circular base until I could see the area I previously was near.

Empty as well.

The discovery of this incomplete structure was good news. The continent as a whole was unofficially divided into four sections.

During the first Sixth Age God War, most of the land was vacant. Saradomin's military was to the south because it was the easiest area to travel to from the rest of Gielinor. Zamorak chose to plant his forces to the east beforehand because of an unknown preference. During the battles fought between the two rivals (which lasted from the years 1 to 20 of the Sixth Age, beginning shortly after the year 180 in the Fifth Age), Zamorakian forces chose to plunder rather than annex, which is why one would only see ruins to the south nowadays.

In the late years of said war, it was fairly obvious what the outcome would be. Guthix was faced with a difficult decision. It could attempt to assist Saradomin in order to balance the battle, but doing so would result in losses for its army. Not to mention the fact that the carnage of the war would only continue afterward. The other decision was to discreetly begin construction in the west with the few years in which the two gods were distracted. When it chose the latter, it was rewarded with equal fighting conditions with Zamorak once the second Sixth Age God War began in the year 22.

No known Saradominist soldiers survived. The supporters of Saradomin from mainland Gielinor were infuriated, and with reason to be. Guthix was accused of being selfish and corrupted by the desire for power. There was nothing the citizens could do, though. The number of Saradominists began to diminish. Their leader had perished.

Thus the four divisions of the continent were established. Guthix in the west, the ruins of Saradomin in the south, Zamorak to the east, and desolate country everywhere else. The boundaries of each of these lands were distinct, and a large strip of emptiness was set between Guthixian and Zamorakian territory.

That was why this was good news. Prior to then, my squad had not found any sign of possessed dominion. The fact that I found a planned tower while walking for so short a time meant that I was at the border of Zamorakian land. The necromancers would predictably settle at the most nearby stronghold, which also had to be at the border. I was no more than a building or two away from where they were.

I checked my compass. It appeared that I was travelling slightly more east than I was supposed to, meaning the most probable direction to go would be directly north.

For the first time since I could remember, I felt a sense of accomplishment. My destination was more than likely to be reached.

Nonetheless, I had the need to do something extra.

After prospecting the wall's rocky composition, it become evident that it was built recently. The process of building a stronghold was split into unique steps. If the first was to be hindered, it would delay the progression significantly.

The rock was too dense for me to easily budge, so I summoned the power of earth. By removing the comparatively pliant ground beneath the fortifications, the walls would sink down beneath the surface. As additional damage, softening the ground with water would make the construction of a building impossible.

I couldn't help but smirk as I walked away. If only I could see the reaction of the Zamorakians as they searched for the hidden walls. Knowing I was in some way useful in this war was reassuring. As long as I wasn't a complete waste of life, there was reason to feel pride.

This surge of confidence didn't last long. My next challenge would be against a real opponent.

Chapter 3

"I am not most gods however; mine power is drawn from the land, from the seas, from the plants and trees, from the very essences of life that dwell here. This is why I neither seek nor demand loyalty from mine followers, for my power is not that of belief, but of life."

-Guthix

Most leaders demand loyalty from their followers. They seek superiority over their subjects, which is why those under him or her are to display their inferiority. It is strategic as well. A single soldier with the will to satisfy their lord is more valuable than an army of soldiers fighting for personal gain.

Guthix is not most leaders. Its beliefs, in my opinion, are right because it created that which we call Gielinor. It does not interfere directly with its creation because that is not why contingent beings such as ourselves have free will. It is a rule among all that gods are not to fight the weak. Zamorak did not participate directly in his war against Saradomin, besides for when he killed the deity himself.

I fight not for another's cause, but my will is greatly affected by another. It is not Guthix's intent that we die for it as an entity. If the Guthixian forces succeed in this war, Zamorak will be defeated and the life which he would destroy would remain. I fight for the sake of life. Without it, the universe would not exist.

I became impatient and proceeded with a faster speed. Doubt came across me as I thought about the possible space between buildings.

Something caught my eye across the stretch of blankness. A light.

Before celebrating, I had to contemplate the situation. I could see nothing but a few lights from the building, not even the building itself. This meant that they could not see me and wouldn't be able to for a while. Also, it was almost definite that they would have one or two men on guard if this was indeed the hideout of the necromancers. Considering the stronghold's entrance would be on its east side, I would be on the south side. I would be able to see a guard before he saw me.

With caution I edged forward. A blast could come from any direction, so I shifted my head from side to side continuously.

The stronghold became clear before long. It was composed of hard rock like that of the unfinished building. Light emitted from small rectangular windows which I could fit through. Each row of windows around the circular edifice indicated one story. Fog blocked out any chance of seeing the top, but I estimated it to be under ten stories high. It resembled the base I saw earlier, so I assumed that they shared the same width.

I was about ten meters away from the walls as something sprung into my peripheral vision. Movements.

A necromancer stood at the front gate. All I could see was his dark robe and staff. My chest pounded at an arrestive rate.

He leaned back on the gate in boredom. If there were two guards, one would be on both sides of the entrance. This was my only target. My goal was to kill him silently.

My first prey. The plan was simple. His first impression of me was that of a coward, and therefore he probably didn't expect me to return. I believed this surprise to be the best I'd ever gotten. I would sneak up behind him, slit his throat, and eliminate the remaining nine necromancers after sneaking through a window.

Although I had the opportunity to flawlessly execute this plot, I felt like my life was more in danger than it was. I've done a stupid thing in a similar scenario, after all.

Deep breaths. I began my assassination by flattening myself against the wall. I could not hear my steps. My breath was the only sound, and it was faint to say the least.

I came to the single window between us. After crouching under the sill of it, we were about ten meters apart.

Sweat tickled my cheek. I couldn't afford the sound of wiping it off. If the enemy were to even turn his head to the right, he would spot me out.

He was only five meters now to my left. I held my Staff of Jas in my right hand and knife in my left. I planned to hold him against the wall with my staff and finish him off with the blade.

He stood motionlessly. Four meters. Three. I became hot with sweat. My stomach felt twisted. I held my breath for the attack.

I swung the staff against him. He immediately responded by thrusting his, knocking mine almost out of grasp. I panicked and stepped back several steps.

"You're a bad assassin."

He was right.

Chapter 4

His robe gave off an unsaturated dark gray with pitch black cuffs. With his similarly colored boots and gloves, the only visible skin was on his face. The facial features were fitting. Slightly pallid skin, achromic black hair just barely reaching his eyebrows, and a sinister expression to scare even the boldest of fighters.

The only inconsistent detail to this typical cultist was his staff. Necromancers are known for raising the dead, but since this land was relatively new there were no corpses to resurrect. Simply hearing the title "necromancer" struck fear into the hearts of many, however, so the name was taken by those who practiced magic for the sake of chaos. His staff contradicted that palpability, though. Most staves were carved lazily by inexperienced workers since the shape didn't affect its utilization. Sturdy wood was the casual composition. After the stick itself was finished, a different type of worker would perhaps add the orb to make it into an elemental weapon.

His staff was different. Although the shape wasn't particularly unfluctuating, it was perfectly symmetrical. That being said, there wasn't an orb to represent one of the elements on either end. It didn't seem to be made mostly of wood, either. That wasn't good. It meant that its makers intended for it to be more adamant for the sake of battle.

This was some sort of custom battlestaff. I would have to be cautious when making my first move.

"Aren't you that one who ran away?"

I refused to answer. Frustration was written across my face and he could see it.

"Must be. What might your name be?" His voice sounded like mine but slightly higher. At twenty-three years old, my overall speech was standard. I'd practiced making the tone sound more heroic in private, though.

"Inferus." With anybody besides one who knew about my actual cowardice, I would have added the "captain of the 1st wizardry unit in the Guthixian army", but that wasn't fitting at the moment.

For some reason he observed my height.

"Why Inferus?"

How odd. It's like we were having a friendly conversation.

To be honest, I couldn't answer that. It apparently had some sort of meaning, but it was never revealed to me. I'm not even positive whether it's my real name. When the construction of Guthixian training academies was complete, my memory "began" per se. Guthix itself explained the situation to me: I was one of the first workers on the early architectural projects who lost his memory in an accident. I was physically weak in comparison with the others because my body lost strength in the whole year I slept. There was a greater demand for soldiers anyway, so I was put in a different position. I was forunate to have retained things such as language and everyday tasks.

That's what I was told, anyway. I don't see how it relates to my name.

"I don't know," I said truthfully.

He seemed annoyed, as if he were genuinely curious.

"Doesn't matter. The name will be forgotten soon."

He held his staff with only his right hand and began to twirl it around stylishly. I assumed it was not only a warmup, but a tactic to daunt me. A successful one.

The stick spun in a direction too fast for me to see clearly. He accomplished more with his fingers than I could with my arms. It was definitely a battlestaff, but this necromancer had to have some sort of magical power. Otherwise he would simply use a more lethal weapon.

He was evidently skilled in his battle style, meaning he shouldn't have had time to study all of the elements equally like myself. Dark mages usually don't use water primarily, so it had to be either wind, earth, or fire.

His weapon suddenly flew into the air, still pendulating at an unperceivable velocity. To my astonishment, he caught it facilely. Both of his hands gripping and feet spread apart made up his battle stance. He knew very well what he was doing. It's as if he had a thousand tricks up his sleeve which I was just waiting to fall into.

He charged toward me with a look of malice on his face. I was the prey. Requesting help from the other necromancers wasn't a thought in his mind. Chicanery was no longer an option for me.

I charged back in opposition. The battle had begun. As did my first opportunity to avenge my teammates.

Chapter 5

With additional momentum from wind magic, I swung my staff at him. The strength of my windup was evident. I could feel that a single blow with such speed would be deadly. Somehow it didn't deter my enemy, though.

He deflected it with an even more powerful motion. The velocity of his strike was patent in the sound it made cutting through the air.

My defense was left open from the hit, but he seemed to require a longer pause than me to recover. I took advantage of the situation by thrusting forward my staff as if to impale him.

His delayed remigration was a facade. The stick of my weapon was less than a few inches in diameter. Despite his weapon being circular, he recovered from the stunning and caught my thin target with the side of his staff. The action startled me so much that I wasn't sure how to proceed. Since the orb of my staff was opposite of the side facing him, using magic wouldn't work.

Unsurprisingly, I didn't act first. The necromancer stepped to the side and then shifted his staff away from mine, forcing the pressure I was already exerting to push me forward into unbalance. With his predictions of my reaction being precise, he twirled his staff to bang the back of my head.

Since I was already falling to the ground, I rolled on my shoulder to recovery. Looking behind me, I saw his staff only a couple meters ahead of my face. I blew off a small accession of fire with a wind spell like one would slap a bug in his or her ear. A moment of peace gave me time to think as neither of us were in a fitting position to attack.

We both observed each other. It was obvious that he was more skilled in close combat. My best option would be magic from a distance, it seemed.

I stepped back several times. He made no effort to follow me. We were at a distance of around five meters.

He attacked without hesitation. This time the blazing accumulation was denser and too widespread for me to dodge. Failing to counteract it would likely result in death. It sped toward me at an alarming speed. I decided with little time that the only option was to blot it out with a water spell.

With a rapid movement of my staff, I gathered all the moisture I could from the air. My eyes widened in shock. I hadn't gathered nearly as much as water as I had hoped. It wasn't enough to reverse the effect of the fire. The attack was only a meter ahead. Out of instinct I leaped to the side, allowing some of the blaze to damage my left arm.

I stood up into battle position as quickly as possible; another unshielded blast would be my final one. He seemed to cooperate with the second pause, giving me more time to think. My mind was in a somewhat instinctive state, causing me to not feel pain from the previous damage I sustained.

When I was in training, I was near the border of the continent. That meant I was near the water. It actually sometimes rained in that area, adding moisture to the air. That allowed us Guthixian mages to practice water magic with ease.

I wasn't use to these conditions, however. I was generally in the middle of the battlefield where rain was scarce. Water magic was at least ten times less effective than it was elsewhere. There was little reason to use it, especially in combat. I assumed that my opponent was singularly a fire mage. If that was correct, I was at a disadvantage in terms of magic.

But if he only used fire, that meant that he didn't have an element with which to deflect my attacks. Unlike me, he had to use runes in order to make fire to battle with. He was only experienced in creating fire, not controlling already existing heat. There was no way he could avoid an agglomeration as powerful as the one he himself shot.

I sought to mimic his blow. I gathered the unexpectedly high amount of heat in the air and densified it around the tip of my weapon. He didn't quite perceive what I was doing, but didn't appear clueless either. In fact, his facial expression was just as listless as it was throughout the whole fight.

I hurled the heap of flame toward him. It blocked my view. My opponent's response wasn't visible for a while.

As the fire turned into smoke and said smoke disassembled, I could see him twirling his staff around at an even faster rate than I saw earlier. Only the middle of the stick which was held by both of his arms appeared to me, the rest moving so rapidly that one would mistake it for not existing.

With absolutely no magical power, he got rid of my attack. He transformed a simple stick into a defensive fan.

Water was useless. Fire was evidently ineffective as well. Wind could work, but wasn't powerful enough to kill somebody. When I thought about it, earth would make too much noise and attract the other necromancers, thus eliminating it as an option.

For the first time in my life, I felt hopeless. I felt as if I was moments away from my inevitable fate. Continuing the battle seemed useless, yet I did so because there was nothing to lose.

Chapter 6

"Balance is power."

-Guthix

Every foe who has a strong point has a weakness. One who seeks to improve one area of their fighting style leaves room for weakness.

Devout Guthixian fighters lack a weakness because we live by the principle that balance is, indeed, power.

With my sanguinary state finally calming down, I realized how much pain I was in. I grasped my skull to control a throbbing headache. While doing so I realized that my arm was still recovering from 1st degree burns.

The necromancer watched my emotional panic as if it were a show. I shook it off and came up with an idea: I'd rush toward him with my staff pointing forward, then activate a fire spell from a distance at which he could not attack me nor gust the blaze away. I didn't spot a flaw in this device, but I still had the pessimistic feeling that something would go wrong.

There was no point in not executing it immediately. I rushed forward. He stood still like before, ready for what was to come.

I was approaching the desired distance. When I came to the place I thought I should be in beforehand, I realized that he would have plenty of time to fan off a fire spell.

Not a problem, I thought. I miscalculated. I would simply take a few steps forward.

While doing so, I realized that any more steps would put him in position to attack me physically. There was no safe gap between us for my plan to work. I was still charging forward like a perplexed fool.

Before I knew it he poked his staff forward directly into my upper abdomen. I involuntarily hunched over to massage my damaged windpipe. He expected such behavior. I saw a glimpse of light brown before my face was struck. The same thing happened only a split second later. I couldn't count the number of following blows.

Eventually I fell on my back in order to resist the hits. He pointed his staff directly at me. It was obvious he was charging a fire spell which he sought to be my demise.

Somehow I mustered enough strength to roll over, leaving the fire to disassociate on the ground. I stepped up and rushed to where I stood earlier, only barely managing to hang on to the Staff of Jas.

My respiration worked well after some recovery time. My cheeks and nose were certainly in pain, but it was no more than some bruises and he managed to miss the important areas of my face.

I was fortunate to have escaped that situation. One more unsuccessful rush would be my last. I began thinking of a plan which would finally end the battle.

His staff was unique. It was a strong characteristic of his which allowed him to physically battle more effectively. But if nobody else had such a weapon, shouldn't there be some sort of flaw in it?

I thought back to my previous unsuccessful attack. Earlier I believed that the staff was completely symmetrical, but up close I saw something different. A scorched mark was clear on the end of it. Using my visual memory, I formed an image of his staff's other end being clean. The picture seemed familiar. I was positive that only one end was scorched, and that this end emitted fire.

Everything else about it was completely symmetrical. He used that to his advantage by twirling the staff around at a rapid speed. I learned how deadly this was while he was striking my face.

Despite the quick speed at which he spun his staff, he was still able to memorize how many times it was spun. Otherwise he wouldn't know the proper end with which to shoot fire spells.

One more observance formed my final plan. Even earlier when I abandoned my comrades, I noticed something. The necromancer who stood before me was the first one to claim blood in the war. I thankfully remembered him killing my teammate. He deflected my comrade's staff, knocked him to the ground with force from a kick, and pointed the staff at him like he did with me. There was a vital detail which I would not have obtained without witnessing this short battle, however: The necromancer only looked at his target when finishing them. Like all dark mages, he was malevolent. He only wanted to observe the terror of his victim's face.

Thus my final plan was complete. I ran forward one last time. My enemy wanted to see my death with his own eyes, meaning he had no intention to capture rather than kill. One of us would make it out alive.

I had no indication of whether my plan was to succeed, but there was nothing to lose and something to be gained.

Chapter 7

I sprinted faster as I drew closer. The slight boost of momentum could save my life. Although I moved much faster than before, it seemed like an eternity before we met.

While darting forward my arms were stretched down at my waist holding my staff in a winding position. I plunged it forward. He slammed his against mine. Me now exerting every ounce of my strength, it was an equal battle. I pushed all the pressure forward that I could. My headache started throbbing, but there was no time to worry.

He intentionally shifted his staff in order to let mine slip away. This was a predictable action. In preparation, I spread out my legs so that I wouldn't become unbalanced. The moment the pressure left, I barely managed to retain my posture.

I was in perfect position to carry out the second step of my plan. With my back bent over, staff low at my body, and him still recovering from the force, I lunged my staff upward at the highest speed I was capable of in order to knock his weapon away.

It wasn't quite knocked away. He knew I would respond from such a position. He threw the staff up into the air himself. While it was spinning freely to the heavens, one might think I gained an advantage. I was in a terrible state, however. With my weapon facing upward from the failed attempt to attack him, I was left both attackless and defenseless. He kicked directly into my stomach, knocking me on my behind.

The moment I hit the ground, I purposefully dropped my staff behind me out of reach. He caught his at the moment he expected. Before I knew it, the tip was facing toward me. There was nowhere to run.

We were in the same position as before, only this time he wouldn't make the mistake of minimizing his blast radius. This final attack of his would be at full force. It was enough to kill any regular beings like ourselves.

As I expected, he studied my face. The Zamorakian absorbed my fear before death as if tasting a food before swallowing it.

Such malevolence was his bane.

The staff before me charged up a blast. It was a direct hit; the dense assemblage of fire claimed the center of his chest, leaving behind a gap of blood and ash. Barely conscious, he managed to put on a face which displayed both astonishment and confusion. His legs trembled. He fell flat on his back, leaving his staff to roll out of reach.

I sprung up in joy and began to walk toward the unsightly body.

"I'll tell you what happened. You can at least die knowing that your opponent was a formidable one," I bragged. He seemed focused on his fatal wound, but still heard my words.

"Your fighting style became an algorithm before long. You use momentum to redirect both your enemy's and your motions to your advantage. When I swooped upward, it would only make sense that you'd throw your staff up in the air, since my body was open for a more natural blow. Once I was falling down helplessly, you began to observe the terror on my face. My facial expression from that point on was an act, though. It was tough to suppress my smile, but I managed somehow. Did you like the face I made? It was like this."

I imitated the frightened face I made before. He wasn't very entertained.

"Here comes the fun part. When I was falling down, I secretly blew a wind spell which affected the speed at which your staff spun. It was difficult to get the calculations right in my head, but I realized that it was easier to count the amount of times your staff spun by the sound it made rather than the image it gave off."

I covered my mouth in order to conceal a childish giggle.

"When you caught your staff, you had no idea it was backwards because of the symmetrical design. From my observations, it could only shoot fire from one end. That end was only distinguishable if one were to inspect the scorched tip of the staff. As I mentioned earlier, you were too evil to be bothered looking at the stick. Your peripheral vision didn't help, either, since the correct end of it was too close to your chest to see. Then you killed your self. Practically."

He breathed heavily in agony. Although I felt no sympathy towards him because of his treatment toward me, I considered it only humane to end this suffering.

I brought my staff above his heart pointing downward. Shielding my eyes from his facial expression, I shot a final bolt of fire.

Chapter 8

I pity my enemies, but not for the same reasons they might pity their own prey. I've discovered a key principle about my nine remaining enemies already. Quite palpably, they seek harm towards others. This isn't some evil notion they picked up in their own free will, however. It's an addiction in every sense of the term. They were taught by their superiors at the Zamorakian training grounds to have a thirst for blood. I don't know what sorts of means those higher-ups used to ensnare them into this addiction, but it worked without a doubt.

The necromancers are like what I heard dwarves to be. They bear an unmatched desire for precious alcohol, but are too destitute to obtain a satisfactory amount. The necromancers treat the pain of others like gluttony or lust. Only in their minds, it's a need rather than a want. Their withdrawal from the craving causes them to be more hazardous, just like the god Zamorak wants.

People feel sorry for those who have life-threatening addictions. The addictees theirselves wish that their habit would desist. Why should my official opponent be any different from the less serious sufferers? What I saw from my previous battle wasn't a human being. I fought a body possessed by salacity. I can only hope to see through their appearance and understand their true personality.

The corpse didn't contain anything of value despite a few slices of bread. Walking continually for hours then fighting a life-threatening battle boosted my hunger. I was grateful for the little I was rewarded.

There was no point in moving the corpse since I'd have to spend a while cleaning the remains. Any necromancer who went outside to witness the sight would not return to the higher floors of the stronghold anyway. Their path would be blocked by an assassin.

"... a bad assassin."

This time I would be careful. I should have focused more on definite success than probable success.

Entering through the front door would obviously not be the most discreet option. The windows on the side were perfect, however. From my earlier observations, I concluded that the rooms which they led to were entirely devoid of inhabitance. The building itself was only constructed for temporary use, anyway. Little storage could be stuffed into an area that would require constant visiting.

I took out my pocket mirror to fix up my image. There was no bloodshed to cleanse since none of my wounds were that of piercing. With new energy I was ready to continue. There were only nine more opponents, and I gained the advantage of experience to coincide with the element of surprise.

With my knife wielded in my left hand and staff as secondary use in my right, I climbed through the window. The inside was very dimly illuminated; I stood quietly in order to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

It didn't look very different when all was in sight. The walls were composed of dark stone the same color as the exterior. The ceiling, floor, and walls alike were made of the same sturdy material as the building's skeleton. Being one of presumably many separate storage rooms, it wasn't very large. I could almost stretch to the ceiling standing on the tips of my toes. In terms of perimeter, both the width and length of the walls stretched no more than ten meters before being cut off by the remaining exterior wall's circular shape. The only objects were some barrels and crates which were empty judging by their missing lids.

It was time to form a plan. The building was very likely symmetrical in architecture since there would never be much complexity to be utilized. I passed by about one-third of its outside while looking through the windows concurrently. All of them were visibly identical to the one I entered. The rooms which they led to were vacant and intended for storage. Since I believed the tower to be symmetrical, the opposite side would be the same. When I fought with the necromancer, I noticed that a light emitted through the cracks of the large front gate. This must enter to the hallway between the two rows of empty rooms. Since there was a lack of windows on the opposite end of the gate which abruptly broke the pattern, the back wall should be covered with some style of staircase.

The building's basics were already mapped mentally. Before thinking up a strategy in order to put my revelations to use, I figured it would be a good idea to stand by the door in the case that somebody did enter.

Knife gripped tightly in my hand, I edged forward. With each step I felt as if I was one step deeper in danger. My grasping grew even tighter. Eventually I forgot about my other hand which carried the staff. It was too late.

I clumsily allowed my staff to slip out of my right hand. It dropped to the ground while my heart stood still. The impact made a clang which tormented my ears. Its hardness caused the other end to bounce down in equal balance. Several abusive clatters later, the ruckus was over.

That is, until the much lighter footsteps approached from outside.

Chapter 9

My body felt like stone. Instead of taking cover by the door, I stood petrified in terror. I began to perspire without realizing it. The footsteps echoed in my mind.

Instinct saved me as I stepped quickly toward the door. My right hand felt naked, however. I widened my eyes and stared at my staff laying on the ground halfway across the room. A nervous feeling overcame me. Mental panic struck.

If I was to go retrieve the weapon, I would be at risk of the necromancer entering at a distance. It would be greatly helpful in terms of assassination, however. With each moment my chances of successfully acquiring it decreased.

The footsteps drew near. I could hear their owner's walking pattern clearly. If I was to take back my staff, there were only a few seconds left for it to happen.

I reached forward. Fear struck again. I didn't want to move. My bedeviled impulses controlled my body and I stood still, letting the opportunity fall away.

Had there not been an enemy only several seconds away, I would have slapped my head. I embraced tightly the shoddy blade. The necromancer's stride felt as loud as my staff's previous clamor.

I didn't want to exist. I wished with all of my will that I would suddenly disappear. Pessimism infected my body like a deluge. There was no way to get rid of it. I decided I should have killed myself when I had the chance.

The doorknob shook slightly. I didn't dare to breath. If I could see myself, I was sure that my face grew pale with fright. I was on the brink of passing out from such emotional excess.

The door opened. Everything went silent. Although I only had a glance of what was next to me, I captured the image like a painting. The necromancer was dressed just like the other one. I couldn't see his face because it was covered with a hood. He didn't see me for that instant.

I threw my right hand over and around his back. Without even catching a glimpse of his response, my left hand thrusted the knife into his chest.

My fear was still wholly present. Had I had full consciousness, there would be no doubt in my mind that he just died. The state I was in, however, ensued numerous more stabbings. Every vital organ at his body's base seemed to be stricken. He would already appear coated in blood if it weren't for his dark cloak. He didn't even have time to make a sound.

After what seemed like forever, I finally caught on to my actions. Somehow I was mutilating a corpse. A human being who I already inflicted enough pain on to kill.

I dropped the body not voluntarily, but because I was too disgusted to use my muscles. My mouth wide open, I let myself fall down. My fingers trembled until the gory blade plummeted.

The experience with the other necromancer was different. He brought the death upon himself in a sense. I didn't realize how terrible the deep piercing of skin could be until I impaled another man.

Before I considered upchucking, a renewed thought came over me. This necromancer would have done unto me what I did to him, but worse, if anything. There occurred a battle between the two of us, and the stronger one succeeded. I should not have died. I had no reason to feel guilty. This malicious mage's death would benefit the forces of Guthix. Not only the army itself, but individual people.

I took a few deep breaths. The sight of a blood-soaked corpse laying on its stomach was not nearly as disturbing anymore. A sense of pride came over me when I realized it was my doing. I exited this short battle unscratched. I deserved the victory.

The Staff of Jas now looked inviting. With pleasure I reclaimed it. After wiping the knife's bloodstains on the clean portion of the necromancer's cloak, I felt as if my arsenal was complete. For once, I looked forward to another battle. The thought of already eliminating a fifth of my targets posolutely fed my ego.

I dusted off my robe and looked at myself once more with my pocket mirror. All was in order. There was no reason to wait.

I walked gallantly like I did once before.

Chapter 10

As far as most eerie buildings go, this one was more decorative than necessary. Light illuminated the storage room from the door's exterior. I stepped out to see torches lined against the stone wall between each door. The building's arrangements were just as I inferred. The large gate formed the front entrance. Directly across and down the hallway stood a spiral staircase providing access to every story of the building. The ground was composed of yet more stone. A dark red carpet lied across the thin strip of floor which was surrounded by doors to storage rooms.

Things would be simple enough. I'd climb the staircase to the next floor, investigate down the hallway, and turn back to repeat the process.

And so I began. If there were any more necromancers on this level, they would have revealed themselves. As I stepped toward the stairs with caution, my footsteps began at the lateral edge of my sandals in order to cushion the rest of my step. I was nearly soundless.

The next floor was just about identical aside from the gate's position being replaced by a wide window space. There was even another carpet aligned in the same spot. I'd have trouble telling the two apart.

About ten stories. One was already prospected. Eight rooms per hallway. Two necromancers were dead. Plus there's the possibility of two necromancers in one room. I estimated the chances of finding an opponent in each room to be around one-tenth. It would be a tiring inspection of the whole building. So much so that one would almost definitely find me during the process. Being perfectly silent was dangerous, I decided. It would take too much time.

I looked through the keyhole of the first door. It was pitch black. The second as well. I twisted my head back every once in a while for hostile visitors. The doors were checked one side of the hallway at a time, beginning with the left.

The third door was different. In my sight beyond the keyhole was a sort of smoke-like black rather than pitch black.

"Hmm," I said aloud by force of habit.

Did the color just move?

The door slammed open, knocking me to the ground in the direction of the staircase and my knife and staff were blown even farther away. A necromancer popped out instantaneously with his own staff pointed at me. I paused in fear. He was willing to finish me at once. I had no weapons with which to defend myself. My life was in the clenched hands of my enemy.

But I learned. In only hours, I've been in perilous situations. I did not only become used to facing extreme danger, but I came to understand my emotions. The bond between instinct and consciousness had to be controlled. I made tremendous progress in doing so.

As I saw him charging a quick but lethal fire spell, I planted my palms on the ground. Ducking my head down to avoid a possible blast, I kicked upward with both legs. He allowed his staff to point to the air, but maintained a hold of it. With the help of adrenaline, I pushed myself up with my arms in such a powerful movement that I didn't need my legs.

My arsenal was too far away. The necromancer was regaining his posture in just seconds. I saw him quite clearly, though his appearance was nothing to be awed at. Short, dark hair, slight facial hair all around, and a sinister expression behind an untanned face.

I charged forward. Being at a distance, he could shoot a bolt of fire whilst I remained defenseless. At a close range, I could attempt to either get rid of or get around his staff.

He didn't have time to readjust his weapon to face me. In my sprint, I crouched down and sprung up for more momentum. My lunge for his staff failed as he allineated it with his back. Taking opportunity of the velocity I already had, I threw a hook at his face with my right hand. He dodged it swiftly.

Now I was open for strike. He ducked down and wrapped his arms around my abdomen. His technique was certainly practiced well. The pressure applied to me felt like double his actual weight due to his advanced control of his body. I tumbled to the ground violently. Despite my descent being partially broken with my palms, my lungs nearly deflated from the impact.

It was a terrible state. I was at the mercy of my foe.

Chapter 11

He mounted on top of my stomach. The weight felt like an anvil. I struggled more to breathe than to escape.

His staff was rendered useless at such a close range. With it in his mouth, he proceeded to submit me by physical means. I'm sure I was a pathetic sight, squirming around like a captured insect.

My arms were folded together at my chest defensively. This was no nuisance for him. He fiercely grasped my lower left arm and pressed it to the ground. What he was doing was obvious. With my arm unsupported, he could easily lock it into a submissive move. There was nothing I could think of to prevent it, however.

Our fighting styles were similar. Both used the strongest parts of the body both to defend and attack. With one arm it was impossible to fight back his two stronger ones. He was evidently trained well in martial arts.

That's it. He could only carry out what became muscle memory to him. All Zamorakians go through the same repetitive training to become a unified fighting force. They had no sense of clairvoyance. Therefore he wouldn't have any idea how to react to a foreign move.

I thought up my defense quickly. I twisted my head to the arm which was meant to be soon broken. With a close enough range, I bit the cuff of my sleeve and turned my head in the opposite direction to bring it back to my body.

His arms couldn't fight the strength of my mouth. Just as I predicted, he was clueless. He mindlessly attempted to push my arm back down. The perfect position.

The necromancer's pushes were done in a perceptible pattern. As his body weight was shifted directly towards the ground during his thrust, I hipped out to the corresponding side. With his own mass used against him, I was now on my knees rather than under him.

He lacked time to think. I jumped out from his grasp and into the air. I obtained the advantage of height.

I still wasn't quite sure what to do, though. From the tussle which just occurred, he was left blocking the path to my weapons. As I just witnessed, it would be impossible to end the battle with hand-to-hand combat, even if I could use intuition.

But I still wasn't limited to physical fighting.

Earlier, I noticed something. When the door swung open and he charged a fire spell, the rest of my body felt slightly colder. It made sense, too. Rather than using runes in magical combat, he matched my style. The reason his charging took long enough that I could escape was because he needed to draw in heat from the environment. His staff, unlike most, was designed to bend the elements rather than create them.

The necromancer took on a different tactic without me first realizing. I allowed a gap to arise between us. He took his staff away from his mouth. I knew his next move would be to direct it toward me. This foresight gave me a vital opportunity.

I launched myself forward with all my strength. Just as he was charging a spell, I grabbed the portion of the staff a few inches beneath the tip. I strengthened my grip by hugging it with my arms. With one of my feet I held the mage down, or at least kept him on the ground longer. Now he was forced to fight my bodily grip on the staff with his grip of only two arms.

Him being too distracted by trying to force his control back to the staff, I executed the final step of my plan. Using his staff, I absorbed heat from the surrounding air. He began to squirm under my feet the moment he realized.

It was too late.

With the staff pointed up, the dense blast shot directly into the ceiling. I leaped backward, leaving him on the ground without the necessary time required to get up. A heavy stone descended from the sky as a result of my shot. In the final glance I saw of the necromancer, I noticed him so petrified that he couldn't move. It was a reminder that necromancers have that bit of humanity in them. At the moment of his death, that man revealed what he once was. It made me think of myself.

I carried on with my mission while trying to erase guilt from my mind.

Chapter 12

It may have seemed wise to sit back and rest due to the damage I sustained, but it would be safer to do so two floors up and in a vacant room. The reason being that the blast which finished off the necromancer caused quite a bit of noise. Because it emanated from the space of floor between the story I was on and the one above it, the other necromancers would check both stories. If I could find a place to hide, the avoidance of facing multiple enemies would be greatly helpful.

My plan didn't reach its first step, however.

Just as I recovered my weapons and began to approach the staircase, I heard footsteps. Only moments later I saw feet coming down. Hiding in a room was of no use; the impact of the door and the suspicion already caused would give away my location. I waited for my imminent battle, angry that I didn't receive my desperately needed break.

Mysteriously, it only appeared to be one enemy. Not that there was anything to complain about.

He walked down casually. I was certain that he would have seen me out of the corner of his eye, but he gave no indication of acknowledging my existence. This threatening enemy watched his step as if taking a stroll around the house.

Once at level, he shifted his head up to see the bloody mess I caused.

With my staff in both hands and knife put away, I examined his reaction. It would be an understatement to call it unusual. He stared blankly for at least ten seconds. His mind could be in another world, but I wasn't sure. This mage was the very definition of enigmatic.

Suddenly, I got my answer. He ominously smiled at the sight before him. As his eyes gradually rolled up to meet mine, my body stung with fear. His attitude was something I've never quite seen before. The degree of malignity in him was on an entirely different scale than that of the others.

While laughing maniacally he jumped over the gory disorder and charged toward me. I backed up, unaware of what to do. The fact that he would so easily rush forward caused me to believe he had a plan to counter any of my attacks.

His expression was absolutely petrifying. This wizard was surprisingly not very muscular, but instead lanky. The staff was just like all others; a long, rugged slab of wood. His hood was up, but I could still ascertain that he was completely bald. The only uncommon characteristic of his was the astonishingly evil expression. I noticed a high-pitched voice crackling as he laughed. The pitch of it haphazardly raised and fell in a disturbing manner.

My pace increased. I felt the back of my foot hit something. Looking behind me, I realized I had been backed up to the end of the hallway.

The necromancer came into range and thrusted his staff forward without my awareness. I tumbled back and allowed him to defenestrate me. The Staff of Jas still in my hands, I used a basic wind spell to mitigate the impact of my fall. I was several meters away from the front gate.

The enemy followed me down and descended much more gracefully. By then we were both standing in combative positions.

"Don't worry. The others won't interfere," he spoke with a smile still on his face. His voice truly was high. I remained as frightened as ever.

His statement was actually reassuring, however. There was little reason to doubt it as well. I could handle one opponent without as much worry. In fact, this particular one didn't look quite as powerful as the others. The reason for his confidence baffled me.

Trying to camouflage my undeniable trepidation, I held my staff out in preparation for a spell. He completely ignored me and looked down at his own chest. If he was just trying to confuse me even more in order to lay my weapon down, it worked.

But he took out a unique weapon. I'd soon discover from where his hubris emitted.

Chapter 13

Due to my lack of memory, I am obviously an inexperienced person. Not at battle, work, or anything else one would normally seek experience in. But at life.

I'm not sure how that affects my emotions now.

The necromancer revealed his frightening device. A buzz saw of about two yards in diameter. It looked to be made of steel like those used to slice lumber. However, the appendage-like blades were fewer in number, and thus were larger. It was like seeing the ends of the most finely-smithed scimitars attached to a disc of alloy. The hole which is normally in the middle of such a tool was slightly smaller, so as to widen the slimmer gap of metal between the blades and the hole itself.

At first sight, this contrivance would seem frivolous being used as a weapon. But that very reasoning is what had me daunted the most. The greatest fear in battle is fear of the unknown. Two opponents must discover everything possible about the other's attacks so that they may know how not to fall victim to them. A fighter could have possession of an ability which immediately rips the enemy to shreds, but is simple to avoid with knowledge.

This battle was gradually turning into a game of cat-and-mouse. My consternation was clear not only because of my visage, but from my trembling hands. My enemy took all the time he wanted to make his move, and defiance was the last thing on my mind.

"You like it, don't you?" he said. Obviously he was speaking about the newly introduced mechanism, as he was cradling it like an infant. Although it didn't register in my thoughts until later, I realized his voice cracks more repeatedly when he's excited. Now was definitely one of those times.

"A skilled Zamorakian crafter made it," he continued. "I've heard the soul of a demon was imbued inside of it."

As crazed as the man who stood before me appeared, I believed every word he said. My arms began to feel heavy. A sudden pressure came upon my whole body, feeling like the force of gravity had doubled. I felt as if my stomach was dropping out of place.

The necromancer mysteriously whispered to the device. Soon after, he dropped it on the ground with a more pleasurable grin than I thought a human could manage.

The device spun rapidly as it fell. Its blades dug into the ground with ease. All on its own, it began moving. Half-submerged into the earth, a lethal weapon was charging toward me at a terribly ominous speed. Even a mage who had mastered the magic of teleportation would feel threatened.

Awareness caught me with little time to spare. The most defensive maneuver I could think of was shifting my position. As I was adjusting my right leg to the side, the highest point of the blade cut through my robe and lacerated my calf. A three-centimeter long scratch appeared at least one centimeter into my flesh.

I was in no state to be affected by the pain, but I stumbled to the ground due to the anxiety which had overcome my body. I soon sat on my buttocks. Had it not been for the menacing sound caused by the buzz saw, I'd not have had time to roll over in evasion.

I stood back into battle position as the blade was turning around to make its third strike. A wind spell wouldn't hold it back for a second. If it caught me at an unfortunate time, escape would be impossible. As my body took control without the interference of my mind, I dashed to the side as fast as possible. The blades still made a tear in my robe.

I turned around to see the weapon rotating for its next attack. What was once a shining slab of metal became black with the dark soil. Thankfully, the area required for it to make a full spin provided me with some vital time to prepare.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my original enemy. He sat down peacefully, viewing the scene like a child at a magic trick. His smile was so great I could no longer picture him without it.

During my distraction, the blade came too close yet again. This time my left leg fell victim, a scratch coming to my heel as I was lifting it to dodge. It was an unlucky area; a few droplets of blood squirted out and fell to the ground.

Observing my agony, the necromancer kicked his legs and laughed uncontrollably.

Chapter 14

Due to my lack of memory, I am obviously an inexperienced person. Not at battle, work, or anything else one would normally seek experience in. But at life.

I wonder how that changes my perspective of others.

My body was taking control of me, but that couldn't continue forever. The strategy I had been using left me with some injuries. The intervals of time between the razor's attacks left me with little time to contemplate the situation, but allowing them to persist wouldn't get me anywhere.

Floating above the buzz saw may have seemed like a plausible solution, but the wind required to lift one's body is large. It's both physically and magically demanding, and the state I was in would not permit either. The Staff of Jas is indestructible, but its cylindrical shape would not hold back the device for more than a millisecond.

A certain dreadful noise triggered me to dive to the side. Miraculously, the blades seemed to have missed me entirely. I was now facing direclty away from the stronghold. Because of such a position, I spotted something in the distance.

A... tile?

Realizing my body was in a parlously vulnerable position, I leaped up and jumped away from the weapon's line of attack. That tactic costed some much-needed stamina, however.

I observed my surroundings, my thoughts moving unusually rapidly for the sake of my life. The land was visibly rolling in most areas. Except for the region around two areas, that is: the stronghold and the obscure tile. The slab of dark stone matched that of the tower's walls in color. Most likely, it marked the originally intended placement of the stronghold. Perhaps a clueless worker had his coordinates wrong and never bothered to pick up the heavy thing.

Once more, the blade came rushing forward. I lifted my leg only slightly, as I had not realized how deprived of strength I truly was. Another scrape came across my lower right leg, but wasn't particularly damaging.

If I am to die, I thought, how would the device kill me? Legs are not like vital organs. Blood loss could occur from them, but the scratches I endured were only harmful enough to allow a small stream of blood to drip down to my feet.

I took a step forward. It felt unexpectedly heavy.

That's it. The mechanism disables its victim by attacking the legs. Eventually, when that person can no longer walk, it has the opportunity to finish them. It seems like the sort of performance the necromancer would love. Seeing the helpless Guthixian fall to the ground and await their gruesome death.

But it all relies on one characteristic of the weapon: It must stay on the ground at all times. The very thing I could use to my advantage.

I sprinted toward the tile despite the uncomfortable pressure put on my legs by doing so. The buzz saw followed behind me, moving at at least thrice my speed. Because of its sound, I didn't need to waste time by looking back. At the right moment, I stopped sprinting and jumped in place. The irreversible speed of the blade caused it to move far ahead of me. Now that I was behind it, it had to make a rotation of an even larger circumference to catch my tail.

The tile was about twenty yards away. I prepared for my idea by holding the staff in both hands.

As I had anticipated, I needed to dodge the oncoming razor once more. I did so remarkably well, leaving time for my plot to proceed as I had hoped.

I ran across the square tile of about one yard in length. Standing at the very edge of it, I waited. My artificial enemy of the battle drew close. Expecting it to arrive made the sound seem much louder.

My legs feeble, stomach churning, arms struggling to even keep my light staff up, and the tempting urge to simply lay down, I forced all my energy to release.

Chapter 15

An earth spell with all the power I could muster lauched the tile into the air. My arms felt as if they were soon to combust, but I allowed them to heat up as I kept the stone slab floating. Only now, it became a dangerous weapon. A deadly buzz saw circled around it repeatedly.

I turned around. I then motioned my staff to the side, correspondingly moving my new shield out of sight and thus revealing the necromancer's figure. Almost naturally, I looked at the necromancer with a look which he would never suspect from me. The distance between us was of about forty yards, but I felt as if I penetrated his eyes with my stare.

He felt the same way.

The aggravating smile dropped from his face almost immediately. After several seconds of staring open-mouthed, he somewhat regained his proper posture. Now feeling threatened, he swiped his staff through the air, releasing a ball of fire towards me. His eyes slanted in a way that communicated "You ruined my fun" better than any language could.

I shifted the tile about a body's length ahead of me, blocking the fire with ease. Several more spells came hurling at different areas, but the shield which was over half my height deflected each with simple movement.

I began to step forward, sure to guard against any projectile. The only problem I needed to endure was the weight of my own arms. The staff felt as if it could slip away at any moment. Even my fingers were struggling to keep it in position.

My speed increased. Although my enemy was not visible, the increased rate of attacks made his wrath obvious. Before long, I was sprinting at full speed. A few balls of fire managed to skim the edge of my shield, dealing some minor burns to my skin.

At that point, adrenaline was my only hope. My mouth became dry from the heavy breathing done through it. My chest tightened to the point at which I felt my heart would crush. Each gasp of air felt noticeably cooler than the last. Just about every muscle in my body was faltering increasingly. Even keeping my head up felt unfeasible.

The fire spells stopped. Although the razor's constant movement was still loud, I heard footsteps becoming more distant. Obviously, he would be able to outrun me. If that were to continue, he'd simply throw more spells at me until I tired. There was only one chance remaining.

I winded my arms back to my right side like a two-handed sword. The shield moved accordingly, leaving the fleeing necromancer in sight. The strength required to move a single bone made it feel as if a thick metal suit wrapped around my body. The skin around my bones became numb, only the flaming discomfort present.

Miraculously, I threw the shield forward. After letting it go, I dropped to the ground lazily. The last glimpse I saw was a certain device digging into a man's back. Afterward, there came a series of undending screams which would put a rambunctious child's to shame. All the while, I laid on my stomach like a corpse. Likewise, I felt dead mentally. The necromancer's pain meant nothing.

But something triggered my senses again. The sound of the razor approached once more. Dodging it would be utterly impossible. Having little to no time to think, I simply accepted my fate.

But the sound stopped. Am I dead? Opening my eyes which were recently sealed shut, I noticed the buzz saw standing perfectly still. It was stained with a mess of dirt and blood, just as expected.

My sight included a portion of my stationary arm, the staff on the ground, a razor with questionable motives, and ashy hills. Although what seemed like thousands of possibilities ran through my mind, something I didn't anticipate occurred.

The razor moved slowly to my staff. Skillfully positioning a blade under the ground, it flung it up into the air. The magical stick of wood which I so valued fell perfectly into my upturned hand. With it, I could at least use a water spell in order to treat damages.

Perhaps the necromancer was half-correct. The buzz saw was imbued with one's soul, but by no definition was it a demon's.

Chapter 16

It was at least ten minutes and five attempts before I stood up. The moisture gathered from the air treated my wounds well. The deeper ones naturally needed to be wrapped with a tourinquet, which costed the quality of my robes. My muscles were definitely sore, but in battle that soreness would disappear.

Thus I was in fair condition. I turned to my savior and attempted murderer.

"Hello," I said quietly. Talking to what appeared to be an object was among my most awkward experiences.

It didn't move. It hadn't since returning my staff.

Upon closer inspection, I spotted some dark print behind the mass of blood and dirt. Carefully, I wiped the surface clean and inspected it.

M Lohkcots

Pronouncing that would be a feat. Considering the fact that it was probably the pen name of the device's creator made it seem even more strange.

"Can you hear me?" The necromancer whispered to it, so it must have some sort of audial capabilities.

What I pronounced "Em Lockits" in my mind spun through the ground suddenly. It barely moved a few centimeters before stopping.

"Thanks for the help," I said, doing my best to be polite to the slab of alloy. "You can do whatever you want now. Just don't harm anybody dressed in green or cyan like I am. I'm Inferus, by the way."

Hopefully the device wouldn't be colorblind. Or be blind enough not to distinguish Guthixians from Zamorakians, for that matter.

Lohkcots made the usual buzzing sound and sped off, moving past the corpse which had been cut into two. It moved east, the direction of Zamorakian territory. No reason to stop it; if it killed the enemy soldiers, that would be helpful. If it "died", I wouldn't feel very guilty knowing it chose to travel east out of its own will.

Moving on, I entered the stronghold through the same window as before. Cautiously, I came to the floor at which a corpse should be. Thankfully, the bloody mess of man still remained. Even a necromancer would probably do something to organize the disorder, so it indicated that nobody was there.

More carefully, I ascended again. Unsurprisingly, the next floor was identical to the others. I carried out my routine of investigating each room. Upon touching the doorknob of the nearest, however, I heard footsteps from behind. Somebody was coming down from the staircase.

"Rectus," I heard from behind. The voice was strangely familiar. It was loud like that of your quintessential brave knight, but unusually deep. It also held the common Zamorakian characteristic of malice in it. I was certain I heard one's voice nearly identical to it once before, but thought nothing of it. Still, the very sound gave a picture of how frightening the necromancer might be.

I turned around and put the Staff of Jas into battle position. I doubted there could be a single person as powerful as the four soldiers I had previously killed. I had grown to become confident in my ability.

"Rectus," he repeated, his body appearing. I assumed it was the name of another necromancer, but by then it should have been clear that I was a Guthixian.

By far the largest necromancer I'd seen yet. Maybe even one of the largest people I'd seen. I was of average height, but he was around a whole forty centimeters taller. His body looked to be twice my width, and all of it being muscle. If he had an ounce of fat in him, it was hidden well. There were probably veins on every body part I could identify.

Our eyes met. His were a deep, stormy gray, a trait I thought only I contained. Colored contacts don't seem like the sort of thing Zamorakians would use, so I assumed his eyes were as natural as mine by coincidence.

His robes were also similar to mine. Unlike the other necromancers, whose were a dark gray with pitch black cuffs at the end, his were pitch black everywhere but at the lapel and cuffs, which were a Zamorakian-themed red. His rope that functioned as a belt, which most others also did not possess, was the same red.

Unfortunately, this all meant he was the captain of the unit.

Chapter 17

A smile appeared. With the many maniacs I'd fought, though, I had become used to such a thing.

This particular man looked to be about my age. His skin was light, but tanner than most of members of the Zamorakian army. Expectedly, his hair was black. It was styled unusually well, however. The many follicles stretched about a centimeter off his head in all areas besides his scalp, at which point it curved slightly up into the air like a ramp. Apart from that, his face looked to be symmetrical. The fact that his hair wasn't pulled down too much by gravity made his forehead fully visible, and if I could see his backside I'm sure his neck would be as well.

"Do you remember me, Rectus?"

Great, he named me. I didn't exactly remember him from the battle between our units because he stood at the back of the formation.

Noticing my fright was becoming lightly evident, I held my staff higher. It didn't actually benefit my stance very much, but I hoped my opponent would think it did.

The necromancer's head looked small, but that was likely because of the huge neck on which it was mounted. His facial features seemed typical to say the least. The well-kept teeth and hair would make one doubt he was a necromancer.

"That's okay. You only need to know that I'm Nixor," he said as he raised his plain wooden staff.

"My name is Inferus," I said as boldly as my vocal cords allowed.

Ignoring this, he abruptly charged forward. I was shocked to see such a huge figure tighten the ten-yard gap between us with such haste.

I shot a ball of fire as directly as possible. The man who called himself Nixor chopped at the flame readily, causing it to fade into the air. As an experienced magic user, I did not detect even a slight use of anything other than physical energy by him.

He stood before me without sparing me the opportunity for another spell. Before I could shift my staff backward, he grabbed it firmly and pulled it into possession with a single hand. Strangely, he threw his own staff away along with mine.

I was left with his shadow covering my body. The situation seemed grim, but standing still wouldn't help. I threw my fist forward at his upper abdomen, an area which may receive damage despite the density of one's muscles. Normally such a punch would be launched underhand, but because of his enormous height I figured it would be best to attack overarm.

He made no effort to prevent the strike. My hand bounced backward soon after contact. My knuckles suffered from the pain of applying so much force against a firm surface. The undamaged man returned my failed pummel with a deadly punch to the face. A direct hit to the left temple caused my ear to ring. Before I could even stand up properly, he delivered another thrust against my abdomen. It lifted me far off the ground and backward.

I laid on the ground, clutching my damaged windpipe. The lack of air made me feel as if I were underwater. My left ear was still suffering from both pain and a siren-like sound.

The next assault also came without warning. I was leaning to my right side, but Nixor forced me flat by grappling my left arm. He mercilessly twisted it, resulting in a terrible pain in my shoulder. It felt as if a sheet of metal had been lodged in that joint.

I involuntarily flailed my legs, deep in agony and literally breathless. With my free arm I did everything I could to fight back. I attempted to fight against his submissive lock, but soon realized his strength was far beyond mine. Punching turned out to hurt me more than it did him, and his arm was the only body part in reach. I eventually resorted to scratching him with my nails, but at that point the pain of my shoulder spiked. I'd rather have had an arrow pierce it.

Due to my lack of air, I lost consciousness. Then again, it's equally likely that it was caused by pain.

Part 2

Chapter 18

I awoke, but wasn't aware of it at the time. My state could have very well been a dream. After all, I couldn't move my muscles to be certain. Nothing physical could even be felt. Maybe I'm dead, I thought. When I recalled everything that happened, I hoped that I might be.

My crusty eyelids were sealed shut. Disgustingly dry mucus coated the inside of my mouth. The only practical body part I could move was my right arm - my left was so torpid I wouldn't doubt somebody amputated it.

With much effort, I lifted my right forearm. From what could be felt, my upper body was slouched and leaning against a cold wall. After a series of straining vibrations, my index finger wiped my right eye clean. Actually, "cleaner" would be a more accurate word.

Although my vision was about a third of what it would normally be, I scanned the surroundings entirely. The wall directly ahead of me was made from a dark stone. Or perhaps it was a light stone which suffered from extreme dilapidation. It was so close that I would barely be able to lay flat on my back. To my right side were gray metal bars. Prison bars. As I had already assumed, they fit my status perfectly. To the left was another wall which made the distance between itself and the bars even tighter than that of the two walls I laid between. The ground was composed of the same rotten stone, but with shallow puddles here and there. I may not have been able to move my head, but I could guess that the ceiling didn't stretch very high. The only other particular thing in sight was a small hole at the bottom of the bars. It probably allowed the transport of food.

Footsteps. Before I could even regain full awareness, a captor was approaching. Frightful thoughts took over my mind. I'm sure I would have gone into panic if I had the mental and physical capabilities to do so.

I considered the many forms of torture known throughout the ages. The war itself was not a lawful one, so there wouldn't be any limits. I wasn't even sure I had any information to give them. Would they believe me if I made something up? No, that can't be. Then what do I do?

The cell door slid open with a screeching sound. My eyes were already sealed shut. Luckily, I thought, my condition is so bad that somebody would mistake me for being asleep even if I tried to convince them otherwise.

"I noticed you're awake," an unfamiliar voice said.

I tried to convince myself it was no problem. He could have said that even if I was unconscious.

"Oh, don't you worry. I wouldn't have said what I previously did unless I was sure you're awake."

It was as if he anticipated my thoughts. Much unlike the necromancers I had fought, he spoke with a soothing voice, typical of a handsome adult man. Apparently, as it seemed, he was skilled in psychology above battle.

He squatted down in front of me. I perceived the difference in light through my eyelids.

"Accept your fate."

With that he left.

I wasn't sure whether to be angered or dejected. This man appeared to know more about me than I did. I hadn't seen his face or body, let alone understand what his thoughts might be. It was as if he had taken complete control of my life. Body and mind, he could play with me like a puppet. Like playing chess against somebody who knew my every move. There was nothing I could do in opposition.

I regretted ever having fought against Nixor. I regretted my decision to flee from the necromancers during the battle. I wished I had never participated in the war. My foolishness had brought me to nothing but pain. There was nothing to live for, but I was forced to live anyway. My degree of depression rose far above what it ever could have been. Simply ceasing to exist, in a way that prevented me from feeling anything else, was my only desire. Even if I died shamefully in a way that may harm my allies, I wished dearly it would happen.

I thought.

Chapter 19

I had switched into a new world before I knew it. A more terrible one by far. Therefore, for the sake of myself, I needed to escape it. Whether I were to go into my previous world or a new one, escape was my first priority.

It may have been ten minutes by the time I recovered some strength, but I couldn't know for sure. I unsealed my eyes to find a bowl sitting by the cell door. With difficulty, I shifted position so that I was leaning against the bars.

A wooden dog bowl contained a pasty mess of what somewhat represented food. It looked like excessively creamy oatmeal mixed with food dye to give it a repulsive green coloring. As swallowing it down would have been difficult for me at the time, I needed to moisten my mouth with the puddles of water.

Before doing anything, however, I needed to make a decision. Dying of hunger would perhaps be my only chance of escape. Surely the pain endured in my hunger wouldn't amount to the pain of Zamorakian torture, so it seemed like a reasonable decision.

I turned my head and looked beyond the bars. The macabre room was lit dimly by a single torch on the wall. A torture rack alongside an empty rectangular stool was in the middle of the room, sparing only enough space for one person to walk around it. Given the area and basic architectural logic, there was probably another cell adjacent to mine. All that remained was a doorway across from me which led directly to a staircase.

The rack was stained with blood. The redness was deeper in specific areas, allowing me to deduct exactly which type of torment went on in the past. As I was probably the very first prisoner of the war, it indicated that this device had been used even earlier.

This sickened me. The ghastly mechanism served no beneficial purpose on the planet. Suddenly, thinking back to the ones who fell victim to it, my virtues felt restored.

Whatever it took, I would not allow one more person to go through what I might.

I ducked down and took some sips of water. Parts of my robes became dampened. Fortunately, they didn't strip me down. Yet. Due to the fine fabric of my clothing it was sure to happen soon, but apparently not then.

Likely because of my hunger, I don't recall the taste of the stuff. Since the nourishment probably came with little carbhohydrates, I was certain to take in everything I could. As I leaned back, my next option was to consider my getaway.

I was quite sure my location was no longer near the stronghold. The stones looked slightly different, and as a temporary location there shouldn't have been any involved torture materials. I was probably situated at a more complex base, even like a town, for the Zamorakians.

In my training I've learned that the fulness of a unit was essential. The members of each group are decided with much contemplation. If even one person were to fall, it could ruin the whole formation. The Zamorakians could be no less strict about this principle. Therefore, because I killed four of the ten necromancers I fought, the remaining six would take rest at the most nearby checkpoint. Obviously, that should be the location at which I was.

The stronghold where I fought the necromancers was the farthest out in Zamorakian territory. So as to not allow major bases to easily be taken, the planners need to significantly distance temporary strongholds and large-scale locations. Therefore, it must have taken the six necromancers at least a day to travel to my location, plus time for rest. Considering all that as well as the missing party members, they would need to recuperate for at least one more day. They might even be temporarily replaced with another unit.

I was asleep for a while, but not too long. Running out of breath wouldn't cause so much trouble.

Gathering all this information, I deducted that I was in a complex base which contained the six necromancers I sought to slay. Next topic: escape.

All of a sudden, footsteps echoed from the stairs. I laid back on the wall and pretended to be asleep. It was optimistic to think it would work taking into account the empty bowl beside me, but it was my best decision.

To my delight, the footsteps stopped upon reaching the middle of the room. What sounded like a bag dropped carelessly on the stool near the rack. It was followed by the clanging of metal, which I assumed to be instruments coming from the bag.

This was only somebody setting up my session. Otherwise, they would have had a few guards accompanying the torture master. My unbonded self could be a threat to the captor.

Just then, my idea arose.

Chapter 20

One eye opened very slightly, I observed the scene. A man with a solid black robe faced was facing away from me. The cloth hung down from his limbs, revealing his unhealthy slenderness. I've encountered many pale people recently, but this one brought it to another level. His zombie-like skin wouldn't reveal a touch of saturation under the brightest light. To complete his cadaverous appearance, gray strains emitted from a small area on his scalp. The thin strains which extended past his shoulders were so few that I could see directly through them.

Whilst arranging the tools, he must have spotted something in particular. I couldn't see what it was, but he lifted it near his eye as if it were a fine gem. He laughed lightly with a crackling tone. The volume of his enjoyment increased gradually until he stopped to cough, at which point he placed the item back and continued ordering things.

Amidst everything, he turned around. Had he contained the more lively energy to do so faster, I wouldn't have had time to close my eyes again.

Even without any vision, I felt his gaze of ecstasy. In the silent room, he dedicated to memory my whole figure. The discomfort which overwhelmed me felt like the warmup to my soon-to-come anguish. This man would be my torture master for sure.

He giggled more while turning around. Soon afterward, footsteps indicated his leave.

As time was limited, I began my plan.

A guard of low rank came to check up on the prison as instructed by a superior. Wielding a shortsword as usual, he descended the staircase.

He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Before long, the rack and table became a clear sight. After curiously inspecting the tools, he turned to a prison cell. Empty. The other one didn't seem to be, though.

He jumped immediately. The body of a Guthixian laid motionless on its side. What startled him was a puddle of blood coming from under the prisoner's head. He had heard that the captive had not yet been tortured, so this couldn't possibly be right. Not to mention the blood emitted from such a vital area as the head. As the only current source of information, this man was important.

The guard rushed over to the cell. He dug into his robe pocket with his left hand. After a few seconds of fumbling with the key, he inserted it into the lock. The cell door slid open and slammed against the wall.

"Are you okay!?"

...

I mounted on my right arm for balance and swept my legs, effectively tripping him. Because the space was so confined, he suffered a hit on the head by the nearest wall. The pain caused him to instinctively bring his hand to the injured spot. I swiftly grasped the sword from his careless hand. Only moments after, he suffered another blow to the head by my blade, this one knocking him out.

My damaged left arm was aching from the encounter, but there was no time to spare. I hurriedly removed both of our garments. Before clothing him with mine, I tore off a piece of the green cloak and wrapped up the wound around my leg even tighter. The blood required to make a scene of myself was more difficult to gather than I expected.

I dragged his body in a position that covered anything suspicious. That would buy me some time.

With the uniform of a lowly soldier, nobody would bother taking attention to me. My hood covering my scalp and a black bandana shielding my lower face, my green hair remained unseen.

I gained the element of surprise once again.

Chapter 21

As a man who intends to stick to his goals, I assigned myself only one objective. It also happened to be my mission for quite a while. Before I returned to the Guthixian base, I was to slay every member of the Zamorakian unit of necromancers.

But because of the short interval between my incarceration and freedom, I had little time to organize a sophisticated plot. Telling myself I'd come up with something as the objective continued, I moved on.

I locked the cell door and threw the key through the bars of the other cell, which was locked. Afterwards, I ascended the staircase. As expected, I was very deep underground; I lost much of my breath climbing for so long.

They led to a perfectly rectangular room. Like the prisons, the lack of light would take time to adjust to. It was also only slightly larger than the small dungeon. Windows similar to those of a cathedral indicated I was at ground level. Aside from that, there was only a man sitting in a chair between large sacks of supplies and a wooden door. He wore the same robe as me.

"Why the rush?" he asked, clearly noticing my dramatic and rushed entrance. My heart rose the moment he spoke. Nervously but nonchalantly, I walked toward the doorway. The distance between the staircase and him was great enough that I would have to raise my voice. Considering this Zamorakian might know who I'm actually supposed to be, my distinct tone could ruin the disguise.

"Sorry, I lost my dagger," I said whilst coming near him and emulating the unconscious guard's deeper voice. All the while, I pretended to scratch the right side of my head in order to cover my face. I did this distraction with my left arm since my right was holding a sword.

The doorway was directly ahead of me. To the right and slightly forward was the guard leaning against a wall in his chair. Stuffed into the corner were many bags of unknown paraphernalia.

"I think I might have lost it in those bags beside you," I continued, pointing at the mess with my right hand. Using my left, I unnecessarily pulled my hood down from the inside.

He glanced at the mass of storage and looked back at me. The simulation of me fixing up my appearance would only look ridiculous now. Not to mention a guard shouldn't be in possession of both a sword and dagger. I hoped the absence of light could save me.

The Zamorakian leaned in closer, squinting his eyes slightly. I feigned a confused look. Hopefully he doesn't spot the drop of sweat tickling my cheek, I thought. Seeing the observant eyes on his cleanly shaven face made me anxious, however.

Then, realizing my hand was opportunely holding my borrowed shortsword of iron, I figured now would be as good a time as ever.

In an instant I raised the weapon and thrust it downward. The guard moved his head backward in a manner that made it seem rehearsed. Still, as he was pressed against the wall, there was nowhere to run. I pointed the blade at his neck before he could draw his own.

His eyes opened in astonishment and apprehension. Noticing this, I felt as if I might do the same thing given his situation. He was certainly caught off-guard, far from failing his duties due to carelessness.

"Close your eyes," I instructed.

After pondering whether to obey for a few seconds, he did as was requested. I silently brought the blade up again and slammed his upper forehead with its flat pommel. As with the other guard, he went out cold. The position made it look like he was lazily sleeping.

I left him be and moved to the sacks of reserves. Something in it should spark an idea, I thought.

One bag labeled "flammable" revealed a great quantity of gray powder. It looked to be some sort of gunpowder or ground sulphur. By the smell, I knew it contained a touch of timber, which meant it was probably intended to cause fires. I had once learned about a similar substance which was used in pillaging bases.

I tied it back up and investigated a small pouch nearby. It contained only one nature and two fire runes. With all the stress I had gone through, I had completely forgotten about the Staff of Jas. Knocking people unconscious was effective, but it wouldn't defeat six necromancers, especially the captain.

With these three runes I hoped to reclaim my staff. With my staff, I sought to complete my mission.

This is apparently too much text, so please move on to my next post.

Please share feedback and constructive criticism :).

Edited May 10, 2013 by Guitarguy

Rune Tuna · April 20, 2012

Okay.

Luna · May 7, 2012

I only skimmed, but I caught one questionable part: 'prone to attack'? I know that 'prone' is synonymous with 'liable', but you might be misleading your readers.

Guitarguy · May 8, 2012

I only skimmed, but I caught one questionable part: 'prone to attack'? I know that 'prone' is synonymous with 'liable', but you might be misleading your readers.

Thanks, it has been edited :).

Continuing from Part 2 (since there's a text limit):

Chapter 22

Upon throwing another handful of the flammable powder, the sparks created by my fire rune began to burn the rack. As a combative fire spell requires an air rune to make it forceful, a single fire rune can only create stationary sparks. In order to not burn myself, I decided to cover the device in the dust and throw a trail to lead the fire to its destination, much like using a rope to ignite dynamite.

My careful estimations indicated that the fire would die down before the unconscious "prisoner" died from excessive smoke inhalation. They also indicated that the rack would be no longer usable for anything other than soil fertilization by this point.

I hurried up the steps even more quickly than before. I had already spent a good amount of time, something my next plan would require a lot of.

Though weary form carrying such a heavy bag so far, I had no choice but to keep moving. I squeezed through a window in the same room as the second unconscious guard, then carried the sack of about half my weight with me.

The garrison was just as I had imagined. The ground was visibly flattened, but still simply composed of the ashy dirt which made up most of the continent. Each building was about as tall as the stronghold at which I fought the necromancers, but rectangular and larger in width and length. They contained very few windows, and those that did exist were too small to get a fair view through. The material was also just like that of the stronghold; repetitive dark stone made it clear the Zamorakians weren't very intricate in their construction.

To my convenience, the placement of structures was done rather logically. From my position in a spaced alleyway, I could see that there were three important roads in the city. Two, which were reflective of each other, were located on both sides of the base between two rows of adjacent buildings. Between them was the main road which was slightly larger. It connected the front to back gate. Apparently, the only method to go from one road to another was via the alleys. All of this was encased in a wall around two stories high.

I tightened my hood and headed toward the main road with the sack over my shoulders, sword tied with its sealing rope, and pouch of runes in my pocket. There were very few walking around. Those who were wandering about were higher-ranking officers, unlike what my apparel implied. It made sense. The strict guidelines of the Zamorakians would not permit lower soldiers to roam freely; they would all move as one, training, sleeping, or whatever else happened in their tight schedule.

Making my way to the west gate, I passed somebody who appeared to be a captain and warrior. We walked directly past one another on the pathway of approximately ten yards in width. I heard his feet come to an abrupt stop as we were a few paces away. He turned around, but I pretended not to notice this in order to gain a slightly larger distance.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked. His voice showed that he was middle-aged, but I didn't dare look directly at him during the time he was in sight.

"I was told to transport this bag," I replied, head turned so that my volume would be raised but he couldn't see my face.

I figured an excuse such as that would do perfectly beforehand, but I hadn't realized how dangerous the situation really was. If he found me out, I wouldn't stand a chance what with the many other powerful Zamorakians nearby. I'd be thrown right back into prison, and escape would be just about impossible.

"You don't look like an errand boy," he stated, staying in place. My head burned up as I tried to search for another excuse. I didn't see anybody besides officers around, so what would an errand boy look like? Maybe he was testing me to see whether such a position even existed, I thought. But even if he was, I didn't know the correct answer.

Suddenly, another voice appeared. I heard it to be near the original Zamorakian.

"I'm the one who sent him," it said to the officer. I nearly jumped in fright as it spoke. A voice I recognized.

"Oh. Carry on then, soldier," the formerly suspicious officer said to me. Footsteps denoted their leave.

The first man to speak to me as a captive quite possibly saved me. The smooth voice which scared me nearly to death before. The one who I believed to be a psychologist of some sort, and enraged me during my imprisonment.

I moved on, feeling dizzier with each step. It felt as if I had never truly attained freedom.

Chapter 23

The front gate was in sight. In the middle of the tall, thick wall of dark stone was a half-circle opening. The amount of space it spared made it clear that some sort of barrier could block the entrance at any time. It was probably a wall hidden in the space above the doorway. To the side of this opening were staircases leading to the crenellations.

As expected, there were two well-armed guards at both sides of the outer gate. I figured I would come up with a solution to this when I saw the scene myself, but I couldn't find even a risky procedure to get around them.

Maybe that's why the psychologist allowed me to continue. As I thought before, he knew me better than I knew myself. He thought I might escape the prison, only to become trapped while carrying out a plan.

I clenched my fists in rage. This is my life, I thought. I wouldn't allow anybody to use me as a game. I'd love to see how that arrogant man reacts when my plan succeeds.

The guards being on the outside of the gate, I could move up the staircase. By staying on the edge of the road, I minimized the view they might have of me.

Ascending the stairs was my most stressful undertaking yet. As I was about halfway up and a story higher from the surface, I turned my head to see the main road. The Zamorakians were even more plentiful than I had thought. I was in sight of everyone. If even one became suspicious, I wouldn't have any countermeasures. This pressure nearly caused me to fall due to my blurring vision.

The last few steps felt longer than the rest of the flight. Finally, I reached the top and moved toward the battlements. The height and density of the structure allowed me to move about unseen. I looked into the distance.

I had never remembered seeing a spectacle besides the large quantity of ashy soil on that continent. However, for once in my life, I came to be appreciative of the environment. On that high wall, as the wind blew so hard as to redirect my stubborn hair, I came to know what a great scene truly was. I could identify every curve, every indentation, and every bumpy hill of the landscape. Perhaps an unknown deity decided that just for that moment, he or she would clear all the fog possible so that I may view to my heart's delight. As dangerous as it was, I let my hood down. The sun, bright as it ever was, shed light on certain portions of the wasteland. The gust was frigid in a way I had never been accustomed to, but I welcomed it.

For once in my life, all my troubles ceased. The fear of being taken and tortured was no more. The power of the necromancers didn't cause threat to me. Even the guilt of allowing nine of my own men to die was soothed.

After struggling a little, I spotted another foothold.

Nearly climbing halfway down the wall, I noticed the brume begin to fill the distant air again. Although it detracted from my pleasant view, it would prevent the guards from seeing me. It was also a key factor of my plan.

My muscles burning, I decided to let myself drop a few yards. By intentionally falling on the sack of flammable powders, I sustained no injury. I moved west, the direction opposite of the gate.

Using my pace rate, I estimated when I was a couple hundred yards away from the walls. I then took the shortsword and cut a small hole in the sack.

"Who's this?"

A voice from behind startled me. My hood was already removed and my cover blown. I figured it may be the guards of the gate, but I turned around to see three people rather than two.

Three people wearing the same robes as the necromancers. More accurately, they were the necromancers. Three of the six I was meant to slay stood before me. Since they were only taking refuge at the base, it made sense that they would be permitted to roam freely. Perhaps they recognized my figure as I was moving on the main road and decided to follow.

I had only a sword and no experience in swordfighting. My fire rune was useless and nature runes aren't effective in combat. I was practically defenseless against three opponents.

Chapter 24

They were twenty yards away from me and an arm's length away from each other. Despite such a short distance with one another, they spoke loudly so that I may hear.

"It's the one who ran away! Aha!"

The other two went along with the scolding and laughed as well. They looked like a group of relentless children out for blood. As they had hoped, the previously said statement did in fact anger me.

The leftmost one had a full blonde goatee. His hood hid the back of his head, but I could tell from his bangs that the rest of his light hair was long. The other two lacked facial hair entirely. One was bald all around and the other with close-cropped, jet black hair. The three of them weren't unusually skinny or intimidatingly buff for a change. They had about the same figure as myself.

"So, non-human," the blonde-haired one addressed me oddly, "Why don't you come back to prison and atone for your sins?" He shifted his plain wooden staff slightly, triggering the others to do the same. I held my shortsword tighter. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be very capable of deflecting a magical attack. If anything, it would aggrandize a blast.

"There's nowhere to run this time," the rightmost and the one with the short hair said. It also happened to be the one who mocked me for the same reason just earlier. His wicked smirk added salt to an open wound.

"He won't just give up like that," the bald one stated more maturely. He looked to be the leader of the trio within a unit. "It'd be safe to rough him up a little as long as we don't damage his sensitive areas. The torture master will need those."

The rightmost one covered his mouth with his palm as he giggled uncontrollably.

"You should have died when you had the chance, non-human!" he shouted with glee. "Non-human". Is that some sort of profound nickname given to me?

There were more important things to worry about. I stood my ground, preparing to utilize the flimsy piece of metal in combat. They each held their staves forward in an organized manner. My eyes opened in fright when I observed the odds. I bit my cheek to ensure I wasn't trapped in a horrendous nightmare. I thought there was no hope left.

When suddenly...

All four of us paused silently to listen in on a faint sound. A very high screeching. Like...

A buzz saw.

The leftmost one turned around as quickly as possible. Unuckily for him, there wasn't enough time. He was tripped down to the ground with one move. M Lohkcots turned began its rotation. As the necromancer was attempting to stand back up on his badly-penetrated shin, the other two backed away.

The razor made its course. The man held his staff in front of him, but it was quickly sliced in half. The monstrous device drove through his ankle, only slightly decreasing in velocity. As his right foot was being severed, the man leaned back onto the ground in terror, too petrified to make a noise. The blades continued further, starting at his crotch and effectively splitting his body into two. As tempted as I was to avert my eyes, I was glued to the scene. I believe he only died when the blades reached his head.

Leaving an inexplicably mangled corpse behind, the buzz saw targeted the bald one. The necromancer turned around while running. He shot a bolt of fire which directly impacted the razor, but did nothing apart from relinquish some blood. The unscathed mechanism drove directly into the necromancer's defenseless legs and drilled directly through his left. The agony which I imagined his calf was enduring nearly caused me to fall over.

He fell flat on his face, staff falling out of reach. It surely would have been better if he didn't, but he decided twist his neck and view his oncoming murderer.

"Help!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, addressing the remaining necromancer.

That certain one, who was already a good distance away, turned and continued fleeing. He left his ally to be decapitated smoothly. The necromancer's head flew several yards away whilst releasing a torrent of blood.

The one who so loved to scold me for abandoning my allies was retreating with all his might. Due to his excessive pace, he stumbled down on his own. I finally gained the awareness to cover my sight.

My mind was filled with those excruciating screams for long after they lasted. I was nearly afraid such volume would attract the other Zamorakians.

Chapter 25

I could bring myself to search the body which lacked only a head, but I was fully aware the others would make me harmfully sick.

Five air runes and a few pieces of bread which I quickly devoured (the bread, that is). Digging in so quickly might soon prove to be uncomfortable, though it was the safest decision since I wouldn't have many opportunities to eat later on.

My deadly ally was staying still in the ground. I approached it.

"Thanks again," I said with a smile I soon realized was uselss to force. "I'm not sure how you found me, but it looks like I was saved again."

I contemplated my next words for a while. I considered forbidding M Lohkcots from killing anyone at all. Even Zamorakians have souls, and as I just had witnessed, the pain caused by the razor is ghastly. The buzz saw seemed to acknowledge me as its owner.

"Just like I said before, roam freely but don't kill anybody with green or cyan clothing. Or me, of course."

After pondering something, I made a discovery about the buzz saw. The blood with which it is often stained seemed to disappear quite quickly. I came to realize that it actually lived off of blood. Like all organisms, it needs its food to survive. If I had to choose between a Zamorakian's life and this one, I'd say M Lohkcots has more of a soul.

It sped off again, this time going aimlessly north. I felt the urge to wave a goodbye, but figured I was already running out of time. The unconscious guards could have very well been discovered by then.

I carried the bag whilst allowing the flammable subtance to fall from the hole.

Ten rows later, the sack was empty. I used my fire rune to create some sparks. Upon ignition, the lines of powder would give the image of a legion of soldiers launching a large-scale attack on their enemy. Seeing such large flames through the fog would send an unprepared base into chaos. Torchers were among the most effective of sieging units, and the fact that there were so many would imply the attack truly was serious. After finally setting up a defense, the Zamorakians would wait long before realizing their opponents weren't advancing. With some time spent pondering they would choose a soldier to investigate. The walk to and from the flames would take even more time. Once they all found out about the trick, another chunk of time would be spent reorganizing everything.

I dropped the handful of sparks and immediately spun around. I sprinted toward the main gate, leaving the corpses behind. They weren't very visible anyway.

The guards were distracted talking to each other. They must have heard my heavy footsteps. Just as the two turned in my direction, their eyes opened in shock at the lights in the distance.

"It's the Guthixians!" I shouted at them. Without a word, they charged into the base. The three of us were running at the same speed.

Nearby officers curiously observed our shock. Like a chain reaction, the ones down the road looked as well.

"The Guthixians are attacking, prepare all units!" one guard exclaimed. The message rapidly reached everyone. Each officer ran in a different direction in an attempt to make order of the mess. My robes were still the most distinct, but I became a needle in a haystack.

Shouts came from every direction. "Guthixians" activated each person's mind as if the word made them remember a tragic memory. People squeezed through alleys in order to alert their respective units. Nobody moved at walking speed.

Thankfully, not a person could spot my smile under the cloth which covered my mouth. I jogged at a comfortable pace so as to not stand out. One nearby officer barged into a specific building, so I discreetly followed.

It was a perfectly straight hallway with rooms on both sides. Just like the first Zamorakian stronghold I stepped foot in, but shaped like a rectangle instead. The staircase was spiral, just as I had hoped.

I hid behind the door to the left of the staircase, waiting patiently to claim my victim for interrogation.

Chapter 26

The room was windowless, but I doubted anything would be in it despite the darkness. Fortunately, that's all I needed. A dark place to hide my identity and to frighten a captive.

Before I knew it, a formation of soldiers was hurrying down the steps. There were many footsteps, each making the same sound upon impact as if they were trained to do so. It almost sounded as if the steps were going to collapse under such pressure.

I covered my face with my dark hood, leaving only one eye salient. The door was designed to open outward, into the hallway. I left a small crack with which to see. Each Zamorakian was too focused on perfecting their position in the line to spot the white of my peeking eyeball. Everyone was spaced about three yards away and fixed their head to the back of the next person's.

When I only heard footsteps out of my right ear, I wrapped my hand around the edge of the door. The last troop looked to be focusing all his energy into doing his job. I pushed the door out, stepped forward with one foot, and took my grip. After securing my right hand around his mouth and maintaining control by holding his abdomen with my other hand, I adroitly stepped back into the shadows of the room. The door was shut with the use of my leg.

I pushed the frightened, unarmed Zamorakian on the ground and dropped down onto him. With my knee pressed against his windpipe for several seconds, he couldn't gather the air to make a noise. After I predicted that any of his shouts would not reach anybody else, I released his stomach but held my sword to his neck.

"Where is the one who goes by 'Nixor'?" I asked in a deeper voice than I usually spoke in.

"I-I..." He stumbled upon each of his words, making his anxiety evident as ever. "Captain Nixor?"

I mentally sighed in relief. It looked like he knew who I was speaking of.

"Yes. Hurry up and tell me."

"T-There's a building in the most northwestern part of town. No, it's northeastern. Yeah, northeastern."

"Continue," I said impatiently, making it clear that he wasn't talking quickly enough.

"Nixor and two of his s-subordinates are there, nobody else. I think they're staying there until they refill their unit."

Just as I had expected, they're bunched together until the squad is at its full potential. And to my delight, all three of them were bunched together in a single isolated structure.

"Good. Next, where do they keep the items of prisoners?"

"Ah-uh, it's actually in this building. The first room on your right when you walk in."

How convenient.

"Thanks," I said with my regular voice. I reached into my pocket with my free hand to take out my remaining nature rune.

"Wait," he said. "I heard those three necromancers are a lot stronger than anyone in the unit. You aren't going to fight them, are you?"

I smiled involuntarily.

"Thanks for your concern, but I have a mission to do."

As the nature rune transformed into a magical dust, I held it over his mouth. Within seconds, he inhaled it and fell into a slumber which would last a few days.

Three necromancers stronger than the other seven, huh? I thought nothing of it. Even if they're a thousand times more powerful than anyone I faced thus far, they're each only one person. Like them, I also had many abilities.

I closed the door and walked to the room to which I was directed. This one had a window to illuminate the Staff of Jas and my dagger alone on the floor. The shortsword may have been more powerful overall, but it was difficult to conceal and I lacked experience with it. I kept the air runes anyway. Perhaps it could surprise Nixor when he attempts to deflect my staff again.

With my complete arsenal, I headed out the door and toward the designated structure, paying no heed to the scurrying Zamorakians in every direction. I felt more determined than I ever had.

Chapter 27

With ease, I approached the tower. I was certain it was the one. No other building was as secluded and distinct as it.

There were absolutely no windows, leaving only the darkness of its stone visible. Speaking of, the walls were extremely thick for some odd reason. One would have to walk between the three-yard width of the surrounding walls before entering the door.

I didn't even bother looking up to see how tall it was. Although there were very few Zamorakians in the same area I was, it would be suspicious if gravity brought my hood down and revealed my hair.

I walked forward, being wary of any triggers to hidden traps. Before long I stood at the metal door nearly at my height and rectangular like that of an ordinary house. I opened the door, leaped in, and quickly though silently closed it behind me. To have a chance against these "powerful" necromancers, I would need to battle each one-on-one. I'm sure they understood my potential by then, so surely they would take every chance to team up on me.

I stepped forward into the terribly darkened room, my sandals making no noise against the stone floor. I realized I was in firing range for any traps, maybe even literally, so I stopped to allow my eyes to adjust to the barely visible surroundings. Even using a fire spell as a torch could alert someone.

"Why hello there," a distant voice spoke. It was a relatively normal tone. Almost like my own speech, but slightly deeper.

By my estimations, the room we both stood in was thirty yards in width and length. To fit those proportions, the ceiling was probably about

double my height. Such an environment would give me plenty of space to dodge attacks and such. It would be even better if I could see, however.

"Hello," I shouted back. There was probably a twenty-yard gap between us.

"Inferus, is it?"

Looks like I've gained some popularity, I thought. I decided not to converse and rather ponder over the situation.

"I'm glad to have finally met you," he continued, allowing my speechlessness to indicate he was correct with my identity. "I'm sure you already know, but the captain and another necromancer with whom I believe you're acquainted are here. However, I'll be preventing your access to them."

Another one with whom I'm acquainted? Oh well, I thought. There were more important things to think over than curiosity. Peculiarly, I wasn't quite as afraid as I had been in my previous battles. The darkness did make me uncomfortable, though. I gained the peak of my sight through it, but it was barely enough to make out the figure of my opponent. I saw that he wielded a staff and was of normal shape like myself.

"That's no trouble," I shouted valiantly. "You're also on my list."

He let out a small laugh. It was unexpectedly sane. I pictured this man as one of few regular Zamorakians.

"Is that so?"

I suddenly felt a gust of wind against my body. It collided with me in a way that made me feel as if a wall suddenly rammed each bone in my body. I was forced easily to the ground, but managed to keep my staff in-hand. The momentary attack would have been more painful had I expected it.

"Oh, that defense simply won't do. Another necromancer is watching this duel, you know."

I anxiously looked around, but didn't spot anybody else. What perplexed me more is how he managed such great accuracy in an invisible, entirely open room. And with such pressure...

While recovering, I shot my own blast of wind at him. As if it had no effect, I received another powerful squall, this one knocking me several paces backward.

I sprung up as quickly as I could manage and prepared a firm fighting stance. It seemed as if this wizard specialized in air magic. As somebody who trusts that balance is power, my skill in that particular element was far inferior to his.

Hoping to solve this impasse of a fight, I held my staff high.

Chapter 28

Figuring he wouldn't detect unpredictable movement, I began dashing to the side while gradually closing in on him. He stood perfectly still, not even bothering to look at me.

At several yards away to his left, I boosted myself into the air, aiming directly at him. I prepared a bolt of fire. To my surprise, he turned directly at me before there was even any light. Again, I suffered a deadly blast of wind. My body violently impacted the ceiling before bouncing back on the ground.

I was winded, but managed to stand up within a few seconds. Deciding he could be running out of magical energy, I sprinted at him again.

"I expected more of you," he said as I came near.

I was surprised that he allowed me to get so close. Once we were at an arm's length, I felt something smack my left hip. His staff forced me to shift position in a way that made us form a perpendicular line to the nearby wall behind me. He took advantage and shot another burst of air before I could react. Whilst I was sent directly backward, I surrounded myself in a barrier of wind. It mitigated my impact against the wall which may have killed me otherwise. A two-yard hole emerged with me sitting helplessly in it.

After the dust spread away, I attempted to push myself back up to no avail. My back suffered badly from the collision, and my left arm was already quite damaged from my earlier battle with Nixor. I used a wind spell to force my body into a proper position. Since the Guthixians were skilled in health treatment, I learned to shift certain muscles into their proper position. I did so with my back, but it only enabled me to move slightly more flexibly.

"You were a prisoner, weren't you, Inferus? If you surrender now, I'll promise to tell your torture master to go easy on you."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his petition. Wiping away some blood which emerged from my mouth, I raised the Staff of Jas slightly.

"This is your last chance, Guthixian."

Huh? I only moved the staff a few centimeters at the least. My vision is better than most, and even I wouldn't detect if he were to move his weapon like that. I wondered how he knew so quickly that I denied his request.

In the midst of my thinking, another blast surged forward. Leaning forward, I fought it off with the combined power of my legs and wind magic. However, that was certainly one of his weaker attacks. He could come close to ending the battle if he was willing to use enough energy.

At this point, my body was in a dangerous condition. Each major bone was throbbing in pain like an unbearable headache. With the consistency of his attacks, I couldn't gain enough time to catch my breath. I felt like I just ran a marathon breathing only through a snorkel. The offer for me to give up was tempting at the time, but I understood the actual consquences too well to accept it.

I looked at my staff. Only then I wondered how it didn't blow out of my hands. I didn't even need to struggle with my forearm strength to grip it. If the wind could throw around my entire body so easily, why not the piece of wood supported only by my hand?

I suddenly came to a useful revelation. Its shape. The cylindrical shape of my staff caused wind to flow around it rather than directly at it. When one tries to hammer a nail into a flat surface, its sharp point allows it to slide in. However, if the same were to be performed on a cylinder, the nail would easily slip off. The same applied to the wind. Each small area of force would come in contact with the wood, then slide off as if the staff was a ramp.

His attacks were like flat boards of wood. I needed mine to be the nails.

Chapter 29

"If you're really going to be that stubborn, fine," he said calmly. "The torture master will show no lenience."

I saw him wind his staff backward as if he were going to swing a bat one-handed. I held my own staff forward, pointing the orb directly at him. This wasn't a regular battle stance of any sort.

The necromancer swung his staff forward at an unperceivable speed. I extended my arm to activate my own spell. A very temporary barrier of wind encased me. However, unlike most magical shields, this one began as a point near the tip of my staff and gradually curved outward as it reached my body. Like a sword, but used defensively.

My hair flew back slightly as I stood perfectly still. Shortly after, I heard a loud smack between the wind blast and the walls behind me. I defiantly pushed my staff forward again, arraying for another attack.

"Huh." If he was trying to hide his possible shock, he did so perfectly. It seemed like my blocking made no threat to him.

Being at a distance wouldn't help, so I charged forward. At five yards, I pressed the staff forward once again in preparation. A few more yards further and I activated the barrier which I hoped to damage him with, but soon I realized he disappeared.

As I stopped to look around, another gust from my right side swept me off my feet, causing me to bang my head on the floor. I stood back up and spotted him. Standing in my new defensive position, I thought pensively.

Unlike him, I couldn't send large surges of wind very far. To utilize an effective attack, I'd need to be within a very short distance of him. But using his wind powers, he would simply escape me every time, then counter using my inability to see properly.

Hmm...

For that matter, why is it so dark anyway? I found it suspicious that he could attack with such precision, yet I required a few seconds to even make out his figure.

There are some advanced spells that require a chanting beforehand. They're usually affiliated with the gods, and always contain extreme power to be used under extreme circumstances.

"Self-destruct, activate," I whispered to myself.

I immediately sprinted toward him, putting my staff in my mouth so that it wouldn't hinder my speed in the slightest. My back warned me that moving so quickly could be dangerous, but my plan needed to be executed.

As we were twenty yards away, I began panting loudly. He took on a battle stance. My heart began to ache from the exercise, but I bursted forward at my acme nonetheless.

Suddenly, he turned around and began sprinting away, using wind for additional support. I continued chasing him. There was some clear worry in his careless body movement. Seeing that I continued to go after him, he ran for the door.

I dropped down on my knees and began to catch my breath. It proved difficult while fighting back my laughter at the same time.

Success.

The necromancer was blind, but made up for it with enhanced audial abilities. As he turned around and looked at me, I could sense his anger despite the darkness.

Chapter 30

Very crafty, I thought. I had never quite been taught about using the environment to my advantage; the vast majority of battles were expected to be fought on the ashy plains of this continent. And here, my enemy decided to nullify my sight whilst it wouldn't affect him.

Such a witty plan coming from the current loser of the fight was not to be anticipated by him. When one chants such a self-explanatory spell as "self-destruct", any non-suicidal person's instinct is to evade the supposed explosion. After all, a self-sacrificing attack must be quite powerful. The necromancer felt proud for hearing my chanting, but his mind was certainly in too much of a panic to suspect it of being a sham. Considering no normal person would be able to perceive a sound so distant, his superior condition was clear. I wasn't quite sure how such a capability came to be, but it wasn't something I should have been worrying about.

I created a mental chart in my mind of the situation. I mostly lack vision, he entirely lacks vision, I lack useful audial abilities, he has unparalleled audial abilities...

An opening appeared in the chart. Earlier, I refrained from using a fire spell to make light in the room. Figuring the light would make me more visible than him, I would be at a disadvantage. But I spotted a flaw in his strategy. It's time to balance the chart.

"Are you done?" he said impatiently. It was clear that he was waiting for me to make the first move. Perhaps he has another trick up his sleeve, he thought. But if I was going to sit around, looking into the orb of my staff with deep thought for too long, he would soon attack.

"Yes," I replied. "Let's continue; I see you're getting eager." I was certain to emphasize "see" in my statement. He remained silent.

Returning to serious mode, I brandished my staff. With a thrust forward, a bolt of fire lit up my path to him. Earlier, I could scarcely make out the outline of his figure. I would receive even the slightest of his movements at a dangerously overdue time. With the abundance of flames, however, the scene was bright as day.

I rushed toward him, now able to attack exactly as I intended. As the tip of my staff pressed forward in preparation for my new piercing air shield, he stood stationary in his fighting stance.

He stepped to the side soon before the flames approached him, leaving the blast to fly away. That was no worry; I intentionally shot it at a low velocity so that I may have the time to close in on him. The fire lit up a radius of about seven yards. With some simple estimating, I'd have the chance to attack him within that visible circle.

Only a few yards was the aperture between us. My barrier was soon to impale him like a sword composed purely of force. But to my astonishment, the light vanished. Darkness invaded again. For a split second, I wondered whether my eyelids had suddenly shut or some other mysterious phenomenon had just occurred.

There wasn't nearly enough time to adjust to the lack of light. Something pierced my left hip violently. The shock caused me to lose all magical control. Because my attack required me to be partially ascended, I couldn't regain my footing. Another violent attack came, this one being inflicted upon my entire body. I flew away more quickly than I had the entire battle, my muscles not responding to my commands.

The blow ended with my head impacting the ground less than safely. As I recovered, I couldn't help but smell the unsettling balm which resulted from a damaged skull. Rubbing a certain point of my scalp and grasping onto my hip which had been stabbed with a staff, I thought about what could have went wrong. I would have had a clear shot if only the only light source hadn't suddenly disappeared...

I created a small spell of fire with my hand. Upon bringing it close to my ear, I listened closely.

A very faint sound came from it. It was like wind blowing in short bursts, creating a swooping sound. Surely if I could detect it from an floating ember, the necromancer could distinctify an oncoming flame from regular wind. I wouldn't doubt it if he could even hear my heartbeat. Then, as I pictured the scene again, I remembered that his staff was pointed directly at the firey blast even during his fighting position. He must have had no trouble removing it with a surge of wind.

Then, yet another revelation came to me. My tiny fire. It created short, but relatively loud noises. And it did so with the use of only a small amount of air...

"Honestly, a single battle shouldn't last this long." The necromancer appeared to be in a lazy pose. "I was going to try and knock you unconscious earlier, but now I think I'd rather inflict the pain of death upon you myself. Let's say we finally finish this?"

Great. My final plan was complete anyway. Unlike my other plans, I knew it was the final one because I would have to use all of my strength for it. Life or death.

I stood up with some trouble. Although it felt as if some oversized weights were preventing me from standing, I could manage.

"Sorry, I'm not ready to feel the pain of death." After wiping away some blood which had made its way out of my mouth, I lifted my staff. "But I'd be glad to finish this."

Chapter 31

There was a gap between us of about twenty yards.

I bowed my head slightly as I concentrated. An elemental spell is normally constructed with simple instinctive memory, but for once I had to think back to the basics. Wind magic. I thought intricately about how my mind flexes itself when using such a power. To advance in something, as I've been told, one has to comprehend a subject in its most basic stages.

A shrill noise popped up. By my ear, a thin slice of wind came and went. It sounded precisely like a sword cutting the air.

I created another one in my deep thought. Soon, after my mind wrapped around the concept of this new wind formation, I produced multiple at once. Each was strikingly loud, but provisional.

I opened my eyes and transitioned the staff so that I held it with only one hand. By now, the ear-breaking sounds of the winds could be heard at every moment. I shouted at the top of my lungs as a test. To my delight, I couldn't even hear the secondary noise.

After a deep breath, I gained my prowess and proceeded forward with a sprint. My muscles began to heat up quickly. Fifteen yards. I shot a ball of fire which even my opponent wouldn't be able to hear. Wearing an optimistic smile on my face, I ran with all my might. He's devoid of both sound and sight, I thought to myself. Each step brought new excitement. He soon came within sight due to the firey illumination.

But then vanished immediately.

Damn!

I could feel the necromancer's wild gusts. He swung his staff back and forth, eliminating any hope of a fire blast. A mental tantrum occurred within me, but somehow I thought something up. Ten yards.

Sacrificing my sound-disabling winds, I created my sharp barrier. With this, I broke through his aimless swings. I still held my staff in one hand. Five yards.

Due to the rush of such physical exertion, my sight was worse than usual. The point at which he stood before was completely empty. Zero yards.

I tightened the barrier of wind. It encased me like a suit of armor. An extremely sudden blast struck my back, launching my body away. The Staff of Jas nearly slipped out of my hand on the impact.

This collision was far beyond that of the others. Every bone from my upper back to buttocks experienced a lasting pain. I could feel the impact even to my bones. It felt like a slightly weaker attack, but without my skin to cushion the appulse.

Before crashing, I managed to recreate my sharp barrier of air. A terribly wide hole appeared in the wall, pressing in at least a few yards.

No time to spare.

I leaped back onto the ground, filled my lungs with a short breath, and ran forward again. I shouted continuously in order to release oxygen at the right pace.

The necromancer jumped in shock just as my footsteps began. He must have been expecting his attack to at least prevent me from recovering for a while. That, or he thought it would kill me. Nonetheless, he stood in a defensive position quickly. Fifteen yards.

In a second, I brought up an abundance of short bursts of wind. My nullified shouting continued. Had it not been for adrenaline, I feared that the pain throughout much of my body might hinder me. Ten yards.

With all the magical power I could spare, I shot a blast of fire at the ground near the necromancer. It hit exactly where I wanted it to. The dark belt which I had dropped before being stricken by the necromancer caught fire and ignited. The fabric of which it was composed was also highly flammable. Soon after this, my enemy began to throw blasts of wind in every direction. But it was too late; he probably chose to save such blasts for a later time than before because they were costly in magical energy. And now he was in his defensive routine, entirely oblivious to the fire just behind his feet.

Because I would otherwise be unable to charge through such a force of wind, I removed the noises of wind to create a sharp barrier. He noticed it quickly. Five yards.

After desisting from his haphazard attacks, the necromancer positioned his feet in a manner that made his upcoming movement obvious. Without the light, however, it would be impossible to detect. I removed my barrier just as he leapt. Timing it correctly, I sent a forceful wave of wind at my opponent who was dashing through the air. The surge was so powerful that it even pushed me backward. The muscles of my arms popped out whilst I shot.

My opponent flailed about in the air. After smashing against the ceiling, he fell downward lifelessly. The body dropped like a doll.

I walked forward despite the soreness of my legs. The defeated opponent was laying on its back. I wielded my dagger, and ensured his death with one final strike to the chest.

Chapter 32

I stumbled toward the wall and took a slouched seat. The comfort of sitting down after such exertion was greater than that of a hot bath. My limbs were still heated as if they had been roasting over a campfire, but I felt them begin to cool down.

"I heard those three necromancers are a lot stronger than anyone in the unit. You aren't going to fight them, are you?"

Perhaps he heard correctly.

Using as little strength as possible, I stood up, stretched, and walked over to loot the corpse. It would be best to investigate as quickly as possible lest his viscera emerge and damage my mental health further.

I removed his belt, tied it around my own waist, and revealed a pouch hidden beneath his robe. With a fire spell, the contents were clear: a vial of a unique herbal mixture, a small loaf of bread, and a cantene of water. All of which I devoured.

At first I doubted it, but I'd heard of an incredibly rare herb which contained peerless healing power. Its combination with water created a distinct blue color. When I thought about it, it would make sense that a necromancer who was among the strongest of the first unit in the Zamorakian army might have one vial of such a plant. Merely seconds after consuming some of the tasteless drink, I felt my soreness soothe. It was as if I just finished resting for several days after undergoing intense workout. The medicine didn't provide a huge supply of energy, but I felt better than I did before I began the battle.

Sparing half of the liquid, I inserted it into my bag and moved on. I never would have noticed it during battle, but there was a ladder in one corner of the room. Staff in mouth, I climbed each rigid bar of dark metal. An open space welcomed me to the next floor, which was more vacuous than the preceding one. Even under the illumination of a bright fire spell, not a stone was to be seen.

The next substructure proved identical. Still, I moved on with equal caution.

The very moment I began climbing to the fifth story, an odious sensation came about my body. My skin was warm as always, yet my interior felt chilled. I was never one to show vulnerability to common fears, but for some reason the fortuitous possibility of a demon popping out became inevitable.

Scanning my rear twice a second, I moved on. The ladder's path had ended there, but certainly not to the top of the building.

Evident in the chamber was an unaesthetic wall of stone, protruding to the size of a work desk. It extended halfway across the room and left behind it only enough space for one to sit in a chair. Fittingly, an unorthodox man with whom I was arguably acquainted was present. The torture master systematized excessively his menagerie of morbid instruments laid out on the rocky surface.

Thin, isolated hairs dangled from his wan face as the head lifted. Even from such an unclear distance, we communicated in an abstract manner which I've never quite experienced. His bloodshot eyes demonstrated theirselves to be a one-way mirror; he absorbed every miniscule facet of my emotions, whereas I looked into the eyes of a doll.

He can do nothing to me, I thought. Even the most intelligent tactician can't win with an army of one. Right?

I shifted my view from his eyes which were as perceptible as the interior of a rune. Bravely though prudently, I made my way forward. With each step I observed his bodily motions, trying my best to ignore his sadistic smile.

My leg was lifted at its peak in the air during one pace. The Zamorakian suddenly lunged to his left side in a grasping movement. Auspiciously, I predicted that a trap may emerge from below, and a spell of wind boosted me forward in order to avoid the spiked metal poles which would have otherwise resulted in my demise.

I then stood up in a balanced manner, ensuring that there were no more nearby traps.

"You could have hidden that better," I said confidently. "If the space between this floor and the lower one was smaller, you might've had a chance."

Indeed, the system of transportation via ladder exposed a meter-high gap between each story filled with stone. However, the ground beneath me was nearly two meters in height. It didn't take a genius to know that such a space could accomodate a spare gin.

My former torture master was in a state neither of us would ever expect him to fall into. The very man who was earlier as emotion-induced as a tree was now horrified by the possibility of death. Cacophonous noises emanated sporadically out of his mouth. His shapely bones shivered like that of a freezing mountain climber.

I unanticipatedly commiserated him more than I ever would have fathomed. The individual who stood before me wasn't on my hit list. He may not have been innocent, but to the god who commanded me to kill the necromancers, he was.

"Consider your actions," I said calmly. With that, I walked toward the ladder which was now apparent in a corner of the room. A sense of peace came about my mind once he was out of sight.

One of my steps felt out-of-place. Looking below, I noticed that the ground was far softer than it should have been.

"Ha-ha!" An unnerving burst of laughter came from behind. The Zamorakian was just pulling another lever which had shown to be more subliminal than the first.

I created a sharp barrier of wind beneath me just as an explosion erupted. A mass of flames spread around my body, but not a spark could cut through my shield. Before long, the damage was over, leaving an unharmed Guthixian standing in a pit of ashes.

At this time, the torture master reverted to his affrighted state. Only now, his eyes were like that of a child. Exactly, a child harmless in its own eyes. One who acts without a moral code. One whose actions are based on what seems beneficial to itself, evincing complete inconsideration toward the welfare of others.

Drawing my dagger, I walked toward him unscrupulously. My indignance was overwhelming.

Chapter 33

Consciousness suddenly came to me. I perceived it seconds later. It felt as if I could have been sleeping for minutes or years.

I fought my eyes for sight, having my senses restored simultaneously. I redrew my memories and ordered them. That's right. A Zamorakian tried to kill me, failed, and was killed in return.

I killed him.

"You are to eliminate each member of the first unit in the Zamorakian army." Those were my instructions, given by the god himself. No more and no less, Guthixian officers were to presume of the words. Guthix, our epitome of moral justice, was to dictate what was good and evil. And I had betrayed his judgement, in a nearly literally senseless manner. There was one fear which each and every member of the Guthixian army was taught: failing to fulfill the goodwill of the leader. A simple divergence of the mission's goal was to result in unspecified contingencies. Such mysteriousness proved to be the most horrifying of their aspects.

But I was different. Somehow, I knew Guthix better than the average soldier. My two face-to-face meetings with him had allowed me to understand him better than a lifelong ally. Yet the more I know of him, it seems that I know even less.

Unlike the average soldier, I knew that the contingencies of opposing his will, deliberately or indeliberately, would result in nothing less than verbal disapproval. But the punishment that I would inflict upon myself is worse than that of any torture. I had once been told by a superior that I am like a child; my anger sprouts only from a strong sense of moral diligence. Unlike the other soldiers with whom I trained, I had only memorably experienced life for a few years. The injustices of the world hadn't become manifest in my mind, whereas evil is commonplace in the unconsciously adapting thoughts of an adult.

My eyes opened. Before me, sitting restfully against the stone wall, were two fragments of what was once a human being. One that I wasn't meant to kill, and one that would have done me no more harm had I left it alone.

Perhaps I should forget it.

Thus, I picked up my staff and headed toward the ladder to the next floor.

Whilst moving as silently and observantly as had become custom, something seemed strange. On the next floor I could inexplicably recognize the presence of a figure. It anticipated my arrival.

My unbidden instincts were correct. Upon peaking my head from the passageway of the ladder, somebody became conspicuous in the distance. Torches spread throughout the room provided a craved clarity.

Seeing that he was currently unarmed, I climbed to the surface and took position directly across, wearing a facade of a confident fettle. His appearance was now clear. Although I hadn't actually seen him earlier, I was well aware that this was the very necromancer that I had thought of as a psychologist. The enigmatic emission of his eyes displayed an iridescence of thoughts. His perfectly groomed dark hair, slightly tanned skin, and cleanly shaved face masked the single undoubtedly constant theme of his mind: evil. The body to which this horrifyingly uncanny countenance belonged was nothing but fitting. Only a little greater than my own stature, but evidently brawnier was his shape under the dark robe identical to my own stolen one. This menacingly powerful wizard resembled the standard citizen of a Gielinorian village.

I pushed my staff outward. The both of us stood in clear sight of one another in the spacious area. My thoughts overlapped as I attempted to think up a phrase that would conceal my anxiety. The necromancer manipulated me with nothing more than his eyes, far across in the room.

"I- you- ah-" My words stumbled as I attempted to formulate a syntactically correct sentence.

"I'm not afraid!" Although I had planned to speak as grandiloquently as possible, my thoughts came out as nothing more than a childishly defiant shout. That's not to mention how senseless of an introduction I made.

"Ha-ha-ha!" He laughed with an aggravatingly soothing tone. "Yes you are."

Chapter 34

I must finish this quickly. With each slight movement of mine, I felt that he would gain a plethora of knowledge within my thoughts. With each moment, the chances of success diminished.

Looking at his body but not his eyes, I drew my staff. With considerable strength, I shot forth a wide ball of fire, one that would blind an opponent looking toward it. In the same direction and immediately afterward, I released a continuous wave of sharp wind. As this latter spell was easily blockable yet deadly, I hoped that he would use his strength to eliminate the fire, afterward falling victim to the hidden wind.

In the distance, the fire scattered into nothingness earlier than I had anticipated. Following this, I felt an imbalance in my line of wind.

Damn!

In an instant, my body slammed against the wall not too far behind me. A stinging pain, seemingly ceaseless, motivated me to take a defensive position on the ground.

That was impossible, I thought. To have perceived my wave of wind so soon after removing the flames, and controlling his magic in such a way that he could use it against me.

"Inferus, captain of the first wizardry unit in the Guthixian army," he spoke, his voice gradually edging closer. "Your mind is unlike most. It's as if there's something hidden, something of which even you have little awareness."

Smoke blurred his figure. I decided it might come to my advantage, as he wouldn't be able to analyze me further. Perhaps I could even attempt a stealthy attack.

"I can read your mind."

My thoughts shifted to his statement. Why...

"Why would I tell you that? Why, you would find it out soon enough, Inferus. You're very clever. I saw your battle on the bottom floor. I even saw your other battles as well."

The pain of my previous impact had no effect on my paralysis now. My mind became trapped. There was nowhere to go, physically nor mentally. My opponent knew me better than I did. I was to die.

I am going to die.

"Don't worry, Inferus. You won't die soon. I'll have you sent back as a prisoner. We will have fun together."

This necromancer was different. He carried out his sadistic nature differently. He knew how to scare a particular person, not just people in general.

"Can you guess how I obtained this power? Hmm, I guess not. You see, we took a Saradominist general prisoner. A stubborn one, he was. He simply wouldn't budge no matter what we tried on him. We took his legs off, bit by bit, but his physical endurance proved overwhelming. His mental endurance, therefore, was the target. A self-taught psychologist, I stepped in. Within a few days of peaceful conversation, the man twice our size was begging for death. His information led to victory in one of the bloodiest battles of the war. Zamorak himself rewarded me with the ability I use now. Interesting, isn't it, Inferus?"

My mind was either stuffed or void of thoughts. In an act of desperation, I rose and charged forward, my staff pointing ahead, purely offensively. The had still not dissipated.

The necromancer's figure suddenly appeared. I found the orb of the Staff of Jas in his hand.

Why...

Instinctively, I prepared a blast of wind. Our eyes met.

The spell backfired, sending a painful force directly into my lungs. I ended up on the floor several meters back, gasping for air.

"You noticed I don't use a weapon of my own. My opponent is my weapon. You seem to understand the existence of counteracting spells. Obviously, they're very difficult for most mages; you must comprehend the opponent's use of magic perfectly in order to reverse it. Well, you know why that's useful to somebody such as myself."

Prior to then, I had to use my mind in order to win my battles. Otherwise, I would need to make use of the little power I had. Somehow, that no longer seemed possible. Winning no longer seemed possible.

Edited May 10, 2013 by Guitarguy

Fake · July 16, 2012

I remember reading this story a while ago and enjoying it. I'm not going to review it because when I read it I liked it but if you post a few more chapters (which I hope you do) I'll be the first person to post a comment. Good luck.

Guitarguy · July 16, 2012

Oh right, how did I forget about this?

I'll make some new chapters. I can now remember how eager I was to get past where I left off before and write some nice stoofs.

Fake · July 16, 2012

Oh right, how did I forget about this?

I'll make some new chapters. I can now remember how eager I was to get past where I left off before and write some nice stoofs.

It happens to the best of us. In August my story will be 38 chapters and 4 years in but never finished. :/ Writers block can get us all but hopefully the RSS will get active again and be am motivation to write.

Guitarguy · July 19, 2012

Oh right, how did I forget about this?

I'll make some new chapters. I can now remember how eager I was to get past where I left off before and write some nice stoofs.

It happens to the best of us. In August my story will be 38 chapters and 4 years in but never finished. :/ Writers block can get us all but hopefully the RSS will get active again and be am motivation to write.

It seems like it has had various boosts of activity here and there from what I've observed, so I trust this won't persist forever :closedeyes:.

Also, darn, I reached the content limit <_<. I suppose I'll simply continue everything in my first reply to this topic.

delred · July 21, 2012

I remember the first time this story was posted and I really enjoyed it then so hopefully you can continue it. My own stories seemed to stop after a few chapters and I could never stick to it for a long time.

Fake · July 22, 2012

Oh right, how did I forget about this?

I'll make some new chapters. I can now remember how eager I was to get past where I left off before and write some nice stoofs.

It happens to the best of us. In August my story will be 38 chapters and 4 years in but never finished. :/ Writers block can get us all but hopefully the RSS will get active again and be am motivation to write.

It seems like it has had various boosts of activity here and there from what I've observed, so I trust this won't persist forever :closedeyes:.

Also, darn, I reached the content limit <_<. I suppose I'll simply continue everything in my first reply to this topic.

I suggest you make a table of Contents and you can link each of the Chapters by clicking the post number. Then copy the URL and write "Chapter 1" or something. Highlight 'Chapter 1' and then click the link button and paste the link. This should allow you to make a good table of Contents. And this way you can bump anytime you write a new Chapter and still have a quick link to it.

Guitarguy · July 22, 2012

I remember the first time this story was posted and I really enjoyed it then so hopefully you can continue it. My own stories seemed to stop after a few chapters and I could never stick to it for a long time.

Thanks for the feedback ^_^. I've posted about 11 chapters in the past week, so I'll probably go until the end without going into a period of extreme inactivity. Plus I have the gist of the rest of the story planned out, so I wouldn't want to let it go to waste.

Oh right, how did I forget about this?

I'll make some new chapters. I can now remember how eager I was to get past where I left off before and write some nice stoofs.

It happens to the best of us. In August my story will be 38 chapters and 4 years in but never finished. :/ Writers block can get us all but hopefully the RSS will get active again and be am motivation to write.

It seems like it has had various boosts of activity here and there from what I've observed, so I trust this won't persist forever :closedeyes:.

Also, darn, I reached the content limit <_<. I suppose I'll simply continue everything in my first reply to this topic.

I suggest you make a table of Contents and you can link each of the Chapters by clicking the post number. Then copy the URL and write "Chapter 1" or something. Highlight 'Chapter 1' and then click the link button and paste the link. This should allow you to make a good table of Contents. And this way you can bump anytime you write a new Chapter and still have a quick link to it.

I think with the new forums that whole process worked a little differently; I spent some time making anchor links (most of the time was finding out how they work through trial and error, of course) and now the Table of Contents works great. :D

Fake · July 26, 2012

I never even noticed that you were up to chapter 21. :o I have to catch up!

Guitarguy · August 26, 2012

Sorry about the abrupt hiatus. I forgot how this battle was going to end, and it took a while for me to remember it.

New chapters galore!

Redemption

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