For a moment, I considered intervening, but it was still early. Barely five enemies had died—one fell victim to my apprentice's claws, which opened him like a channel. Curiously, even though he was acting out of indignation—thus without consciousness—I had to admit he remembered the style I taught him. Strength must always be coordinated. His second blow was a graceful pirouette, but his tail struck brutally to the right of the neck of the one trying to attack from the side. When his landing left him crouched, he used his ascending force to pierce the chest—including the hardened leather armor—then took advantage of the exit force to extend his knife-hands and cut its neck. Thus, I found a warrior who learned from himself while we taught him. Five bodies were few compared to the enemy force, but it gave me a little hope to see him act. The bad thing was that I could see and hear the bowstrings of some archers.
Leaving him aside, I began to run. Even if their weapons would not hurt him at first, they could distract him. Add to that the use of poisons—I had to prevent them from reaching him. The first was easy—in a clearing a few meters from the village boundary, my sword hit him square in the skull. He knew I was coming for him but held out until the end, hoping to release the arrow before. But a small beam of energy that left my hand broke the string that served as a bowstring. My weapon was forged to cut by weight; it had no distinctive edge. But seeing that it was not capable of piercing the reptile's skull—yet his eyes began to weep blood, and one of his eyes at least observed the floor. I pulled the sword while jumping over him. The reason was the second archer, at least twenty meters away. I used my wrist to turn my weapon, now the soul gem. There, I concentrated my power, even though I knew they were thousands of converted souls—their lives would not be despised for prejudice. The light was faint, formed with my field contained there; I required all my strength if I was trying to reach him. My field projected, so blind and without magical defenses, I depended on my depth perception. The field advanced while sensing an environment of no more than ten centimeters in a cone, which narrowed as it reached its target. Fortunately, it did not fail me, and within my limits, I felt a rough head. In its ear—click. A small, perfectly hardened block of ice entered through its eardrum and shattered the gray matter. I did not regret it—they were the ones threatening our future.
I finished three more, but none were at the level of my sword. When I turned, I saw that some of his enemies were fleeing, but he went after them. I did not like that, but I had to see what was happening in the village; otherwise, I could not be of help.
The people were truly terrified, but something in their eyes showed resignation. None of them approached the bodies. At that moment, I saw why—from them, like a stupid joke, liquid oozed from their skin with an acrid aroma. Without more, the first eliminated had already disintegrated his armor, so with my sword, I made a path that ended with a hole in the southern part. With the sword, I carried the other bodies to where the first ones were. That calmed them quite a bit, and one of them finally approached.
The language was crude; some of his phrases noted that he was the clever one in the village. He explained that the village was part of a large community—thousands of small villages that lived from fishing and agriculture. After forming the Marsh Union, they left behind centuries of attacks and concentrated on living and expanding—until about two decades ago.
The first attacks occurred only two months after the black dragon's barrier fell. Mages and warriors went to face them. Powerful in magic, they eliminated several of their enemies, but their weapons deteriorated with every enemy they defeated. Not so with the enemies, who kept coming. Five years ago, most marched to victory—five thousand united soldiers, armed and determined to defend what was theirs: the lake and its tributaries, a source of protein and irrigation for multiple zones. But apparently, few returned. Most said they were attacked by well-armed forces, possessors of shields and enchantments that destroyed the most armed attackers. Then flying beings harassed them. But the real terror came when from the mist emerged rows and rows of these beings, all trapping enemies when they were not eating them. The mere vision broke the troops' morale. From this village, no one survived, but it was one of the most hidden, and thanks to that, they received news. As he told it, everyone looked at the ground; they knew the story would not end well.
The narrator took a couple of leaves he chewed before continuing. He told me that from there, everything was in decline—the beasts appeared to steal women and kill young people of reproductive age. All the scouts sent to get information disappeared; the military and soldiers lost. Since the venom they released upon death was so toxic, many villages might have died from contamination. That worried me. So in the well where the venom accumulated, I raised the temperature on the sides. The humor of the liquid as it boiled was terrible, but at least I closed off any leakage—at the cost of exhausting myself. Everyone watched me but did not look very impressed. They were gathering their belongings—a few rags and some rudimentary weapons. I asked why they were leaving. They said there was a large base a few kilometers away, and they were only attacked every six months. Anyway, the leader, who called himself Guerring, said they were about to try to flee. The remaining population was fifteen girls and five under ten. The women were quite old except for two or three adolescents, and the leader evidently had no combat capabilities. If what he said was true, I needed to help my disciple. But I could not leave here just like that—not while they were unprotected. They could not leave here; a couple of them had magical potential—not much, but it could be part of a solution. However, I required time—more than I had. Fury, impotence intoxicated me. I should not have let him go alone! He was not ready yet! Blind and furious, I detected the pile of bodies by their putrid smell. My sword fell upon them, but the crack was not normal—there was no sound of flesh or skin. I activated the magic in my eyes again and saw them—only bones remained. Definitely, they did not want the beasts capable of killing them to consume their flesh... yet those bones... yes, something I read could work. But I had to explain to these humans that their salvation, and perhaps my disciple's, was in that which I hated the most—with all my being—the dead. And the worst part is that I felt my strength falling. He had already engaged in combat!