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***
Closing his eyes, Joseph concentrated his Ki into his fists, feeling the vital energy slowly pulse from his chest to his hands. A yellow aura began to surround them, but it was weak, just a thin, flickering layer that barely illuminated the darkness of the wagon.
'Slow response, almost no power,' he thought, frowning as he assessed the result. Forcing the chains with his fists, he tested the resistance of the cold metal.
Normally, even the most inexperienced Ki user would be able to shatter those chains effortlessly, but for Joseph, it was different. The orb he had created, though it had saved him and allowed him to manipulate Ki at such a young age, seemed to weaken his effectiveness.
'Theoretically, it makes sense—focusing Ki into a focal point gives me control but reduces raw strength,' he reflected, his arm muscles trembling as he pressed harder. 'In practice, it's a pain in the ass.'
For nearly fifteen seconds, he strained against the chains, sweat dripping from his forehead and his teeth grinding from the effort.
Finally, a dry snap broke the silence—CRACK!—and the chains on his wrists gave in, cracks spreading until the links shattered into jagged pieces, falling onto the wooden floor with a metallic clang.
The noise echoed inside the wagon, and the elf, who had been curled up asleep beside him, jolted awake. Her silver eyes widened in shock at the sight of the broken chains, and a small gasp escaped her lips.
In a swift motion, he reached out and covered her mouth, his fingers firm but gentle against her cool skin.
"Shh," he whispered, silently pleading for silence. The elf blinked, her initial panic shifting to a mix of surprise and admiration. She slowly pulled her head back, her small, trembling hands rising to grasp the rusty chains still binding her wrists.
Her gaze fixed on the shattered remnants of Joseph's chains, then returned to him, shining with almost tangible hope. "Siah kwe vadis?" she murmured, pointing to the broken links on the floor. Then, with a more urgent tone, she lifted her bound wrists toward him, shaking them slightly to make the metal clink.
"Siah raen! Shaleth siah!" Her voice was low but heavy with desperation, her large eyes pleading for him to free her as well.
Joseph hesitated for a moment, understanding her request even without grasping the words. He shook his head gently, raising a finger to his lips again to request silence. Then, he pointed to himself, then to the wagon's rear opening, making a circular motion with his hand to indicate he would leave and return.
But the elf didn't react as he expected. Her eyes widened, and a muffled sob escaped her as she shook her head frantically, her pointed ears trembling with despair. "Naeth! Naeth siah!" she whispered, her voice choked as she reached out and clutched his shirt with trembling fingers.
Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she crawled closer, her knees scraping against the rough wooden floor. The fear on her face was heart-wrenching—a pure terror that he might abandon her there, alone with their cruel captors.
Joseph felt a tightness in his chest at the sight of her distress. He placed a hand on her head, ruffling her silver hair in a comforting gesture, and whispered a "I'll be back" that she wouldn't understand, but that he hoped would convey his promise.
The elf sniffled, her eyes still wet and afraid, but she nodded slowly, her hands reluctantly releasing his shirt.
She curled up against the wagon wall, hugging her knees, her small body trembling as she watched him with a fragile mix of trust and overwhelming fear.
With one last glance at the girl, he crouched and moved toward the wagon's edge.
He peeked through the rear opening, the fresh night air filling his lungs. Three of the four were around the campfire, two sleeping and the other drinking. The fourth must have been patrolling the perimeter.
'Good enough.' Slipping out silently, Joseph vanished into the night.
***
A man of average height with black hair moved slowly around the camp's perimeter, idly twirling a spear in his hand. Boredom weighed on him, and his thoughts were more on the drink he had left by the fire than on any possible threats.
The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves above him. He frowned and looked up—but it was too late.
A shadow dropped from above, and before he could even open his mouth to scream, a hand glowing yellow slammed through his mouth from one side to the other, bones giving way with a muffled crunch and teeth shattering under the overwhelming force.
The man's eyes widened for an instant before his body collapsed backward.
Standing over the corpse, Joseph pulled his hand back, and a wet sound filled the air.
'Next.'
***
By the campfire, the only man still awake was struggling against sleep, his head nodding slowly when—
THUNK!
A knife flew through the air and embedded itself right in the middle of his forehead. His body toppled backward, lifeless, as a low gurgle escaped his throat.
The sound of his fall yanked the other two men from their light slumbers. They screamed in unison, eyes wide as they saw their comrade dead, blood trickling in dark lines down his face. Their confusion left them vulnerable for an instant, and Joseph did not waste the opportunity.
With a swift motion, he lunged from the shadows, gripping the spear of the first man he had killed.
SHINK!
The metal tip sliced through the air and buried itself into the third man's neck.
The last man reacted faster than Joseph expected. He jumped to his feet, eyes blazing with fury. "Kroth vadis!" he snarled, pointing a crooked staff at Joseph. "Vethar ignis shal!"
Joseph barely had time to process what was happening before a fireball erupted from the staff, roaring through the air too fast for him to dodge.
His eyes widened, his irises reflecting the incoming flames in slow motion. Pure instinct took over—he grabbed the still-warm corpse of the man he had just slain, pulling it up with the spear still lodged in its neck, using it as an improvised shield.
The fire consumed the body in front of him.
Joseph felt the intense heat searing through the dead flesh, the edges of his vision burning as flames roared around him, the impact pushing him back. He gritted his teeth, holding firm, the Ki in his chest pulsing erratically as he fought against the sheer force of the attack. The body in his grasp began to disintegrate, charred pieces crumbling away, but it still shielded him from the worst.
Beyond the flames, the man with the staff was already preparing another strike. Joseph knew he had only seconds to act—or he would be the next one to burn.
As soon as the fire ceased, Joseph discarded the smoldering corpse with a shove, wrenched the spear free, and clenched his fists, channeling the last remnants of his Ki into his legs.
Bending his knees, he launched himself forward, the earth beneath his feet giving slightly under the force of his movement. At that very moment, the man shouted, "Vethar ignis shal!"
Another fireball formed at the tip of the staff and hurtled toward the dark-haired boy.
Joseph did not slow down—if anything, he moved faster, his muscles burning as he sprinted straight toward the attack.
The fireball's heat was already licking at his face, its orange glow swelling dangerously close.
At the last second, he spun the spear in a fluid motion, driving it into the ground ahead of him. Using the momentum of his run and the leverage of the spear, he propelled himself upward, his body arching through the air as the fireball roared past just beneath him.
At the peak of his jump, still suspended in midair, Joseph adjusted the spear in his hands, his eyes locking onto the mage. With a hoarse cry of effort, he hurled it with all the strength he could muster, the weapon slicing through the air in a deadly, straight line toward his enemy's chest.
The man, however, reacted with surprising speed. His eyes narrowed, and he spun his staff once more, shouting a new incantation: "kwe shal!" A sudden, violent gust of wind erupted from the staff's tip, a whirlwind of force that knocked the spear off course at the last moment.
The weapon zipped past his shoulder by mere inches, embedding itself into the ground behind him with a solid thunk, the shaft quivering from the impact.
Joseph landed awkwardly, his body protesting as he rolled across the dirt, the rough ground scraping against his skin. Seizing the moment, the mage leveled his staff at him once more, the air around him crackling with the promise of another spell.
'I'm completely drained!' Joseph thought, struggling to stand as his knees trembled under the weight of his exhausted body. 'If I push any further, the orb might brea—'
Suddenly, a rock flew out of the shadows and struck the mage's forehead. It didn't cause any real damage, but it was enough to break his concentration, causing the fireball forming at the tip of his staff to fizzle out into a puff of smoke.
Joseph and the mage turned at the same time, their eyes scanning for the source of the attack.
There, just a few meters away, stood the elf girl, her small body trembling near the edge of the cart.
Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, her silver eyes shining with a mix of fear and determination. Her tiny, shackled hands clutched two more stones, her fragile fingers gripping them tightly despite the sobs shaking her shoulders. She sniffled loudly, her tear-streaked face glistening in the firelight, but still, she raised one of the stones, ready to throw it again.
Joseph felt a tightness in his chest at the sight of her, guilt and gratitude clashing inside him. She had left the cart, faced her fear—all to help him.
The mage, on the other hand, let out a frustrated growl and pointed his staff in her direction.
Joseph didn't hesitate any longer and raised his hand toward the man. 'Dying to win and risking death to win are two completely different things, aren't they?'
"Spirit Cannon!"