Lein continued wandering deeper through the jungle—the trees, bushes, and bugs were getting denser and more noticeable.
It was cold and damp. The trees provided shade from the sun and allowed winds to blow through at night, creating a cold climate.
Had his father, Velox, forgotten to pack thick clothes for him, he would've used leaves and vines to create layers of protection from the freezing air. But to Lein's relief, his father had packed everything he needed in the rucksack.
"It's cold... And this damn rucksack is still so heavy..!!" Lein couldn't maneuver through the jungle because of the cold wind, which would only make him more susceptible to hypothermia. So, he had to walk or jog—or else his muscles, which were recovering, would shiver.
The night had approached faster than he could anticipate. Mixed with the harsh winds, frigid environment, and cold climate, it's as if the winter solstice had passed a month ago.
A visible trail of smoke ran out of Lein's mouth. With each exhale, a mist formed—a silent echo ran through Lein's mind as he walked through.
"..." Lein is lost in thought—his brain on idle, he forgot to pitch a place to stay. Lein kept walking until dawn approached. His legs numb from the cold, he continued to march forward to seemingly nowhere at all.
The cold dissipated, warmth was seeping in like a plague. In a mere few hours, Lein went from almost getting hypothermia to now on the verge of hyperthermia. The food from the rucksack hasn't been halfway empty, but his water supply is running out.
"I need more water." Lein removed the excessive clothes and ran back to the river. However, as he tried to—his legs gave up all of a sudden.
"?!" Lein's legs stopped, limped on the ground. It refused to move.
His legs haven't had a single rest, the pain suddenly hits Lein like a truck—a deep and agonizing feeling coursed throughout his legs.
"Kgh..!!!!" Lein kept his mouth shut, trying not to scream.
He crawled and hunched over a nearby tree, finally getting a well-deserved rest after walking for almost a day.
His vision slowly faded away, his body relaxed for the first time. From the comfort of the leaves and the gentle zephyr caressing his skin, he fell asleep.
***
Back in the town, Velox met with Gerard at the tavern. A few miles away from the town, stood multiple knights clad in silver armor with gold ornaments attached to them. A flag protrudes, a single color and a single insignia. It was the Templar Knights Brigade.
Each single Templar Knight can eradicate a hundred soldiers. Having around three thousand Templar Knights to destroy a town is overkill. If they tried to resist, nothing would happen. The march of the Templar Knights meant instant death and thorough destruction.
Before marching forward, the General of the brigade surveyed the land. If one of the townsfolk even tried to escape, they would immediately move forward, destroying everything in their wake.
"It's over..." Nicolla covered himself with multiple chairs as he curled up like a ball. Knowing that their death was near, all they could do was cry and pray. There was nothing to resist the march of death.
"..." Velox stood silent, leaning on the wall while he thought of a solution. His wife, sitting beside, looked at him with terror in her eyes. She also doesn't want to die, she doesn't want her husband to die.
She clung onto Velox's clothes, pulling them while swaying her head. She wants to leave. She doesn't want to be a part of this.
However, Velox had another idea. He couldn't just leave the whole town to die and be wiped from history—No. He doesn't want them to get caught up in this.
After a while, he thought of something. Knowing what had happened to Xerxes, the man who was killed for blasphemy, there must be an underlying reason. An underlying reason for someone to send three thousand Templar Knights.
"Could it be..?!" Velox had reached an understanding. They weren't for the whole town; they were looking for him. Only him. The three thousand Templar Knights were only for him.
Velox sighed and sat down on the floor, hands clutching his head as his emotions went haywire. He laughed, hiding the fear in his eyes.
"Haha... Oh man." He mumbled to himself. Those Templar Knights won't go away if they wait. They want what they need to get.
After comforting himself, Velox stood up, his face filled with sorrow and angst, it looked like he already made up his mind on something far greater than what he had done.
Velox walked towards Gerard and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He leaned and whispered something absurd. One could hardly comprehend why a person would do such a thing in the face of death.
"You're... Going alone to face them? Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND????" Gerard looks in detest, anger, and concern for his friend.
"Do you have any idea about the fact that you're putting your life at risk??? YOU HAVE A FAMILY!!! A loving son and a doting wife!! How could you throw all of this away just for US????" Filled with emotion, Gerard slammed the table, shattering it in half.
Those words of self-sacrifice tore through Gerard's happy-go-lucky facade, it stemmed from his insecurities, his lack of effort to put into things that bring significant help. It hit right where it hurts.
It seemed like history had repeated itself. As time passed, Gerard's strength had diminished drastically. Once was a proud mercenary of his time is now a rundown, old tavern owner.
Gerard had longed for something significant—he wanted to be a hero. He was tired of the mundane life that he had, he wanted change.
The fierceness of his bygone days relish through his bloodstream, sense of imminent death was upon him—but he had always gotten used to that. Rather, it was a call from the past.
"You don't have to sacrifice your life. You've always protected us from the things that could've already wipe us all. I had that strength as well, but I lost the courage to do so." Gerard replied, his voice tangled with bravery and fear—yet determined to make something out of his final life.
"Velox, lead the people out of the town and hide among the population. I'll handle it from here." Gerard grabbed the old-dusty robe that he used to wear during his prime days.
With a single sweep, the robe was tied to his neck, his body morphed—his drum-like stomach disappeared like his cowardice.
Gerard grabbed an axe and shaved off his over-grown beard, swiftly chopping it off like dry firewood.
"It will be my last fight, but I'll make sure to enjoy swimming in the blood of my enemies before I drown."