RFC-Mini Arc: The Temple-Part 13 (Patreon)

I contain my reaction to slightly tightening my grip.

“They’ll believe me,” I hear him mutter. “They have to. I didn’t kill those people! Didn’t do anything wrong.” He’s trying to convince himself and doing a terrible job of it.

“That’s right. You didn’t do anything wrong. They’ll listen to you.”

“Yeah…yeah.”

His attempt to pull away is a thwarted as he can’t break my grip. He stumbles over his feet and falls backward. It’s too difficult to hold his entire weight with one hand. I could support him but the white shirt slips through my fingers.

The moment I see his eyes glow with the light of channeled mana, I’m already casting. Reflexively, it’s a fire spell but the moment flames curl around his arm, I switch over to Wind Buffer.

Defending against fire with fire is never a good idea. The enemy’s spell isn’t disrupted. At best, the two spells pass through each other. At worse, they cancel each other out. With an explosion that tends to kill both casters.

He throws a cone of fire at me with a yell. I’m the one with a deadly spell aimed at me but he sounds like he’s about to piss himself.

My spell activates on time, a barrier of wind stopping the fire an inch away from my skin. Close enough that I wince from the heat but also close enough he has no idea what’s going on.

By time the fire dissipates, he’s on his feet, watching me with wide eyes. “How?”

“Should have come quietly.”

I charge at him. With another fearful squeak, a curtain of flames surrounds him. It burns my hand as my fist goes through it. I feel bone snap from the blow, my curse drowned out by his howl of pain as I yank my hand back. “Damn!” With my insane constitution, it’ll be healed in a matter of minutes as opposed to days but in the meantime, it stings.

Credit where credit is deserved, my lackluster opponent manages to keep up his spell despite kneeling on the ground and letting out a strain of pathetic whimpers, a hand hovering over his chest. “Hush.”

Taking a deep breath, I ready another spell Geneva hammered into me. Healing is incredibly complicated, as one has to understand their subject’s physique totally. Then special consideration has to be given to the individual, as no body is the same. Without a convenient pure affinity to just will the body to fix itself, like a certain magically privileged elf, I’ve got a long way to go before I master the physical affinity.

I can, at least, manage what Geneva deems the basic of the basic. A diagnostic spell to determine the state of a creature. Essential for determining the biology of unknown species and for any kind of healing, as it tells the caster what’s broken.

She actually taught me two. One uses the physical affinity. Far too complicated and requires too much preparation. Requires fully defining a creature and then comparing the scan after injury to the original. Complicated and time-consuming, but precise.

The second one, which I’m using, involves the mental affinity. The body heals itself. So, when it’s injured, it knows what’s wrong. I can simply snatch up the signals the brain is sending. Quick and easy. The bad side? Those signals are also called pain. I have to feel that.

I suck in a sharp breath as I release the spell. While my chest erupts in pain, the spell clearly translates the information. A fractured collarbone. Painful as hell, but not fatal.

Since I’m not actually injured, the pain fades quickly. “Cancel the spell,” I growl.

He ignores me, turning his head. Come on. If they didn’t protect you before, what makes you think they can do so now? “Put them out or I kill you here and save myself some trouble!”

My frustration must reach him as his eyes lose their glow and the flames slowly die out. I reach down, ignoring a series of groans as I put him on my shoulder and start down the road. “Shut up,” I grumble as he starts crying. “You wouldn’t be hurt if you hadn’t attacked me.” My arm still hurts but you don’t see me crying about it.

“You can’t do this,” my captive whines. “They’ll…they’ll kill me.”

“Please. More likely you’ll be put to labor at Graywatch. They need all the bodies they can get for the coast.”

“That’s a death sentence!”

“Should have thought of that before you went sprinkling suspicious stuff. Are you an idiot? You knew something was wrong. Why else would you run away?” Really. There exists people who can read thoughts and do nothing but seek the truth. If he really was tricked, they’d find out. No one’s going to take pity on someone who runs though.

The sound of hooves draws my attention down the road. I briefly change my eyes and spot a wagon. Strange, but convenient. My captive is a crying, squirming mess. I don’t relish carrying him all the way back to the ranch.

Once the wagon is close enough for captive to take notice of, I change my eyes back, reducing it to nothing but a slowly advancing shadow. I move to the side of the road, waiting to shout for the driver.

Surprise, surprise, it slows down as it nears me. A lantern hangs over the driver’s bench, illuminating a familiar face. “Eric?”

His eyes widen as he spots me. “Lou!” He brings the horse to a stop. “You were supposed to be gone already.” He looks at my captive, eyes wide. “What…”

“Ah.” I shuffle my captive as he looks at him. “This guy did something stupid. I was going to take him to someone in charge.” Probably should have walked back toward the Ring instead of the ranch. Then again, who knows what those people might to do him.

“He looks hurt.”

“He attacked—”

“Never mind that.” Eric hops off the driver bench. “Here, I’ll help you lay him down.”

I follow him behind the wagon. Ignoring his outstretched hands, I step up. Ignoring the whines of my attacker, I lay him down. “This is a big help—”

I turn sharply as I feel a tight grip on my ankle.