Wilbur stood looming the unconscious form of his boy, battered and broken. He lay wrapped in thick linen bandages around his head, stretching all the way down to his chin, to where his jaw had been shattered. Wilbur still remembered when he arrived in Aster's arms, still seemingly dead, his air and tunic matted in thick crystalizing blood. The village doctor had done all she could, but none knew if the boy would ever wake, and if he did, he would be a simpleton.
"My boyyy... my boooy." Wilbur gave a pained mournful cry, falling to his knees. He held Xylos's limp body in his arms, holding him so tightly, as if scared he might vanish.
Around him, villagers looked on, offering prayers to the goddess Soliana by burning incense and offering fruits, grains, flowers and more. They sang for the speedy recovery of Xylos.
"Wilbur..." a soft voice came, and when Wilbur heard it, his head snapped to the ragged man and his wife.
"You did this!" Said Wilbur sharply. "You brought that wretched girl into our village! She is cursed! we told you! But you kept her!"
Jerold seemed to recoil, held up only by his wife and little girl, barely five.
"Stop that Wil..." said old Jack, coughing up bile into his handkerchief, it was black. "Stringing Jerold into this won't do any good. Verna..."
"She's dead! You hear me? Dead!" and he was off, striding through the crowd. He picked up his sword from outside the doctor's hut and pointed to Aster. "You! boy, take me to the girl!"
"No!" Old Jack said, hurrying to his grandson. "Aster don't." He turned to his daughter, holding him up, and pointed. "Stop him, He can't-" wrenching a cough into her handkerchief. Silvia held her father and turned to her son, but he was gone, she turned pale. "Get... him... go."
Veythar had been frowning, carefully studying Eosira's posture. "You need to keep your form relaxed and loose. Loose posture helps mitigate force and smoothly transition attacks." He said as he adjusted her legs and the positioning of her arms. "That means your face too, stop making that silly expressions."
Eosira glared at him, "I'm not making a silly face, you just keep changing my posture. One minute it's perfect and the next, it's trash. Make up your mind."
To that, Veythar couldn't refute. Every time she held a stance, he would improve it trying to make it more perfect. If such a thing excited, Veythar wanted to make it happen.
"Well is it better or what?" He asked.
"Better bu-"
"Then stop talking back and just do it." He snapped, fixing her posture for the hundredth time, he nodded before changing her posture again. Eosira wanted to cry, "...I think you have a head problem big brother."
"Whatever..." He ignored her pleading eyes. "Stop whining and perform the sword dance.
Annoyed, Eosira glared at him before her sword became like a whirlwind, slicing through the wind like an ephemeral wave. Her sword hissed, stirring up the winds.
It wasn't bad, he smiled, nodding at his handy work. Eosira nearly looked like a swordmaster with the way she handled the blade.
But it wasn't perfect, not nearly enough.
"Don't even think about stopping me dummy!" Eosira shouted, recognizing that stupid look on his face. She pointed her sword at him, "...how about we have a spar?"
Veythar lifted an amused brow, " In that case you better cast-" he paused, sensing a blood-red string of intent directed at their location coming from the direction of the village, and a cruel smile adorned his lips when came a raged cry.
"EOSIRA!?"
'Kinda nice it's not my name being shouted for onve' Veythar thought glancing at the young girl, tilting her head in confusion. " cast [Impede] on it. " He said, pointing at her wooden sword. "Also, remember it only lasts one minute after it's been cast."
He came from the woods, led by a tall dark-skinned boy. "There she is!" Shouted Aster.
Wilbur practically charged at the girl, raging like a whipped bull. And in seconds, he was upon her, tightly holding his axe. By the time he swung at her, the runic symbol for [Impede] materialized on the flat of her wooden sword. Cold hard steel met wood and Eosira was pushed back, not having enough time to cast and put up defence.
A look of shock flickered through Wilbur's expression, before it faded, replaced by a blinding rage. He raised his axe, cleaving it down. Eosira sidestepped, letting the cold metal pass so close that she could smell it's metallic tang. Her sword hissed, piercing a vicious sword thrust at his abdomen, lifting hom off his feet sending him several steps back with her inhumane strength.
Wilbur puked his lunch, he could never have imagined that such a little girl struck like a man. He groaned as he looked up, only to be met with the silhouette of a sword as it cracked him in the skull, popping his eye out it's socket and robbing him of his conscious mind. His body skipped through the terrain like a stone on water, crumpling at the edge of the courtyard.
"Big brother is harder to fight." Triumphantly exclaimed the little girl. "Eosira is awesome!!!" She gave a lion-like raw, before turning to Veythar. "Eosira did good didn't she?"
"Finish him!!!" Veythar shouted, feeling his inner otaku take over.
"Huh? why are you talking like that?"
A little embarrassed, he faked a cough. "Something was stuck in there. Anyway give him a death tap. Just like I taught you."
The young girl replied with a-'kay'- before hurrying over to the still man. She said, "When an opponent is awake, it's called a blow of mercy, but when they are unconscious, it's called a death tap. Big brother is indeed smart!" She stood over the man. "Bye, bye stranger man!"
"Wait! Pleas!" Came a long cry from the forest. Eosira recognized the voice, and her face became one of horror. Jerold came, hurrying through the bushes clutching his little girl's hand. "Nasty little thing!" He cursed, covering Lina's face to the horror ahead.
"Fathe-"
"I am not your father!" He snapped green looking at Wilbur's state, his eye hanging out it's socket, only held together by a thin film of tissue. He turned and puked, unable to stomach the sight. "Gods. I knew you were a demon!" He cried, clutching his child for dear life as he staggered back. "You're no child. You're a demon!"
Eosira bit her lip.
Other villagers arrived then, and most had a similar reaction to Jerold. Only the spearmen did not show looks of disgust as they approached, spears in hand.
Eosira kept her face down falling back to Veythar. He could see her tears streaming down her cheeks, hidden behind the curtain of hair. But did not speak of it, it was not his responsibility to comfort her, he thought.
"He's not dead, just the ruined eye and a cracked skull," One of the spearmen said.
"See? Look at what you've done!" Shouted Jerold, "This is why I left you here! You are cursed! And monsters should live with their own!"
Veythar fell back onto his chair. "You can kill them all if you want." He said indifferently to Eosira. "with [Impede], it would be easy. Well... there are a few Arcane worriors to worry about but they're not that big of a deal."
It was the spearmen who heard his words. They readied their spears, unable to believe sich words could come from a child. But the brutal display of Wilbur's bloodied form reminded them of the brutality some their age were capable of.
"What good is power if it can't be abused." Said Veythar coldly.
Cold sweat trickled down everyone's faces, following the understanding of his words. They felt an icy cold grip their forms. Like an invisible pressure crushing their hearts.
"No... thanks, Big brother." Eosira whispered, before entering the cottage. Turning in for the evening.
He whistled, "Well, aren't you lucky, if it were me, I'd be feeding your remains to the wolves." He scanned them lazyly. "Now leave my property. I've no mood to entertain."
A few men grumbled, spewing curses under their breaths though not openly when a familiar voice sounded.
"You're quite adept in the art of spirit control, using it to pressure those around you." Said professor Lupin, emerging from the forest where he'd been watching. "It's a skill from the branch of Enchantment (soul) right?"
"Oh, it's you." Veythar said uninterestedly. "I see you've decided not to be rude today."
Lupin had a sudden dislike for the boy. He was arrogant, like he was supperior. Like those from Ancient-noble families.
"I don't suppose you're willing to answer my questions?"
"Not particularly."
"A man lost his life." Lupin exclaimed, feeling frustrated. "How could you act so-"
"Apathetic?" Veythar smirked, ". It's because I don't give a damn. Now if you're not going to attack me, may you fuck right off."