Chapter 4: The Path Ahead

Instead of an answer, the old man infront of him spat on the ground near him almost hitting his boot. Sylvan was unaware of the fact that the old man was deaf so he raised an eyebrow that meant "Really?". He tilted his head in an annoyed manner and was about to turn around and ask someone else when he heard the shouting come from the village entrance, they seemed to ride large chickens that were the counter-part of horses in this world, He remembered one merchant talking about it by passing. A "Chocobo" was it?

His eyes narrowed as the rugged hunters went past him one by one, he studied their armor, dirty and worn but still enough to protect them, some carried bows, others swords. While they had some complicated contraptions on their saddles that most probably used for hunting, their chosen beasts of burden the chocobos were misshapen--full of scars, injuries and their eyes seemed to scream for help. Sylvan could feel his grip tighten around the hilt of his sword, to him the Chocobos were nothing but an oversized chicken, but their appearance reminded him of the slavery he was exposed to, an experience he can never reconcile with. But that experience had nothing to do with these hunters so Sylvan closed his eyes and exhaled silently, before opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on the gathering hunters. His left foot turned towards the direction they were in before the raven haired man walked towards them, his footsteps silent, and his worn cloak covering most of his armor, he had a mind to pull up his hood but then he decided against it as it might only draw more attention to him.

He heard the report loud and clear as day with how the hunter reported it there was no need to actually eavesdrop, one would hear it even if they didn't want to.

Something big and black?, struck a tree with one blow? A grizzly bear? He thought silently to himself as he awaited for further information regarding this...thing.

If it was strong he needed to fight it, that was how he grew stronger alone these past few weeks, he slew whatever strong creature he heard about, no matter how dangerous. Not to mention the few bandits here and there, he may have left a trail of bodies in his wake, but he made sure that it cannot be traced to him, even if he didn't though, the weather would do its job and bury the bodies with snow fall.

Sylvan merely watched and listened as the mini town event went on as what seemed to be the village chief continued speaking more and more people went to the center of the village like sheep being herded by the shepherd into the pen. Their lord Clayden then turned around to present four people or rather sellswords to the people, all wore strong armors and even had trinkets from other ferocious monsters he himself had encountered, some he had slain others he had to steer clear of, as the masses grew, blending in was no issue as the townspeople's gaze were fixated upon the four as if they were the answer to the prayers that they have long sought.

But Sylvan was skeptic, it felt too good to be true, or maybe it was just him being too paranoid all these times he kept to himself and survived alone. The announcement soon was over and one by one the people left, chattering hearing terms of hope and the like. The hunters on the other hand were hurriedly resupplying, no doubt hopeful to take down this large beast. Sylvan scoffed then turned his gaze elsewhere, where he found an old woman seemingly looking at him. The young man narrowed his eyes to see if he was mistaking it, after all there were lots of people around him, He took a step back and then turned to his side trying to see if there was someone behind him who was looking back at the old woman, but alas there was none. He returned his attention towards the old woman and still found her looking at him.

Not just looking at him, but looking at him. Sylvan took a deep and silent breath and then walked towards the old woman, stopping short of a few paces from her--his hand had already pulled out his sword partially, he did not like the way she was looking. It felt like he was being read.

"May I ask how I can help you?" He asked, if she was an enemy he would cut her then and there swiftly.

Sylvan kept his gaze on the woman, examined her and her possible actions, what other things could lie beneath her old visage and yet there was nothing, no matter how he scrutinised, she was a plain old woman, and then her mouth opened to speak yet her words were not slurred nor slow, it was clear and her message mystified him.

"Wait what do you mean-" he tried to ask her, but he felt a hand touch his shoulder and tug at it, Sylvan narrowed his eyes and then turned sideways towards the direction of the tug.

He found a man with long brown beard probably in his late 30's or early 40's ask him if he knew how to fight. He found it ironic that awhile ago they feared him and now they were asking him to fight with them. He pulled out his sword slightly from the cover that his cloak provided and showed it to the man as confirmation.

"Yes, I can" He answered curtly, before turning his head back again to face the old woman that was right infront of him...earlier.

Sylvan's eyes widened in disbelief for a moment. She was staring at him for a long time and even spoke to him, or cryptically warned him if that counted for a conversation. Did the old woman just go to the different house while he was distracted? It couldn't be, she was old and slow. It was supposed to be that way. Sylvan felt chills, oddly enough one of the fears that got carried with him in this world was his fear of ghosts.

Could it be?

Sylvan grit his teeth as he forced himself to calm down, it could've been just his imagination due to him being tired, was he going crazy? He shook his head slowly before putting his right hand over his face. And then he continued speaking again this time addressing the man behind him.

Calm down...Calm down.

"So when do we leave?"

The older man had instructed the younger sylvan to get his things, scoffing he shrugged off the man's remarks as he had nothing else with him other than the necessities that he was already wearing. He always traveled light because he felt that someone was going to come for him sooner or later. The wind blew once again and this time it made him feel chills. That wasn't an hallucination, he saw the old woman stare at him, he was able to converse with her and now she was gone with only a cryptic warning left behind for him, and it scared him so.

Weeks perhaps months in this world. He had no fear of the unknown as his survival skills kept him alive and yet now for the first time in this world, he was afraid of that unknown. Turn back from what? The way he's going? the expedition? But she told him to turn back even before he was asked, so turn back from what? Sylvan clenched his fists tightly in frustration. One thing he doesn't like are surprises that he cannot do something about. What did she know? What did he need to turn back from?

Turning around he walked towards where the hunting party would be, or in this case extermination party. Before riding one of the chocobos he gave one last look towards where the old woman was, but she still didn't appear. He took the hand of the hunter as was helped up towards the back of the saddle, unluckily for him he lost the chance to ride a chocobo and had to share, even if he did have one, it's not like he knew how to ride one so it wasn't that of a big loss or is it?

The hunter he was with had a distinct stench and it made his nose and eyes sting. Sylvan silently inched backwards trying to get more space between him and the hunter and then he pulled up his cloak and then using his hood to cover the fact that part of his cloak was masking his nose. Hopefully they'd arrive soon.

The stench of the hunter was almost gut-wrenching to bear even with his cloak covering his nose, the chocobo having its own distinct smell didn't help either. He had kept his mouth shout and slowly exhaled through his nose, careful not to accidentally whiff up the disgusting smell. Sylvan focused on the road to try and atleast mitigate the damage to his nose by using his mind to focus over the matter. It was then he saw a wide river before them that they needed to cross, he hated large bodies of water, the mere fact that their chocobos needed to swim the river was a testament of how deep it was. Was he scared? Yes a bit, but he was riding a giant chocobo steed so his fears were lessened and more pressing matters were at hand after all. Such as the smell of his riding mate that was seemingly being transferred to his cloak, it was merely a cloak sure and dirtied by his long journey. But he would need it not to put out a painful stench if he were to keep it for the next few days, so sylvan took the chance to dip his hand in the river along with a torn cloth he had manage to pull out of the saddle bag from the chocobo he was in and then proceeded to wipe it all over his cloak and his clothes to try and remove the smell. It made him feel the cold much more, but it didn't bother him anyway.

And soon enough arrive they did, and when they were asked to alight, the raven haired youth was none but pleased to quickly get away from his riding partner who probably needed a bath for days now. The trackers went ahead with the legendary four following suit, eager hunters and warriors from outside followed closely for a chance of money. But Sylvan was smart, even though he was near the back part of the pack. He kept the scouts in his vision. If there was a trap or stampede, he would be safe because unlike everyone else, he wasn't lumped together with them. Free to move and strategize depending on the situation he was and the thought of it made him feel secure.

From time to time his gaze would wander, examining everyone that was with him and then noting in his head how he could defend against them and if need be, kill them. He had this weird thought and feeling that perhaps after this, they would kill each other for the money. Mercenaries loved money above all else after all, and this little party he was in? It's full of mercenaries--including him. It was a thought that isn't far too unlikely in this world, considering how the nyanquins decided to kill and sell them like they were pigs.

However he found the Ox with the giant axe most dangerous to note, unaware that one woman with them was from Haremfield. Which he had a bad experience with back in the arena.

The beast tracking was mostly silent throughout, the hunting party's footsteps were a mix of silent and noisy ones that made sloshing sounds as their feet trudged into the snowy forest. It alone was a sign of who were experienced like him and those who joined merely for the coin despite the lack of skill thereof. However soon murmurs would break out between the scouts and the forward party. Something must've been amiss or they miscalculated something. Sylvan's eyes narrowed as he tried to understand what was going on on the front, he did not want to risk his position most especially now that things seem to be turning for the worse so he did not rush over like some other people did.

The silence in the area was foreboding like it was telling them that if they die here, no one would know, no one would hear and no one would help. And as if to add to that grim message snow then started to fall slowly around them. Sylvan clenched his teeth and put a hand over the hilt of his sword, He started to move even more cautiously now, He stepped even farther away from the main group, walking in the cover of the trees, unlike his exposed allies. His movements were swift but not frantic it almost even seemed like he was just casually walking, only of a faster pace, it wasn't long until he had reached the tree that everyone was looking at as one by one they passed through it and examined it. When his turn came sylvan knelt down and carefully examined the stump, eyes narrowing as he finally understood what the commotion earlier was about.

The tree was cut in two alright, but not by any kind of beast. It was such a clean cut that only a beast with precision and had a blade for a part of its appendage would be able to do it. There was no mistaking it, this was a work of a man or at least a humanoid species. Were they all armed to the teeth only to kill a person? Were they committing murder? But wasn't the beast described as large and black? Questions flooded Sylvan's head as he examined the proof that was left to them and the more he didn't like it, it felt like to him he was once again an unwilling puppet chosen to do someone else's bidding.

"Just like Meera and her godsdamned stable." he cursed beneath his cold breath.

But the thing was, He did agree to be here, he had a choice, he was merely asked by the hunter. He made it for himself, no one else forced him to do so. Sylvan stood up, his cloak straightening out immediately as he stood. Sylvan once again moved to the covers of the trees and proceeded to follow the party, while most of the hunting party was in the open clearing or road. Silently following the hunters, he soon caught a glimpse of a cave that the forward party soon aimed to surround with traps and then he heard a booming voice.

The raven haired youth's dark brown eyes widened as he realized everything that fell into place. The warning that emanated from the cave reminded him of the old woman's warning to him along with what he saw from the tree stump earlier. Are they even supposed to be here? Will he die here? He actually had a mind to warn the others but while he was deeply invested in his thoughts, sylvan noticed too late that he was now part of the perimeter made up of people that surrounded that cave, the mercenaries and hunters spreading out. He can't back out now.

The hunter on his right lit up a torch, perhaps they intended to charge inside the cave? Sylvan found it stupid, but right in this critical moment. It was do or die, Sylvan fixed his cloak and prepared himself mentally and physically.


And then he quickly and forcefully pulled the torch from the hunter beside him.

"Give me that!"He remarked quickly the same time he took it.

Aiming and then raising his hand high, he threw the torch towards the mouth of the cave. They don't know what they're up against and they can't let the creature or whatever it was inside the cave to get the jump on them, with what he did they would be able to see what it was and then act fast enough to survive.

His aim was good and his throw better, the torch landed just exactly where he wanted it to be, in front of the creature which was surprisingly positioned at the mouth of the cave, the proximity was too close or as the military in his world says Danger Close. There stood the creature, all in his overwhelming presence and large stature that when the torch fell to the ground--Sylvan had to raise his head up just to get a full view of it. The creature was different from all the beasts he had fought before for even when he had nearly died in his aimless journey countless of times, he felt no fear. However that was not the case this time, the youth remembered something he had almost forgotten ever since getting in this unknown land.

Fear

The creature had struck fear in him when others failed to do so, a binding fear that made him feel rooted in the ground where he stood and forget to breathe. While he was incapacitated, the people he was with panicked and attacked almost as reaction--without thought or aim to no avail. Who could blame them? After all it wasn't until he was backhanded and sent flying a few feet by the large creature and then feeling the sharp pain of it that he actually remembered to breathe. Pain had reminded him that he was alive. Gasping for air, sylvan felt every nerve in his body like it was burning and it pained him so, but he knew that he couldn't just lie down defeated, no--he must see this through. Struggling to stand up he noticed the nearby bag of weapons that he landed near on, he had decided to keep it just in case he needed it for the future. He finally was able to stand though barely and started pulling his sword out from its sheath which felt like a painful ordeal for him and while doing so once again made him fall down and throw out blood from the effort as he tried to cover his mouth with his other free hand. He was hit harder more than he imagined.

Just what in the world was he against? The old woman may have warned him, but it was too late. He was already here and he had to face it. Eyes narrowing to focus, he had realized there was a pause in the little skirmish that just started earlier and that the large creature was indeed a person wearing such ludicrous armor that made him more intimidating so.

What was happening? Was there a cease fire? Sylvan opened his mouth to speak, to ask it, but he could not, he felt no strength even though he finally knew that it was a man, the large knight still badly intimidated him, coupled with the blow he just received earlier, he literally was running on fumes just by standing, it was taking him all his will power and strength to stand up and stay awake throughout this.

The foul stench of the dead surrounded him, the smell of the trees and snow mixed with the stench of blood, piss and excrement only served to aggravate his nose and his stomach that seemed to have lost all the content it could throw out, making it feel like his innards were being twisted and dried. He heard the dying screams of the hunters as their numbers dwindled from near hundred to merely the count of fingers in one hand. Sylvan trudged towards the direction of where metal rung and echoed in the air. The brisk winds only helped fill his dread as he tried to avert his gaze from the dead strung about in a messy fashion.

It took him almost all of his will power to not throw up further as he trudged in the blood soaked snow mixed with whatever human appendages there were, he did not want to know and care about, whenever he knew he stepped on a limb or innard or tripped on them. He would force himself to think it merely a root or ill-placed broken branches--even though at times they give out cringe worthy crunching sounds. Questions remained in his head, replaying itself as he saw the dead bodies and heard the battle go on. They were here for a beast, but found a man, a knight? He was taller than any human was he even human? They didn't know for his hood covered his face and armor had seemed to double his already imposing visage. Why are they so desperate to bring this man down even though the hunters who hired them were already dead?

Well hired most of them, Sylvan joined the party but had no care for the reward, he was drawn to it as he wanted to get stronger, he wanted to test himself against a beast. The enemy they are against surely can be mistaken to be more beast than man. But he is still not a beast, not in the premise that they were hired for after all, and yet what remained fought? Did they perhaps possess reason far beyond the hunter's request of them? Sylvan wanted to find out, and during the lull of battle. Sylvan had picked up a throwing axe that was left on the ground and threw it cleanly as distraction between his group and the beast.

He wasn't able to speak earlier due to fear and he had lost his chance, now lives are lost and still their motives unknown, Sylvan did not like it. It reminded him too much of his situation with Meera.

"What's going on?" He asked in the general direction of those who were fighting. "Is this truly the beast?"