Chapter 4: The Path Ahead

His testimony was checked and Lord Clayden has sent scouts to check the site of the bloody battlefield, he now looked convinced as a somber mood seemed to overcome him after hearing the news, that did not stop him from getting into Sylvan's face and insulting him. Emotions seemed to have ran higher now than before. The Beast, the deaths, the soldiers and now him. Sylvan simply took the insults with his head down, but his hands clenched. Original plan was to offer his help once, but now it seems like this is beyond he would take. A sadistic smile formed on his lips hidden from everyone as his head hung down. His emotions were spiralling out of control coupled with the constant pain from his broken bones, He thought about simply killing them for getting back the insult and see the old man pay for his mistake.

He grit his teeth holding back his murderous urge from anger and kept quiet. He let the old man finish his tirade, before Sylvan raised his head up and answered all his accusations.

"I never called myself hero! I simply stated the deed was done, I was there in battle and yes your men are irreplaceable! I did not know them but I don't need to, to know that I owe them gratitude!" Sylvan bellowed. "Again I'll tell you! you think I like returning alone like that?! I told you and I will tell you again! Returning alone doesn't sit well with me, it never will"

Sylvan paused and looked at the other people, they were tired and afraid but Sylvan would not lie to them, not anymore. If it was what Clayden wants, he would get. Before he knew it his hand was over the hilt of his sword, He wanted to challenge Clayden and prove him wrong, but that might only make things worse.

"You want the truth about me? Fine. I fight for freedom, the right to live as is. To defy those who would oppress. I was once a slave down south, forced to kill other people, races for sport, I came to the north to leave that behind me."

"But here instead I find war, and even more deaths. If you tell me to ride with your women and children, I will as part of the guard and not as an evacuee. For all that you have said I want to leave, but I remember I owe your hunters my life. I would protect what they wished to or I would die trying."

Sylvan gave the lord one last defiant look before going with the other soldiers and people he would need to protect towards the journey to the Frigid. He would have to mend his injuries soon to be able to fight at a hundred percent.

Defiance. That was the main spirit that carried him all this time, even when he was still in his own world. He defied his fate, fought against the norm. He always strived to be his own man regardless of how the world viewed him. From challenger to champion, he defied odds may it be regarding snowboarding or his family. He went against them all, if he was to go down, he would go down fighting not just rolling over for someone. It was deeply embedded in him, but now he worries and wonders would that work for the people as well as it had worked for him?

Right now this world had shown how much it hates him once again as if he had done it a great sin, giving him a taste of powerlessness. While during training in the pits and fighting in the arena, he was able to protect the companions he had. He knew he was strong and that he would grow stronger, but now that he has been in the open world he saw things--experienced things that made him doubt his survival skill and penchant for battle. And right now along with 200 man they are to do the impossible once again, save the people and escort them to the east to where the Frigid were. 200 guards for a thousand or so people, could they reach it? Would they be able to defend them when the time comes? What if another knight beast would rear its head? would they then die?

Turning around to walk away Sylvan ran a hand over his hair in frustration, pushing his mind to the limit of what could happen and what he could do when the dangers present themselves and then he felt it a touch almost like when a lover holds your hand. Taken aback Sylvan snapped around, hand around the handle of his blade.

No one.

Sylvan looked around, his gaze darting from building to building, from one person to another. No one was near him, nobody was touching his hand. But to him it felt so real that his hand could still remember the sensation. It definitely happened.

Ringing. where was it coming from? It went from subtle to slowly increasing in pitch. Sylvan's eyes narrowed as it grew louder and noticed that it was coming from his left ear. He put a hand over it to try and cover it to find out what was wrong, but it wouldn't stop. He looked around once again quickly this time and once he turned his gaze westside his eyes widened and he let out a silent gasp as he saw her again. Old, short and misshapen draped with rags that passed for clothes, and her eyes staring intently at him, waiting...judging. So the first time they met wasn't just an imagination, it was real, her warning was real but vague at the same time. Did her warning pertain to this journey? He did not know. A couple of people preparing for evacuation passed by, and just like that she disappeared again.

Sylvan felt a shiver down his spine and his hair stood up on end. Beasts, men, war and death he could stomach but spirits, ghosts and the paranormal? That was one thing he could not bear, for he cannot fight them nor can he run from them. This old woman being a prime example. Quickening his pace he went to where the old woman last stood, his face was contorted into an expression of agitation and fear. He could not find her just like the last time, his hands shook and Sylvan looked at them. He clenched his hands and then opened them slowly as he forcibly calmed himself down when he noticed something peculiar.

His hand and the locket was blood-stained, but now they were clean. He did not remember washing hands nor cleaning it. The fall from the mud couldn't be able to do it. But there it was, just like coming from a long deserved bath. His left hand and locket was clean. He was puzzled and confounded by the peculiarity of it all that he had to sit down on an old wooden box, near where the guards were stationed and the people were preparing. He pulled out the heavy stone sword as well, The weight remained the same as if he carried something else more than a sword. It gave him a hard time as it also aggravated his rib injuries, but when he was able to pull it out he examined it.

The blade was clean as well. Sylvan ran his hand through it, the stone sword was both rough and smooth. Like some sword carved out of marble made to be displayed as a statue. It was hard to believe that this blade claimed the lives of all the hunters and mercenaries he was with, and now it was just a decrepit useless weapon. He examined it with such great scrutiny, thinking that perhaps he missed something. That he forgot that it was rough and cut his left index finger on it.

Tsk.

Even in it's stone form it was still sharp. Perhaps it still did have use after all, he could use it as an off-hand weapon to deflect. Sylvan then held the sword and pointed it towards the ground, resting his hands on it as he watched the people prepare to evacuate. He might as well get all the rest he can.

While Sylvan was resting his hands on the hilt of the sword as it was stabbed towards the ground. He felt his vision double and blur, Sylvan leaned back and massaged the bridge of his nose, was it fatigue? or was it an after effect of Clayden's headbutt? If so, he didn't give enough credit the older man's strength. He shook his head slowly to shake off the dizziness.

His vision was okay now, however his body felt heavier and it felt like he hasn't rested for days if not weeks and he felt Ill as if he was hit with a heavy cold mixed with being poisoned. Then he felt a craving, just like when he is hungry for his favorite food. Like he hasn't eaten it for a long time, but the peculiar thing with this craving was the source was blood. He wanted blood.

He looked at the people around him as if they were animals to be slaughtered and he grit his teeth in disgust with himself, he couldn't understand what was happening was it fatigue and his injuries catching up with him? Sylvan decided to go out of the city, perhaps killing fresh animals would help him. He picked up his sword and dragged it on the ground as he felt all weak and sluggish.

What the...what's happening...?

Sylvan didn't know how to deal with the surge of bloodlust he suddenly experienced. He wanted to maim, kill, tear. Like all his bottled up emotions and thoughts for years are suddenly resurfacing and are racing one another to get out of him. He craved blood, he needed it, he wanted it more so and he could not understand why. His pacing was slow and dragged and his gaze was blank. He could not think, only feel.

Hunger.

Then he saw as clear as a day a scene in a familiar place, A place he was in right now. Vhetlaug. He saw a girl to be violated by a man. He didn't know why he was able to see it, but it may mean he needs to do something about it. He's seen weirder after all, after all that appearing and disappearing of the old woman. This vision that would enable him to help people was a welcome change. He grit his teeth and stood up straight and then scanned the area.

He knew the place was near, but where? He started going through houses, looking at the inside via the windows, trying to see if the interiors match his visions. Hopefully he finds her quickly, for she may not have long left. There was enough death already, perhaps if he could at least save one. He could count it as a win.

His Quick-wits seemed to have been advantageous for him as he was able to quickly find the house the young lass was in. He banged on the door to atleast try and disorient or scare off the man from doing the deed. But he did not only go through it, he knocked the poor girl out and ripped her top off. Sylvan felt the urgency, can feel the blood pumping all throughout him. He was enraged.

He pulled out the stone sword and started banging on the firm wooden door hoping to open it right away.

A heightened sense or urgency, adrenaline and his previous thirst for blood had all but served as fuel for him to destroy the door. Sylvan looked at the obese man, to him he was no man, but a beast acting on his own desire. Stone sword drawn, Sylvan barred the doorway, his stance on the offensive even when the man drew out a spear to threaten him. He looked at the girl laying topless, sure he liked girls and what healthy male doesn't like seeing breasts? But in the opportune time. However, this was different, very different--the girl lay helpless and motionless. She gave no consent, this was rape.

Instead of  arousal, Sylvan felt his blood boil and his rage heighten. How this man could be aroused with the state of the lass was beyond him. But then again this was a world different from his own, it had its own advancements yet some of it was backwards. Perhaps Vhetlaug being so far from civilisation was what caused this. Sylvan took a step, pondering the consequences.

What if he was just an abusive husband but his wife loved him? Is she even a wife? Even if they were husband and wife, he had no right to do this to abuse his wife. Had he the right to intervene in the first place? And then Sylvan had a flash of his own life. He remembered his father and how his life was under him, because of him and because of his mother's inaction.

WEAPON
Stone Sword Lv: ?? (?)
MOVES	HP	STM	STR	DEX	MAG	DEF	M.DEF
0	0	0	1	0	0	0	0
Info	A mysterious sword filled with Dark Energy.

Reason left him and hate took over him. If they have a child, then the child will only turn out to be like him. Empty and perhaps view himself as a monster. Tears rolled out of Sylvan's eyes. As much as he promised to protect the people, he would not let another be like him, even if it is from another world.

"Prepare yourself" His warning was short, cold and deadly.

He took a step forward and raised the stone sword. He would dispatch of his man for justice. For the lives right now and the lives that may come after.

Sylvan's fury was pure and full, his first two attacks that missed due to his own miscalculation did nothing to deter him from handing out the intended justice for the unconscious lass. Sylvan kept screaming as he hit the man again and again even after he was down and dead, Blood would splatter on him and his cloak, but the sword would make sure to drink it and leave him clean. Making him appear innocent, but his heart knew it was him who did it. He had been forced to kill bandits during the time he was alone and travelling heading north. But this was different, it made him feel like a murderer and yet a part of him was happy to do it.

He looked at the girl and had another craving, or a feel of killing her. He raised the sword aiming upon her chest, but his hand shook as he fought back the almost irresistible urge to kill her. He murdered the man to save her, and he would not murder her as well. He fell to his knees, shocked at what he was about to do and closed his eyes in pain. What was he becoming?

Clenching his fist, Sylvan stood up and covered the lass with a blanket. before turning around heading towards the doorway and then closing the door behind him. He leaned on the door as he closed it, still weak and disoriented from what he had done. Then he heard the soldiers call out to him, they were to finally decide the guard formation of the civilians when they leave for first light tomorrow. Sylvan narrowed his eyes, he had to move forward and he had a duty to the people and then raised his hand as he walked towards the guards, confirming his participation in the defense.

Sylvan spared the girl.