Chapter 273: They Are Odd (4)

The forest grew denser as they ventured deeper into the Thornwood. The road had narrowed to little more than a dirt path, forcing them to ride single file with Arthur in the lead, Jacob behind him, and Nero bringing up the rear just ahead of Sergeant Aldric.

The canopy overhead thickened, filtering the sunlight into scattered beams that pierced through gaps in the leaves and created shifting patterns on the forest floor. The air had taken on a different quality here, heavier somehow, with an underlying scent that reminded Nero of rotting fruit mixed with something metallic.

They’d been riding for perhaps twenty minutes when Arthur raised his hand in a fist, signaling a halt.

Everyone stopped.

Nero’s hand moved instinctively to the spear strapped to his saddle as he scanned the surrounding trees. The forest had gone quiet. No bird calls, no rustling of small animals in the underbrush, just the soft creaking of leather and the occasional snort from one of the horses.

Arthur dismounted smoothly, his movements practiced and efficient. Jacob followed suit, slinging his waraxe from his back and checking the draw on his crossbow. Nero climbed down from his horse, keeping his movements quiet as he retrieved his spear.

“Tracks,” Arthur said quietly, gesturing to the ground ahead.

Nero looked where he pointed and saw deep gouges in the soft earth, four parallel lines that had torn through moss and exposed the dark soil beneath. The marks were fresh, still clean-edged without the degradation that came from rain or time.

Jacob crouched beside the tracks, running his fingers along the edge of one gouge. “Scavengers, most likely. Multiple sets, heading east.”

Arthur nodded, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “How many would you estimate?”

“Six, maybe eight based on the depth and spacing.” Jacob stood, wiping his hand on his trousers. “Fresh too. Within the last hour.”

Nero studied the tracks as well, noting the scattered pattern that suggested the creatures had been moving quickly, almost frantically. He’d seen similar tracks in Malady’s Garden, though those had belonged to different species of Abomination.

Arthur turned to Sergeant Aldric, who had dismounted but remained near the horses. “Sergeant?”

“Your hunt, your call,” Aldric replied, his expression unreadable.

Arthur considered this for a moment, then turned back to Jacob. “We follow the tracks. Scavengers are worth points, and they travel in predictable patterns. If we can find their feeding ground, we might be able to take down the entire pack at once.”

Jacob nodded his agreement.

They moved forward on foot, leaving the horses tied to a sturdy oak with Aldric standing watch nearby. The forest floor was carpeted with fallen leaves that muffled their footsteps, though Arthur and Jacob seemed to move with a practiced silence that suggested extensive training.

Nero kept pace behind them, his spear held loosely but ready. The tracks led them through increasingly dense undergrowth, past gnarled trees whose bark had taken on a dark, almost black coloration that spoke of corruption seeping through the wood.

The scent grew stronger as they walked, that mixture of decay and metal that made Nero’s nose wrinkle. He’d grown somewhat accustomed to it during his time in Malady’s Garden, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

Arthur raised his fist again, and they all froze.

Ahead, through a gap in the trees, Nero could see movement. Low to the ground, hunched shapes that moved with the distinctive jerky gait of Corrupted Scavengers. The creatures were gathered around something, their attention focused on whatever they were feeding on.

Jacob counted silently, his lips moving as he tracked each creature. Finally, he held up eight fingers.

Arthur drew his sword with barely a whisper of steel against leather. The blade caught what little sunlight penetrated the canopy, and Nero saw the telltale shimmer of enchantment running along its length. Runes were etched into the fuller, glowing faintly with a pale blue light.

Jacob readied his waraxe, the massive weapon looking almost comically large in his hands until he shifted his grip and the ease with which he moved it became apparent. This was no ordinary axe. The blade itself was nearly two feet across, with a wicked curve that came to a brutal point. More runes decorated the flat of the blade, these ones glowing a deep amber.

Nero tightened his grip on his spear, feeling the familiar weight and balance. It wasn’t Gungnir, but it was well-made, sturdy enough for the work at hand.

Arthur moved first.

He stepped forward, his sword coming up in a smooth arc, and then he was among the Scavengers before they even registered his presence.

The first Abomination died without understanding what had happened. Arthur’s blade took its head cleanly, the enchanted edge passing through corrupted flesh and bone as if they were water. Black blood sprayed in an arc, and the body collapsed.

The second Scavenger turned toward the commotion, its elongated limbs pulling it around with that characteristic hunched posture, its stretched face opening to reveal loose jaws and malformed teeth.

Arthur’s sword came down in a vertical slash that split the creature from crown to sternum. It didn’t even have time to shriek before it folded in on itself.

Jacob moved in from the opposite side, his waraxe already in motion. The weapon came around in a wide horizontal swing that caught two Scavengers mid-lunge. The blade didn’t just cut through them. It pulverized them. Bone and flesh and corrupted tissue exploded outward in a spray of black ichor as the enchanted edge passed through both creatures and buried itself in a tree trunk behind them.

The tree, a thick oak that must have been three feet across, split with a sound like thunder. The trunk separated cleanly where Jacob’s axe had passed through, the top half tilting and then crashing down into the underbrush with a tremendous crash.

Jacob pulled his weapon free from the stump with a casual tug.

The remaining Scavengers finally realized they were under attack. Three of them scattered in different directions, their survival instincts overriding whatever corrupted intelligence governed their actions. The last one, larger than its companions, turned to face Arthur with something that might have been aggression or might have been simple confusion.

It didn’t matter.

Arthur stepped into its guard and drove his sword up through its jaw and into its skull. The creature spasmed once, then went limp. Arthur withdrew his blade and the body crumpled.

One of the fleeing Scavengers made the mistake of running past Jacob. The young noble’s axe came around in a backhanded swing that caught the creature mid-stride. The impact was so forceful that the Scavenger’s body simply disintegrated, reduced to a spray of corrupted matter that painted the nearby trees black.

Another Scavenger tried to climb, its elongated limbs carrying it up the trunk of a nearby tree with disturbing speed. Arthur tracked its movement, then flicked his sword in a short, sharp gesture.

The blade glowed brighter for an instant, and a crescent of blue light shot from its edge. The projection traveled perhaps fifteen feet before it intersected with the climbing Scavenger. The creature fell in two pieces, bisected so cleanly that for a moment it seemed like it might hold together before gravity took over and both halves tumbled to the forest floor.

The last Scavenger had made it perhaps twenty feet when Nero’s spear took it through the back. He’d thrown it with all his strength, and while the weapon wasn’t enchanted, his own physical capabilities had increased enough that the throw carried incredible force. The spear punched through the creature’s spine and pinned it to the ground.

Nero jogged forward to retrieve his weapon, planting his boot on the still-twitching corpse and pulling the spear free. Black blood coated the blade, already beginning to steam slightly in contact with the air.

The entire engagement had lasted perhaps thirty seconds.

Arthur cleaned his blade on a patch of moss, the enchanted steel seeming to repel the corrupted blood. Jacob didn’t even bother.

Neither of them was breathing hard. Neither showed any sign of exertion.

Nero looked at the carnage surrounding them. Eight Corrupted Scavengers, Grade F Abominations, lay dead or dying across a fifty-foot radius. Trees had been split. The ground was churned up. Black blood soaked into the earth.

And Arthur and Jacob looked like they’d just finished a light warmup.

“Not bad for an opening salvo,” Jacob said, slinging his axe back over his shoulder.

Arthur nodded, sheathing his sword. “These were barely worth the effort. We’ll need to find stronger prey if we want to make a real impression.”

They started walking back toward where they’d left the horses. Nero followed behind them, processing what he’d just witnessed.

He’d known that noble-born candidates would be well-equipped and well-trained. The difference in resources between commoners and nobility was known to him.

But seeing it in action was different.

Arthur’s sword hadn’t just cut through corrupted flesh. It had projected energy, sent out a blade of pure force that bisected an Abomination from fifteen feet away. That kind of spectacle was one he had never seen.

Jacob’s waraxe was even more absurd. The way it had pulverized those Scavengers, the casual ease with which he’d split a three-foot oak tree, suggested enchantments focused on raw destructive power amplification.

And their technique…

Arthur moved like someone who’d been training since childhood under the best instructors money could buy. His footwork was perfect, his blade work very reminiscent of the doctrine of the Crucible. Death was in his every swing.

Jacob was much of the same, with a bit of a difference, as he was more aggressive in his approach.

They were both exactly what Lyon had described: skilled, well-equipped, and utterly confident in their abilities.

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