Several days earlier

A frog hopped atop a protrusion jutting out of the mud, its rhythmic croaks echoing within the depths of the bog. Big mistake on its part…

Suddenly, a mound of dirt surged outwards, startling the poor creature. Frightened, it leapt away, trying to escape. But it wasn’t nearly quick enough. Catching up in an instant, the object snapped shut around the frog, trapping it in an iron grip. Over the next second or two, the critter visibly shrivelled, its very life sucked right out of its tiny frame. Its skin sank inwards, wrapping around the bones tightly. At the same time, mud flowed down the culprit, soon revealing a few patches of skin beneath the filth.

It was a person’s hand!

Though it wasn’t in much better shape than the frog. It was pale as milk, covered in lots of nasty cuts caked in dried blood. It was nearly desiccated too, the almost-skeletal fingers looking even worse than the critter did. At least, that was the case at first. Soon, the frog was reduced to nothing, its drained body crumbling into fine dust. It trickled through the gaps between the digits, scattering silently in the soft breeze.

With difficulty, Rambert pushed himself to his feet, coughing erratically as he struggled to spit the viscous sludge out of his lungs. The water’s texture was both slimy and grainy, the aftertaste of rot and decay making him gag. But that was the least of his problems. Even standing was painful, as one of his legs was injured badly, threatening to buckle. Looking up, he tried to locate the sun through the dense canopies of the trees around him.

‘It’s morning…’ he guessed, based on whatever gentle rays managed to pierce through the branches.

Orienting himself, he limped towards a certain direction, shifting most of his weight to his good leg. Next, he checked the stump on his shoulder. Blood still spilled from it, though it wasn’t as bad as before – mostly because he’d lost a ton already. If he didn’t have the physique of a Green, his body wouldn’t even be able to move right now.

Looking down at his clothes, he noticed they were torn from the fight. An even larger patch was missing right around where his insignia used to be. Ignoring that for now, he tore another strip out, wrapping it tightly around his shoulder, trying to halt the blood flow. It definitely helped a little, but it didn’t stop entirely.

‘I can’t afford to lose another drop.’ he thought grimly.

Taking a few deep breaths, he gathered some mana in his core. Next, he ripped another patch of cloth from his garments, stuffing it in his mouth. Finally, he pulled the mana to his remaining hand, pressing it against the wound. His flesh hissed under the sizzling heat, a wave of agony slamming into his brain.

“GGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Rambert’s teeth cut through the dirty silk, grinding against one another, cracking sounds reverberating through his skull. They hurt like a bitch too, though not nearly as much as his shoulder. But he didn’t pause. He had to cauterize the wound. It wasn’t until a minute or two later that he finally stopped. He breathed heavily, trying to regain his bearing as he scanned his injury. It still oozed blood, though it was much better than before.

‘It’s the best I can do right now…’ he sighed.

Taking off, he allowed his Mana Sense to spread through his surroundings, keeping an eye out for more critters. A body released several times more life mana when broken down by his bloodline than what would fit inside a core of the same grade. Even then, a few Red squirrels wouldn’t do much for him – definitely not worth actively hunting them down – but he wasn’t going to pass on them if they were dumb enough to cross his path.

‘Should I return to the town?’ he wondered. The peasants would make for a much better tonic than small animals.

He considered it for a few seconds, before shaking his head. There were several problems with that idea, not the least of which being the fact that he was unlikely to pull it off. He couldn’t take on the whole town by himself on a good day. Let alone in his present state. The townsfolk would finish him off and try to pin the crime on Percy and his girlfriend.

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‘I fucking hate them so damn much!’ he thought, launching a bolt of fire with a wave of his hand.

It pierced through a nearby tree, its trunk exploding into a rain of splinters as the acrid scent of burnt charcoal assaulted his nose. The act did little to vent his frustration, however. His physical pain aside, the sheer humiliation of getting his ass handed to him by a Red-born was a stain he’d never wash away in this life.

***

Luckily, he had found a couple more animals on the way, but he’d chosen to keep their carcasses intact, to munch on during the journey. They were more useful as food, partly because life mana couldn’t entirely replace nutrition.

Returning to his family had taken longer than he’d like. Normally, it was a two-day trip – shorter if he rushed. Not like this, however. By the time he made it to the mansion, just over half a week had passed. At least, he’d had a chance to cool down and evaluate his situation. His current priority should be to heal.

Entering the building, he made his way towards Father’s office, ignoring the startled gasps and long stares he got from his relatives. Most of them took a few seconds to recognize him, but nobody tried to stop him, as his core still blazed in a burning Green, the remnants of his clothes the unmistakable colours of House Tantalus. Or maybe they were just scared to approach. He probably looked like a reanimated corpse right now…

He only paused once he stood outside the door, hesitating.

Returning home after a failure was a novel experience for Rambert. Normally, he was the one delivering the good news to Broteas. Reporting how everything had gone to shit was typically a shame reserved for the others.

‘I hope this doesn’t change things between us…’

Steeling his resolve, he was about to knock, when he heard shouts coming out of the room.

“Lord Broteas, I still think it was a mistake to attack House Avalon in the first place!” Elder Nak – the oldest Blue in the family – yelled. “Look at what has happened! We lost more people than they did!”

“Not this nonsense again!” Father shouted back. “As always, you can’t look beyond what’s right in front of your nose, Nak! You think I had an option?! What do you think will happen once Galahad gets a petal?!”

“Uncle… We’ve already tried to assassinate that bastard, but we all know how that ended. I don’t think we’ll get another chance. The lotus will bloom in a few weeks…” Halcard said.

Halcard was another Blue – technically Rambert’s cousin, though he was a few centuries older than him.

“You think I don’t know that?! I still can’t understand how you and Lendin managed to lose to him together!”

The meeting went on for another hour or so, Rambert waiting patiently by the entrance, not daring to interrupt. The last thing his father and his elders needed to hear right now was how the mission to the Grisly Bog had ended. Listening patiently to the heated debate, he understood once more just how badly the war was going for his House. That said, the people in the office didn’t seem to have the slightest clue of what they were truly up against.

‘If Percy taught his relatives half the tricks he used to take me down, we never stood a chance…’

Eventually, the meeting ended, the elders leaving the office. Seeing Rambert there, they flashed him curious glances, but nobody seemed in the mood to ask him any questions. Ignoring them, he strode into the office, causing Broteas to raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you fucked up too, Rambert.” Father spoke sombrely, his barely concealed rage boiling beneath the veneer of calm.

“They had four Greens stationed in the bog!” Rambert lied through his teeth, too embarrassed to look Broteas in the eye. “I didn’t even get to see their faces properly!”

“This is all happening because of my cursed affinity!” Father snapped. “Why the hell couldn’t I have any other element?!”

Rambert knew what he was talking about, as they’d had this conversation many times. Unfortunately, Broteas had a water affinity already, meaning that he couldn’t boost his strength with a petal. They had two Blues who could, but their House would still benefit less from the exotic treasure than their rivals. If it hadn’t been for that, they wouldn’t have needed to take such a massive gamble with this war.

“Can I still get mine?” Rambert asked cautiously.

Perhaps, this wasn’t the best time to bring the topic up, but this was one of the main things stressing him out right now.

“You have the nerve to ask me that?! After losing both Grian and Dranold?! After showing up looking like… this?!” Father gestured at him, his face distorting in disgust.

Rambert swallowed hard. He wanted to protest, but chose to hold his tongue instead, not wanting to pour any more oil in the fire. Fortunately, Broteas exhaled in defeat a moment later, before speaking.

“You’re lucky everyone else in this family is an even greater disappointment than you.” he waved at him dismissively.

Rambert hurried to leave the room while he was still ahead, but his father spoke again, stopping him in his tracks.

“Can you even fix your body? You look like a complete mess. I’d rather not waste the petal on you just for you to die a week later.”

Rambert couldn’t help but clench his fist upon hearing his father’s callous words. He cared more about wasting resources than his well-being. Then again, that wasn’t anything new – it just rarely applied to Rambert, as he was more useful than most.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” he spat, before leaving the room.

It was another lie, of course. Rambert wasn’t entirely sure he could recover from this. But he was certain of one thing…

He’d do whatever he had to, to survive.

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