Chapter 105: Far bigger threats (4)
Reidar’s gaze followed the line of Torren’s pointing finger. Torren pointed through a tangle of vines, where the undergrowth parted like a wound. They moved closer, and the shape slowly became a person. Then a flash of steel caught the light, a throwing dagger in a half-open hand. There, leaning against an oak, was someone.
"Lysa."
Lena vaulted from her mount before the wolf fully stopped. She crashed through the branches. Thorns snagged her cloak.
She stopped beside the woman’s dead body, and she dropped to her knees in desperation. Reidar and the others followed her, but once they arrived, they understood there was nothing to be done.
Lysa’s body was in ruins. Deep gashes marred her armor; most went straight through the leather to the flesh beneath.
One of her arms was bent at a horrifying angle, the bone clearly shattered. Her face was pale and her eyes unmoving, with a thin line of dried blood tracing from the corner of her mouth, but there was more at the top of her chest, as if she had spat blood.
A dagger was clutched in her hands. Most likely, she kept fighting until the end. But what really scared Reidar were her wounds. It was as if something had torn into her repeatedly. It couldn’t have been a monster, because if it was, there would be no trace of the body.
Instead, it looked like it had been left there deliberately.
"Jorik!" Lena’s voice was a raw, broken command. It was the first time Reidar had ever heard her composure crack. "Heal her! Do something now!"
The big mage hurried to her side with a grim focus. He knelt, his hands searching for a pulse at Lysa’s neck, then at her wrist.
He activated his healing spell, but he didn’t see results.
He listened for the faintest whisper of breath, but after a long moment, he straightened up. He slowly shook his head, his gaze meeting Lena’s with sorrow. "Lena... she’s gone."
Lena’s face drained white. "What? Fix her!"
Jorik met her gaze. "There are too many wounds, Lena. Her vital organs had been shredded. She’s... gone."
"No." Lena’s voice exploded. She grabbed Lysa’s shoulder, shaking it. "Lysa—wake up. You don’t get to—"
Lena’s head whipped around, her eyes finding Reidar. "You!" she said. "Your healing spells... in the quarry, you fixed her! Do it again!"
Reidar slid off the wolf. He crouched closer and reached for the gash on her side. There was no breath stirring in her chest. No pulse thrummed under his touch.
Reidar’s breath caught as Lena’s fingers dug into her friend’s lifeless arm. It was a desperate attempt to hold on, nothing more.
Reidar met her gaze; the hope in her eyes was almost too much to take. He looked at Lysa’s torn body. His healing could fix cuts and broken bones, but it couldn’t bring back a still heart.
Reidar withdrew his hand. There was nothing else to do. Even Circle of Renewal couldn’t knit this. He shook his head.
"She’s dead. There’s nothing left to heal."
Torren slammed his fist into the oak. Splinters flew from the impact. Reidar watched around to see if there were signs of whoever did this. There were other human tracks here, heading north. The killer hadn’t stayed for long. Lena seemed to have noticed them too.
A cry tore from Lena’s throat. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes locking onto the scuffed earth near the tree line, where the tracks of Lysa’s killer were gouged into the ground.
Without a word, she took off after the tracks heading north, burning for revenge.
"Lena, wait!" Jorik called after her, but she was already gone.
She ran with reckless abandon. The world narrowed to the path ahead, to the heavy boot prints in the dirt. Twigs and thorns whipped her face, but she didn’t feel them. All she felt was a burning need to take whoever killed her friend.
The boot prints were fresh, too fresh. The killer hadn’t just left; he or she strolled away, in arrogance. It was an insult that burned through Lena like wildfire. She ran harder; her legs eating up the distance, the world around her fading into a blur.
Reidar paused, looking between Jorik and Torren. Jorik shook his head, staring at Lysa’s body. Torren knelt down and closed her eyes.
"I’ll follow her," Reidar said. He went after Lena.
At some point, he reached her. The two arrived in an area where the trees were not so dense. In the middle of it, there was a man, arms crossed, waiting.
His skin had a pale, ashen quality, a strange, unhealthy grey that gave him a sickly look, despite him acting as if nothing was wrong. His ears, just visible beneath a mess of dark hair, were pointy, almost as if he was an elf. He turned his head slowly, and a smile touched his lips as his dark eyes settled on her.
"You!"
The man tilted his head, unblinking. "I came to talk. Not to kill."
Reidar’s hand tightened on his wand. Trust came slowly in this world.
"My name is Silas Bishop," the weird man said. He turned to Reidar. "And you must be Reidar Miller."
Lena didn’t wait for another word. A dagger materialized in her hand, and she lunged at the man, aiming to cut his throat. He didn’t dodge, as he didn’t need it.
His hand snapped up, impossibly fast, much faster than Lena was. He caught her wrist an inch from his skin. With a twist and a sweep of his leg, he sent her crashing to the ground.
Silas slammed Lena onto the ground. Her dagger skittered from her grasp as he pinned her there with one hand. Lena struggled to get free, but the man’s strength was too great; it was terrifying.
He didn’t even look at her as his eyes were still on Reidar, as if holding a struggling woman beneath him was an ordinary episode.
Reidar’s gaze locked onto the shimmering, impossible number floating just above the man’s head. It was too high for a human, although Reidar couldn’t say this man was a human at all.
<He really is at a level higher than 70.>
Things turned as Reidar predicted.
—Silas Bishop—Level 83—
"Stay put," Silas said, his voice still calm as he looked down at her. His eyes shifted back to Reidar. "As I was saying. I’m not here to fight."