Deathbird

Boll climbed onto the high wall. Amid the flickering firelight, Nuen stood silently beside it, like a statue weathered by the years.

"Nuen, the celebration's started. Why are you hiding up here without a word?"

Nuen gazed out at the Wilderness and did not answer.

"What? Afraid the townspeople won't relax if you're there... especially Xilian and the others?"

Boll had been drinking. A little drunk, he said, "Everyone respects you, but maybe a bit too much. One look at that stern face of yours could sober up the worst drunkard."

"You don't have to stay long if you don't want to. Say a few words, then leave."

Nuen shook his head. "It's nothing. I was just thinking."

"About what? Tell me. We're old friends."

Nuen's position was unusual, and he had been around a long time. Few people in White Cliff Town could speak with him openly. As mayor, Boll was one of them.

"I was thinking about White Cliff Town's future..."

Nuen let out a long sigh, exhaustion written across his face. "Even if Xilian reaches Her City, getting White Cliff Town out of this predicament will be difficult."

Boll sobered a little. "You don't think they'll help us?"

"Boll, you've never left White Cliff Town. You don't know what the Civilized World has become."

Nuen gave a bitter smile and murmured,

"The Three Sages once brought the fractured Civilized World together. But the Year of Rebellion broke open those healing rifts, and now we live in an age where everyone stands alone."

He took a moment to collect himself, then glanced back at the celebrating crowd and continued,

"Whether we rebuild White Cliff Town, bring in scholars, or establish contact with other city-states, there's a price to pay.

"The question is, what can White Cliff Town offer?"

The harsh reality left Boll struggling to breathe. He asked, with a trace of naïveté,

"But we're all human. Shouldn't we help one another..."

Nuen had no answer. Only after a long silence did he speak.

"Perhaps we should abandon White Cliff Town and move everyone to Her City. It would be a hard choice, but it may be the most achievable one."

Boll's world seemed to spin. Then anger surged up from nowhere.

"Damn it, Nuen! We've lived here all our lives! We're not giving up—"

Halfway through, his anger drained away. Reason doused what remained.

"You're right. Rebuilding White Cliff Town is just a beautiful wish."

Boll's legs gave out, and he slowly sat down on the cold ground.

"White Cliff Town has survived this long through sheer luck. The ones harassing us every night have been packs of Demons, not Chaos Followers."

Boll knew full well what a miracle it was that White Cliff Town had held on with Nuen alone to defend it.

"If Chaos Followers invaded, I know you could kill them all. But before you did, there would be people you couldn't protect... A few more Transcendents wouldn't solve that."

Faint singing drifted from behind them. Laughter rippled beneath the darkening sky.

"Let's not think about the future right now." Boll gathered himself. "Come to the celebration, Nuen. Say something encouraging. The townspeople need some reassurance."

"All right."

Nuen was about to turn away when he stopped. His hand went instinctively to his sword hilt and tightened around it.

Boll noticed the change. Before he could ask, Nuen spoke first.

"End the celebration early. Gather the Guard and move the townspeople to the Town Hall... No, take them near the Torchlight Lighthouse. Tell Xilian and the others to prepare for battle."

"Wh-what?"

Boll stared anxiously into the Wilderness beyond the wall.

The boundary between dusk and night was blurring. Darkness was coming.

The Interstice Gray Domain had not yet covered reality, and there were no Demons in sight.

Nuen saw nothing in the Wilderness. But as a high-ranking Transcendent, he had already sensed the malice approaching from it—and the undisguised surge of Source Energy.

Whoever it was had made their presence known, as though extending an invitation.

"We have visitors."

Nuen leaped from the wall, his longsword flashing with a chilling gleam.

The uninvited guests strode toward White Cliff Town.

"What's that sound... Singing?"

Gene frowned and sneered. "They're about to die, and they're having a party?"

"Who knows?" Toren licked his lips. "Once we smash through their wall, we can see for ourselves."

The two drew their swords and walked at the front of the group, eager for a fight.

"You only need the man named Nuen, correct?" Tania asked Deathbird. "We can deal with everyone else in town as we please?"

"Do as you like," Deathbird replied coldly.

A teasing smile spread across Tania's lovely face. "Don't you want a share? Those are fine souls. Perfect for pleasing... your master."

"I believe I warned you."

Deathbird's voice turned icy, and murderous intent burst from him.

"Do not compare my lord to those hideous beings."

Tania went pale. A sharp pain came from her neck: Deathbird had raised his blade without a sound and pressed it against her throat.

Tears slowly spilled from the corners of Tania's eyes. "I was only curious which one you serve..."

"You are not worthy of knowing."

Deathbird's gaze swept over Gene and Toren.

"Remember, we are merely working together."

Deathbird withdrew his blade. Tania quickly backed away a few steps, her legs weak.

Gene and Toren dared not make a sound. Deathbird was far above them in rank. If he wished, he could kill all three of them here in the Wilderness with ease.

The two deliberately slowed, falling in behind Deathbird to walk alongside Tania.

"Are you insane? If you anger him, we'll all die here."

Gene scolded her under his breath. As a fellow Chaos Follower, he knew all too well how mad and unpredictable their kind could be.

Tania wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her fear had vanished, and her gaze was calm and steady.

"The leader ordered me to do it. If we can discover what power Deathbird serves, we'll receive a blessing..."

At the mention of a blessing, fierce longing appeared on all three faces. Then Tania asked,

"Have you heard the rumor?"

"What rumor?"

Gene grew inexplicably tense, though Tania had not yet explained.

"They say another Miracle Creation has risen in the Origin Sea. They suspect..."

Before Tania could finish, a bitter gale cut her off.

Pure, unrestrained killing intent rode the wind. It felt almost solid, like blades poised against their foreheads.

Deathbird stopped. A figure had appeared ahead of him without warning. The man slowly drew his longsword. Flames sprang up from nowhere, illuminating his weathered face.

"Turn back, all of you. You aren't welcome in White Cliff Town."

Nuen's slight figure stood like an invisible wall between the town and Deathbird's party.

"And if I keep going?" Deathbird asked with amusement.

"Then I'll have to kill you all."

Nuen raised his longsword to strike.

"Ha."

Deathbird chuckled. A flash erupted from his waist.

Tania could have sworn she had kept her eyes fixed on them both from the moment she noticed Nuen. Still, she had not seen either man draw his sword.

By the time her eyes caught their movement, the clash was already over.

A torrent of fire tore across the ground, leaving a burning line a hundred meters long. Metal shrieked against metal like wailing ghosts, nearly piercing their eardrums.

Nuen and Deathbird remained where they stood. Neither had forced the other back an inch.

"Oh?"

Deathbird held his sword before him. A single instant of combat had left its blade riddled with cracks and notches.

He could not help remarking,

"My Curse-Mourning Sword is a supernatural weapon, at least. Yet against your blade, it's as fragile as ordinary steel."

Deathbird studied the flaming sword in Nuen's hand, feigning surprise.

"Could that be a Boiling Sword?"

When Nuen gave no reaction, Deathbird marveled,

"So it really is?"

"I thought every Boiling Sword broke during the Twelfth Expedition. Most of those that survived rusted away in the Year of Rebellion. Any that remain should be guarded by the Clans like sacred relics."

Deathbird's voice turned wistful. "And here you are, swinging around a sword the Clans revere as sacred."

"A sword is a sword. It was made to kill enemies."

At last, Nuen spoke. "If a sword is locked away like a collector's piece, how is that any different from breaking it?"

"Fair point."

Deathbird reached to his waist and gripped a dagger.

"You must be Nunn Soflova."

Nuen showed no surprise at hearing his name.

"You may call me Deathbird."

Flames coiled around the battered Curse-Mourning Sword as Deathbird spoke.

"I, too, am a Torchbearer."