-33-

Without any notice from the St Caprina monks, a hooded figure managed to slip past the people, partly because the streets were densely populated. Monks, being the most observant of combatants, passed cursory glances at him, but made no effort to identify this suspicious man. That made it the easier for the hooded assassin to depart the small town while those hidden eyes of his darted over the news-roll he snatched from the barkeep before he left. His grey eyes narrowed at a certain paragraph…

"…under orders from Prontera's emperor, King Tristan III, no individual was to turn against one another during the battle, that being specially directed at the rivalry of two giants, Avenger and State Overlord as stated by the king. However, Avenger member Skull did not heed the warnings, and killed opposing guild member known as Galor. King Tristan III had branded him a wanted man, while high officials are being dispatched to hunt the assassin down…"

"Wanted man…" Skull whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching. Not that it mattered to him now, since the sole objective of his life was to hunt down and slay the person responsible for his sister's death, which was in no way different from the high officials' duty as of this moment. His sister being a priestess, she did not tolerate unnecessary taking of a life, including Galor. But somehow, according to him, the death of Galor proved to be a removal of the only obstacle disturbing him. His sister may be resting in peace despite the crusader's inappropriate behaviour, but he wanted to at least do something for her.

"Skull?"

The assassin looked up from the roll only to realize that he was at the entryway. Before him was a congenial look of a priestess, whom he had known as Manald. He pulled back his cowl when nobody lingered about the area, revealing a slightly emaciated face, due to the recent recovery from the fatal poison. The long fringe of his silvery hair draped past his eyes, once again hiding his grey eyes that never seemed to reveal even a morsel of emotion.

Skull stopped in his steps and looked at her without speaking a word, waiting for her next sentence impatiently.

"The news is spreading fast, you should be keeping your profile low."

The recalcitrant assassin ignored the priestess's comment, and looked around him to seek the other two companions out.

"They're headed west for Geffen once more. As far as I can tell, Sagi looks like he has a clue," Manald told him after she noticed his searching look. She suddenly wished that the two have not wandered off without waiting for them. Being left alone with this assassin, she felt even more awkward when a silence befell the two. Her countenance began to shift to one of concern after she observed his pale complexion.

"You don't look too well. Are you in condition to travel –"

"Your incessant questions are what ails me, priestess," Skull interrupted rudely.

"Wha –"

"And I am well enough to take on a platoon of Abyss Knights!"

Manald shook her head in disbelieve, the priestess seething with frustration.

"Fine, then. Seems like I had saved you for naught, assassin. Being one, I did not expect gratitude from you, yet now I'm nothing more than a thorn in the flesh? I was a fool to have helped a wanted man…"

"Leave me to die the next time, if you're so unhappy. It's not that difficult, priestess," Skull said simply.

The stricken priestess stalked off without a word, going westwards to join the other two in their search for clues. With her back turned to him, Skull watched as the priestess occasionally raised her hands to her eyes. Initially he felt an urge to take the opportunity to thank her personally, when they were alone. But little did he expect the ill-mannered, emotionless self to dominate him. This was the nature of most assassins, and he found it difficult to break the barrier.

Pulling his cowl over his head, Skull traversed the plains of Prontera, towards the direction of Geffen. Travelling in the open fields posed as a danger, for he would be conspicuous to the high officials who were still scouting the area for him. The possibility of him being seen was high, but the fact that he had changed into new clothes and the hood that hid his face might prove to be an advantage.

It was still safer to travel to Geffen via wooded regions to avoid as many people possible. Skull manoeuvred himself through the woods not without caution, refusing to let his guard down. He listened attentively to sounds of bowstring being drawn, the habit beginning to alert him after every slight noise, be it an insect leaping about, or shedding of leaves.

All was proceeding well, the assassin assertive that no high officials were stalking him. Skull stopped when he came to a junction in the woods; the trail he was walking along veered off to the left, and on his right was an upslope leading to a plateau. The dilemma was quickly solved, when he briefly analyzed both ways. Summoning a row of bone spikes up the slope, he supported himself up the steep slope. With Manald long out of sight, the plateau could accomplish both sighting the route to Geffen, and maybe even spotting a couple of high officials.

A wind picked up, causing the tall grasses on the plateau to sway violently. In the distance, waves of harsh cries that sounded synchronized by a thousand men could be heard. And in between intervals of the shouts, a horn would then blare. This odd phenomenon intrigued Skull; never in his life had he encountered such an event. At first he suspected it to be some sort of celebration, but this day did not mark a special occasion, as far as Skull knew. He decided to move to the edge of the plateau for a better view of the source of commotion. Skull squinted to make out the hulking objects against the horizon.

Whatever that was, the assassin could not identify, for those greenish object were somewhat camouflaged with the tall green grasses of the Prontera plains. He continued to watch with forebode as a bright flash of light flared, then diminished. Those green objects seemed to moved at irregular pace unlike before until the mysterious light came, the synchronized shouts became wild yells. A prolonged horn blared…

As cold and unfeeling as he was, Skull would not sit by the sidelines and watch such strange happenings evolving in trouble passing him by. Moreover… Manald was likely in trouble since she was a distance ahead of him.

Taking no chances, he leaped off the plateau without further hesitations, a sense of urgency gripping him tightly. While he did not want the priestess to encounter doom because of him, a contrasting thought persuaded him to do otherwise. The wizard and the rogue would definitely come to her aid, since they must had seen what these green objects were. And why would he bother interfering when she had more than enough help?

On the other hand, wouldn't his help be a form of gratitude for her? Another flare of white light incited angry roars.

"Hey there's help!"

A party of adventurers ran the assassin's way in a manner that indicated that the green objects ahead were definitely not something pleasant. The party of four, consisting of two swordsmen, a monk and a hunter, confronted him breathlessly.

"A priestess is in grave danger! Please lend her immediate aid!" one of the two swordsmen pleaded desperately as he pointing a finger backwards.

"The orcs are marching near! We have to run back to St Caprina to warn everyone!" the monk cried.

It was Skull's turn to become desperate. Not only Manald had to be saved, he needed to investigate the objective of the orcs. What were they doing rampaging these lands?

"Hurry, sir! She might not be able to hold out any longer!" the hunter said.

'She saved me… she must come to no harm. Never…,' he thought. Nodding to the party in assurance, he took off towards the mystery "green objects" that kept gnawing at him before. Whatever the orcs were planning, it would be futile to stop them. The numbers were too huge, as reported by the party. Apparently, there were at least a hundred of them. Even Sagi and Maraulea were helpless; if they were to collide with the orcs, it was tantamount to suicide. The assassin regretted his earlier thoughts…

Skull began to realize what the light was all about. Driven to desperate measures, Manald had to defend herself temporarily with her holy light spell. But why was she left all alone? Where was the other two? He banished these questions as his priority was to kill every single orc that was posing as immediate threat to the priestess. Midway through his mad dash, his Infiltrators were removed from his hips and onto his hands. His bloodlust urged him faster than he could ever run, while the merciless slayer in him numbed his senses. His eyes blazed with anticipation, the Infiltrators hungrily begging the assassin for a massive bloodshed.

An orc that looked like the commander of the forces stepped over a battered Manald, the axe thrusting towards her chest. The priestess screamed when a flash of red intercepted the thrust, and a large, severed green arm flew over her head. She looked up to see an assassin slickly slicing the frontlines, flying around in a dance of death.

Undaunted by the overwhelming numbers, Skull's arm flailed about, instantly felling orcs upon the impact. The pair of Infiltrators longed for more orc blood, though many orcs lay dead with their entrails spilled at his hands. The orc commander yelled in fury and pain, his good arm cleanly chopped off his shoulders by a mere assassin. His reached the other arm to his axe, but found it in the priestess's hands. The very next thing the orc commander knew, the axe swung across his neck with the last of Manald's strength.

There were too many orcs; more than a hundred. Half of the entire forces were made up of the common, green-skinned orc warriors, the rest a mix of the blue-skinned high orcs and orc archers. The high orcs at the rear were much difficult to deal with, for they were more physically inclined. Their brute strength outmatched those of orc warriors; they were one of the prides of orc armies.

The orc archers did not fire at the cause of the breakout, for the single target was not at all easy to follow. Moreover, they did not want to risk striking their counterparts since the assassin was always moving –incredibly fast. Skull broke the orc ranks, but he alone was not at all sufficient to wipe out such a great force. He realized his horrible mistake that lead him to nothing but death. The mindless killer in him made him punch his way into the crowd of the army, and now he was trapped in a sea of green warriors. Because of his agility, he was able to evade many swipes from the axe, but not all. Blood flowed freely from his ribs, his shoulders, his back, literally everywhere. Unless more help came, he would be doomed.

The sea of orcs regrouped themselves, even though many flustered at the death of their commander. They closed in on the assassin, yet the man refused to back down. Standing up stubbornly, he retaliated with all his might. The nearest orc had his head lopped off his neck unfortunately, causing an uproar from the rest. He was going to die anyway, dozens of axe coming down on him. He just wished that Manald would escape safely…

A loud yell away from the main orc forces drew many gazes. As if to enhance the might of his spell, Sagizeulus shouted the incantations to a dangerous spell rather than waggling his fingers and moving his mouth silently. The two rings on his neck flared as he waved his Staff of Soul in an arc –and the clear blue sky evolved into a fiery orange abruptly. An ear-piercing hum was heard as large, flaming rocks came raining down the fiery sky. The orcs broke off into a run, but the force of meteor was something they could not even hope to escape. The first gargantuan meteor smashed in the middle of the orc forces, creating a circle of green corpse with bodies in halves, or with disembodied legs flying off the socket. Several more meteors descended from the orange sky, the devastating spell of advanced sorcery sending more or less fifty orcs to their deaths at the end of it.

Maraulea upset the orc ranks as she popped in and out from the underground, her zeny knife precisely slitting the vital organ of the orcs. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she picked up zeny coins from the corpses. Dumping the coins into an already bulging pouch, she sent several more groups of orcs scampering away.

"Hey wiz! Can you do that again!? That looked awesome!" the rogue shouted.

Sagi shook his head, the wizard clutching his chest painfully. The staff did nothing to soothe him as it always did, but the effect of the spell was too much to take it. He expected much lesser deaths from the Meteor Storm, the destruction on the numbers he caused completely astounding him. At least he delayed their charge…

With their leader dead, the remaining orc forces fled for their camp when another horn blared. This, however, was not of orcish horn. It was from the monk forces in St Caprina. The hastily gathered army marched towards the four companions even though the orcs had been driven off. It was obvious that many monks were disappointed at the deprivation of a chance at some action, judging from their sighs and gloomy expressions. But from another point of view, the salvation of the impending destruction was the consolation to them.

The party of four adventurers appeared again, their eyebrows raised. Moments ago they were pleading for the assassin to help the priestess out, but now a reverse greeted them. She knelt beside the assassin, placing a comforting hand on his forehead to send curative energy coursing through his body. Thoroughly exhausted beyond measure, she collapsed over the assassin. Maraulea sat on the bloody battlements counting her spoils with much satisfaction. The rogue put away her thick zeny pouch that threatened to burst upon another coin entry, sniggering to herself when she saw Manald lying over Skull.

Sagi forced himself to sit up, concentrating on the recovery process. The staff had practically lent its powers to the owner's spells, but at a huge expense. The wizard placed the Staff of Soul beside him, raising his sleeve to wipe away the blood trickling past his chin. His ragged breath was only beginning to return to normal.

"Men! Get them back to the city, and give them proper treatment!" the commander of the monk army ordered with a wide grin on his face, acknowledging them the band of heroes who saved them from the orcs. However, this was far from over, considering the new lordship the orcs were currently under…