Lord of Malice - Chapter One - The Kill Thief

The older warrior growled under his breath, which was common for him when he trained nobles who tried out for the military.  Everything about these sorry excuses for soldiers made his joints ache.  He was not only the top instructor for his country, but also the top warrior when it came to fighting the malice filled beasts.  These people were who they sent to him though.

"Spoiled rotten ungrateful brats that don't even know their left foot from their right!  And they give them swords!"

The soldiers were out of formation, and their uniforms less then pristine.  This was supposed to be a simple Cull and Return mission, but their discipline left a sour taste in the warrior's mouth.  Blood seeped from multiple wounds on the 2nd company's soldiers, while 1st company now took the brunt of the beast's assaults.  Most of those wounds were from their own weapons.

First company soldiers were more disciplined and skilled, but they lacked the raw power necessary to cull this many tainted creatures of the forest.  2nd company had the raw power, but lacked respect, discipline, courage.  To top it all off, half of 2nd company were the ones who were supposed to be on guard duty, while the rest scouted the area around the camp.

"We're surrounded! How in the hell did they get behind us?"  The large warrior in front shook his head. These were not raw recruits, but they sure acted like it.  The beasts had easily moved into this position for the last hour, and went unchallenged by 2nd company as they bragged about their battle skills.

"Second Company, about face! Destroy your targets!" The warrior called out. They had turned towards the beasts that were engaged by 1st company, and it took precious seconds for them to respond.  "Did I ask you to do something, or give you an order!" It wasn't a question.  Fools for nobles, and their sons, just made his teeth itch.

"Bloody beasts! We'll show you what we're made of!" The first soldier opted for his spear, and thrust it forward.  His face showed the pain he felt, as did the whine that left his lips.  His wounds were already more then just surface, and each time he moved, they opened painfully.  They had little effect on the creatures they now faced, and if they couldn't pull it together, many would die on this day.

They turned as they heard the sound of a sword strike bone and flesh.  All sneered with contempt.

"Oh great. Its the kill thief."  A young man came out of nowhere and slashed at the rear flanks of the beasts who tried to get into their defensive lines.

Some beasts were already weakened, and with his attack, they fell before they could turn.  The old warrior started to smile as someone skilled with the blade sliced their opponents almost recklessly, yet was skilled enough to dodge, block, and counter attack. Then he heard the grumbles behind him.

"Kill thief."  A term that many beast hunters had learned to hate.  An adventurer who waited until the beasts were weakened, and took the last shot on the prey. This allowed them to take a half of the malice that flowed through the beasts, which also lowered the other hunter's experience and malice gains.

Kill thief was easily the most insulting word to use in their language.




"You look exhausted. Sit here and we'll get you a bit of meat."  The young man slid down to the soil against a tree and closed his eyes.  The warrior took a few moments to examine him.  Muscles looked slack, and skin too thin for someone who could move like he did.  The man was starved nearly to death, at least in his own eyes.  Then his eyes opened wide.

"Bloody kill thief! Why don't you go back to the woods where you belong!"  The warrior turned to his troops.  The one they just insulted had saved their miserable hides, his own included.

"Kill thief?"  The warrior asked dangerously low.  "How many kills did he steal from you?" He asked the first.  "And what the devil is your name?"

"Rogers, sir! I've lost at least ten kills to this guy!"  He turned to the next one.

"And you?"

"Near to twenty!"  The warrior growled.  "Simmons, sir!"  He turned to the last grumbling one, while the fourth just looked away, more embarrassed then angry.

"And you?"

"Johnson, sir! He took only seven of mine!"  He looked at the last one.

"And you?"  He heard the sigh.

"He saved my life at least five times, sir."  The warrior smiled.  "Sorry, sir.  Its Thompson."

"Were all the kill steals like this?"  They all nodded, except for Thompson.  "Thompson?"

"He didn't steal my kills, sir. He kept me alive and helped me finish my kills.  I lost a few points but I'm still alive."  The warrior smiled.

"An honest man."  He looked at the others.  "As I saw it today, he saved your sorry hides, and you blame him for doing that?"  He shook his head, and stood up.

"He didn't save me!  He stole...."  Bam.  He landed flat on his back after the warrior landed the sweetest punch on his chin that Thompson had ever seen.

"He's only a level one thief!"  Bam.  Simmons landed right next to Johnson.  The warrior then shifted his gaze to Rogers.  Unfortunately, Rogers was beyond arrogant because of his family's noble status.

"He's just a trash hunter, sir! I don't know why...."  Thompson smiled slightly.  He disliked Rogers intensely, and it was quite satisfying to see him laid out so easily.

"Colonel."  Another soldier stepped forward.

"Sir!"

"Drag these three back to the city. By their hair if need be.  They are not worthy of wearing our country's uniforms."  The colonel nodded, and gestured quickly.  Three other soldiers separated out of the first company of twenty soldiers and began to drag the others back through the brush.  The warrior looked over at Thompson.  "Get some food together for this young man.  He deserves a fine meal for what he did."  The warrior knelt down beside him

"What's your name, son?"

"Lika."  The warrior frowned.  His name sounded familiar, and then he remembered that Lika also meant trash, or filth, in the old tongue.

"Lika?"  The man shrugged.

"No name.  Called."  The warrior tilted his head.

"Are you alright?"  The man shook his head.

"Words hard. Hear good. Speak bad."  The warrior nodded.

"Not your language?"  The man shook his head.

"Tired.  So tired."  The warrior looked closely at him.

"What level are you?"

"One."

"But you moved like someone who was at least mid range soldier!  How is that possible?"

"Sleep lots. Not level."  The warrior started to smile.

"Do you know how we increase our strength almost magically compared to normal people in this land?"  Lika shrugged.

"Sleep?"

"Not quite.  When you've regained some strength, go to the temple in the city, and tell them you need to rest."  He looked intensely at Lika.  "Remember, not sleep, but rest.  Its quite different for us warriors then it is for regular folks.  Here."  He held out a token.  "Give this to the one who guides you to a berth.  It will pay for your rest."  Lika took the token, and focused on the engraving on it.  It was made of bronze, but the relief was superb.  A titan being sliced in two by a glowing sword that was held by nothing.

For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off this picture.  Even when he closed his eyes to get some sleep, the token was still in his hand.

"General?  Why did you give that young man the token for the temple?  Isn't that your family's guarantee of patronage?"  The warrior smiled.

"He saved our lives, Colonel.  Even at level one of the path, he still found a way to become stronger then many of us.  What would you do for someone who saved two companies of our kingdom's soldiers?"  The Colonel sighed, and his long tapered ears fell downward.  "Don't be upset, Colonel.  He did a great thing for us.  A great thing."




Lika entered the temple warily, but was warmly greeted by an acolyte just inside the door.

"Hello, young man.  Can I help you?"  Lika handed him the token.

"Soldier said come.  Sleep?  No, wait.  Rest.  Yes, said rest."  The acolyte smiled softly, and took in his haggard appearance.

"You've never rested here before, have you?"  Lika shook his head.  "Follow me then.  The General was correct in sending you to us.  Your malice is far too high for your body to recover."  Lika frowned.

"Malice?"

"First, you should eat a bit before you rest, and I'll tell you what malice is, and why it exists in the world."  He handed him a plate of vegetables, and gestured that he should sit down opposite him in a chair.

"Now, let me tell you a story, and you listen while you eat.  Its a bit long of a story, so try to stay awake."  Lika nodded, and was thankful that the warrior didn't mean him any harm, unlike most of the hunters he's met here since he fell through the darkness and landed in that putrid lake.  As he ate the raw root vegetables, carrots and some seemingly random herbs, he listened to a tale that was similar to his own world, yet so very different.

"Long ago, The Creator made our land, and put us in the middle.  His sons decided that they liked our daughters too much, and came down to take them as wives.  This would be like you taking an animal, like a full dog, as a wife."  Lika gagged, and made the warrior smile.  "I hope you don't dislike demis.  Anyway, the titans were born from their seed, and ravaged our lands, killing many for fun.  The Creator became angry, and sent more powerful sons to destroy their evil offspring.  He also locked the rebellious son's physical forms away so they couldn't have more children. The titans flesh was eaten by the pigs, boars, bears, dogs, and wildcats, but this caused a new problem.  The hate and anger they had in their hearts was stored in their flesh.  This gathered in the animals, and accumulated until it became something called malice.  This malice gathers in normal animals, and turns them into the beasts you warriors fight."  Lika tilted his head.

"Malice bad energy?"  The acolyte nodded.

"Well, yes, and no at the same time.  The temples have figured out how to distill, and purify this dark energy and make a powerful fluid called Ydin in the old tongue.  Ydin is so powerful, we only need a cup of it to power this entire temple for a month."  Lika blinked.

"Strong. Lots malice in world?"  The acolyte nodded.

"There is a lot of it.  There seems to be an excessive amount of it too, like something is adding to the quantity since the time of the titans."  Lika closed his eyes for a moment, and the acolyte looked at him oddly until he opened his eyes again.

"Titans hate. Malice is hate, right?"  The acolyte nodded.  "People hate. People make malice?"  The acolyte blinked, and groaned inside himself.

"We've looked for that answer for a long time, but it was so simple.  I wonder if the Vahti knew the answer all along."  Lika shrugged.

"Vahti smart then Vahti know. Answer dangerous, not spread."  The acolyte smiled softly.

"That would be just like the Temple Guardian.  She would not want to make the lives of others harder then it already is.  She probably hopes the Creator will take steps to fix that eventually."  The acolyte stood up.  "Ah, here is an assistant.  She will assist me with your first 'rest'.  If you have too much malice accumulated in your body, it will be safer for you to pull it out in small amounts, and keep purifying it as we go."  He gestured for Lika to follow him.

Without the knowledge of what would happen during this rest, Lika had no idea just how hard the night would be, but he would find out.

The cost of absorbing malice could be extremely high, and sometimes, it could prove fatal.