"Make her shut the fuck up," a man yelled from the valley.
At that, the screams grew more and more muffled until they were no more.
"Where are the others? Did any of you find them?" that same man asked again.
"They're not here, sir," one yelled from a bit of distance away.
"I have one," another yelled, shutting that woman's screams as well.
Blanc and the three companions of his watched this silently for a bit, each for different reasons, perhaps.
But Blanc was trying to figure out how many of them there were and what they were doing.
"Bring them all here, and we're gonna have some fun, boys!" the first man yelled, telling Blanc all he had to know.
"Disgusting bastards," Blanc muttered, "I think they want to rape these women."
"Vile fiends," Velakia sighed, "The Empire is filled to the brim with these types of monsters."
"The result of war," Blanc sighed, unsheathing his sword, "And only war can rid the land of such monsters."
"Finally, something we agree on," Velakia replied, pulling two hidden daggers from her back, "Itoroma alve nid ibartabi!"
At her foreign words, Tahreni and Lendros pulled at their own clothes, revealing a string necklace that held in the middle of it a small marble.
"Iskahulului Amar," the two said in unison as they snapped the strings from around their necks. And the moment the last syllable left their lips, the marbles split open. From within, two weapons summoned forth, materializing directly into Lendros and Tahreni's hands.
Lendros now held a polearm, a towering weapon over eight feet long.
Its shaft, carved from an orange hardwood, released a faint almond scent, gentle and pleasant. But the blade atop it ensured that almond would be the last fragrance anyone ever enjoyed. The blade alone stretched over a foot in length, its spine lined with strange ridges, shapes crafted not merely to cut, but to catch, and disarm.
Tahreni's weapons were another matter entirely. Two clawed gauntlets slipped over her hands as she fit her thumb and pinky into their rings. Metal encased her fists completely as she flexed her hands open and closed, testing their weight. But the part that stole Blanc's breath was the spikes, metal talons that shot out each time she clenched her fists.
A weapon that looked as deadly as it was scary… enough to send a cold shiver crawling down Blanc's spine.
Velakia giggled softly at his reaction.
"You might know her weapons as Bagh Nakh, or Tiurg Arghae, as we name them in our culture."
"I don't, actually. But is it effective?" Blanc wondered, curious.
"You wanted to see our culture and combat," Velakia replied, "Now it's your opportunity to see both."
"Although it sounds like a plan," Blanc said, turning his gaze toward the valley below, "I will not let you handle the Empire's issues alone."
With that, Blanc dashed forward, sprinting downhill with his sword low at his side, eyes locked on the movement below.
Velakia smiled, wordless but approving, only to gesture Lendros and Thareni forward.
With a sharp exhale, both of them sprinted ahead, blurring past Blanc as they tore down the slope. In less than four seconds, they were already in the valley, casually observing the men searching the area, as if they hadn't just crossed a thousand feet in a handful of heartbeats.
Blanc was stunned, both at their speed and at how effortlessly they resumed walking once they reached the valley floor.
"Are you surprised?" Velakia laughed, appearing at his side as she ran with him, making it look like she was on a stroll.
"Huh?" Blanc yelped, startled to find her suddenly near him.
The sound made Velakia burst into laughter. Then, with a single sharp breath, she accelerated, vanishing forward and reappearing beside Lendros and Thareni by the time Blanc blinked.
He was barely past the halfway point down the hill… while they were already waiting for him at the bottom.
What the fuck are these people made out of? He asked himself.
But with none to give him an answer, he pushed harder, sprinting downhill with all his might.
It wasn't exhaustion that slowed him, as he had stamina for days. It was his own body that couldn't reach that type of speed.
As the three of them kept walking towards the commotion in the distance, he finally managed to reach the valley. However, he did not stop until he reached them.
"By the Vita," Blanc muttered, slowing down to a walk next to them.
"Good of you to join," Velakia replied, grinning. "Do you wish to talk with them or should we just kill them?"
"We first talk," Blanc said as they neared the gathering men, "But they won't leave this valley alive either way."
"Where's that last bitch?" the man asked to nobody in particular.
He was middle-aged, his skin wrinkled, touched too much by the sun. His clothes were cheap, but surely better than all the other men in this party of fiends.
And that was because he was special.
"Sir, aren't these five enough?" a younger man asked. "They are enough to fill us up for days."
"That one is not for us, Alex." The man shook his head. "The price on her head is enough for us to leave the Empire for good."
"So, this isn't just having fun?" Alex asked.
"We'll have plenty of fun once we get out of this damn hole," the man replied, closing his eyes tightly and imagining the future he would have once out of the Empire and what became of it as of late.
"I do wonder," A voice that came from the darkness drew the attention of all present. "Who is it you are working for, then?"
The flames from the torches made it nearly impossible for them to see into the darkness.
"Who are you, bastard?" the man yelled, unable to tell where the sound came from. "Show yourself!"
Out of the darkness came a man, a blue tunic on his upper body, long gray pants draping his legs, and a magnificently decorated sword in his hand.
"What a nice sword you got there, youngin." The man whistled, "I would like seeing it next to my hip."
Blanc chuckled at the man's words.
"That would not be a problem, as long as you release the women, tell me who you are, and who you work for," he replied to the old man.
"Quite a fuckton of requirements when me and my men can just take the sword, keep the women, and don't tell you shit, ay?" the man laughed.
His words sent his men roaring in agreement as they prepared for combat.
But Blanc ignored them, turning instead towards the base of a tree, next to which, five women had their mouths, legs, and arms tied with ropes, staring, teary-eyed at Blanc.
They were wearing basic clothing… or the remnants of their basic clothing, standing there half-naked. However, what remained of their clothing was not something out of the ordinary to see on a normal village girl, since the material of their clothing looked of high quality, something that a normal village girl would not afford.
He then looked in the distance, and because he could see in the dark, he was able to spot Lendros and Thareni, waiting patiently for Blanc to attack before joining.
Velakia, however, wasn't there, just like that sixth woman the man mentioned wasn't either, so perhaps she spotted her and went to help.
With such thoughts in Blanc's mind, he turned back to the grinning men who looked at his sword as wolves looking upon their first kill in weeks.
"Such greed," Blanc sighed, "Release the women, give me what I need to know, and I will let you live… perhaps."
"And you can… perhaps, of course, suck my dick," the man hissed, already angry, "Kill him."
At that command, five of the closest men rushed, matchettes and knives at the ready. Blanc brandished his sword, assuming a defensive pose.
A faint.
He dashed forward, getting in between two of the five men, only to spin on his heel while crouching down, putting his sword sideways.
The momentum of his spinning did all the work in detaching the two men's upper bodies from their lower bodies. Sending the four chunks of meat and all that spilled out of them to the ground with a loud, wet thud.
As if waiting for that sound, Lendros and Thareni joined the frey.
Lendros, with his polearm, was ruthless, splitting men in pieces without as much as a flinch at the gore in front of his eyes.
And neither was Thareni, who dashed towards the three men who wanted to attack Blanc, impaling their throats or organs with the metal spikes on her hands.
Before the battle, there were over twenty men present. By the time Blanc got back on his feet, there were nine left.
"Th-this," the middle-aged man muttered, taking a step back as Blanc approached.
None of the men moved, seeing Blanc approach. They were too terrified.
Good. They should be.
"Here, take the sword," said Blanc, throwing the sword straight into the man's hip, "Precisely where you wanted it."