We all waited for any sign of Vellin, but none came. The cave was a bit dark, and the campfire was now gone. But still, we should be able to see something. The kind of silence we sat in wasn’t natural. Not the kind you get when a hunt is over, or when men sleep after a long day of marching. This was different. Tighter. A silence so oppressive it felt like the rocks themselves were our enemies.

  The embers of the fire had long since died out, leaving behind only the faint smell of smoke and a warmth that had no heat left in it. Shadows bled into each other in the corners of the cavern, and even with the open mouth of the cave not too far us, the light seemed swallowed whole.

  My heart thudded in my chest. Every man around me was on edge, but no one wanted to be the first to speak. No one wanted to break that taut line that separated us from the horror that lurked just beyond our sight. We were mercenaries—trained, seasoned—but even so, everything about Vellin was unnatural. This wasn't his normal state. This was something even he can't control.

  One of the other mercs cried out, "There!" He pointed to a particularly dark spot. Vellin was crouching, eyeing us. Even an idiot could tell. He's analyzing us, one by one.

  That single motion, Vellin, crouched low with that stillness of a predator, froze us all. His eyes didn’t gleam with rage or madness. They were blank. The kind of look you see on something who’s killed so many times that it no longer stirs anything inside it.

  The archers, without order, rightly, fired their arrows. They each carried only five arrows of darksteel, so they'd want to hit their target.

  The sound of strings snapping echoed like whips. The arrows whistled into the dark. Vellin disappeared from our sight, vanishing mid-movement like a bad dream shedding its shape. We could tell he at least moved to the left. A blur, a breath of wind. Someone screamed.

  I turned around, and spotted Vellin grasping Hank's collar. Hank fought back, but Vellin didn't budge. He took him back into the darkness. I heard bones crunch and blood spatter.

  The sounds were close—too close.

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  Frank yelled, "Does nobody have any light? I can't see that far in!"

  Another one of us disappeared.

  Vellin grasped another. Then another.

  They were taken so fast it was as if darkness itself was swallowing them. Limbs flailed for a moment, darksteel clanged once or twice, but it didn’t matter. Their struggling ended in seconds. We shuffled closer, and closer.

  Frank yelled, "To the entrance of the cave, lose formation!" He threw a few balls back to the darkness, trying to buy time.

  They were deadly, but it wasn't a throw with death in mind. We all ran to the entrance, where light shone through. Pale light, dim and blue, filtered in through the narrow cave mouth. But it was salvation. All around me, I could hear men being yanked back, unable to make it in time. They screamed in fear. We all did. Their voices didn’t die down all at once. Some went out with a cut off cry, others dragged on with pitiful gurgles. The smell of blood chased us. So did the sense of something following—something impossibly fast.

  But we made it. Three of us. Frank, an archer, and I. Vellin slowly walked out, cast in blood. I saw a few bodies behind him. He was adjusting his jaw.

  Calm. So damn calm. He looked like someone brushing dust off their shoulder after a chore—not a man who’d just torn through nearly a dozen mid rank mercenaries, after taking down the second strongest man in the world. That image burned into my mind. That casual, effortless brutality.

  Frank pulled out some darksteel balls. He yelled to the merc, "Use it!" Frank leaned back, veins in his right arm bulging. The archer drew back the bow, focused.

  They both used all of their power for one attack. They fired their attacks at the same time.

  The air cracked with force. The darksteel ball screamed forward, matched by the archer’s arrow. It should’ve been enough to bring down even a transcended. Vellin spun his arms, and caught one of the balls in his hands. He redirected it around, while dodging the arrow fired. He threw it with his own power, and it went straight through Frank's head.

  I yelled out, "Frank!"

  The archer, angered, tried to fire another arrow, but Vellin caught up, and palm striked him in the chest. The archer flew back into the snow, chest caved in.

  The crunch of his landing echoed across the stone and snow. His body didn’t even twitch. Vellin stared off in the distance, in Hasfra's direction.

  I dropped my weapon and fell down to my knees, and begged for forgiveness in my head from any god that may be out there.

  Vellin took a step, and my hairs stood up on end. I expected him to slice my head off, but he let me be. I didn't turn around. I couldn't. If I stared at him, I could die. The only reason I'm alive is because of Unconscious God's weakness. It's how I survived it twenty years ago. If you don't show any hostility, it lets you go.

  Vellin continued onward to Hasfra, leaving me alone in his wake. This entire fight versus Vellin... was but a stroll to him. We never stood a damn chance.