Elder Cultivator

The sound of hurried boots crunching leaves, sticks, and undergrowth filled the forest, along with the sound of heavy paws. Hoyt breathed deeply, trying to maintain a steady rhythm as his lungs burned. Running with wolves nipping at his heels wasn’t something he enjoyed, but at least they motivated him to go even faster.

Honestly, Hoyt would have enjoyed the whole thing except for the danger to himself and to those he was trying to save. Pushing his body to the limits for cultivation was a wonderful feeling… at least later, when he was recovering. In the moment, the burning lungs and muscle pain were the worst part. Hoyt couldn’t say he enjoyed the way he was draining his reserves of energy, either. There was only so much natural energy he could take in, and it wasn’t keeping up.

He ignored the wolves behind him, since looking back would merely cause him to trip up as he moved forward. They were loud enough he knew they were at least several paces back. As long as nothing slowed him down…

But of course, the forest wouldn’t let things be so easy. A giant boar spotted him, not that he expected to pass unseen. However, as with most of the creatures in the forest it was aggressive. It charged straight for him from the front, with wolves behind.

With just a few moments to consider if he could afford the time to dodge around it, especially with the wolves being spread out on either side behind him, he chose a more direct option. He couldn’t be sure it would work until he tried it. Cultivators were probably supposed to make better decisions than normal people, but Hoyt knew they really just made decisions with the power to recover from mistakes… as long as such mistakes weren’t too big.

He continued to run at the boar that was as tall as himself head on. Twenty paces. Ten paces. Five paces, and the boar had lowered its head. The tusks were long enough to impale him from below his ribcage up into his jaw. Hoyt put on a small burst of speed, putting himself one step ahead of where he would have been, then jumped. Not high… but enough to get a foot on top of the boar’s snout as it flipped its head up.

His head crashed through the branches above as he tumbled through the air. Hoyt knew he was keeping forward momentum for the most part, but he tried to orient himself for his landing. During his relatively effortless handful of seconds in the air while he was upside down he thought he saw a pile composed of the boar and wolves. While the creatures of the forest seemed more interested in attacking humans for the most part, a direct collision seemed likely to turn into a proper conflict.

A few moments before he hit the ground, crashing through more branches, Hoyt managed to right himself. When he hit the ground he rolled, wrapping his energy around himself as he turned into a ball. He only intended to roll once, but he flipped at least a dozen times. His axe caught on something and the strap tore off, but he sprang back to his feet and kept moving. He could get it later- or replace it. People couldn’t be replaced. Especially not people like Anton. The others were fine as well… but that old man was something special. Not just his cultivation talent, either.

He kept sprinting.

Hoyt was pretty sure that the fact that he could barely see now wasn’t a good sign. His vision narrowed to a small tunnel in front of him. His lungs were just numb and he was pretty sure he was slowing down and that some of the muscles in his legs just didn’t work. It was hard to tell if he was still moving, with the change in perspective. His legs kept trying to move even as a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Need help?”

The voice seemed familiar for some reason. The face… was indiscernible. “...Thuston…” Hoyt managed to choke down a lungful of air, “Anton…” Did he even have lungs? He wasn’t sure anymore. “...beast swarm…” He was pretty sure he was supposed to say more words. And be standing vertically.

Why was he on his side? The trees were moving at least. But as they thinned and Hoyt’s brain managed to regain a semblance of understanding, he realized they were going the wrong way. This was out of the forest, completely in the opposite direction of Anton and the others. Thuston was about as far away from the center of the Order’s territory as anything could get, except the deep forest.

“No… other way…” Hoyt muttered. “Thus… ton…”

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Birds- even large birds- were easy to kill if he could hit them. The first few had been simple. Anton tracked their movements and got an arrow through them easily enough. Body or wings didn’t matter. Either way they fell, and the ground wouldn’t be kind to them. However, after his first few shots the raptors started to recognize their own mortality. They had the ability to turn rapidly, even diving or rising swiftly if they needed to. He could only redirect his arrows a certain amount, and there were too many to focus on taking down just one.

Everything was more difficult when they reached him in his position atop the silo, slashing at him with claws and beaks. He got some practical experience dodging in a tight space. He knew he could just drop down, and perhaps that would be safest for himself. He could continue to pick off the raptors as they attacked the villagers, keeping himself safe at the cost of the people of Thuston.

But of course, he couldn’t. While it wasn’t his village, they were still people. They were farmers and smiths and grocers and weavers… people. They didn’t deserve to die. Especially not for an old man. His thoughts flickered to the thought of some of the villagers of Dungannon and his family in slavery. He wanted to save them too, but he wasn’t strong enough. He just couldn’t let himself choose something more dear to himself over present, actual lives he could save. And nothing said he couldn’t do both. He just had to live.

Blood trickled down his cheek. Giant raptor talons were sharp enough to tear through his energy with seemingly little effort. He could focus on a single area to protect it, but that would leave the rest of his body open. Then a little cut like that would become a spike sticking through his head or shoulder.

The most important thing for Anton was predicting the enemies’ movements. One Step Ahead… he honestly didn’t know how anyone was supposed to comprehend what it was saying. Grasping what your enemy- or possibly enemies- would do in the future wasn’t so easy. But Anton was certain that at least Elder Kseniya knew how to do it. In her demonstrations, she most certainly fought unseen opponents. More than just one, Anton had realized after some consideration. He’d attempted to do the same… and just maybe that practice let him keep his footing while avoiding most of the danger. He couldn’t say he even had the first level of understanding of One Step Ahead, but he felt a certain tingling sensation of progress.

Another thing Elder Kseniya had done came to mind. He didn’t always have time to draw his bow, but Spirit Arrows were merely sharp stabbing implements made of energy. They did well enough when not propelled by the bow, and he didn’t have to let them disperse. He stabbed at one of the raptors- probably an eagle but he didn’t have time to observe so closely for details- forcing it to swerve away. Then he fired the same arrow at another just a handful of meters away, using a partial draw with less power but sufficient speed.

A dozen large birds dwindled to a half dozen, three, two… but one remained. It had actually been hanging further back, circling around and watching Anton. It radiated energy, indicating it was a magical beast. As it flew towards him, Anton could see it gained speed from more than just the flapping of its wings. Waves of winds flattened plants down below as it moved. He just barely moved out of the way of talons trying to impale his head.

Anton returned to the center of the silo so he could dodge in every direction. He managed to fire a single arrow at the beast as it turned around, but it came back at him just as swiftly. His arrow deflected off a wing- the first time he hadn’t pierced into one- and he found himself having to fall to his back to get under the bird. Shooting from a prone position wasn’t optimal at all, but that forced it to swerve on its return and gave him time to stand. However, it was clear to Anton that he was becoming fatigued, and the magical beast was merely growing more used to his movements. Unless it was distracted, he doubted he could get a solid hit on it… and anything less wouldn’t penetrate through its defensive energy and surprisingly durable feathers. The beast swooped around, and Anton felt it focusing itself for a powerful attack.

Birds did have some weaknesses, though. Even at the creature’s size, it probably wasn’t any heavier than Anton. He might not be able to dodge it, but the actual force behind its blows, as long as he avoided the talons… he could withstand it. And if he was making that choice, he was glad he’d studied Golden Armor. It wasn’t anything particularly profound, but having a proper method to solidify his energy into a stronger defensive layer was quite useful. He just had to be resolved to take a hit, and to expend the energy for the technique.

Anton readied his bow as the bird flew towards him, talons outstretched. Was it a hawk? This one might have been. Either way, Hawk Eyes let him focus on its movements regardless of whether or not it shared a name. Along with that, splitting his attention between Spirit Arrows and Golden Armor was too much… so he drew one of his few remaining physical arrows. It would still be enhanced sufficiently with his own energy.

The arrow flew towards the great hawk, sticking a finger length into its chest. That might have been enough for the lesser beasts, but the hawk continued its motion unperturbed. Anton watched as talons came straight for him. At the very last moment, he tilted his body and bow at a strange angle. Talons scraped along his arm, leaving a bloody gash even with a glance along his Golden Armor protected limb.

Anton raised his arm, the bow and string around the leg as he lifted as high as he could, catching the leg. The momentum of the creature yanked him off of his feet- and the silo- but he grabbed a wing with his other hand. Then he was spinning, down towards the ground. He repositioned himself to land atop the great bird with all of his weight, rolling away almost nimbly after they impacted. The great bird wasn’t quite dead, but the hollow bones of an avian couldn’t survive such a feat even if the particular one in question was a magical beast. Anton’s own tempered bones were barely holding on after the impact. And while the bird would never fly again, Anton found himself just barely able to walk, his energy exhausted. And there were more beasts to combat. Even a few normal wolves would be able to bring him down.

Even as he began to wish he had begun cultivating sooner, and not wrapped up Timothy and Catarina into a suicidal mission… his eyes drifted towards the sky. For some reason, he felt like he saw a giant eye staring down at him. Anton wasn’t sure if he believed in gods of any sort… and he certainly didn’t think cultivators would truly become gods, as some believed… but the eye made him reconsider the possibility. A moment later, the sky darkened and all of the energy in the area was pulled away in a great swirling vortex. Something truly unfathomable at Anton’s current cultivation level was happening… and he couldn’t afford to miss a single moment.