• This is an old original story I worked on...of which only two chapters were made due to lack of interest. I've decided to post it here.

    To be a Legend

    Chapter 1

    It was the perfect place for such a battle, just as Gustav had imagined it in his mind’s eye the moment he’d become a fledgling spearman. The very man now standing before him with a mad glint in his eye and a devilish smirk was the elusive and legendary swordmaster, only known to the world as Klein. The field itself that they stood on was flat as the eye could see, with only random rock formations and cracks to mar the landscape. There were no people, no sign of civilization at all nary here nor in the horizon, where great mountains were strewn haphazardly, as if thrown there by God to simply fill this barren place. The only audience to this battle was the blowing wind, the dust that wind unsettled, and heaven itself. The culmination of all his efforts in learning the spear and defeating countless opponents had led Gustav Artemiev to this single moment in time, this very hour that he would become a living legend.

    “Ah, another determined young man. What is it you seek? My life, or my tutelage?” asked Klein, his mad gaze boring into the mind of his opponent.

    Gustav took a deep breath and readied his spear,” I seek your life and your sword as my trophy, Crimson-Eyed Tiger.”

    As expected, the response to this statement was a chilling laugh that echoed all around the land, as if the Devil himself was joining in. Gustav did not falter neither in stance nor expression, refusing to be intimidated by his opponent. When the laughter stopped, Klein tilted his head slightly and leaned forward.

    “You will be the one to defeat me? Not the aged grandmasters of combat in far-off kingdoms, but you, a young man with no skill in the sword? I will admit I am impressed you’ve found me – it is a feat in itself to follow a man with no contact to humanity except for his wealthy employers. Then again, I suppose you’d have to sniff the dirt like the dog you are quite often in order to do so.”

    Again, Gustav forced himself not to react in any way save for an intake of breath. All battles were psychological, and that being the case, it was no wonder the blood-red eyed and sadistic Klein was a legend. Of course, it was not only the psychological aspect of the Crimson-Eyed Tiger that made him so deadly – his skill with the blade was not like any others. As opposed to the strict fighting styles that swordsmen commonly used, Klein had no fixed style whatsoever. His movements were wild, unpredictable, and brutal, yet all so undeniably masterful that one could consider the way he fights as a sword art of his own making. One grandmaster who had fought him and survived had stated,’ He is fluid like water. He is relentless as the thunder. He is strong as stone. He is clever as the fox. He is vicious as the tiger.’

    “My spear is as true and unmoving as my resolve. Unsheathe your weapon, or I will strike you as you are.”

    Klein’s entire expression suddenly changed to seriousness as opposed to the mocking stance he’d held seconds ago. The mad glint in his eye was still there, but the smile was gone. Apparently, Gustav had said something that the Crimson-Eyed Tiger found made him worthy enough to battle. The swordmaster unceremoniously dropped his pack onto the ground, water canteen and all. He then removed the muddy brown cloak that he’d donned since coming into the dust-bowl like area, revealing both a white shitagi and a gray hakama. They were dirty with dust despite the cloak. Gustav tensed and subconsciously gripped his spear tighter as Klein slowly unsheathed his sword from his sash. The sword, of course, was a great part of the legend of the Crimson-Eyed Tiger. Through means uncertain, he’d managed to obtain a sword forged so perfectly that it had withstood the test of time and numerous battles. As if a sign of its own power, a ruby was encrusted into the hilt, signifying the wealth required to commission such a weapon. The blade itself was worn with nicks and scratches that resembled proud battle scars of fights won. Gustav also took notice of the fact that the sword was indeed lovingly taken care of by its owner, as if it had just been polished. It was known by those who spoke of the Crimson-Eyed Tiger that he detested having the blood of a deceased opponent on his blade and would immediately wipe it as well as he could right at the battle’s end (according to the spectators of said battles, of course).

    “It is a fine blade, is it not?” said Klein, lazily resting the tip of the sword into the ground and leaning on it. Perhaps some of the talk of how well he maintained his sword was exaggerated.

    “Would make for a fine trophy,” agreed Gustav. It would also make for sufficient evidence that he’d slain Crimson-Eye. Of course, he’d drag the carcass of the body all the way to a public place just to make sure people would believe him.

    Klein took the sword in hand and held it in a loose and otherwise clumsy looking style, somehow conveying that the battle was to begin. The two stood there, staring each other down and neither moving an inch. The wind picked up and Klein’s long, messy black hair billowed in the breeze. The sun was bright orange and beginning to make its way downward. An unnatural calm descended on the field, then, and even the wind and dust died to bear witness to it.

    Then the spell was broken.

    The Crimson-Eyed Tiger bounded forward, his sword locked tight in his grip only by his thumb and middle finger. He lunged at Gustav and swung downwards, applying what looked to be a huge amount of force. Gustav waited until the last moment to twirl his spear into a blocking position so that the staff part of it would take the blow. To any other person, it would look as if Klein was an amateur swordsman swinging randomly in an attempt to take down his foe quickly. However, Gustav and no doubt the grandmasters who’d fought Klein in the past had caught that this move was a test. Depending on the person who would take the blow, they’d either dodge or block. Dodging would put them out of range for a counterattack but effectively put distance between them and Klein. Blocking would risk Klein switching stances all of a sudden and making a quick strike somewhere else. The move would test the overall style and ‘attitude’ of the challenger. In addition, facial reactions would probably be gauged to determine whether the face was scrutinized in concentration, nervous with the thought of death, or hidden to guard from any study whatsoever. Just from that one sloppy attack, Klein could get a first-impression of his opponent.

    And, judging by the slight smile on Klein’s face as he broke away from Gustav, he looked pleased.

    Not wanting to overthink his next move, Gustav thrust his spear forward. Klein sidestepped and sliced diagonally, to which Gustav backdashed away from. Gustav twirled his spear a moment to discourage an unexpected movement on Klein’s part, which worked to some degree as the swordmaster’s eyes traced the unfamiliar weapon momentarily. Gustav stopped, put both hands on the spear, and feinted forward. Klein took the feint as an attack and tried to sidestep, only to barely be able to parry the true spear jab that had meant to follow the feint. Without pausing, Klein pushed the blade of the spear away and swung for the left side of Gustav’s body. Gustav quickly twirled the spear so that it was vertical and put both hands to brace for the impact. Surprised by the quickness of the motion, the Crimson-Eyed Tiger stepped back. Gustav didn’t allow Klein a moment of rest and, while resting one hand on the butt of his spear and putting the other in the middle, jabbed forward for Klein’s foot, literally trying to catch the Tiger by its toe. Klein moved his foot up out of the way and swatted the spear away with his sword so Gustav would be unable to follow-up. Klein and Gustav stepped back from each other after this exchange. There were two reasons Klein was finding it hard to deal with his opponent: he was a skilled spearwielder and he was clearly making an effort to meet Klein’s style of unexpected movement with his own brand of it.

    The two faced off momentarily before Gustav moved forward, twirling his spear around and alternating hands skillfully. Klein attempted to stop the confusing action by sticking his sword where the twirling spear’s staff would be, but Gustav pulled back at the last moment, twisted so that he could switch hands behind his back with the spear, then moving his whole body so that he could jab forward into Klein’s unprotected side. While this movement was meant to be a surprise, Klein adjusted quickly and was able to bring his sword in the way of the spear fast enough to protect himself.

    The battle continued, a flurry of jabs, feinting, parrying, and even just moments of tense stand-offs in between. There was a moment Klein faltered and Gustav was able to scrape his shoulder. However, Klein paid the injury no mind and returned the favor by slightly cutting into Gustav’s arm. However, as the battle went on, Klein became more and more vicious. It was as if he starting to truly fight with all his might, but of course this meant he’d been holding back. Klein’s movements became so ridiculously sporadic that he’d be desperately flailing in one moment and systematically slicing in the next one. The sun had set by the time Klein had become fully serious, and Gustav’s earlier determination was replaced by fatigue and fear. Part of him just wanted to break and run, but he could never live with himself if he did that. He knew he had to bring it to an end. Klein apparently saw that desperate look and had the same thought. Before Gustav could position himself or even start to, Klein swung in an overhead manner, just as he did in the beginning of the battle. Gustav countered it the same way, holding the spear horizontally and with both hands to brace for the impact. However, rather than break away, Klein continued to hammer the spear again and again with brutally powerful swings with a single hand backing it up. Gustav gripped the spear tighter and figured his only option would be to hold out until there was an opening. However, Klein suddenly produced a small knife in his left hand, which was held between the middle and index finger, and jabbed with his fist. Gustav had no choice but to let go of the spear with one of his hands and stop the oncoming fist. He did this, careful to make sure he spread his fingers apart enough as to not be cut. Klein continued to pound the staff of Gustav’s spear with his sword while applying pressure with the other hand – Klein was either ambidextrous, very strong, or both. Trapped, Gustav had little choice in his next movement. Klein was unrelenting and refused to stop, only increasing pressure in his strikes as he did so. Finally, Gustav realized he could hold on no longer and dropped his precious spear as soon as one of Klein’s strikes ended, and then quickly jumped back out of the range of the small knife. Even before the spear settled on the ground after a slight clatter, Klein chucked the knife as soon as Gustav had stepped back. Fatigued and unable to react as he would with his trusty spear, Gustav’s first and only reaction to the skillful throw was to bring his arms up in an attempt to deflect it. The knife hit his left arm, digging itself in deep. Gustav tore it out immediately and held it in hand, finding some comfort in being armed. However, Klein had already sheathed his sword in this time.

    “You did well. Unfortunately, my life and my sword will not be yours, this day,” announced the Crimson-Eyed Tiger, donning his cloak.

    Gustav growled,” What are you doing? I’m still-“

    Klein interrupted him in a cold and detached voice,” You’re lucky that knife wasn’t tipped with poison, boy. You should be grateful I’m allowing you your life.”

    With that, Klein picked up Gustav’s spear and slung it over his shoulder. He then picked up his pack, turned around, and began to walk away.

    “Wait, my spear-“ Gustav began.

    “-is mine now, as a memento of the battle I nearly lost.”

    Gustav gritted his teeth in anger at the thought of losing his precious weapon and eyed the knife in hand. What if…no, it was clear who was superior. Not even a sneak attack would give him victory.

    Klein paused a bit before he continued,” Like I said, you should be grateful. You can keep that little dagger as a memento of the time I spared your existence. You can also keep your life as a reminder of your loss. It’s a fair trade, you’ve got the trophy you wanted and you have your life.”

    Gustav tried a different tactic. “Why do you want my spear? It is extra weight to carry, and…it is…I’ve had it for a long time.”

    Klein snorted,” Oh, this has sentimental value to you? I suppose you’ll think that will change my mind?”

    But then Gustav noticed something in Klein’s stance, the way he stopped walking and his head raised, as if he’d come to a conclusion or gotten an idea.

    “Perhaps…if you care for this spear so much…” Klein turned around with a mocking look in his eye,” you would be my slave.”

    Gustav was taken aback and momentarily forget the pain in his arm,” What are you talking about?”

    Klein held out the spear with one hand,” I said if you want the spear back, you’ll have to be my slave. To be honest, I like you. You were quite skilled, and in time you might be strong enough to beat me.”

    “Beat you? I would have beaten you if not for your trick with the knife!” Gustav spat.

    Klein shook his head and produced a hidden sword that was inside a pocket in his cloak. That was all it took for Gustav to realize Klein was not just a master of one sword, but perhaps an even greater master of two.

    “You understand, now, that when I use both blades, no one has lived to tell about it?”

    Gustav could hardly believe it. The victory he thought had been cheated out of had turned out to be an almost-victory over a man who was practically fighting handicapped.

    “So, what is your answer?” said Klein, the mad glint in his eyes gone. He seemed to genuinely be interested, now.

    Gustav looked down at the ground and immersed himself deep in thought. He knew he wanted to grow stronger, he wanted to be the replacement of the Crimson-Eyed Tiger.

    But.

    A slave…would that mean being an apprentice? Or perhaps Klein wanted to mock him further. Gustav stole a glance at the man who’d beaten him and saw an impatient look. Upon seeing that look, Gustav suddenly found that his word of answer had slipped out of his mouth before he’d realized it.

    Klein tilted his head and smirked again,” Could you repeat that?”

    Gustav brought his head up,” I said, yes.”

    “Excellent. Well, slave, you can tell me your name, first.”

    “Gustav Artemiev.”

    “Good. Second, you may carry this spear. It’s nothing but excess weight.”

    Gustav accepted it with a growl and gathered his own cloak, which he’d dropped before the battle.

    “We’re heading past the mountains to my next employer. We’ll see where that takes us. Now then, slave, let’s begin. Oh, and do cover up that wound, it looks disgusting. You should really be more careful.”And so it began.

    To be a Legend

    Chapter 2

    The two of them kept walking long after the sun had set. In that time, Gustav had fully registered that he would not be alive if not for Klein’s mercy. For whatever reason the Crimson-Eyed Tiger had allowed his opponent’s life to continue, Gustav had to admit he was grateful. He hadn’t really even considered in the time he’d spent into tracking the elusive swordmaster that he could have died right in that battlefield. Sure, he’d arbitrarily thought that he was prepared to put his life on the line, but he hadn’t really realized what that meant.

    It meant he’d be lying face down in the dry ground riddled with cracks a few miles back, waiting for Mother Nature to strip away his flesh.

    “How far is the place from here?” asked Gustav after a few minutes.

    Klein shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly,” Long enough that we’ll have to stop to rest in a few more hours.”

    Gustav concealed a groan – he was still tired just from the lack of sleep in tracking Klein in the first place. On top of that, the wound on his left arm stung from the dust the wind was carrying into it. Gustav shut his eyelids momentarily and decided that there was no way he would admit being unable to keep up with Klein in a simple test of stamina. Unfortunately, about half an hour more into the journey, he was breathing raggedly from the mouth.

    Finally, after about another two hours, Klein suddenly halted and announced they would rest here until dawn. Upon hearing this, Gustav threw his pack to the ground and gingerly set himself down.

    “Tired, are we?” said Klein, being careful to make sure Gustav heard the mocking tone in his voice.

    Rather than respond, Gustav dug into his pack for a canteen and took a long drink from it, careful to make sure none of the water escaped from the sides of his mouth. He’d refrained from stopping to drink during the trek, mostly because he hadn’t seen Klein touch his canteen at all. When he was finished, he corked the bottle and set it aside, next taking out a loaf of bread and ripping off a small piece. Klein watched this whole process with an amused look on his face before digging into his own pack and taking out some water for himself. Gustav stole a glance into the bag and saw a whetstone, a pouch, a small antique-looking box, and a rag that looked like it had been used often.

    Gustav tore his eyes away and figured there wasn’t much time until dawn. He needed all the rest he could get.


    It was another two days before a small village appeared further away. At first, there were only a few small wooden shacks amidst fields of land where a few farmers were tilling away at the soil. Some of them glanced warily at Gustav’s exposed weapon, but their eyes shifted to Klein directly after. They probably didn’t know who he was, but the Crimson-Eyed Tiger had the air of a very unpleasant man.

    A few minutes later, they’d arrived in a more populated area. There was a blacksmith’s, a few market stalls, and many shabby-looking houses from what was instantly visible. Gustav’s eyes lazily swept left and right to take in the sights while Klein’s remained trained into the horizon.

    “Is this place in town?” asked Gustav, looking for a distinguishable landmark in the vicinity.

    “Further ahead,” answered Klein.

    Gustav withheld a sigh and hoped by “further ahead”, Klein meant it was a matter of minutes as opposed to days.

    Eventually, a larger and more lavish looking structure than the ones they’d left behind appeared. It was a large home made of fine wood with a beautiful garden, containing its own man-made pond and sakura trees to the left and right of anyone approaching from the front. Right at the door, there was a guard armed with a sword and a particularly menacing scowl. Gustav briefly wondered whether the guard was in a foul mood, or simply paid to scowl like that just to ward off visitors. Upon spotting Klein, the man nodded and opened the sliding door that was formerly masked by his large figure. Klein moved directly past the offered door without so much as a thanks. The guard cast Gustav a questioning glance before he shrugged, figuring anyone with their favorite employee would be trustworthy (to some degree).

    As they navigated through various hallways, Klein began to speak, somewhat startling Gustav.

    “This place is the home of a wealthy distributor of opium. In addition, this house processes that opium on a small scale, a miniscule account compared to other locations for this particular outfit. This is all you need to know, other than keep quiet. If the Boss looks in your direction, I will speak on your behalf.”

    Gustav nodded, even though Klein was ahead of him and could not see it. He had no qualms about being in the home of an illegal distributor of drugs, but he was starting to get the feeling he would come off of this venture with a bad taste in his mouth.


    About twenty minutes later, the audience with Boss Yamato and his surly bodyguards had ended, much to Gustav’s relief. He’d spent most of the time listening with great interest to Klein’s report – in his time tracking Klein, he had no idea he’d been returning from an assassination mission from another country. However, he got the impression that Klein was leaving out specific details in Gustav’s presence. The boss seemed to notice this, but probably was only listening as a formality. Klein had been paid on his way in through the boss’s door, meaning Yamato had already confirmed the ‘job’ details with his own connections. After Klein was finished, two of the bodyguards unfolded a map on Yamato’s right and held it out for the visitors to see. It had several large ‘X’s painted over circled areas that were either in or around a group of houses, obviously denoting a village or town. However, there were even more circled areas that had not been crossed out. Judging by the scale of the map, Gustav figured it was the entire country of Kanburo. Boss Yamato allowed his honored guest to briefly glance at the map before gesturing to a bodyguard on his left. The man approached Boss Yamato and received a scrolled-up letter, which he then held above his head in an almost humorous way to show he wasn’t peeking into its contents before he walked over and handed it to Klein. After that, Klein had taken his leave unannounced, and the boss let him go without another word.

    Now, on their way out the front door, Gustav noticed an open bag stocked with bread, two water canteens, and a fine piece of white cloth. Klein made a hand gesture that told Gustav to pick up the bag. This he did, albeit reluctantly. He was not used to doing another human’s bidding. When they were about a minute’s walk away from the estate, Klein set down his own tattered pack and transferred its contents (save for the stained rag and finished water canteens) to the newer bag. He spoke while he did so.

    “These supplies were packed beforehand with my exact specifications. The bread will only last five days if rationed by one person. You’ll have to find your own food, I’m afraid. Our destination is a long way off, longer than the bread will last for one person.”

    Gustav, though not exactly thrilled at the prospect of about what seemed like a week’s trek, decided to comment on other things besides the ache in his legs.

    “Why the hell do you go without food? And why have you not asked for bandages or perhaps at least a few hours rest in that lavish house?”

    Klein snorted, something Gustav noticed he did a bit too much when he was in private company,” You expect a man who’s hunted by every warrior from novice to master in this and foreign countries to be able to sit in one place for too long? This should come as no shock to you, but some of those men inside would like nothing more than to kill me, and they would use whatever method possible to do so. Boss Yamato has tried, once, with an offered drink. I accepted it gratefully and then forced it down the throat of one of his attendant’s. The boy fell ill and died in the hour, or so they heard the next time I’d come for a new job.”

    Gustav was taken aback by this,” Wouldn’t killing you be counterproductive to his business?”

    Klein grabbed the bag out of Gustav’s hand and continued to walk down the road before answering.

    “I can agree that it would have been less a booster to his business and more of a hindrance. But, and I’m sure that you especially are quite aware of this fact; fame is all that matters to a man in the end. As for bandages and food, I do not require them nor will I show weakness in asking.”

    Gustav had no doubt about that last bit – Klein was a demon and did not require normal human necessity. But then one last question popped into his head.

    “How are you sure the water and bread is not poisoned?”

    Klein answered this one without a dramatic pause, for once.

    “I would go back to the kitchen and test every separate scrap of bread and both canteens on the cook, who is the most likely to have tampered with them. Apart from that, I do nothing else but simply inspect them before consumption.”

    Gustav could understand that, but…

    “Why not test it on the cook this time?”

    Klein smirked,” I have you here, don’t I? I figure there’s no reason to bother the man. I said before you’d have to find your own food, but the first meal is on me, this time.”

    Wonderful.


    It had been a week since they’d headed out, and Gustav still had little knowledge of where they were headed. Klein had read the scroll with a frown on his face an hour into the trek and then ripped it to pieces, allowing the fragments to fly off into the wind. Gustav resisted the urge to ask about it; Klein would speak when need be. Apart from that, the only eventful things that occurred consisted of him either begging off food from rural farmers or catching small animals. Water was easily replenishable what with nearby streams of water and the occasional drizzle.

    Finally, one night as they picked out a clearing in a forested area far from civilization, he heard Klein speak just as Gustav was heading off to find the materials for a fire.

    “We are heading to one of the houses of the biggest competitor to Boss Yamato’s business in this country.”
    Gustav’s heart sank as he heard this – all this trouble just to take down a single far-away opium warehouse? This hardly seemed like the thing a living legend bustled about doing. However, Klein wasn’t finished.

    “While I’ve taken a few of these houses before, this one is considerably different. It seems someone with expertise in the art of Dark Rune has summoned me for a battle.”

    Gustav suddenly felt cold. Like many people in the land of Kanburo and beyond, he had heard numerous tales of the insanity that befell a person who studied Dark Rune. Only those with iron wills could study Dark Rune and not become consumed by it, and even then those who’ve mastered it and retained their minds are hardly people anymore. Dark Rune twisted the body and mind, and what’s more, it was the most powerful magic in existence. Even those young students with wealthy fathers who could afford to find a master of Dark Rune to give instruction rarely pass the Novice stage with minds intact and souls uncorrupted.

    Klein looked up to the night sky,” Start the fire and get your dinner. I’ll explain more about it when you’ve done that.”

    Gustav turned slowly, wondering why Klein would even bring it up if he wasn’t prepared to talk about the matter. He stole a glance back and saw what seemed to be a troubled look in those blood-red eyes that were so infamous. Gustav suddenly felt very uncomfortable, as if he’d spied on Klein in a vulnerable moment. However, Klein met Gustav’s eyes with his own and the familiar glow of malice returned. Without another word, Gustav trudged off, commanding himself not to look back.

    When Gustav was gone, Klein heaved a heavy, almost weary sigh, and dug into one of his cloak’s many hidden pockets. He felt the hilt of his second sword and squeezed it, as if for comfort.

    “If it is you, old friend, rest assured I’m coming to finish what I started,” he murmured quietly. Though the words were meant to come out as cold and harsh as his own sadistic nature, there was sadness in them.


    When Gustav returned, he set to work immediately lighting the dry wood and laying his captured dinner (a squirrel this night) off to the side, unnecessarily ensuring once more that it was dead.

    Klein started to speak, then, as Gustav took out the clean knife he’d borrowed from Klein to slice up the animal.

    “Dark Rune…the greatest of all the Rune arts. Such a wicked art should never have been concocted. Tell me, Gustav, do you know what is the fuel for Dark Rune?”

    Gustav avoided Klein’s eyes and answered,” I’m not sure. Those with elemental Rune use the air and sometimes their own ingredients to strengthen their magic. Alchemists and chemists understand elemental Rune best…but Dark Rune is an art of the Devil, correct? It’s fueled by the will of Satan…or perhaps Hell itself?”

    Klein smiled thinly and shook his head,” I assure you that it most certainly is not magic bestowed by Hell or any of its inhabitants. But I will agree it is the art of the Devil. You see, the fuel of Dark Rune is Life Force.”

    Gustav blinked. Life Force? What the hell was that supposed to mean? It made more sense to say Dark Rune was the will of Satan.

    “You see…how should I put this? Life Force is the essence of a person. It is any part of a person. Like… if it is a limb or an organ, that is Life Force. If it were emotion, that is also Life Force. Anger and love are prime examples of this. Even the will to live, the soul of a human being…its all just fuel to sacrifice to cast Dark Rune and pursue ultimate power.”

    The gravity of what Klein was trying to tell him did not really register at first. It didn’t seem as if Dark Rune was different than the sciences involved in elemental Rune, it sounded that is was only a bit darker and more costly to a human psyche.

    Klein saw the look Gustav was giving him,” Surely you understand, I couldn’t have made it clearer. Every time Dark Rune is used, it’s caster dies a little. It starts with human emotion, then when the user is no more than a sadistic puppet, the Rune begins to rot and age the body. It’s likely your body will decompose and certain systems will cease to function, such as the reproductive system, for one thing. A skilled sorcerer would look 80 in his 50’s and have just as many issues if not more than someone with that age would have, in regards to just the body only. The mind would have been warped and the heart would have been blackened by this point, however. Do you understand?”

    Gustav nodded lamely, unsure of what to make of Klein’s longest monologue ever. It also seemed as if Klein knew a bit too much about Dark Rune, even if he had encountered it in his travels. Even if it was unwise to do so, he voiced this.

    “How do you know so much about it? Have you ever fought such people?”

    Klein’s expression darkened, yet another of a long string of reactions Gustav had not expected to ever see in one night from the Crimson-Eyed Tiger.

    “I’ve killed several Novices who’d thought they would best me with their power. Novices typically have the ability to form shapeless dark entities with sharp sides jutting out of them to lumber around and strike foes. They could also utilize incantations to send a minor curse onto the opponent. About the extent of what Novices can do are to throw spheres of darkness that will rot the skin upon contact.

    Klein paused and took a sip of his canteen. “I’ve also met fewer Adepts who had the same idea. The majority of these were as I described earlier – people halfway through the maximum life span and already looking like they’d died, nothing more than fossils. Adepts are likely to summon more defined and intelligent creatures from shadows or from nothingness to attack. I’ve seen one use about ten at a time, all armed with wispy swords. Other times I’ve seen summons who would root to one spot and throw orbs of darkness, as if archers with unholy weapons. Adepts will cast longer and more intricate incantations that could curse you for life or most likely cause you to go insane. They could even break the barrier of your mind and look into your soul. The true extent of the Adept is to damage your very Life Force and perhaps use it as their own.”

    Gustav waited while Klein took his last piece of bread out (which had lasted longer than Klein predicted) and bitten it. Gustav knew that wasn’t all.

    “The Master,” Klein finally started,” has powers that are as close to divinity as one can obtain. These men are usually near the end of their lives, looking like skeletons at the young age of 90 years old. They’ve survived disease, the breakdown of their bodily functions, and the consumption of their souls and minds. Their powers are vaguely what the Adept uses, only exponentially stronger. And something that I forgot to mention…Adepts and Masters will always use the Life Force of other human beings to strengthen their magic and to retain their own Life Force. Though body, mind, and soul still rot, it is slowed by this unholy vampiric method.”

    Gustav didn’t even realize it, but he was leaning forward expectantly,” Have you ever fought one?”

    “Yes,” he admitted quietly,” I have. In fact, this man kept drawing on the Life Force of a few dozen villagers when we fought, and I continued to elude death as the fight wore on for an entire day. However, though my life remained intact, I ended up killing women, children, and men alike in that battle as he drained their Life Force to nothing. In the end, I won…but he escaped with something very precious to me.”

    Gustav thought that was a very odd thing to say. Perhaps…

    “Did you…know this person?” he said slowly, not wanting to delve too personally into Klein’s past but unable to resist asking.

    “Yes,” Klein repeated,” But I will not discuss it any further than this…I think I’ve said too much already.”

    Gustav sat there in silence for a moment as he looked at the squirrel near his hand. He’d been stabbing it with the knife the whole time without even realizing it. Sighing, he was prepared for another night of cold silence before Klein’s voice sounded one last time.

    “If we should meet this person…if he is the one waiting for me tommorow…” Klein paused and Gustav met his eyes, which now shone with intense hatred and malice.

    “Then I will be the one to kill him, even if it should be my end.”