[Book 1] The Way Home

Immanuel peeked out from behind the pile of wooden supply crates every so often to observe the movement of the people around him. Although the next watchtower was far away from the one whose occupant he killed, he still looked to the front and back, just to make sure that no one would spot him hiding there or, if ever they'd see him walking, would find his presence suspicious.

So far, he saw more people at the vicinity of the gate than anywhere else that he could see. Aside from the guards stationed there, he also saw the occasional drunkard stumble upon there due to the alcohol clouding their sense of direction. A tall, muscular guard had just kicked one in the guts to end a brief shouting match. A couple of smaller guards then dragged away the man, who was already groaning in pain.

From his teen years, Immanuel already knew that the walls and gates of the Kingdom were only safe places in times of peace. In times of war, however, they were not places that ordinary citizens want to find themselves at. The silence throughout the vicinity, except at the gate itself, was testament to how common such knowledge was among the subjects.

Immanuel crouched as he began the final stretch of the journey home with silent steps. The moon above still shone bright and unobscured, so he concealed himself in patches of darkness whenever he could find them.

He made multiple detours as he passed through the different towns of the barony out of the desire to embrace the darkness and avoid an encounter with anyone in the barony. He dodged major residential areas and the shops near them, military installations, houses of worship to the Golden-Eyed Crow, and government offices.

But with not a soul in sight as he passed the last house of the outskirts of a town, an abandoned home situated before a creek up ahead, Immanuel proceeded along a dirt path that ran the direction of the water's current, eyes looking ahead for signs of home.

He had not gone far from the last house at the edge of town when he sighted upon a tiny spark that peered through the density of trees up ahead. His heart raced and his feet broke into a run. She's at home, and she's cooking dinner.

With the initial excitement turning into impatience, a nagging part of Immanuel wanted to use the sigil again, but something seemed to be urging him to reconsider. He entertained the thought—he had yet to catch sight of his house, and dangers could be lurking from anywhere. The sigil was his best defense and offense.

When he saw that the tiny spark from far away had grown into a perceivable tongue of fire, he doubled his pace. But just as the house was starting to come into view after a while, Immanuel began to hear the distant chats and laughter of a gathering of men. He stopped to listen as he readied his bow, but the flow of the water was drowning out anything they were saying. No matter. He moved forward, crouching, once he had an arrow ready to fire.

What he first thought was a gathering of men taking turns wooing his wife turned out to be soldiers occupying his home. There were more than a dozen of them gathered outside, with one cooking for them at Immanuel's outdoor kitchen. Soldiers came in and out of the house as well. Immanuel believed there could be around thirty men occupying his home that night.

There's no way I could deal with all of them head-on, even if none of them have spell scrolls, Immanuel thought as he looked around for a number of bushes and tree trunks to hide behind. He thought to pick them off one at a time until he had killed all of them or terrified them enough that they'd have no choice but to flee or hide inside his house. Once I've rounded up the cowards inside, I'll enter through the secret room I've built, which connects to the living room, and finish them off. I've done this strategy in a past mission, and I'll do it again.

Having found bushes and tree trunks around his house to hide behind, he moved to the nearest bush, dropped his pack, and waited with an arrow ready to fire.

Just as he was about to raise the bow and take aim, he saw a familiar figure step out of his house, bringing a spear. This soldier was skinny and had an assertive face fitting of his profession. His unkempt straight hair, parted on his left, looked like it was in a perpetual struggle to lay relaxed on his head, with some of it dangling on his forehead. Anyone who had met Immanuel at least once would recognize the man to be Immanuel.

If not for that cloak covering him, that man would still be the pathetic Maddox.

Immanuel kept his eyes on the man who was posing as himself. As he passed a group of soldiers and spoke to them, they were all smiles and nodding at him before they resumed their conversation among themselves. The man, who he assumed to be Maddox, then proceeded down the creek alone, laid his spear down to his right side, and sat cross-legged by the water, out of view of his fellow soldiers.

"Change of plans," Immanuel said to himself as he stowed his bow and placed the arrow back into the quiver. He had the perfect opportunity to kill him where he was positioned and take his cloak back, but he thought to confront him first before killing him.

With a dagger drawn, Immanuel snuck, descending towards a smaller bush near the creek's edge. Once he had hidden himself behind it, he then willed the sigil to activate. One way or another, I'm getting myself across the water, he thought. This would be his first attempt to use his second form to cross a body of water—a fast-flowing one at that.

Immanuel crawled towards the water, bracing himself for the possibility of the current carrying him away, what with his second form having the dimensions of a thin tree branch. But the water felt like fresh mud to Immanuel while the sigil was active, and Immanuel continued towards the opposite edge of the creek.

Once there, he made a sharp right turn, and just as the impersonator turned to look at whatever it was that was moving fast at the edge of his vision, Immanuel rose, looming over him. Before Maddox could react, Immanuel struck his head with a kick that sweeped at a great arc, knocking the upper half of his body to the ground.

With the impersonator starting to cry out in pain, Immanuel wasted no time, mounting his chest and shoulders and smothering him with his free hand before his cries got too loud. Then he placed the tip of the dagger in front of the man's eyes.

"There's not a soul who will believe you if you told them right now that I had come back from the dead," Immanuel hissed. "Right now, your only options are to cooperate or die. The choice is yours."

Even with his head pressed against the ground, the impersonator still managed to shake his head and plead with his eyes. Seeing the man's pathetic expression, Immanuel promised himself he'd rather die than plead for his life if it came down to that.

Immanuel released his hold on the man's jaws and slapped him. "Up. Let's go talk somewhere empty," he said as he rose. The impersonator inched his right arm towards the spear, but Immanuel caught the movement of his arm and responded with a stomp to the impersonator's hand. This elicited a louder cry from the man, suppressed just as it got out of him by the sight of Immanuel's dagger.

"Should have brought a spell scroll with you, huh? Get up," Immanuel commanded again as he took the spear. Left with no trick to pull off against the man who had risen from the dead, he rose.

"Walk," came Immanuel's next command, spear pointed further away from the house. The impersonator nodded with fear in his eyes and started walking. "Good. Keep walking until I say otherwise."

Immanuel and the impersonator both stopped walking when the laughter and conversations of the soldiers were no longer audible, even in the slightest. Anyone who saw them from far away at that moment would think of the impersonator as someone guiding Immanuel through the area owing to how far apart they were.

"Face me," said Immanuel. The impersonator turned, his back hunched and his arms raised out of instinct, bracing for an attack he thought was coming.

"Put your arms down. Didn't I tell you there's a lot we need to talk about?" The other man nodded as he complied. "Good. Now tell me…"

Immanuel took one stomp forward. "What are you lazy fucks doing in my house? Aren't all of you supposed to be somewhere else with a lot more people than here?"

The impersonator spoke, "When our captain found out about your cloak, those way higher up the ranks thought it would be better for someone to pretend to be you, rather than declare you dead." Immanuel recognized the voice; it was Isaiah Maddox. "It was then decided that those soldiers will be staying there too."

"And you're all living with my wife, I take it?" Immanuel's eyes pierced into Maddox's as he asked. This got Maddox wide-eyed in astonishment. "You fucking pigs!"

Shaking his head hard and waving his hands in front of him, Maddox reacted, "No! Not at all! That's not how it's going over there at all! She does not live there!"

Maddox then gasped as a memory flashed in his mind. Then, with eyes squinted at Immanuel, he asked, "Wait… aren't you divorced? That was what our superiors told me when I was asked to take your spot. They said she left you before our mission to kill Baron Ironhelm due to irreconcilable differences between you two."

"Bullshit. That's impossible." Immanuel then twirled the spear and gripped it in such a way that he could throw it any time he needed to. Getting bolder, I see. I wonder why.

Immanuel pulled his arm back as if intending to throw the spear towards Maddox, who shrunk and raised his arms in fear. "If I find out you and your mates touched her, I'll dice you all into pieces. Do you understand me?!" He growled.

"She's not dead! Someone had taken her and married her. It's the same man who gave me the order to kill you. It's—" Maddox grasped his jaws all of a sudden. What is happening to him?

His jaws were starting to hurt, and as time passed, the worse the pain seemed to be becoming. In time, he doubled over and started groaning, which grew louder as time passed. Then he began to shiver, and large droplets of sweat have started to appear. It was as if he had gotten a high fever that very instant.

"Maddox!" Immanuel growled as he moved forward, alarmed by what was happening to him.

But with the smoke that was starting to come out of his mouth, nostrils, and ears, it was starting to look like his entire body had been set on fire from the inside. Shit! Immanuel took more than a step back. He had heard of curse spells that alter the target's bodily chemistry, such that it becomes incendiary or explosive.

Immanuel was certain that he had not stepped on a twig as he moved back, but he heard one snap at the exact moment he brought one foot behind him a third time. The audible cursing from the distance that followed confirmed to him that he had been stalked.

Looking behind him, Immanuel saw a silhouette of a soldier, which turned and started running just as he laid his eyes on him. Wielding a sword, perhaps the soldier saw how disadvantaged he'd be in a fight against someone wielding a weapon that can be thrown and tried to run away.

He's alerting the rest! Immanuel tossed the spear. It passed through the chest of the soldier that was trailing him, and he fell down the ground, dead.

A loud pop followed behind him. The groaning stopped, and liquid, globs, and sharp fragments splashed at the back of his head and neck. Turning towards the source of the loud pop, he saw that Maddox's head had blown up. It was his blood, brain matter, fragments of his skull, and perhaps even a few teeth that splashed at the back of his head.

I thought it would take me a long while to make him give up the cloak. Lucky for him, he no longer has to deal with whatever nasty ideas I had in mind.

An arrow whirred past, grazing Immanuel's left ear and cheek before hitting a tree up ahead of him. Damn it, how many of them have been watching the entire time?!

Immanuel darted towards a thick tree trunk, his cloak slung to one arm. Then he crouched and readied his bow.