Harpies were birdlike magical creatures, fierce and cunning, with talons that could tear through steel and wings strong enough to ride the fiercest storms. Like most avian predators, they favored high, inaccessible places—the jagged crowns of mountains where few dared to tread. With their innate affinity for the wind's natural energy and the ability to maneuver effortlessly through turbulent skies, a mountain peak was more than just a nest—it was a fortress.
At the base of one such mountain, far from the nearest settlement, three men lingered in the shadow of the cliffs. Two sat cross-legged with their eyes closed, their breathing slow and even in meditation. The third paced back and forth in the clearing like a caged beast, his boots grinding into the dirt. His irritation was obvious: clenched fists, a scowl twisting his mouth, and a flush creeping up his neck.
Finally, the man lost patience. With a guttural shout, he slammed his fist into the trunk of a thick tree. Bark exploded, and the impact left a deep, splintered dent in the wood.
"Goddammit!" he roared. "Why the fuck aren't we going after that brat? There are three of us, and he's all alone! Benjamin, since when did my brother's number two turn into such a coward?" Nick's voice cracked with frustration as he rounded on the man in the middle.
Benjamin opened his eyes just far enough to glance at him. The look he gave was neither startled nor defensive—only bored contempt. The faint curl at the corner of his mouth made it clear he saw Nick not as an equal but as a nuisance.
This idiot… Benjamin thought. If it weren't for Arthur, becoming a Rank 2 Apprentice would've been the peak of his miserable life.
"I've already told you," Benjamin said, his tone flat. "The information we bought says the boy's mission is to hunt harpies. We wait until he's done—when he's bleeding and exhausted. Then we strike. Now sit down and stop wasting my air." With that, he shut his eyes again.
Nick's face darkened, but even in his temper he wasn't stupid enough to push further. Unlike himself—whose advancement to Rank 3 had come only after bleeding his brother's resources dry—Benjamin had earned his place. He wasn't quite a pseudo-Magus, but his combat strength was close enough to make the distinction meaningless.
Benjamin's chosen path gave him raw battle prowess and a predatory versatility. He could have formed his own hunting party, free from the shadow of stronger Magi. Instead, he'd chosen to follow Arthur, recognizing in him the same principle he valued most: never underestimate your enemy.
Nick turned away, muttering under his breath, while Benjamin settled into the stillness of meditation again.
The stillness shattered in the next heartbeat.
An instinct like a knife in his gut made Benjamin's eyes snap open. His body tensed as the hair on the back of his neck rose.
"WATCH OUT!" he shouted.
Nick had just started to sit when he felt something behind him—a faint shift in the air, a killing intent like ice water down his spine. He twisted desperately, but the attacker's timing was perfect. The sword punched clean through his back, its tip bursting from his chest.
The shock stole his breath. He'd managed to turn just enough to avoid his heart being pierced outright, but the pain was like fire racing through his ribs.
I can still survive… he told himself, forcing the thought through the agony. I just need to hold on until Benjamin and Robert—
The sword flared. Lightning coursed down the blade, flooding into his body, burning through flesh and boiling his organs from the inside.
"SAVE ME!" Nick screamed, the sound raw and desperate.
Benjamin and the third man—Robert—reacted instantly, hurling spells toward the dark, fast-moving figure behind Nick. A fountain of acid hissed through the air, followed by massive rocks plummeting like meteors.
The attacker's body blurred—lightning danced over him, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished from the spells' trajectory, reappearing behind Nick's collapsing body.
Benjamin reached his fallen ally, but the sight stopped him cold.
Not even ten seconds… he thought, staring at the ruin of Nick's chest. Ten seconds from the first strike, and most of his organs are gone. Ruthless. Efficient.
"You little brat," Benjamin growled, forcing his voice into a sneer. "Do you have any idea who you've just killed? When Arthur—his brother, a pseudo-Magus—finds out, you'll beg for death."
The words were deliberate, crafted to rattle an opponent, to seed hesitation. But the young man standing across from them was unmoved.
Ezequiel's expression was unreadable. Waiting for an enemy to make the first move had never been his way. He had hunted them deliberately, tracking their careful concealment until Nick's temper had given him the opening he needed.
Without a word, lightning flared across his body, and he surged forward.
Take out the weaker one first, he decided, eyes locking on Robert.
Benjamin moved to block, his body swelling grotesquely. Flesh split and reformed as bones elongated. Scales the color of tarnished bronze erupted along his skin, and within seconds, a five-meter serpent loomed where the man had stood.
"Robert, keep your distance," Benjamin's voice hissed from between fanged jaws. "Distract him when you can."
Robert didn't argue. Direct confrontation with this lightning-clad predator would be suicide. He fell back, hands already weaving the next spell.
Ezequiel kept moving, widening the gap between himself and the serpent.
Bloodline apprentice, he realized instantly. Master warned me about their transformations. Limited time, but dangerous. Test his reach before closing in.
Benjamin lunged, his enormous body scything through trees as though they were grass. The air was heavy with the scent of crushed vegetation and the faint acid musk of his venom. Each slam of his body shook the ground.
Ezequiel darted away, his movements precise and sharp. Lightning crawled down his sword, extending outward until it had become a three-meter whip crackling with energy.
The serpent reared back to spit acid. Ezequiel's arm snapped forward, the whip arcing across Benjamin's face. The strike seared scale and flesh alike, leaving a smoking welt.
"Ahh! You little—" Benjamin's roar cut off in a hiss. "I'll devour you whole!"
Rocks suddenly began to rain from above—Robert's spell. They were the size of small boulders, but their descent was slow, telegraphed. Ezequiel weaved between them, barely slowing, until the ground beneath his feet gave way.
His legs sank into softening earth. Surprise flickered across his features as he glanced toward Robert. The other apprentice was kneeling, hands pressed to the ground, chanting steadily.
The rock shower had been nothing but a distraction—herding Ezequiel into the waiting snare. The spell would only hold him for moments, but moments were all Benjamin needed.
The serpent's tail swept around with crushing force.
Ezequiel crossed his arms, lightning surging into them, forming a shield around his body. The impact hit like a siege ram. Pain flared through his bones as he was torn free from the ground and hurled fifteen meters, smashing through tree trunks before skidding to a halt.