Unrepentant

Jules trudged through the fog-laden forest, annoyed by the sudden shift in weather as he strained himself to see the path ahead.

Thick mist clung to the trees like a veil, blurring his vision and making each step feel precarious.

The forest seemed to close in around him, the silence punctuated only by the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

With a sigh, he pulled out a crude map and compass, hoping to maintain at least a semblance of accuracy in his direction.

As he paused for a moment, a sudden rustle of wings startled him. A plump crow perched himself onto a nearby branch and caused Jules to jump in panic and nearly stumble over.

"Whoa there!" he exclaimed, his heart racing in his chest. He took a moment to regain his composure before addressing the bird. "Hey, could you not do that bud? Scaring travelers in a foggy forest isn’t exactly nice!"

A good-natured smile appeared on his freckled face, despite the lingering adrenaline.

The crow cocked its head in apparent confusion, its eyes seemed to possess an unsettling intelligence that was far beyond that of a mere bird. It watched him with such an intensity that made Jules feel as though he were being judged.

Jules, ever the honest and goodly fellow, decided to introduce himself to the crow, his voice warm and open.

"I'm Jules, by the way. Just trying to get through this fog. Got any directions Mr. Crow?" He chuckled at his own little attempt at humor.

An unexpected gesture followed the introduction, he rummaged through his dwindling pack of supplies and offered the crow a piece of bread. The crow, taken aback by the offer, let out a series of squawks that almost sounded like chuckles before taking a bite. The crow's demeanor shifted, seemingly pleased with the offering, and with a graceful flap of his wings, he took flight, leaving Jules alone once again to find his way.

Jules muttered with a laugh, "Guess not, eh?"

From afar, a man scrutinized the scene, his dark eyes narrowed. His disheveled black hair, falling over his forehead, couldn't conceal the spark of amusement in his gaze.

He watched as the fog swallowed Jules, transforming him into a shadowy figure adrift in a realm which this observer navigated effortlessly.

Nyx’s happy reaction was unusual he thought; perhaps the crow, deprived of attention, found the boy endearing. Otherwise, it would have squawked in outrage at any slight to its noble presence.

The man pondered his observations in silence. For now, he remained in the shadows.

Haunting animal sounds filled the air, creating an eerie cacophony that would unsettle any traveler.

A distant howl, the flutter of wings, and a low growl from a hidden predator blended into a discordant chorus that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the woods.

Jules cracked his knuckles out of habit, a nervous tick from his days as a mason's apprentice.

The joints didn't even pop, but the repetitive motion seemed to provide him with some small measure of comfort, an attempt to ward off the creeping dread that enveloped the atmosphere.

"This place is gonna make me shit my pants…" he muttered crassly, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a blunt knife.

He began to hum a little rhyming song that drunks in bars liked to sing about a spry lass being chased by wolves. The melody was both absurd and comforting in its familiarity.

His humming quickly morphed into talking to himself, his words filling the empty space around him with a forced sense of normalcy. "Gonna make it big in the city!" he said to himself, voice full with a blend of hope and desperation. "Marry a beautiful busty wife! Make some friends! Get shitfaced with all the new friends. Won't be stuck in some foggy hellhole forever, no siree!"

The man observed the young lad's actions with detached interest, noting every movement and word. "The boy seems to be lacking in the mind to talk to himself so much…" he thought monotonously, his expression remaining impassive.

Nyx perched silently atop his shoulder, making laughing gestures without emitting any sound.

Jules continued his one-sided conversation, blissfully unaware of his silent audience. His voice carried through the mist, an oasis of semi-civilized presence in an otherwise desolate place.

The man's mind wandered briefly as he listened, contemplating what it must be like to exist within such a simple framework of thought.

Then it happened—a sudden, guttural growl came from ahead. The observing man in the back had his interest piqued.

Jules however froze mid-step, the sound coming from the front echoing through the mist like a death knell. His eyes tripled in size, as he instinctively reached for the small saber tucked into his sash.

The blade trembled in his grip as he scanned the fog, searching for the source of the noise.

From his vantage point, the man could see the telltale signs of fear: the boy's labored breath, the cold sweat beading on his brow.

The ground beneath Jules began to vibrate faintly.

A rampaging Blackened Boar burst forth through the mist, its sooty mane bristling and its tusks embodiments of menace. The beast's muscular frame seemed to consume all the available space in Jules's eyes, a force of nature driven by predatory hunger.

Jules felt horror at the sight of the monstrous creature. His initial reaction was almost comically predictable; without thinking twice, he turned on his heel and bolted in the opposite direction.

"Special technique [Run Like a Bitch]!" he screamed as if casting a spell upon his body. The lad's legs pumped furiously as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the charging boar as possible.

"Predictable." the man thought, watching Jules’ frantic escape attempt.

Nyx let out a silent laugh once more, wings flapping with silent mirth.

Jules's saber clattered uselessly against his thigh as he ran, his mind consumed by one singular thought: survival.

The boar's snorts grew louder as he got closer...

The man stood still, observing the frantic bolting of the boy through the mist. Jules’s form cut through the fog, legs moving like a rabbit fleeing a hound. Nyx found the sight amusing, the corners of his beak twitching in a semblance of a smile.

Jules, lost in his desperation, barely noticed he was hurtling toward another figure. Panic had reduced his world to blurred edges and pounding feet. The moment he saw a shadow of a human, the gears in his frantic mind started turning again.

"Run! Run away!" Jules shouted, voice cracking with terror.

The man remained motionless, expression neutral as if he couldn't hear Jules’ warning. The boy's eyes darted across the man’s face, searching for any sign of comprehension or fear, but finding none.

"He’s probably deaf or scared stiff!" Jules thought, heart racing. "Sorry if I hurt ya! I'll apologize later!" His voice was loud but still wavering, nonetheless it was filled with sincerity.

Without hesitation, Jules lunged forward to tackle the mystery man, intending to drag him out of harm’s way. As his head collided with the man's torso, the world around him seemed to slow down for an agonizing moment.

To Jules, it felt like ramming into an immovable object—a mountain masquerading as a man.

Pain radiated from his skull through his entire body as if a monk had trapped him in a bell and struck it with relentless fervor.

The force of the impact left Jules disoriented, stumbling backward with a dazed expression. His vision swam, shapes and colors blurring into a kaleidoscope of confusion. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus but finding only the same impassive visage staring back at him.

The man tilted his head slightly, more out of curiosity than concern. Nyx shifted on his shoulder, wings fluttering softly into gestures as if mocking the boy.

Jules tried to speak but found words slipping away from him like water through fingers.

The boar's snorts grew louder behind him, each step closer resonating through the ground.

Jules's eyes widened as the man vanished from his view in the blink of an eye. One moment he was there, and the next he was gone like a wisp of smoke.

Nyx fluttered down, landing on Jules’s head with an abnormal weight that defied the crow's size. Somehow, the bird managed to lift the lad back onto his feet with his talons.

Jules felt the world spin, as Nyx turned him around effortlessly to face the direction of the charging beast.

And there the man was, walking towards the charging Blackened Boar with a casual stride that belied the danger hurtling toward him. To Jules, it seemed like time had stopped.

The boar’s snarls grew deafening as it closed the distance, its hairs bristling with excitement at getting a feast.

Then, the man raised an open palm, a flicker of something underneath his sleeves, and struck his hand against the beast's snout. For a heartbeat, everything did truly become still—the beast’s momentum completely halted by that simple action.

Then, in a surreal twist, the massive creature crumpled like a folding paper fan. Its once-mighty form collapsed into a messy heap at his feet with an almost comical finality.

Jules stood frozen, mouth agape at the sight before him. The terror that had gripped him moments ago now mixed with bewildered awe. The impossible had unfolded right in front of his eyes.

The man looked down at the defeated boar without any trace of emotion. He turned towards Jules, giving Nyx a command through a glance.

The crow took flight again, leaving Jules’s head and landing back onto his shoulder.

The man then told the boy in a raspy voice ''Lummox.''

The lad’s eyes switched from the crumpled boar to the man, putting together the only explanation that made sense to his limited understanding.

“He's a c-cultivator!” Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, such was his state of shock that he even stammered within his mind. He stood, unsteady at first, before bending down in a gesture of deep gratitude. “Thank you for saving me.”

The mans eyes flickered with very mild amusement. The young man’s reverence was almost palpable, like the stories he had probably grown up hearing about wandering Warriors and the beasts they fought for their materials.

“Master Cultivator!” Jules began, his voice shaking but earnest. “My humble name is Jules. I was on my way to the city, hoping to make something of myself as a mason.”

It was always the same—those wide-eyed dreamers venturing into the world with aspirations as fragile as spun glass.

“May I ask for your great name, Sir?” Jules asked humbly, his head still bowed.

“Silas,” he replied simply, letting the word hang in the air like a shadow.

Jules lifted his head slightly, eyes full of doe eyed awe.

He seemed to search Silas’s face for some sign of kindness or heroic bearing after saving him.

Silas offered none.

Instead, he let the silence stretch out between them, watching as Jules struggled to find words that might bridge the chasm between him and his saviors.

Nyx, however, felt ignored. He squawked and flapped his wings, a sudden burst of motion that drew both Silas’s and Jules’s attention.

Jules’s mind screeched to a halt. His eyes widened as he realized he had overlooked something important.

“Mr. Crow! Of course,” he muttered to himself before bending low again. “Thank you as well, Master Crow! I owe my life to the both of you.”

Nyx puffed out his chest feathers proud, looking almost regal. Silas could feel the satisfaction radiating from his companion. He breathed a sigh, letting his countenance slacken just a bit as he gave into a more freed speech.

“We are heading for Rhysling,” Silas rasped, his voice carrying authority. “I assume you are as well. You are free to travel with us if you wish.”

Without waiting for a response, Silas turned on his heel and started walking. Jules stood there momentarily stunned, the offer hanging in the air while his mind processed it.

“Yes! Yes, thank you!” Jules called out joyfully, jogging to catch up with Silas and Nyx. A combat cultivator for protection was worth more than a king's ransom, and Jules knew it.

As they moved through the fog-covered woods, Jules’ thoughts raced with possibilities. The city of Rhysling awaited them—a place where his dreams could be made or shattered—and he would arrive there under the protection of a mighty cultivator!

Silas kept his pace steady, his mind already shifting to other thoughts. Nyx perched on his shoulder, casting an occasional glance back at Jules with an air of satisfaction.

The path ahead was clear, at least for now.