CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

There was no doubt in his mind that there were more watchers nearby, at the edge of his range, but as they were merely watching for the meantime—he couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed—Tatsuya couldn't let that distract him. The audacious figure demanded his full attention, more so now as the dust and dirt settled, revealing a dark-haired, pale-skinned man in a flamboyant robe.

Tatsuya noticed intricate patterns and symbols embroidered onto the robe; it bore the marks of a distinguished lineage or perhaps a higher purpose, but the former was more likely as the man possessed a confident stride and commanding presence, only heightened the air of power surrounding him.

Silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant sounds of nature and the man’s footsteps as he strode forward, his steps sure and akin to Zoel’s, but somehow, more—as if he believed all else his inferior. His green eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanned the other members of the Wind Blades individually before landing on the air elemental. There was a sense of familiarity in the gaze—as if the man had been expecting Tatsuya, and the latter’s instincts told him that this encounter was no mere coincidence.

He was without his staff, so his fist curled around itself as he remained vigilant, observing any subtle movements or indications of danger. He carefully evaluated the man’s demeanour, trying to gauge whether he was really a friend or for—it was possible this was an elaborate attempt to impress a random group that just so happened to be the Wind Blades, the wanted, technical, criminal rebels.

Sure, it was a bit of a reach, but Tatsuya had encountered all sorts of characters in his life, and, on the other hand, experience had taught him to be wary of those who commanded attention with flamboyance.

However, though his mind raced with questions, he was forced to hold his tongue, waiting for either the man or the others to make the first move—even as his gaze shifted to the periphery, to the watchers he had sensed before who were still there, observing silently. In this encounter, patience and caution would be his greatest allies as he lacked knowledge.

The man finally came to a stop a few paces away, his gaze unwavering. His lips curled into a knowing grin, revealing a hint of intrigue, and with a voice that carried an authority far superior to Jao, he said, his words cutting through the tense atmosphere, “Despite my station in life, I never considered myself lucky, but when strangers informed me that a man covered entirely in bandages, wanted for the murder of countless villagers in Elmwood, is riding towards the capital in the company of the Wind Blades…” The man trailed; his tone was measured and calm and gave way to a chuckle before simmering down, revealing a glimmer of satisfaction as shock and disbelief became palpable among the other members.

Surprisingly, Zoel was the first to find her voice. The woman pursed her lips, lines deepening around her mouth in whisker- like patterns as she turned toward Tatsuya, eyes locked on him and searching for any hint of deception. "Is that true?”

“Yes.”

Gasps echoed loudly, mouths opened simultaneously, eyes darted from one another—and even Rei had to hold Leia back from rushing him—their voices ringing in his ears, and their questions demanding answers he struggled to give. How could he explain the unexplainable, justify the unjustifiable?

As his admission hung in the air, Farah moved to him, her hands resting on his chest. He saw anger and hurt etched into the lines of her face, and at that moment, despite their physical proximity, an invisible chasm seemed to separate them emotionally.

“Why?”

For some reason, Tatsuya couldn't bear to meet her gaze, and despite her insistence, he kept silent, only the white of his knuckles a sign he was affected by the weight of the undeniable truth.

He felt their eyes piercing through him, their disbelief and disappointment apparent under the weight of the undeniable truth. Each gaze, especially Farah’s, felt like a dagger, reminding him of the lives he had taken, the darkness that stained his soul, and the lack of guilt he felt over it. They demanded he explain himself, but opening up was out of the question; how could he tell them that the guilt he felt had fallen by the wayside in favour of more pertinent problems—that even the guilt he felt was for his troubling realisation and what it said about him than any other thing.

He knew how they would react to his lack of remorse, at his willingness to do it again if pushed, so his lips stayed shut. The damage had been done, and whatever consequences his action had brought him would be meted out. It should be enough to allay whatever guilt they felt (because they had played a part, however little, in his action), and the extra information became another burden he vowed to carry for the rest of his life.

“What do you want, Lord Ferris?” Jao—the only member to have remained quiet, too, and instead, had thrown a disappointed yet inquisitive frown—asked, and in the meantime, his words brought the group’s focus back to the problem at hand: the audacious man, or rather, Ferris of the noble family, Newport—a family single-handedly responsible for the change of Tartaria’s official currency from coins to cowry shells. A family of metal elementals.

“What do I want?” Ferris took a step closer, his eyes still never leaving Tatsuya's face despite responding to Jao. “Don’t worry, it's a simple thing, really; I want you all to gracefully surrender, and maybe, just maybe, I will see to it that you are pardoned for your many grievances against the royal family and nobles.” He stopped and tilted his head. “In death, that is.”

Jao stepped forward. “And if we—”

Ferris’ arms stretched out towards Jao, flesh and bone becoming dense, lengthy iron poles that whirled through the air like a speeding arrow to strike the leader’s stomach with precision—and in response, said leader closed his mouth and created a shield of solid rock around him that could well have been a sheet of paper for all the good it did. Fortunately, in the split second before the attack landed, Jao used his speciality, and the effects were immediate; the poles connected with an unseen force, far greater than any Tatsuya had ever witnessed, shattering the tension and sending shockwaves through his own body. The impact reverberated through his bones, a chilling realisation of the power behind the attack, causing all present to stagger backwards.

He had seen Jao use his speciality to shrug off attacks that would have split grown men in half, remaining unmoved despite repeated barrages, and he knew that while Zoel was the strongest, it was only due to the vines’ effective restraining capabilities. In terms of pure versatility, earth elementals usually came out on top. After all, earth was such a broad name for various related materials, and though some of those required a speciality to manipulate—and most were often skilled in only the use of sand or rock, varying on the environment they were raised in—it still didn't discount the sheer varying nature of it.

Yet, there was no denying the scene that unfolded before his eyes.

Tatsuya was no scholar, nor was he particularly interested in human biology, but from experience, he knew enough to be considered learned by most. A blow to the solar plexus, when delivered with sufficient force and accuracy, could disrupt the functioning of the nerves in that area and cause temporary incapacitation or loss of consciousness.

This particular blow had all the requirements for either of the two, plus its surprising speed and weight, and though by some miracle, Jao wasn't sent flying, he sprawled backwards, clutching his injured midsection.

And, to his dismay, that was the only good thing Tatsuya noted because it seemed he had misjudged something important: Jao’s speciality, his bodily protection, didn't extend to his internal organs, and while the leader had indeed shrugged off attacks from them during training and spars, that had been mostly penetrating trauma and low-end blunt force trauma.

Ferris’ attack had a high velocity, and upon impact, it released a powerful shockwave. There was no doubt that said shockwave would pass through Jao’s body (as that was the site of impact), transferring a significant amount of energy to the tissues and organs it encountered.

Internal bleeding was inevitable, and so, despite his efforts to stay upright—and he did try his darndest—the leader succumbed to the overwhelming damage and collapsed to the ground, his body limp and vulnerable amidst the eerie silence of all those present.