Chapter 176: Prep For War; Unbearable Force (P3)

"There haven't been any casualties, Milord." Juri says after aggressively clearing his throat at the soldier who unwittingly interrupted him.

"That's perfect!" I clap, genuinely surprised. But then he has a look on his face that says there's more. "Oh, what is it Juri?"

Again, he clears his throat, avoiding my gaze a bit, "Well, while there haven't been any losses, there have been several…injuries."

At this I facepalm. Of course, there would be, what was I thinking!

"How bad and how many?"

"Well, once the line broke and you were taken away, there was a bit of a morale plunge. A lot of men fell prey to the swift, overbearing attacks of the Werebears. I'd say at least half of our original force has several broken bones and some things going on in their insides."

At this I almost feel bad for not believing in their fighting ability. The reason there are so little men still walking and picking off the Werebears wasn't because the others were too out of it, but because a great majority of them have been gravely injured in some way or another.

"We'll need a healer soon or we might lose some." Juri whispers this fact out, downtrodden at the thought of losing his men.

I shake my head and wave my hand, "Never mind a healer, just have all the injured gather here as soon as they can."

His head whips up, a startled look on his face, "Here?"

"Yes, here."

Anselm understands what I mean and flies off, yelling at the men. It doesn't take long for Juri to kick off to do the same.

It's in this moment that I notice Piol's sobbing have ceased. Looking down at the defeated, low, sniffling man, he senses my gaze and speaks, steady and bold this time.

"You have not won a thing, Mayor of Aste." He starts off, sounding like he has a cold, "This will not be the only attack you face tonight, in the open…there will be several and it seems neither you nor your men can handle the intensity of a monster's hunger."

"Tough words for a man who broke down at the first sight of one."

He doesn't say a thing for a moment, then nods as though accepting the fact.

"Yes, but perhaps you would too if you were powerless, incapable of great physical feats and magic, completely helpless and yet thrown at the face of your village's greatest danger."

"Huh." I pause, thinking about it, "When you put it that way, I suppose you could say that I too would breakdown if I were in the exact circumstances as you."

He lifts his head up to face me for the first time, a small, triumphant smile at being acknowledged smeared on his face.

As if contagious, I find myself smiling as well, "But, there's a difference between you and I, even if we were in the same circumstances."

"And what's that?"

"I am far more desperate, greedy and hungry for power, safety and luxury than you are. I am far more committed to moving towards my goals, far more driven to achieving them. I will not be beaten down by the roar of a mindless beast, rather, if it were to be my time, if I were to be tied down, helpless and pinned…I would accept that I've lived my life up until that point reaching for what it is I desire. I would accept, but I wouldn't give up."

Squatting to face him better, I explain, "With that Werebear's maw set to bite down on me, I would kick, scream, bluff and lie and even bite back until the darkness sets in. This is the difference between us, Piol, I can never give up, never."

A shiver runs through mine spine as I utter those last words. And a single name appears, bright and prominent in my mind.

Ferth.

The God of Death and Rebirth…Ferth.

Immediately I understand why I suddenly have this feeling strike through my body…could I have…spoken to him, a God, the same way I've spoken to Piol here?

Spoken about the very same topic as well – never giving up. I think it is. After all, Lotar did say I somehow managed to convince the God to send me here.

"Milord!" I hear Juri yell behind me.

I get back on my feet, tossing one last solid smile at Piol before turning around.

And in front of me is…nearly all the men.

"You said it was half, Juri, what happened to half?"

The man has no answer it seems, scratching the back of his head, so Anselm answers for him.

"There were many who kept on walking despite their injuries, brave, resilient men you have here at your disposal, Asher." He sounds so proud.

I nod and look through their faces and bodies. Most of them are limping or leaning on each other, gritting teeth and huffing breaths from their many broken bones.

Others are coughing and hacking blood, dying even as I stand here.

Shaking my head, I slowly gather mana for my one and only spell that allows me to heal others, "The worst of you come closer, the ones with the internal injury."

Five men come out from the pile and stand directly in front of me, their shirts and bodies stained with their own blood. Out of the five two also had broken bones, ugly injuries sticking out of the skin.

"Summon Spirit; Healing Dire." Uttering the spell my gathered mana is pumped into the ground through my feet and then, beside me in a flash of light, it coalesces in the shape of a strong Dire Wolf.

Several gasps ring through the men, but not much of them are shocked at this kind of magic, just surprised at being witness to it. 

"The range is limited, so stay close to the wolf for as long as you need until you're healed then leave so someone else can come in." The range is certainly far too little to heal so many men at once, even worse is the fact that their injuries are this extensive.

The mana cost to heal them all will be great. I let out a sigh and accept that I'll have to pull out the soul of one of those Werebears to complement my reserves for a healing of this proportions.

"Keep on guard, Piol has said there will be other attacks, and he's right. The night isn't over and neither is our battle."