The ground shook under their boots as the Authority's tanks rolled down the slope toward the Whisperwood. Huge and loud, the machines tore down the forest like monsters made of metal. Trees cracked and fell in their path. Smoke and dust filled the air.
From the top of the rocky slide above, Oligar and Haaskin, on the borrowed weapon-filled vehicle, approached the robots below.
Besides Oligar, Haaskin noticed a small button on the control panel adjacent to the heart-wood shaped console, which is utilised for operating the tank. Without uttering a word, he hurried to press it, causing the large calibre on the tank to shift and fire a laser.
The laser hopefully landed on the nearby enemy vehicle approaching the same destination.
"Wait!" Oligar shouted. "We need a plan—"
Haaskin grinned. "Yeah. Hit them first."
He jumped in, slammed his fist on the dashboard, and the engine roared to life. The vehicle lurched forward, tires spinning on gravel. Then it shot downhill like a comet.
Oligar backed away, muttering, "You're going to get us killed…"
The scout vehicle raced straight at the tanks. Haaskin didn't slow down. He slammed the wheel left and crashed into one tank's side with a loud metallic bang. The machine groaned and shook.
Haaskin kept going. He clipped another tank, scraping off its armor, then turned sharply and rammed into a third. The crash sent sparks flying. Flames burst from the scout's engine.
Just before it exploded, Haaskin jumped.
He hit the ground hard and rolled, dirt and heat flying around him. His shoulder burned, but he didn't stop. He pushed himself up and ran toward the forest.
Robots stood waiting at the edge, tall and cold, with glowing red eyes and laser rifles aimed forward.
They spoke in perfect, lifeless voices: "Target detected. Eliminate."
Haaskin smiled. "Try it."
Red beams sliced through the air. He dodged the first shot, then leapt into the air and kicked the nearest robot in the chest. Metal crumpled. Wires snapped. It fell.
Two more moved in. Haaskin ducked under one and punched its leg. It collapsed. He spun and slammed his fist into another's face, sending its head flying into the trees.
Oligar watched from above, shocked.
"He's not just fighting," he whispered. "He's tearing them apart."
No time to wait. He jumped, his cloak flapping in the wind. He landed near the burning wreckage and looked up to see Haaskin, already covered in sweat and blood, grinning at him.
"Took you long enough," Haaskin said.
Oligar brushed the dirt from his sleeve. "Stop smiling. We're not done."
They ran side by side now, dodging wreckage and enemy fire. Ahead of them, the largest machine moved. It had a massive plow in front, sharp like a blade. It wasn't built to carry troops. It was built to crush forests—and people.
"There," Haaskin said. "That's the main one."
Oligar nodded. "It's their weapon. Take it down, and we stall them."
"No plans?" Haaskin asked, half-joking.
"Just one," Oligar said. "clean everything in our way."
The war machine turned toward the trees, its engine roaring louder. Behind it, more soldiers marched down in rows. The forest shook beneath their feet.
They looked at each other, then charged forward into the chaos—toward the burning trees, the broken machines, and whatever came next.
"Master!" Haaskin yelled, his voice echoing through the trees, "Move back! Give me some distance!"
Oligar, more measured in his approach, his mana a carefully controlled flow, watched his student's furious assault. "No, Haaskin!" he retorted, his voice sharp. "You lack the mastery! You are merely expending mana recklessly, teetering on the edge of control!"
Haaskin answered, "I've waited and practised this for a year. You can't stop me—not now." His fists still blazed... with power, his breath ragged. He was in the thick of it, surrounded by broken robots and flickering sparks.
His attacks were wild, powerful, but unstable and oligar took a note of that.
Then the world seemed to pause.
A scream cut through the noise. High-pitched. Terrified.
Oligar turned sharply toward the sound. A young girl—no more than seven—had stumbled out of the trees. She was alone, wide-eyed, frozen in fear.
And a tank was coming.
The metallic giant approached her, its treads grinding the earth like teeth. Smoke curled from its sides, and its shadow swallowed the forest floor.
Oligar moved.
He didn't think. He didn't hesitate.
He raised his hand behind him and let loose a compressed blast of wind. The force slammed into the cliff of the ground above the girl, launching him forward like a cannonball. He flew over the battlefield, cutting through the air like a spear.
The tank kept coming.
Oligar reached the girl just as the machine loomed above them. He grabbed her, tucked her tight against his chest, and twisted mid-air. The tank's massive tread chewed the ground just inches behind them as they crashed into the grass beyond its reach.
They tumbled through leaves and dirt. Oligar landed hard, groaning, but kept his grip on the child. She clung to him, crying. He wrapped his cloak around her.
"You're safe," he whispered, voice low and steady. "You're safe now."
Back near the edge of the fight, Haaskin stared, stunned. The distance between him and his master had grown. "master's away from the danger, and I am safe from his reach, nothing can hold me back now." Haaskin thought to himself. Around him, the enemy began to regroup. Their sensors reactivated, red lights flickering to life.
But Haaskin didn't move right away.
His heart pounded. His mind raced. The moment had opened. The opportunity was now.
He looked down at his hands. They trembled—not with fear, but with power. Raw, untested, and dangerous.
This was the technique he had trained in secret. The one Oligar had warned him against using. Too unstable. Too risky. Not yet ready.
But now?
Now the battlefield had split. Now the Authority's line was tightening again. Now people were in danger.
"Just hold on," Haaskin whispered to himself. "I've got one shot."
He stepped forward.
Mana surged through his veins, heat crawling up his arms, into his chest. His skin shimmered with faint light. The ground beneath his feet cracked.
One breath in.
One last thought of Oligar's voice—"You are not ready."
And then Haaskin let go.
He raised his fists to the sky and shouted. The world around him seemed to pause, the air trembling, pulsing with energy.
And then came the blast.
The air cracked.
Mana burst from Haaskin's body in a blinding wave. Light flared like lightning striking from within, and the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then—everything shattered.
Trees split and flew apart. Bark, branches, and leaves exploded outward. Robots in the blast zone were torn to pieces. The scattered weapons lying on the ground ignited in a chain of explosions. Fires bloomed. Shockwaves rolled. Even the tanks—those towering machines—jerked and twisted. Their armoured plates bent inward, screaming under pressure. Some burst from within, torn apart by the force surging through them.
At the centre of it all stood Haaskin.
No longer just a man.
Raw mana clung to him like molten steel, then began to cool and harden. It shaped itself around his body, forming jagged plates of shimmering, dark metal. His eyes glowed faintly beneath a crown of armoured edges. His arms, now wrapped in a thick, sharp exoskeleton, sparked with energy.
He took a step. The Earth cracked.
He moved again—faster than the eye could follow—and slammed his fist into a charging droid. The robot didn't just fall—it shattered. One punch. Gone. He turned, spun, and struck again. Every movement sent waves of force rippling through the ground. His punches carried the power of explosions. His kicks tore through steel. Nothing in the Authority's path stood a chance. Not the drones. Not the tanks. Not the trees.
He was a storm, walking.
Oligar watched from a distance, his cloak billowing in the wake of his apprentice's destruction. In his arms, the girl clung to him. But as the chaos eased and the smoke began to drift away, he gently set her down.
She stood still.
Her eyes were wide and unblinking. Deep green. Almost glowing. Her skin was dusky, with a faint pink stripe running across the bridge of her nose. She stared at the wreckage without fear. Without sadness.
Only silence.
Oligar stared at her for a long moment.
He recognised the look. Not just in her features, but in the stillness she carried, the calm in the storm. She wasn't lost. She wasn't just some child caught in the crossfire.
She belonged here.
She was one of them.
The tribes of the Whisperwood.
He glanced toward Haaskin, who now stood alone at the center of the scorched clearing, his armor hissing as it cooled, steam rising from his back. The battlefield had gone quiet. For now.
His armour vanished in a shimmer of particles—this was what Oligar had feared all along.
Haaskin collapsed on the ground.
"He'll be out for a while. Rest now, young one. You've earned it. I owe you an apology—I underestimated you, and you did what you consistently do, demonstrating error in my traditional approach."
But Oligar felt something shift.
The girl remained silent, yet she gazed up at him directly, locking her eyes with his..
And he understood.
there's something going on with her. what's the complete story?