The Evernon Saga - The Journey Of Ascension, A Struggle For Godhood.

Through the vast fields of untouched snow and b.a.r.e trees, a certain depression in the ground ran throughout the land, visible from one end of the horizon to the other. It was a run-down path, one that was around 10 meters wide and seemed to run endlessly into the distance with no signs of ending.

Soft, dull thumps could be heard, as horse hooves descended upon compacted snow, contributing to the preexisting plethora of hoof prints spanning the entire length and width of the path. Accompanying these prints, were ruts of various shapes and sizes that formed miniature valleys in the hardened snow underfoot.

A prominent rut was currently being made in the compacted snow, as a caravan consisting of 5 large, horse-drawn carriages was being escorted by 13 mounted Warriors. They were all clad in polished heavy armor, reflecting the light that shined upon them onto the snow. It instilled in one's vision, an illusion of radiant, white gems scattered across the snow. They all carried a weapon, consisting of many different kinds, such as spears, axes, swords and shields, broadswords, rapiers, maces, and flails.

They were a fearsome sight to behold, making many bandits who were lying in wait, reluctant to make any moves against them.

There were three mounted Warriors at the front of the caravan, with the 5 carriages behind them in a line, with 2 mounted Warriors on each side of each carriage.

However, there was an exception. The mounted Warrior at the very front was treated with the utmost respect by his compatriots, and none of the Warriors around him were confident of being his casual sparring partner, let alone his match in a fight.

Strangely, all of this was taking place regardless of the fact that the majority of what he wore was light leather armor, with only a few chain mail and plate armor pieces. He possessed neither a shield, nor a helmet, as his shoulder-length black hair flowed in the wind. On his waist hung two short swords, with engraved markings in them that resembled waves. The blades themselves were made of a metal that gleamed with a mysterious l.u.s.ter, and were a shade of blue as deep as the ocean.

The horses that the Warriors were mounted on stood over 4 meters tall, and had a deep reddish hue, almost maroon, to their coat. Their eyes possessed no irises, and instead glowed with power, with trails of Mana emanating from them. These left a glow that lasted in one's vision, even long after the horses have passed. The horses were incredibly muscular, and rippled with power on every step that they took.

The horses which were pulling the carriages were currently breathing lightly and jogging slowly at around 40 km/hr, for 21 hours a day, with 3 hours of rest. This was a very sustainable pace for them, keeping them far away from exhaustion. The horses that were carrying the Warriors were even more nonchalant, trotting at the same speed, but were breathing normally and looked as if they couldn't be bothered. They traveled at 40 km/hr for 21 hours a day, and had to maintain that pace for a week.

The distance from Birkstead to the Royal Capital, situated in the very middle of Nashya, was a journey of 5,880 kilometers!

One of the Warriors in the front who rode with the dual-wielding Warrior, opened his mouth reluctantly.

"Sergeant Reginald, these horses...are they the prized Doomchargers of the Royal Capital?"

The lightly clad Warrior in front of him, Reginald, who sat on the largest Doomcharger, glanced back at his nervous companion, an amiable smile on his face.

"Indeed they are, good eye. I requested them for the batch we are currently escorting, I've noticed a few promising ones this time. Therefore, I prefer to get this long journey over with as soon as possible, lest anything untoward were to happen along the way if we used regular cargo-horses. Regardless, stay vigilant. The rest of you, even though we've been riding almost non-stop for three days, bear with it and look alive!"

"YES SIR!!" shouted the Warriors as they awoke from their daydreams and the light naps they took in the saddle.

Reginald nodded his head with approval, as the caravan continued on its way along the path. They had around 6 more hours of riding left for today, before they could rest. Of course, this only applied to the Warriors.

The young men and women in the 5 carriages were allowed to eat from their rations and rest whenever they wished, as they were still very human and needed to take care of their needs. The Warriors were all Tier 1, and were able to absorb ambient Mana from the air to sustain themselves for the time being, greatly reducing their need for sleep and food.

The rations consisted of cured meats, some hard breads and water. After the third morning, there was some wine too. It was thrown into each carriage after they passed through a small village that was known for having the best 'commoners' wine in Nashya. Most of the younger ones dared not touch even the wineskins themselves, settling for water.

A fair number of older ones however, decided to take a leap...of misplaced faith. Since it was their first time in such unrestricted and close proximity with alcohol, their curiosity won them over. They shrugged off their conscience and downed mouthful after mouthful. This led to various hysterical events, with two standing out the most in the witnesses' memories.

***

The first hilarious incident was when a boy proposed to another boy within William's carriage, the one at the front of the caravan, in the dark of night. He did so with utmost flair and in a dramatic fashion, with the twist being that he was under the impression that he was proposing to a girl.

What's more, his friend and neighbor began to roar with laughter because he was referring to the boy he was proposing to, with his sister's name!

Upon hearing this, the younger ones began to roll on the carriage's floor, laughing uncontrollably. On the other hand, the older ones were silent and had odd, serious and alarmed expressions on their faces. They suddenly dropped all intentions of probing for information. They did not want to know.

William grimaced and tried to distract his thoughts by practicing a very minuscule level of Mana control, deep within himself so as to avoid drawing attention.

***

Meanwhile...

Soon after William began to rouse his Personal Mana, Reginald facepalmed, and looked at the carriage behind him, in complete and utter disbelief. He was completely incredulous, and refused to believe what he was sensing within the area around him that his Aura encompassed.

How?!

What?!

Huuuuuuuuuh?!

***

The second memorable experience took place in Magnar's wagon. One of the older girls, named Alison, had drunk a little bit too much wine, fell asleep while laying her head on the shoulder of one of the guys, named Clayton.

Coincidentally, Clayton had developed a small crush on Alison from the moment he saw her at the village's selection test. Therefore, he was visibly freaking out, drawing giggles from those around him who managed to decipher the situation.

He could not sleep that entire night, and didn't move a single centimeter, in order to let her sleep peacefully. The tender look on his face as he looked at the sleeping figure that was leaning on him, drew grins from the others around him.

However, he eventually succ.u.mbed to his fatigue, slumping over and his head falling onto the sleeping girl's l.a.p. Her body had shifted into an upright position at some point during her sleep. She woke up due to the impact, and immediately began internally freaking out.

Who is this?! What's going on?

Another one of the girls whispered the circ.u.mstances into her ear, causing her panicked gaze to soften. She let him sleep and watched silently, conflicted, as he snored gently, a peaceful expression on his face. He wasn't bad looking, and seemed kind...

Eventually, he woke up, coming face-to-face with her while she was still watching him intently. This led to slow, awkward conversing between two flushed faces. They began to talk often, and sit together, often very closely, sometimes gazing the starry sky together at night. Days passed like hours, as they became an unspoken couple.

Magnar missed Aria terribly upon seeing these events unfold.

***

It was the last day of their journey. It was high noon, the sun sending a few sparse, but nonetheless majestic rays of light down through the gaps in the endless grey sky. They were a mere handful of hours away from their destination.

Reginald tensed up slightly as his expression became serious.

"Caravan, halt!" ordered Reginald as all horses came to a stop.

Reginald lowered his voice into a dangerous whisper,

"Men, do you sense them too?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Mm." nodded Reginald.

Turning his head and looking around slowly, Reginald scanned the surroundings. There were large mounds of snow that were unnatural and seemed deliberately built, scattered throughout the snowy plain they were on. Behinds the trunks of the many b.a.r.e trees around them, bits of clothing and the hilts or tips of weapons poked out, visible to those who were perceptive.

Reginald stifled a smirk.

This might be a good chance to show the young ones what their seniors are capable of!

"You lot. I can see you, in more ways than one. My name is Reginald. What business do you have with my caravan?"

The rustling of clothes and the clinking of weapons could be heard, as many figures emerged from the surroundings. Covered in furs and the odd piece of chain mail here and there, a group of 51 revealed themselves, with 30 in front of Reginald and his group, and 21 divided along the left and right sides of the caravan.

One of them stepped forward, a man who looked much older than his actual age, his face weathered and wrinkled, despite his barely greying hair. However, he had a sly grin on his face. He was armed with a large, twin-bladed battle axe, and wore the most pieces of chain mail amongst the group.

"You could call us tax collectors, and we're here to collect. Surrender yourselves, hand over your goods, and we might begin to consider the chance of the tiny possibility of being merciful..." cackled the man nefariously.

He had a raspy, unpleasant tone of voice that made one feel like covering their ears.

The man who was seemingly the spokesperson or leader of this group did not state his name, and instead smiled eerily at Reginald.

"AAAAH!"

A scream sounded out as a girl was pulled from the last carriage by one of the bandits, who had snuck up silently from behind, and hadn't revealed himself like the rest.

It was Alison!

Clayton leaped from the carriage in pursuit, enraged, attempting to charge at the bandit...only to get kicked square in the c.h.e.s.t, flying backward at a speed far fasting than his charge. An audible 'crack' could be heard.

He was caught by Magnar, who slid backwards through the snow, stopping after sliding for a meter. He helped Clayton sit on the ground with his back resting against the carriage. Clayton tried to get back up on his feet, but fell back down, clutching his c.h.e.s.t in agony.

"Stand back, Clayton, you're hurt. I will try to get Alison back...but that man is strong, so I won't promise anything."

Clayton gritted his teeth in frustration, and nodded.

"Thanks...I'll leave it to you"

Magnar was right. That kick was unlike anything that Clayton had ever felt before, it made his bones ache, his organs quiver, and his courage waver.

This was strength!

Magnar stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. At a height of 1.80m, Magnar was almost the height of the bandit, and was fully capable of looking straight into his enemy's eyes. Frowning and clenching his fists, Magnar took a defensive stance. He wasn't very confident in fighting an armed opponent, and in truth, his body wanted to get away from that bandit.

But where was the meaning in that?

If their Teacher, Joseph, claimed that he was capable of reaching the regal status of Tier 3 in his life, how could he back down from a lowly bandit?!

"Heh, just a larger brat. You think those puny muscles will help you? Hah! Just come and try." taunted the bandit as he flexed his muscles, which were considerably more developed than Magnar's.

Suddenly, the bandit pulled Alison very close and groped one of her b.r.e.a.s.ts whilst giving a long lick up her right cheek.

Magnar's expression darkened. Clayton gritted his teeth, bearing his teeth as his face scrunched up in anger, before grunting with frustration all his might, despite his current state. His hands had streams of blood dripping from them due to his fingernails digging into his flesh.

Alison turned a strawberry-like shade of red, furious, as she flailed and threw a hook with her left hand towards the bandit's jaw. It was well executed, and had plenty of speed, but as soon as her fist hit his jaw...

Crack.

"Grrrrvvvvvvvv!!!" cried out Alison through gritted teeth, as the knuckles and some fingers of her left hand dangled strangely, broken entirely. Tears streamed down her face as she looked pitifully at Clayton, her eyes screaming a silent, desperate plea for help.

Clayton couldn't hold back his voice anymore.

"ALISOOOOOOON!!!"

***

At the same time...

Reginald reacted to the scream, and turned back to the bandit leader swiftly, his expression one of shock, as a familiar rage began to build inside him...

"You craven. What is the meaning of this?! Grown men assaulting those who are little more than children? What a joke. You're a couple of shit stains in comparison to the notorious names of true bandits I've hunted." growled Reginald, his venomous tongue only beginning to wake up from its slumber.

Reginald was quite well-known in the Capital for his trash-talk when he gets angry.

He dismounted from his horse in one swift, yet elegant movement. He placed one hand on each of his sword hilts, drawing them ever so slowly as he walked forwards at an eerily slow and relaxed pace. The sound of the two swords being drawn was drawn out and lingered in the air, making cold sweat break out on the backs of the bandits in front of Reginald. His eyes looked them dead in theirs, one by one.

He was walking incredibly menacingly!

"Men! Draw your weapons and prepare to defend! Don't let them even have the chance to dream that they can harm the kids!"

Suddenly, the air around Reginald changed slightly, making the bandit leader's eyes widen. He was the only one who was barely able to notice what was happening. The majority of their group was Tier 1, and he himself was just barely into Tier 2. He had not managed to gain a single level in the last 7 years, after his Tier 2 ascension.

However, his heightened stats and awareness allowed for him to witness a phenomenon that left him shaking in his boots.

Firstly, he knew a skill, called Reveal, that allowed him to see the Level, Tier and some information about anything he looked at that was either weaker than or equal to him.

However, this was in numbers only.

He could see that Reginald was at the absolute peak of Tier 1, Level 49. Realistically speaking, he should be easy to handle for any Tier 2 individual.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case this time.

A heavy snow had just begun to fall, with numerous snowflakes descending upon the landscape.

In contrast, there was a spherical area around Reginald where the snow that fell into it would disappear. Instead, there was something like a white fog or haze that lingered around him instead.

At least, that's what the other bandits perceived. They found it strange, but dismissed it.

The leader, however, who had been flapping his gums fearlessly earlier, began to slowly back up, terror evident on his face.

Every single snowflake in the air around Reginald was being rapidly chopped up into such tiny pieces that normal eyes would perceive their falling and scattering as that of a haze or fog.

But not him.

He had to bear the misfortune of being able to watch this occur, as well as having incurred the wrath of such a foe. He had never expected, that within his entire life, would he encounter someone with such advanced attainments in Cutting Intent!

He himself had just barely managed to grasp the beginnings of it, hacking away uselessly at merely the tip of the iceberg.

Meanwhile, Reginald had long sliced his entire iceberg in half, straight down the middle, and walked away from it.

Reginald had both swords drawn, their deep blue l.u.s.ter being burned into the memories of all the bandits present. Just looking at the wave patterns that lined the length of the blades made them feel woozy and weak, as if there were waves that were trying to carry them out to sea.

Where they would be helpless.

Reginald kept walking steadily, step by step, every footfall landing with purpose, as he scowled at the group of almost 30 bandits in front of him without an iota of fear.

He gazed upon them with contempt that was almost tangible, as if they were already corpses.

The bandit leader couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright you lot! If we take him down, we make it big! That man promised us that we'll all live like kings for the rest of our lives! So let's kill the bastard!"

That man?...

Reginald furrowed his brow, as if in deep thought.

"YEAAAAH!" cheered the 30 bandits around the leader as they charged with reckless abandon, thirsty for the sight of Reginald's blood, and hungering for the sound of his rolling head.

Reginald's expression turned as hard as steel, as a powerful voice, amplified by Mana, sounded out from his throat.

"Warriors of Nashya! I, Reginald Riverborn, give you an order with the authority bestowed upon me by my rank and strength..."

"...GIVE THEM HELL!!!"