Shadowkin
Part II: Flee From Your Master

“Jager attack stance!” cried a small boy, not much older than 9. He threw his slightly muscular body backwards, his back arched and his hands clawing at the air. His feet were firmly planted and he was staring sideways at Tarsa, although not with a glare, but with a hunger for approval.
The boy himself was not much bigger than 4 feet, five inches. He was wearing a red shirt with Tarsa’s red triangle on the back. His pants were baggy, and they were also red. He was wearing no shoes, and ripples were emanating from his bare feet into the air around him. His blond hair fell in waves and he gave the impression of a child growing up very quickly.
“Very good!” Exclaimed Tarsa, watching the boy with a proud look on his face. “But I would expect no less from my son! We shall end training here for today, Sain.” He began walking towards a small cottage, and the boy followed.
“When can I learn how to do that Otenbu thing you showed to me when I was four?” asked Sain.
Tarsa turned slowly. “Do you think you can handle it.” it was a statement, not a question. Sain nodded. “Alright, then… go back into your Jager attack stance.” Sain complied. “Alright… envision that you have an orb of energy inside your chest. Take some energy from that orb and send it to every particle of your body. Leave nothing unattended.” Sain’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Now… attack me!” shouted Tarsa. He shifted his feet and leaped into the air, vanishing on the spot. Sain quickly did the same. There was a small blur where the two met, and then they appeared on the opposite sides. Panting heavily, Sain wobbled and fell to the ground. Tarsa smirked, until he felt a stabbing pain in his chest.
Tarsa doubled over. “Wow… the kid has more talent than I thought…” Tarsa gasped. Recovering, Tarsa brought his son inside and laid him down. Tarsa walked over to his bed and lay down, pondering the day ahead. Slowly, but surely, he drifted off to sleep.


Tarsa woke up beside Rachael. He slowly removed himself from the bed so as not to disturb her. He tiptoed downstairs to wake up his son. “Sain… Sain, wake up!” Tarsa whispered, gently shaking his son. “It’s time to go to the market and pick you out a sword!”
Sain sat bolt upright. “Yessssss!” whispered Sain, pumping his fist in jubilation. He quickly got dressed. So quickly, in fact, that he put on mismatched socks. Tarsa made him change. The pair then slipped out of the house, heading into the heart of the village. Tarsa’s eyes swept over the village, now bustling with activity. Tarsa located the man he wanted to talk to and briskly headed in his direction. Sain followed, excited but nervous. Today would change his life. Today, he began training with the sword!
“Cor! Why if it isn’t me favorite customer! What brings ya here today, then?” Exclaimed a squat gentleman not quite 5 feet in height. “Not many people make purchases from me anymore… ‘Choo lookin’ at?” he added to Sain.
“O’Cladden, I would like to introduce my son, Sain!” said Tarsa smartly. “He would like to make a purchase.” Sain threw his chest out.
“A purchase, eh? O’Cladden leaned over to peer at Sain. “Bit young, isn’t he?” He shot at Tarsa.
“He may be a young one, but he has exceptional skill.” Sain glowed with pride. “If a bit big headed at times.” Added Tarsa, efficiently deflating Sain. Tarsa rubbed Sain’s head. “So… about our purchase…” Tarsa became businesslike. “I believe forty sheckles is a reasonable price.”
“Right… wellanow, I don’t think that there would be a problem with that, but I would prefer fif… he trailed off. Tarsa looked at him and immediately saw why he had stopped talking.
There was a gaping hole in O’Cladden’s chest there was also a demonling with its hand covered in blood standing beside his body. Sain gasped. A woman screamed and dropped her laundry. Tarsa leaped at the demonling, conjuring a ball of electricity in his hand. He smashed it into the demonling’s chest, ripping a hole into its flesh. The corpse fell to the ground, and Tarsa turned to Sain, who was watching in utter awe.
“Sain, you know those stories that I tell you when you go to sleep at night?” Asked Tarsa sullenly. Sain nodded, unable to speak. “They are all real. Every last one of them are things I have experienced personally. There is one exception. The Great Hero that is described… that is me.” Tarsa swept his gaze over the village. “There will be more soon.” He added, unable to look at his son for fear of what he might see.
“Da… dad?” Said Sain uncertainly. Tarsa looked at him. “You… You are SO COOL!” Sain shouted, running at his father. Father and son embraced, then Tarsa broke his hold.
“You do realize that you will have to fight?” Asked Tarsa.
“Yes.” Said Sain.
“Then let’s go. They are coming.” Said Tarsa, three seconds before two demonlings appeared in front of them. The demonlings were small black creatures with runes running down their sides and backs. They had claws two feet long, and razor sharp teeth.
“Now!” shouted Tarsa, and both father and son sprang into the air and vanished. The demonlings fell to the ground, their fragile bodies snapped with the force of the blow. Tarsa and Sain reappeared on the other side of the demonling’s corpses and prepared for another attack. The battle had just begun.
“Left!” screamed Tarsa and Sain jumped to his left, his fists crackling with electricity. Tarsa leaped forwards, kicking blazing blue fire at the demonlings, then performed a backflip, landing behind a demonling and snapping its neck in one fluid motion.
Sain, meanwhile, was dealing his fair share to the enemy’s numbers as well. He used the pockets of lightning in his hands to blast two demonlings away, then leaped at a third, turning his forward momentum into a ferocious kick that shattered its ribcage. He then conjured a ball of lightning in the flat of his right palm and threw it towards a cluster of demonlings as another demonling leaped at him, claws outstretched. The ball expanded and then blew up in a crackling storm of electric energy as Tarsa intervened, catching the demonling that was endangering his son on one arm and pressuring it against his body, where it screeched, thrashed, and flailed as the life was slowly crushed out of it. Tarsa and Sain stood back to back, glaring at the onslaught of demonlings.
Suddenly, they parted, giving way to a darker, more sinister being. It glared at them, and they glared back… until they noticed the figure in its clutches. “What have you done to Rachael?!?” Shrieked Tarsa, eyes wide and teary.
“She is not dead… yet…” said the figure slowly. Its voice was like gravel, giving the impression of a cement mixer speaking. Sain would have giggled if the situation had not been so serious. “But she will be if you do not come quietly.”
Tarsa glared again. “Fine… release her and I will come.” Said Tarsa slowly, with a hard look in his eye. The Mesodemon grinned and dropped her to the ground. Tarsa leaped, struggling to reach the robed figure. It raised a hand, blasting Tarsa back to the ground.
“Now, now… we can’t have that…” said the demon, flicking his gaze to Sain for a second then, detecting no threat, turned his gaze back to Tarsa. “You deserve to suffer for all you did, and I intend to make it happen.” It smirked, then slowly started advancing on Tarsa.
“No!” cried Sain, throwing himself over his father’s body.
“Get off!” yelled Tarsa, attempting throw his son off.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Sain’s eyes blazed red, white, and black in that order. He jumped up and screamed at the Mesodemon while his body spasmed violently. A bolt of solid, nontransformed energy emitted from his chest, swirling in the air. It sought out the Mesodemon, drawing black blood. The demons retreated, leaving Tarsa alone with his unconscious family.
Tarsa staggered to his feet, drawing his family close. He hoisted them up onto his shoulders and began running to parts unknown, never to be seen in that particular village again.