The kidnappers were proficient. They made sure to wrap Hina up in the same cloth that they used, it was similar to what a mummy would be wrapped with. In total, excluding Hina, there were five of them.
"Who are you?"
Drake questioned again, this time, his grip around the sword's hilt tightened. Like a spoon poking through a cake, the ground continued to crack under the pressure he exerted. The assassins themselves seemed confident and sure of their own abilities. There was no nervousness or anxiety within any of them, rather, it seemed as if such circumstances were accounted for.
"What business do you have with Thresh Old?"
He was met with silence once again. They were daring; to stay silent and watch as Drake continued to get angry was a foolish action not many would take. There was often a misunderstanding. People who met the Wolfrivers often assumed Dio's personality came solely from his mother.
However, that was not the case. Drake had a particularly unique characteristic that added to his role as an adventurer and a warrior. He spoke a lot. Especially when the opponents stayed quiet, he compensated by further questioning them. Almost as if the silence was eating him away slowly. This, paired with Luna's sharp mind and sure sense of self, one could now picture how Dio became Dio.
"Aidwadlaeawbdhildhwa" this was how their reply sounded to Drake, who was not well versed in languages other than his own. Assuming this, the assassins hoped to work their way out of it. Unfortunately, their information was only half correct.
"Speak to my Husband in such a manner and you will perish where you stand, you filth," Luna replied in the foreign tongue, making the group take a step back and hesitate towards reaching for their weapon. Her eyes were brimming with lightning as they resembled spheres full of energy, slowly but surely, his hair began to start floating with every step she took forward.
"You speak the Green tongue…?" the leader of the group asked nervously, their plan of passing by as foreigners was thwarted easily, and the pure amount of mana overflowing from the woman was frightening even to trained professionals.
"It does not matter what I speak. The dead do not talk anyway," she put her hands behind her and brought out two daggers. Drake frowned upon noticing this. He let Luna translate and attempt communication, but he was far too eager to get a few words in.
"Step back, babe, I got this," he puffed his chest and walked forward. Placing one of his hands on her shoulders, he closed his eyes and smiled, "be thankful. You get to face me over her,"
As a response, one of the members of the group made a throwing action towards them. There was nothing; it was akin to them throwing air, but the very next second, the individual appeared right in front of Drake. He held out his claymore purely out of instinct. The assassin didn't stop there, with one dagger clashing into the sword, they pulled out another and slashed at his ribs before jumping back a few steps.
"Ouch," Drake paid no attention to the scratch, it was so tiny that the fabric of his armor didn't break. "Why use weak weapons on me? What was the thought process behind…." He stopped talking for a second and looked down at the wound, blue fumes began forming as the wound continued to grow bigger, "Oh…poison…" he sounded like a child realizing they weren't getting to play.
"What about now?" Red clouds oozed out from his body as he released a part of his aura in response. It completely devoured the poison. Moreover, the aura now acted as an extra layer of armor, covering everything, including his weapon.
"Bullet grass and spatial exchange…" Luna stood next to Drake and picked up something. To the untrained eye, it looked like she was holding a whole lot of nothing. However, when looked at with extra focus, an extremely thin and sharp blade of grass rested between her fingers.
"Is the Southern Revolution active again?" She narrowed her eyes onto the group, who now felt increasingly paranoid about their lives. She could recognize the spell, the material used, and where they were from in a single moment. "Maybe I should visit the neutral zone again, the Orcs seem to be misbehaving,"
"Orcs? What business do you guys have with Adrenia? Do you realize what your reckless actions could lead to?" Drake asked, alarmed by what he was hearing. The land was primarily divided into two large continents: Adrenia and Lutherian. At the southern tip of both the continents, was the neutral zone occupied by the brutally strong Orcs. This was an important geographical location as it was the only point where the continents were directly connected.
If any of the neutral zones were compromised, the delicate balance maintained by all the neighboring races would shatter, and war would be inevitable. Coincidentally, the two of them, Drake and Luna, grew closer during the initial war period. Funnily enough, they were extremely well known by the representatives of the Orcs and the elders. However, they were better recognized by their call signs.
"You're meddling with affairs you don't understand! The Southern Revolution was shut down for a reason. This is your final warning. Leave the girl and surrender. Do not take consideration for mercy, please.." He sounded genuinely concerned. This was something that skipped out on Dio; Drake hated bloodshed, but he respected and was diligent in his responsibilities.
There wasn't a lot of information out there yet, but both of them knew one thing. These assassins were clearly either youngsters or unrelated to the Orcs. After all, there was nobody in the tribe who didn't recognize their call signs. Drake's title alone often garnered admiration from the Orcs. One that would be passed down in history forever, a title earned and given by them for successfully passing their trials and besting them.
A respected adventurer and a revered swordsman. But most of all, feared and forever admired by the Green-tongued Orcs. The title given to him after he withstood their tests and even bested their strongest.
Warborn Mourner.