The Arcans: The Chosen One

Chapter 3

Crickets chirped, while Dorian groaned. He took out another leaf from his hair, then ruffled it. His hand smoothed down to his face. He felt his lips-his bloody, broken lips-and growled to himself.

He turned around, in a snap, but flinched at the sight of a tiny mouse. Even a slight move would trigger his senses. Few hours past, and the so-called Chosen One was nowhere in sight.

How is it so hard to find such a weak, normal girl?

Perhaps she went back to Frostville, on her own, without him noticing.

Even he knew that was impossible. She barely knew the jungle at all. No one ever really knew of the jungle- it was like a secret area, with mystical things. Arcans could travel in without being spotted or threatened. It was said that the ancient Arcans used to live in there- matching the unnatural-ness of the creatures.

A breaking twig.

He looked sideways.

"Another visitor?"

The two men right with him were big and bulky in size. One of them was a tad taller, with a patch over his eye. They sneered at him, in a truly mocking way.

"I'm no visitor," he spat.

"We found the girl. Said she's running away from an Arcan."

"Strawberry blonde?"

"With golden eyes and a sense of humour. Oh, and glittery dress!"

"Where is she?"

The shorter one laughed, though it sounded like a roar. "What makes ya think we'd tell you?"

"Because I'm the Arcan."

"So?" the taller one grinned. "We have no fears for Arcans. Life-takers? House destroyers? Bah! Exaggaration!"

"Plus, handling a mere girl seem to make you... bleed. How'd you think you handle us?"

He touched the place where it hurt again- the corner of the lips, near to the nose and cheek. Wincing, he could feel a wound. He winced more as he pulled the finger away, almost fully covered in blood.

The two men laughed.

"Laugh all you want. Can't do that anymore once you're dead."

"Oh, cheer up, lad!"

"You're only not laughing because your lips are in a bloody state. Attacked by a weak, defenseless girl!"

"And they said you Arcans are dangerous."

Dorian balled his hands into fists.

You're not dangerous, you're weak.

Look at little Dorian, crying like a baby! Crybaby!

Aw, is Dowian gonna cwyyy...?

Weak baby!

You're a shame to us!

Weakling, we don't deserve a weakling in this family!

His knuckles turned shades of white, and he striked.

With superior speed, he charged at them and landed strong blows while they still laughed. They immediatly stopped and roared.

"You mess with the wrong men, boy!"

"You are messing with the wrong boy!"

Chaos ensued.

While the men deliver strong attacks, steady and stable, Dorian dodged and deflected in a blink of an eye. His attacks were swifter, and none see it coming. The tall man managed to catch him by the collar. "Got him!"