"At least it's a fine day for killing," Philip's barely carried through the fog but it was choked with unrestrained excitement.

He stared almost hungrily at the incoming wave of red dots that rushed his way, using the butt of his rifle to slam into the skull of the wolfish beast that had foolishly decided to leap at him.

As he expertly took control of his horse's reins with his other hand, the queasiness he had once felt slowly vaporized. Each blow he sent into the trembling animal calmed his gut and nerves.

The strange wolf fell away, getting trampled by the other animals that rushed towards he and Theodore.

As he stared at the oncoming wave, a shuddering breath left him as what was once adrenaline turned into an intense bloodlust that pounded against the walls of his arteries, flooded his veins and teased his unsteady heart with a painful desire for spilled crimson.

"It has been so long. . ." He lost himself in the feeling as he held tightly onto his rifle, his mind filled with the savagery of death and killing. "So long since I've felt this good."

Despite his finger fixing itself against the trigger, Philip's intuition told him not to fire any laser beams from his gun as he faced off against the horde of cranky, somewhat bloodthirsty animals. And he was quite fine with it, finding the feeling of smashing into bone and flesh to be very satisfying. Moreover, to him a gut feeling was more trustworthy than any radar a human could invent.

With his mind made up, he decisively meleed all the creatures that were on his path with his Sol 59, a lax yet cruel smile on his lips as he quickly beat down the feral four-limbed invaders that came at him.

As expected, his intuition was proven right when his comrades shot blindly into the fog as a counterattack, only for the red and blue laser lights to be eaten up by the air, their effects completely nullified by the fog.

As the supposed lowest ranked among them, he could only sigh at their stupidity. Even as a messenger he knew that long ranged attacks were made ineffective by the strange fog. He really couldn't understand their reasoning.

Why waste ammunition like that when there was only a limited amount of sun available?

As part of the rearguard, Philip had only two other soldiers riding with him, the seven others were far ahead, safe from the sudden attack at the back, hopefully.

They were supposed to finish up the battle here and join up to protect the others. After all it was their job to guard the back of the force. But seeing that their shots had failed, the two soldiers fell into panic. Shooting wildly as they were repeatedly attacked by the claws and teeth of the rampaging animals.

Their horses jerked in fear, going out of control as the creatures in the horde scrambled to pull the soldiers down from their mounts.

Once again the fog was lit up with blue and red hues but the lasers did nothing to slow down the animals. In fact, they only seemed to aggravate the beasts and provoke more vicious attacks.

Looking around, terrified, the two men with Philip searched for the rest of the group but all they saw were the numerous pairs of unblinking golden eyes that peered at them through the dense white fog like hunters stalking prey.

Naturally, at the sight of this they were scared lawless. Both were relatively new soldiers so why wouldn't they be? And to top it off, they were of the noble class.

The fact that they had no backup and were completely surrounded, stranded hopelessly with insufficient firearms that could do nothing to harm the seemingly indestructible enemy didn't help things.

Faced with these sort of people Philip could only roll his eyes. With the heel of his boot, he stomped against the face of a weird looking creature and kicked it way from his horse. The other two soldiers gawked at him. To them it must have come as a shock that a mere messenger was the embodiment of fearless. But was he really?

As far as Philip could tell, disregarding their strange appearances and strengthened skins, these creatures were nothing but regular animals with minor mutations yet the two soldiers couldn't handle them.

Well, it can't be helped. His eyes filled with sympathy, he rode up to the flustered men and shot a flashy beam of red at them to get both their attention and that of the beasts they faced.

"Warn the captain, I will stay here." he said simply, knowing that the men didn't care much for his words as long as it provided them an excuse to turn tail and flee.

As he had expected, the soldiers in blue didn't even dare to argue, rushing away from the scene to find the safer group of seven without even fully processing his words.

Philip shook his head in disappointment as he watched them leave.

Truly the makings of splendid cannon fodder. He clicked his tongue then finally moved his gaze back to the creatures behind him. With an expression of boredom on his face, his entire countenance changed into something entirely frightening.

"Idiots."

The messenger eventually turned away, sticking the barrel of his rifle into the open mouth of a python that had chosen to lunge in his direction from a nearby tree. The blast sent the animal splattering everywhere.

As he shook off the dripping gore from his arm, Theodore whined painfully as the hot and mangled flesh of the snake burnt into it's calf.

"Easy, Theo." Philip soothed his horse, and the stallion stumbled back and neighed. "We will soon be there."

Already Philip felt very pleased with the outcome of the battle, merrily hitting away the animals that dared to come close, and shooting those that were not too far off simply to provoke them to get closer. It was in this way that he discovered something quite intriguing.

Easily killing the mutated animals one by one, Philip observed that none of them had harmed his horse in any way. In fact, some of them were even trampled as they tried to scramble away from the skittish steed. It was like they didn't dare to hurt the stallion.

"I think I'll have a closer look," while speaking, he returned the rifle he held to his side then pulled out a sheathed knife from its place on his belt before he cautiously dismounting Theodore.

The creatures in the thickening tide of white watched him carefully, their attacks coming to a halt as he landed on the soft ground with a quiet 'thump'.

"Farewell, Theodore." Philip said to his horse as he held the sheath in his left hand and stroked the dark mane of his companion with the other.

"If I make it back alive, a bucket of apples will be yours." he cooed.

While he coaxed his stallion, Philip also noticed that none of the beasts had tried to attack him or come close. This phenomenon only served to heighten his curiosity as he stared at the drooling animals curiously.

Don't tell me they are animal lovers? A childish voice in his head sniggered when he finally stopped petting his horse.

"Interesting," The messenger smiled widely behind his mask as he took in a deep breath then exhaled, in one swift movement he unsheathed his ray-blade and charged unhesitatingly into the fog-but not before sending his reluctant steed away with a gentle pat.

When he told his comrades to leave, Philip didn't bother reminding the men that he had done them a favor. Firstly, he didn't think they would live long enough to repay him. And secondly, since they were the ones who had given him a fine opportunity he really was the one who owed them.

This right here was a perfect chance to observe this new and mysterious enemy uninterrupted, and he was not going to pass it by.

Despite being an eighteen year old noble, Philip was far from cowardly. If nothing else he was an expert marksman and an adept in strategic warfare. There was nothing for him to fear in this battlefield and when comparing skills, his far outstripped that of his comrades and age mates.

Why then was he a simple messenger?

Dawn had asked that question.

If he had answered truthfully, he would have said that it was a matter of personal decision and a hand that he was forcefully dealt.

He was sure that he was a mystery that even the minister wanted to solve. He knew how his appearance in the Tyndale family had caught the man's attention. He just hoped that he hadn't put himself in trouble.

Philip shook his head free of those thoughts, taking not of his environment instead. He felt a little hesitant about reporting the attack to the captain.

This was the first time anyone had been attacked in their short month of travelling, and because they had experienced a month of peace everyone had let down their guard. After all, once they had passed through this town they would begin their journey back to the capital and would probably receive some merit for their decent job as scouts despite not finding anything.

Without any doubt, this moment of relief was precisely the moment when they would be at their weakest but how could a bunch of mutated animals know that?

He has also noticed that once the attack began the fog seemed to get thicker and it's effects strongly amplified. As of now, any source of heat present in the fog would be readily engulfed.

Adding to the fact that sound didn't carry as far as it did when the group was outside Lacau, even if two people were mere metres apart they would be completely isolated from each other because of the fog.

Rifles didn't work in long range attacks anymore and yelling could not be used to communicate.

Everything is just as Miss Draekon said. Philip had thought the woman had overestimated the dampening ability of the fog but now he knew otherwise.

To solve the problem of communication the glasses she designed used Chain technology, which came close to granting the users telepathy. With the new equipment everyone in the unit could send a message to one another within the time it would take to blink. But who would remember that in the midst of panic?

The way he saw it, the attack had been an elaborate tactic to eliminate them quickly. It wouldn't be wise to have anyone come to his aid and risk the annihilation of the group.

Still, Philip wasn't naive enough of think that just because he didn't want the other soldiers with him didn't mean they wouldn't come.

When he finished dispatching the beasts in his vicinity and the expected call finally came through, he smiled cheekily, prepared to block the connection. But as he focused his awareness on the screen in front of his eyes, the name 'Issac Westley', appeared, shocking him for a moment long enough for the call to connect.

A short buzz echoed in his mind following the projection of the captain's voice. "Where are you?"

Philip froze, the familiar voice evoking several emotions and stunning him till he couldn't speak.

"Issac," he almost whispered as a chilling numbness washed over him.

Is this a dream?

In that brief period of carelessness the messenger was targeted by a dark and grizzly, golden-eyed bear, it's roar screaming into the air as it rushed at Philip. The young man moved only by reflex, not having enough time to think as he instinctively fell into a stance, unconsciously raising his arms as the mammal charged at him.

The noble grunted and slammed his ray-blade into the gut of the rogue bear as it grabbed onto his shoulders and dragged him to the ground. It's rancid breath mercilessly assaulting the messenger's nose as the animal tried to rip off his head.

Cute, Philip thought as he elbowed the furry beast in the jaw and repeatedly stabbed at it.

"What?" Isaac's confused voice echoed in the messenger's head as the captain received the wrong thought as a reply.

Philip winced in embarrassment as he shoved the still bear off his body and quickly stood up, his eyes landing on the other animals that now kept away from him. The eighteen year old smirked coldly, a sense of freedom flowing through him as he brandished the ray-blade in his hand, a little out of breath as he swiped a hand through his blood matted hair.

I can do this. . . I just have to pretend.

"Sir." He replied firmly as he twirled the blade in his gloved hand and let out a sigh. "I am simply enjoying the scenery."

"Without your horse?" Issac snorted humorlessly, and without waiting for a reply, continued. "I am on my way."

"Thank you so much sir." Philip said, his voice low and cold. "For you to be my reenforcement is quite uplifting."

"Quite the nonsense, Phil." The captain's voice carried no mirth as he spoke. "You and I have some things to chat about, apparently."

He knows?

Philip coughed lightly and narrowed his eyes into the fog, his once steady heart now beating hurriedly as he tried to let his voice remain rigid and indifferent.

"Because the great Issac Wesley of the north is someone I can freely talk to."

"And how many Issac Westley's do you know?" The voice on the line was equally as stiff and cold.

"Two, Sir." The messenger squinted in thought even though he already knew the answer. "Then again, both might be you."

The other side turned silent for a while before Philip heard a chuckle. "You really didn't change. . . Tyndale."

"A correct assumption, Sir." He rolled his eyes and cut the line, licking his lips as he faced the golden eyed creatures again while trying to ignore the growing pain in his chest.

"Well, who wants to be next?"

He had been eager for a chance to release his pent up emotions but to his surprise the noises in fog went completely silent and the red dots slowly receded, albeit a bit reluctantly as some eyes lingered on him for a last hateful glare before they finally retreated.

Philip's brows shot to his hairline as he lightly rubbed the back of his neck then switched his glasses to their original viewing mode.

"Well, that was unexpected." He frowned and looked up into the sky, the sudden loss of things to kill leaving him slightly perplexed. "Just what is going on here?"

Loosening up his shoulders Philip cracked his knuckles and sheathed his knife. He thought back to the conversation he had just had with his onetime best friend as he jogged back into Lacau, keen to talk to the captain face to face then punch said face.

That bastard. The young noble scowled in frustration, his gaze set into a glare as he marched through the fog. After eight years of silence all he can say is that we need to talk?

"Damn!" Philip angrily kicked at the dirt beneath his feet, his mask of indifference crumbling as a tear slid down his clothed cheek. "I guess you didn't miss me at all. . ."

With his bloodlust spent, all the noble had left was a throbbing heartache and a painfully hollow chest that choked him with each breath he took.

Philip couldn't help but pause to stare into the layer of fog that was his new sky, his lips upturned in a condescending smile as his vision blurred over, obscured by a curtain of unshed tears.

"What a fine day indeed."

†

AN: Poor Philip, ending the chapter in tears even though he slayed dozens of fierce beasts like they were nothing. Any theories?

Issac and Philip know each other somehow but haven't talked in eight years. Why?

Corey is also looking into Philip's background as well. Why would a noble choose to start out as a messenger in the army?

And Philip himself seems to have two sides to him, a bloodthirsty warrior and an obedient subordinate, how fun.

Thank you for reading and have a good day. I look forward to reading what you think will happen next.