The man tried to reach me across the table, but I quickly jumped up, grabbing the second tray, as the first flew somewhere off to the side.
"You're fast," the bandit muttered, getting up slowly from the bench.
Two more men began to approach me on either sides. The rest of the people did not intervene, they just watched the fight and cheered my opponents on. Grandpa's gone, I just hope he doesn't get hurt after they kill me.
"Close the door!" the bandit with the knife yelled to someone, "I don't want someone to interrupt me while I'm cutting off that useless tongue of yours."
So there are at least one or two more people behind me.
"It's better if you don't fight," a guy advised me from somewhere to the right of me. "You'll just have longer to suffer," he cheerfully grinned, showing his crooked and rotten teeth.
No way I'm going down without a fight.
I jerked to the left side and threw the tray at the face of the enemy in front of me, hoping to distract him and then sneak past him to the pot.
Let's see how you 'sing' when I start throwing boiling water at you!
But I didn't succeed in my attempt. He managed to grab my sleeve and slow me down. It was enough for the first bandit with the knife to run up to me and hit me in the side. Surprisingly, I wasn't really hurting, the adrenaline had smoothed my sensitivity which was at seventy percent.
Physical damage taken is 15 units. Life 15\30
'Eh, I should have put points into force. But I'd probably just be prolonging my agony.'
The third bandit ran up and knocked me to the floor, hitting me several times with his fist.
Physical damage taken is 8 units. Life 7\30
Hit me again and it's goodbye, I'll be flying back to the spawn point. I hope I can find Grandpa again. He's a good old man.
"Open up, you bastards!" a loud scream came from behind the closed door.
It was a familiar voice, the one-eyed owner of the house had come.
"What'll we do?" the guy who was leaning on me asked.
"Kill him," the bandit with the knife ordered, hatred in his voice. "Eran won't do anything, it'll be too late by then. And if he kicks us out ... well, it's not the first time."
I was moved to the back, being held with my arms behind me.
"Get ready to meet your ancestors!"
What they don't know though… is that I am immortal. Probably because I don't look like a typical player.
The first bandit threw a knife to the man who was holding me down. The man caught it with one hand and raised it for the final blow.
I'll find you and take revenge! Promise!
Vzh-zh-zhih, a dagger zipped through the air and bit down on the hand holding the knife, and the bandit howled and rolled aside, grabbing the injured limb.
The next moment, a tall, blurry shadow knocked down the bandit that had threatened me at the table, and sent him to a long rest. Or even an eternal one, because with a broken trachea you will not live for very long, unless magicians help you in the near future. But are there any healers around here?
"Are you alive?" The man leaned over me. He was wearing a dark cloak with a hood on his head. I could not see his face.
He gave me his hand and helped me stand back up.
"Open the door!" The stranger ordered and, surprisingly, no one in the eatery dared to object.
"What happened here?" One-eyed Eran burst into the room, distributing kicks and cuffs on the head to a pair of slow-witted guys along the way. "Where's Grandpa?"
And what about me? Well, okay, I guess I'm not really offended.
"Well..." It turned out that the chefs had dragged Grandpa behind the counter with the trays on it, so that he would not accidentally get into a fight, and now he was standing in front of Eran and trying to clearly explain what had happened here.
"Got it," the one-eyed man said, after listening to the story. "I knew it, it was a bad idea to allow you in here," he said to me. "I forgot all about that idiot!" He pushed the cold corpse with its throat cut with the toe of his boot. "And where is the third bastard?"
"He managed to leave," a voice from the crowd sounded.
"Son of a bitch!" Eran swore. "If anyone sees him, tell him that it's better for him not to come here again. If I ever see him, I'll kill him! I will choke him with my own hands! And you," he beckoned me with a gesture, "you can stay with Grandpa today, but tomorrow ... You better leave by tomorrow."
The jeweler came up to me and pulled me away from the eatery, "Let's leave. We will rest, heal you, and have a drink together. I have something to get rid of the stress," the old man winked at me. "Let them deal with this mess themselves."
I wanted to thank the stranger that had saved me from these maniacs, but did not have the time. Grandpa had already pulled me out of there and into the corridor.
"And where is Dazrael? That long-eared bastard! He's made a bloody mess, and who will clean it up?" This was the last thing I heard before we came into the room and the jeweler locked the door.
"Ah, how are you?" the old man lifted my clothes without permission, examining the cut. "Where is that salve?" He rummaged in one of the bags beside his bed. "Here it is! Come on, take off your shirt, I'll smear everything with this, tie it up, and you'll feel better in the morning."
Then we drank some disgusting swill, but it helped. Grandpa told some stories again and I listened, struggling with drowsiness...
"Sleep, dear, sleep," I seemed to be covered with a rug.
For some reason, the name Dazrael flashed through my mind, and I tried to remember it...
"It's a cruel game, son, even if you're immortal," someone whispered softly, maybe Grandpa.
Or it seemed to me like it was him? And then I was fast asleep...