All I have done is suffer.
My small, bare feet slapped against the cold, wet stone as I tore down the narrow alley. The loaves of bread felt heavier with every step, my arms aching from holding onto my only victory. Behind me, the shouts of men and the stomp of boots chased me like a pack of wolves.
I ducked into a shadowy corner, pressing myself into the darkness, trying to quiet my breathing. The men thundered past, their curses fading into the distance. My heartbeat began to slow, and for a fleeting moment, relief swept over me.
I glanced down at the bread, the corners slightly smashed but intact. It was enough for us. But the moment I lifted my eyes again, there they were—five hulking figures blocking my way. Their teeth were bared in wicked grins, fists clenching as they stalked toward me.
The next thing I knew, I was stumbling toward the edge of the village. The small tent came into view, tucked behind the old, gnarled tree. Beneath its tattered canopy, my mother sat with my sister, her laughter soft as she teased a giggle from the younger girl.
"Mom," I called, my voice weak. She turned, and her smile froze. My legs buckled as I reached her, my body battered and broken. Her arms caught me just as the world went black.
…
Years passed. The boy had grown, though not much. Now ten, his frame was still thin and underfed, his hands blistered and blackened from the mines.
"My body… it hurts," I mumbled, the words slipping out as I swung my pickaxe again and again. My voice was drowned out by the endless cacophony of work.
…
For once, I smiled, holding my first paycheck tight in my hands. The fat overseer smirked as I dashed off, his laughter trailing after me. I didn't care. For the first time, there was something good to bring home.
But as I neared the village's edge, the miners who worked beside me stepped into my path. Their sneers were cruel as they tripped me. I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of me. Before I could recover, fists rained down, and they took everything I'd earned.
"Give it back!" I screamed, fighting back tears, but they only laughed. My body ached, and I could barely stand as they walked away. Alone, I clutched my knees, sobbing.
When I finally returned to the tent, the sight that greeted me shattered what little I had left. My sister sat beside our unconscious mother, tears streaking her face as she shook her gently.
…
The years blurred together until I was 18. My sister was the same age now, though life had taken more from her than I wanted to admit.
One day, as I spoon-fed our sickly mother, my sister returned, a wool blanket wrapped around her frail frame and a bucket of food in her arms. She offered a small, hesitant smile.
"A kind lady gave this to me," she said, avoiding my gaze.
I froze. The village never spared us a kind glance, let alone charity. My fists clenched, the truth cutting deeper than I could bear. I knew what she had done, but survival left no room for pride.
"I'll make sure you'll never have to do this again," I promised her. She looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears, before collapsing into my arms. She sobbed against my shoulder, her body trembling.
…
One day, the final piece of my world crumbled. My mother lay before me, her lifeless eyes staring at nothing, a pool of blood staining the ground beside her mouth.
"Mom…" My voice cracked as I fell to my knees.
The sound of creaking wheels pulled my attention. An old man stood before me, his shadow long in the fading light. Without a word, he tossed something onto the ground. My breath caught in my throat.
It was my sister's body, beaten and bloodied beyond recognition.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just… sat there until, my forehead hit the dirt, again and again, as my mind screamed one question: Why?
The next morning, I returned to the mines. My body moved on autopilot, my hand brushing against the stolen knife hidden in my waistband.
As I passed the overseer, his laughter grated against my ears. I didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, I drew the blade and slashed his throat.
The blood sprayed across my face as he collapsed, clutching at his neck, his eyes wide with shock.
As his lifeless body hit the ground, I stared at my trembling hands.
"I will survive…" I whispered to no one, my voice hollow, my soul already broken.
…
(Present Day)
"ARGHHHHHH!" The roar tore from my throat, raw and guttural, as I summoned every ounce of strength to shove the hulking beastman off me. His weight was oppressive, a mountain pinning me to the ground, and each of his blows rattled my bones, threatening to break more than just my will.
My arms quaked as I strained, pushing against the sheer mass of muscle, claws, and fury above me. Finally, with a desperate heave, I managed to twist, rolling him off and scrambling to my feet.
Every step back was a fight against gravity. Blood poured from gashes on my arms, slicking my grip and staining the ground beneath me. My breath rasped, raw, and shallow, as though my lungs had turned to ash. A faint red aura began to shimmer around me like embers refusing to die out. Yet, even as it rose, I knew the truth: I was outmatched, outlasted, and broken.
"I will survive," I whispered, my voice trembling but resolute. The words became my mantra. "I will survive…"
The beastman gave no break. He lunged with terrifying speed for his size, his claws cutting through the air like scythes. I ducked, the motion sluggish and labored, but not enough to escape entirely. One of his claws raked across my shoulder, tearing through metal and flesh alike.
He followed with a hook aimed at my jaw. I threw up my arm just in time, absorbing the blow, though the force still sent me staggering. My vision blurred. Desperately, I lashed out with a wild right hook, my fist connecting with his ribs. The impact was solid, a brief moment of satisfaction, but it only seemed to fuel his fury.
The beastman spun with shocking agility, his tail whipping around and striking me across the side. The blow knocked me off balance, and before I could recover, he was on me again. A heavy knee drove into my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs in a choked gasp. My legs buckled, and I barely avoided collapsing outright.
"I… will survive…" The words slipped out between gasps, weaker now, a fragile whisper against the roar of the battle around us.
He grabbed me by the collar, lifting me off the ground as though I weighed nothing. His claws hovered dangerously close to my throat, but instead of a killing blow, he slammed me into the dirt with a force that rattled my teeth. My skull throbbed as stars danced in my vision.
The beastman advanced, his eyes burning with cold determination. I staggered upright, barely holding myself together, and swung a feeble punch at his head. He caught my wrist with ease, twisting it painfully before delivering a crushing headbutt to my face. The world tilted while the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
Still, I muttered, "I… will…"
The next blow, a punishing uppercut, sent me sprawling. I hit the ground hard, my back slamming against the dirt. The sky above swirled in my vision, its vast emptiness mocking my struggle. My chest heaved, each breath a monumental effort. I could feel the warmth of my own blood pooling beneath me.
"Mom…" My voice broke, the word barely audible as my strength gave out. My hand weakly reached toward the endless void above me, trembling and futile. A single tear slid down my face, mingling with the grime and defeat etched into my skin.
"I… will…" The words slipped from my lips as the darkness claimed me.
…
From her perch atop the ridge, Ophelia surveyed the battlefield with a steady gaze. The clash of steel and cries of war echoed below, yet her mind remained sharp, her focus unbroken. Every few moments, she barked out calculated orders, her voice carrying over the chaos with precision and authority.
"REFORM THE EASTERN FLANK! AND THE LEAST INJURED ONES! TIGHTEN YOUR SPREAD AND COVER THE INFANTRY!" she commanded, her directives swiftly executed by the soldiers.
Each maneuver, each adjustment of their lines, minimized the casualties and optimized their defense. Ophelia's sharp intellect and anticipation were evident, her foresight seemingly preempting the enemy's every move.
Her aim was clear—this battle wasn't simply to eliminate the bandits. She had a vision for this village, one that would help her regain the Chief's loyalty and trust. By safeguarding his people and allowing him to bring justice to the Bandit Leader personally, she wove an intricate web of influence that would ensure the Chief's favor. Every saved life was a calculated step toward her long-term plans.
A faint whistling sound reached her ears, breaking through her thoughts. Arrows. She glanced up, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the projectiles racing toward her. Without flinching, she ever so slightly moved her head. To the soldiers watching from below, it seemed as though the arrows grazed her skin, their tips appearing to brush against her cloak.
But in truth, there was a breath of space—fractions of a millimeter—between her and the deadly shafts. Her seemingly supernatural senses ensured none came close enough to harm her. Each arrow landed harmlessly in the dirt behind her, and she remained unshaken, her composure unbroken.
She spared a glance toward the archer responsible, her piercing eyes locking onto his distant figure for a fleeting moment before she returned her attention to the battlefield. The archer hesitated, lowering his bow, clearly unnerved.
"Good thing the parasite didn't awaken mid-battle… and…" She paused for a moment before pushing her head back, allowing her to gaze into the clear sky, slowly being covered by dark clouds. "It's going to rain."