I moved to run but hesitated—my orb. Did that degenerate murderer-slash-loanshark-borrower actually think far enough ahead to stop me from escaping by taking it?
"Don't stand there—grab him!" Rorik screamed.
Before anyone could make a move, I reached out toward Rorik. Big Foot, the closest, wasn't stunned for long. These three weren't like Rorik; they were used to dangerous battles and whatever other chaos this camp threw at them.
An axe swung down toward my arm, and I barely yanked it back in time to avoid the blow. I stumbled backward as the other two flanked me, their short swords glinting ominously. Rorik, not wanting to be left out, drew his own axe, his face twisted with frustration.
I'd gotten faster, sure, but these weren't bottom-rank rookies. They moved with precision and speed, much faster than Rorik had in our encounter, and they were coordinated. This open area was too dangerous for a group fight. Forget the orb. My life wasn't worth the risk.
Circulating my energy into my legs, I sprinted away, my feet pounding the uneven ground. Rorik roared furiously behind me, but I didn't care.
As I ran, the wind shifted above me. Instinct kicked in, and I dove to the side just as a massive axe slammed into the ground where I'd been. "Hey, he said catch me, not kill me!" I shouted.
I scrambled to my feet and sprinted again, zigzagging as the axe kept narrowly missing me. This guy was relentless. I kept running, glancing over my shoulder as Big Foot stuck close while the others fell behind.
That's when it hit me: He's the only one keeping up.
I kept running, letting the gap widen between me and the others. My breath burned in my chest, but I forced myself to push harder. It wasn't long before I heard only Big Foot's heavy steps behind me.
Finally, I skidded to a halt and turned.
Big Foot stopped too, towering over me with a smug expression. "Done running?"
"Well, we're alone now… so yeah?" Gotta work on that habit.
I shifted into a defensive stance, forcing my breath to slow. The internal strength was building in my hand, tethered to my Grand Channel by a thin thread. Splitting my focus between gathering energy and fighting wasn't easy, but I had to try.
Big Foot charged, swinging his axe in a wide, telegraphed arc. I ducked it easily, raising my hand as if ready to release an attack. He flinched, stepping back instinctively, his guard dropping just slightly.
That was my chance.
I surged forward, ducking under his next swing and darting behind him. Before he could react, I leaped up, locking my arm around his throat. My free hand gripped my wrist tightly, and I braced my legs against his torso, anchoring myself as he thrashed wildly.
"What the—let go!" Big Foot roared, twisting and flailing like a bull. His wild movements made it harder to hold on, every muscle in my body screaming to maintain the chokehold. His strength was waning, but not fast enough.
Just as I thought he'd keep panicking, his movements shifted, becoming deliberate. His hand fumbled at his belt, and I heard the dull clatter of his axe dropping. My heart seized when I saw the gleam of a dagger.
"No!" I growled, tightening my hold on his neck as the blade swung upward. I shifted, keeping one arm locked around his throat while the other grabbed his wrist. I forced my leg to lock his other arm down at his side. I barely stopped the blade as it nicked into my side.
"Agh!" Pain flared, sharp and hot, as blood began seeping from the wound.
Big Foot gritted his teeth, summoning strength I didn't think he had left. The dagger edged closer, its point pressing into my flesh, sending fresh waves of agony through me. "Just stop!" I snarled through clenched teeth, but he ignored me, his muscles surging with one last burst of defiance.
The dagger plunged deeper, and I gasped as my vision blurred momentarily from the pain. His fist trembled, the blade wavering slightly, his strength beginning to falter. Just a little more…
I didn't know what took over me. Instinct? Desperation? My grip on his neck loosened as his on the dagger did the same, and in one fluid motion, I wrenched the blade from his hand and plunged it into his throat.
The fight drained from his body instantly, his choking gasps wet and ragged as blood poured from the wound. His hands clawed weakly at mine, but I didn't stop. The blade plunged again, and again, the warm spray of his blood coating my face and arms until his body went still.
I shoved the lifeless corpse aside, his pale form crumpling against the dirt. His massive axe lay nearby, gleaming faintly in the moonlight, but I barely registered it. The adrenaline coursing through my veins drowned out any coherent thought.
Then I heard the footsteps—several of them.
A glint of metal in the air caught my eye. A spear hurtled toward me, and I dove to the ground just as it whistled past, embedding itself in the dirt. The impact sent dust and debris flying, stinging my eyes. Before I could recover, one of the swordsmen closed the distance, his blade slashing in a brutal arc.
I twisted away, barely avoiding a strike that would've gutted me. The sword nicked across my chest, the searing heat of the wound trailing from my collarbone to my lower ribs. A sharp line of pain stretched across my chin and down to my lower lip as the blade's edge scraped against my face.
Blood dripped steadily as I staggered backward, my breath ragged and uneven. The swordsman advanced, his face twisted in rage, his next strike already swinging toward me.
It was ready.
I raised my hand, the force tethered to my Grand Channel surging outward. A guttural scream erupted from my enemy as the energy blast tore into him. When I lowered my hand, I wished I hadn't looked.
There weren't neat, cauterized holes or anything remotely clean. The entire front of his torso was… gone. A jagged, raw wound left his chest hollow, his ribs shattered and protruding at odd angles. He collapsed forward with a sickening thud, his lifeless body thankfully landing face down.
"Kaen!" A mournful cry pierced the night, raw and filled with fury.
Wiping blood from my eye, I turned toward the sound. The other swordsman, the one who had thrown the spear, stood there. I couldn't see Rorik yet, but I knew he was close behind.
I had to end this. If this guys ran and found his boss, I'd be out of options. He was not someone I could face judging by strength when he took me.
They forced this. They took me. It's not my fault. I repeated the thought like a mantra, trying to steady myself. "It's not my fault!" I shouted, as much to myself as to the night around me.
Grabbing the fallen sword, I bolted toward the remaining man—the final threat. His eyes widened in shock, but before he could react, the blade was already at his neck. The instant I felt it bite into his flesh, I hesitated, pulling back instinctively.
But it was too late.
The sword had already gone halfway in. Strangled, wet gurgles escaped his lips as blood poured down his front. His legs buckled, and he slumped to his knees, his eyes wide with terror. That expression of disbelief—of fear—etched itself onto his face for the rest of his short, miserable life.
"FUCK! DAMN IT!" I yelled, staggering back. I pointed the bloodied sword at his lifeless body, my voice cracking under the weight of my rage. "Why did you do this? Why can't you just leave people alone? Who the hell came up with this fucked-up place?!"
The words poured out, one after another, growing incoherent as fury overtook me. I didn't even know what I was saying anymore. My chest heaved, my hands trembled. But the rant ended abruptly as I heard footsteps—calculated, deliberate.
Like a predator, my head snapped toward the sound.
Rorik.
This was all his fault. He had attacked my family first. He hadn't learned his lesson. This… this was his fault.
He froze when he saw me, his usual arrogance replaced by something far weaker. Fear.
"H—h—hey," he stammered, his voice trembling. "W—we c—c—can talk about this."
He dropped to his knees, his hands raised in surrender. The short sword still gripped tightly in my hand, I didn't stop advancing.
"I can lead you out!" he blurted, the words catching my attention like a lifeline in the chaos.
It stopped me cold. I don't even know where I am.
I stepped closer, my grip tightening on the sword. "You know how to get out?" The words escaped me, low and hollow. I barely recognized my own voice—empty, devoid of anything but exhaustion and numbness.
Rorik's face shifted as if he'd just regained some sense of control. He chuckled nervously, his trembling subsiding. "We're in the forest. Pretty deep," he said, his tone suddenly laced with unwarranted confidence. "You'll nee—"
He clutched his throat, choking on his words as blood dribbled from his lips.
I didn't even remember moving.
The rage—sharp and blinding—surged the moment I heard that tone. That confidence. After everything, after all the blood spilled, he had the audacity to act as if he still held the upper hand. As if he could manipulate me like a pawn.
They were all dead because of him. Everything I'd done, every drop of blood on my hands, was because of him. And now, what? He'd lead me out and walk away? Or worse, he'd lead me somewhere else—into another trap?
This man was heartless. I couldn't trust a single word he said.
I was alone now, only the night breeze accompanying me. "Okay. Okay. Breathe. It's fine," I whispered to myself, forcing my chest to rise and fall slowly. The buzzing in my ears, which I hadn't even noticed until now, began to fade. The heat that had engulfed my entire body seemed to focus, like a magnifying glass on my wounds. One in particular—my side—was bleeding profusely.
I wasn't a doctor, but I knew enough to recognize a bad wound when I saw one. "Okay, one step at a time."
I leaned down to Rorik's lifeless body, suppressing the bitter taste rising in my throat. Stripping a corpse wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but survival came first. I grabbed everything I could: his satchel, his axe, his dagger, and both our orbs. Both were empty of points, but that wasn't my priority right now.
Rummaging through the satchel, I found trinkets and tools—small knives, cutlery, even a little bowl. Nothing immediately useful. He had been like me, just another new recruit. The only difference was, I had far more points than he'd ever managed to scrape together. Dumping the contents onto the ground, I kept the satchel itself, tossing his orb somewhere into the darkness.
One item caught my eye: a small cloth. I grabbed it, pressing it hard against my side. "Agh!" The pain shot through me like a spike, but I kept the pressure steady. My strength, for once, was not a blessing...I mean it was, but the pain was really bad.
The other three bodies lay nearby, their twisted forms illuminated faintly by the moonlight. I hated the thought of picking through them, but I didn't have a choice. The wound needed more than a strip of cloth to keep me alive.
I staggered toward the kneeling man. His lifeless eyes stared into the distance, still wide with terror. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed his sword and secured it at my waist alongside the others. Pain rippled through me as I balanced the growing weight of two daggers, an axe, and two short swords. They clanked noisily against each other, so I tied them together with a piece of rope still hanging from my wrists.
Searching his pockets, I came across another orb and—finally—two small vials. My breath caught as I recognized them. Herbal health remedies. I'd seen vendors selling these when Thea and I first entered the Hall of Heroes. Back then, they were just another curiosity I'd ignored. Now, they felt like salvation.
"Do I drink it or…?" I mumbled, my vision starting to blur. Nausea hit me hard, and I had to lean against the tree for support. My legs trembled, threatening to give out.
No time to overthink.
Uncapping one of the vials, I poured its contents directly onto the wound in my side.
To my relief, the bleeding slowed almost instantly, the jagged edges of the injury knitting together slightly. It was like the magic I'd seen healers use—effective. I exhaled shakily. Maybe plants in this world are magical too.
Rather than risk drinking the second vial, I stuck with what had worked. Pouring the contents over the wound sent a fresh wave of sharp, burning pain coursing through me, but I gritted my teeth and endured. The bleeding slowed, and the nausea ebbed slightly as my body stabilized. But the wound hadn't fully closed—blood still trickled from it in a sluggish, ominous stream.
I staggered toward the man whose torso had been flayed open by my pseudo-fireball—no, my inner force shotgun blast. The destruction I'd caused was something I wasn't ready to face, so I refused to turn him over. Instead, I rifled through what was left of his clothes, my hands trembling slightly.
His pockets were nearly as ruined as he was. I found nothing but his orb, which I pocketed without a second thought.
Now, for the biggest threat of the night—Big Foot. His massive body lay crumpled nearby, his axe gleaming faintly in the moonlight. I pulled the weapon free and added it to the awkward, bound pile of weapons hanging from my side. Rummaging through his pockets, I found his orb—and to my enormous relief, a map.
The map was crude, the lines and symbols completely meaningless to me. Still, it seemed simple enough. No matter which direction I chose, I'd either end up back in town or in a large clearing nearby.
The elixirs had bought me time, but I could feel their limits pressing against me. My side throbbed with every step, the makeshift bandage damp and sticky with blood.
I pulled out the orbs I'd gathered and checked the points. Six hundred. Pressing the orbs to my own, I transferred the points and discarded the emptied ones.
Clenching my jaw, I chose the direction I'd been running before and started forward. My steps were uneven at first, my body screaming at me to stop, but I forced myself into a steady rhythm. The forest loomed dark and quiet, broken only by the crunch of my footsteps and the faint rustling of branches.
Each stride sent a stabbing pain through my side, and my vision blurred more than once. The warm, sticky feeling of blood reminded me I was on borrowed time.
Just keep moving. It became my mantra. The trees blurred together as I ran, and I prayed silently that the blood loss wouldn't betray me before I reached safety.