I spent the morning practising. It was pretty boring, but it wasn’t too bad.

Then around lunch time, I decided to burn my Fate, I’m not sure why but I’m glad I did. Shortly afterwards there was a strong breeze and an arrow struck my upper arm. I was standing at the edge of my grove, and the archer that shot me was very visible, despite me not noticing him before I was shot.

I formed an armour to boost my walking speed and got to the centre of the grove before the archer could nock another arrow, narrowly avoiding an arrow from a second archer. Once there I stopped to inspect my arm. The arrow was gone, and so was most of my arm. To make matters worse whatever enchantment was on that arrow was slowly eating away what was left of the arm.

I want to say that I immediately formed a knife and cut off the rotting arm, but that would be a lie. The truth was that I hesitated, almost too long in fact. I had to cut through some of my shoulders to remove whatever magic was infecting my arm, luckily the knife was sharp and there were no bones for me to cut through. The fact that I had weakened my body for the sake of speed didn’t hurt either.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

From there I created ten puppets, the limit of what I could control without sacrificing finesse. By the time I was done the fighting was fully underway. It turned out that the force that attacked us was a small force, likely sent either to take out major targets or to test our defences and they were driven off quickly, but not before both sides took a couple hits. Though I say quickly, the fighting continued well beyond sundown, and I made sure my puppets took the brunt of it whenever I could.

I haven’t managed to heal my arm yet, but I don’t exactly have much mana to spend and I’m not in the best state of mind right now. I didn’t kill anyone, even when I knew I should have. The blades were blunted and I mostly threw my puppets into the fray to be shields for the less durable soldiers, but still, the fighting was hard and I’m tired.

So, Good Night Diary.