It turned out that Arthur had gotten a little mixed up on the details. Understandable really when someone decided it was a good idea to hit him with a rocket launcher of all things just as he was reading his friend's warning note. The weapon was magically enhanced in one way or the other, certainly with a stealth effect of some kind. He would have noticed it coming a mile away otherwise.

The rocket had been aimed at his chest, and the explosion caused shrapnel to fly in all directions. His body being sturdy as it was, Arthur had little to fear from the attack, at least he would have if a piece of metal hadn’t found its way into his left eye. The shrapnel only pierced a few millimetres into his eye, but it was enough to destroy his vision completely, especially when he reflexively blinked and got his eyelid caught on the damn thing. The worst thing was, that his eyelid was too durable to get cut by the shrapnel, and so it just got stuck instead which was far more annoying.

Feeling something wiggling about inside his eyeball was one of the most unsettling sensations he’d ever felt. It also hurt like a bitch. The explosion also released a purple miasma of some kind that rapidly spread to cover a ten-metre radius with him at the centre. Whoever those people were, they weren't trying to kill him at least. The purple smoke contained some powerful healing magic as well as a tranquilising effect that he easily resisted.

That’s one scary weapon. Healing magic to make sure I don't die and a tranq to knock me out, Arthur thought, even as he racked his brains to understand what was happening. Who was attacking him, and more importantly why? He didn’t remember offending anyone to the point they’d go to these lengths to get back at him. Was it the silver rose? Damn. why couldn’t I just reach the note faster? The paper was nought but ashes now, any answers it contained gone with the wind.

Arthur’s heart was racing a mile a minute, as adrenaline was pumped into his bloodstream, the potent concentration of chemicals his body produced the equivalent of an elite-ranked stimulant. It had to be that strong at least to get past his Draconic Vitality. A single second had passed since he’d been hit, enough time for the piece of shrapnel to be pushed out of his left eye and a few blinks to get it unstuck as his prodigious regeneration got to work. Arthur estimated it’d take another twenty seconds or so for vision to return though, and by that time, the purple miasma currently screening him may have dissipated.

Arthur quickly ran through all the information he had so far, even as he groaned at the itchy sensation in his skull. It felt like ants were crawling about in there. For starters, these people, whoever they were, wanted him captured alive, not dead. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have used a weapon that tried to heal him the moment after it had damaged him. The sleeping effect was a dead giveaway too. They also know that I’ve got a high constitution stat. That attack would’ve outright killed most humans.

Unfortunately for them, their information was very outdated. They’d severely underestimated just how sturdy his body was or the fact he didn’t measure that particular strength in constitution anymore. In reality, the rocket launcher should have done nothing to him. Arthur had just been unlucky that it had managed to get into his eye. Is it… weaker than a pre-system one? The explosion hadn’t even knocked him off his feet, after all, or even a step backwards for that matter.

Throwing his useless speculation to the wayside, Arthur considered what else he knew. His attackers had come after Alyssia too. Maybe she was their primary target and he was just collateral. The most important thing, though, was that those people had come after them post Hydra-slaying after Lady Sleyca had sent them personal messages. It didn't paint a pretty picture. Five seconds had passed now, and he could hear people approaching. From multiple directions.

So a group then, not a single attacker, and it sounded like they had him surrounded. Taking three steps forward, Arthur crouched low to the ground to minimise the space he took up. Unless they had a skill for it, no one outside the fog would be able to see within just as he couldn’t see outside it. If their attack had worked, as they would certainly expect, his unconscious form would be splayed out on the ground two metres behind him. Quietly as possible, Arthur began to crawl forward. He stopped moving the moment he heard voices, a guttural harsh tongue that didn’t sound designed for human use.

It took a moment for Myriad tongues to work its magic but he got the gist of what was being said. There was a crackle of static- a transceiver of some kind- it’s sound far too quiet for him to make anything out. The reply, however, he got completely. “Yes, captain. We got a good shot at him. Almost too good. He’s not dead though. I didn’t gain any experience.'' The rest of it was muttered too quickly for him to understand but it sounded like the man was getting a grilling from his superior. It took him a few seconds to realise why, but he was happy when things clicked. They’d failed to capture Alyssia, or as the man Garak had put it, the green elf. He was, as he'd suspected, the consolation prize, bait they hoped would entice the dimensional traveller to come and rescue him. He’d also gotten a name.

Aaron West.

That was enough waiting. Any moment now, the purple miasma would completely dissipate. Already, he could see the hazy figure of his enemies, the one who’d shot him northeast by about fifty degrees, a very distinctive barrel-shaped object in her hands. At least he thought she was a woman. It was hard to tell with their guttural speech, but her voice was a few octaves higher. Making use of his latest ability, Arthur directed Homunculus' eye at their leader. It was about time he learned who he was facing.

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Garak Kinslayer (Species: Lorak) Level 167- A race of amphibians that evolved to walk on land, Loraks tend to possess a high affinity with water magics and an aversion to fire. Garak is a Lorak who distinguished himself when he slayed his sister in ritual combat and gained the name Kinslayer. Leader of his mercenary force, he’s been employed by Aaron West to capture Alyssia Sil'Vorken and Arthur Ward.

Health- 8470/8500

Highest stat-Willpower

Affinities- Water,???

Arthur grinned as he read through the man’s description. Homunculus' eye was far better than he’d initially expected. It had built off the little he’d learned of the man from his eavesdropping and provided him with a background check. Having taken on aspects of his soul affinity, the skill had slipped right past the man's defences and told him his health, highest attribute and affinity. This was practically cheating and it was only his first time using the ability. Like a muscle, the more he trained it, the stronger it would become and if he met the right conditions, he might even be able to evolve it to legendary status.

Arthur considered his opponent. Being conservative and scaling based on humanity's baseline, the Lorak had around 850 vitality. That meant Garak’s willpower was higher than that and probably significantly so. A mage then, and one who focused more on control than power. At level 167, he probably had a decade or two of experience under his belt, a great advantage compared to the mere weeks Arthur had. On top of that, Arthur's tank was currently running quite low. It had been less than fifteen minutes since his spar with Issania and that fight had seen him spending over nine thousand ether, a sum greater than his entire energy pool and thus a portion of his health.

Nowhere enough time to replenish his reserves, especially now that he was back on a tier-1 planet. Issania’s chaos locus had spoiled him with its tremendous energy density.

The ether density is too low to maintain your existence. All regeneration rates have dropped by 50%. 3,000 ether shall be consumed per hour.

As he had feared, the cost of surviving on Earth had increased by 1000 ether from the tier-1 locus. Arthur was just counting his lucky stars his regeneration rates hadn’t dropped any further. By his estimations, around fifteen seconds were remaining before the Loraks realised his body wasn’t where it was supposed to be. He could see the hazy outline of raised weaponry, the rocket launcher he’d initially been hit with and what looked like rifles.

Arthur trusted his Draconic Vitality to protect him, but he’d rather not lose any more health now that it was being tanked so much. Creeping forwards, he went as close to the fog's edge as he dared, directly before the man he thought would give him the most trouble, besides the captain of course, but he was too far away to sneak up on. A magically made sniper might just get through his durability. Tensing his legs, Arthur counted to three.

Shadow cloak would’ve made this a walk in the park, Arthur idly thought as he jumped, sailing through the air. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and he’d make do with what he had. His aim was true, and he landed slightly to the man's left, enough that he could reach out and touch his amphibian flesh. It was an ugly mottled green and was covered in a slimy gel of some kind. It was his first good look at a Lorak but he didn’t have the time to stop and admire. A fishy smell assaulted his nose even as he exploded upwards. The man barely managed to grunt in surprise before Arthur's fist connected with his chin in a perfectly executed uppercut.

Arthur hadn’t held back at all and he hit with the full force of his absurd physical stats. Nearing Mach 1 speed, his fist broke through the mercenary's chin, not slowing down as it pierced through the top of the creature's skull, bits of bone and brain matter splattering everywhere. A sickeningly loud squelch echoed through the forest as the amphibian's body dropped to the ground, a mess of gore where its head had once been. Besides Shade, this was the first sapient life he’d consciously decided to take and he wasn’t quite sure how to feel.

These people meant him harm, they’d attacked him first, unprovoked at the behest of another man. In his books, that meant they were fair game. Still, he hadn’t expected the Lorak to die with a single strike. Stop kidding yourself man, his subconscious whispered. You knew it would kill him but you didn’t hold back. Arthur firmly shut that part of his brain down. There was no moral conundrum here. These men had all pointed weapons at him, weapons they believed could kill him. Maybe the Lorak had never intended to use the sniper but Arthur sincerely doubted that and he didn’t think the man would’ve answered if he asked nicely.

If he felt the need, he’d go and see a therapist in the future but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t truly care. Did that make him a bad person? maybe. Did he care? Not really. All those thoughts rushed through Arthur’s head in the time it took a man to blink, his considerable intelligence increasing his processing speed to an absurd degree.

The battlefield was silent, as the dead Lorak's companions turned to face the prey-turned-predator, eyes widening in shock as they stared at what had become of their former companion. Nothing was said as he saw the rapid cycling of emotion on their alien faces, first shock, then rage followed by fear and finally a grim determination. Garak opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind, instead raising his hand and forming a rapid sequence of signs that Arthur couldn’t read.

He didn’t raise his voice and scream at him, there were no threats of vengeance, only a clinical and cold disposition that said he would get the job done. A true professional. He’d seen what had become of his subordinate, observed the massive threat their prey represented and created a new plan on the fly. If they weren’t at odds right now, Arthur might have even respected the man's cool-headed dedication to his job.

For an eternally long moment, no one moved, the sound of his racing heartbeat deafening in Arthur's ears. That was the moment an eyeball dropped from Arthur's clenched fist and plopped onto the ground. Like they’d been waiting for his signal, the mercenaries exploded into motion, firing at him wildly.

In a graveyard of trees, Arthur would pay homage to those who had fallen and became the assistant of death.