I rolled onto my back, gasping for air as fireballs sailed by, exploding against the hard-packed earth. I held a parchment-wrapped bundle tightly to my chest. I could smell the pungent, tantalizing tinge of spices emanating from my parcel. I gripped it hard, knowing the distance I had to travel.

I peered above the trench and saw rows and rows of similar dirt encampments. Multi colored streaks of energy fill the darkened sky, I heard the screaming of men as they chant their spellframes. I see the [Shamans] with their spirit guardian clashing with ethereal blades. I see the [Summoner] calling forth monstrosities from their portals. The [Necromancer] raises their fallen comrades to kill living foes. Everywhere I turned I saw violence, it was rehearsed and mundane at this point.

I knew what hell was like because I had lived there for ten years.

The tang of cinnamon and citrus brings me back to my senses. I clutched my package tighter and tapped the [Amulet] on my chest. I held my breath, hoping it wouldn’t shit out on me, as the [Amulet] hummed to life. I punched myself in the chest a few times, feeling my fist stop a couple of inches from my body. I pull my helmet visor over my face and tap my [Boots] together, activating their haste enchantment before I leap out of the trench.

I feel the heat immediately, assaulting my face. The air above the trenches always made all the hairs on my body stand up on end. The battlefield stank of death and misery and the ground was caked with ichor, both human and other.

I dodge narrowly as a frost-tipped arrow whizzes by me, barely avoiding being skewered if not for my [Boots]. I kept my head down and kept running.

I had always been good at running, even as a kid. My mum said that I was the quickest in the village. At least, I think she said that. I don’t remember much of dear old mum or the village anymore. She died early on in the war from some necrotic plague the enemy released. I don’t remember much of the village either; it's just the cries of my neighbor on the last days before the [Cleric] came.

I leap over the corpses scattered on the ground and pump my legs, feeling the haste enchantment bolstering my stride. I see the scenery blur by as I bob and weave through the battlefield. I see men dying, raising their hands towards me, hoping I would stop and help.

I knew better than to stop. I knew that the only thing keeping me from being like them was to keep running.

I stay low, making sure never to run in a straight line. I zig-zag across the field, leaping over the trenches with the domed city in sight. That was the finish line; that was the goal.

I knew I was in trouble when I started to feel my legs straining in effort. I began sweating, which shouldn’t have been possible with my [Amulet] active. I swear internally, I knew I should have sprang for the dwarven stuff, the cheap mass produced army issue gnome crap always broke down when you least expected.

They never give the grunts the good stuff.

Fighting back panic, I knew through experience that I had about five minutes left before the [Items] entirely gave out.

In Basic, the company [Mage] instructed the infantry on using the [Items]. They held a charge of mana that powered the magic in them. You run out of juice, and you run out of magic. The [Mage] went over other stuff, but I didn’t pay attention, choosing instead to experiment by myself.

Over the years, I found that the charges barely had enough juice for extended usage. Five minutes tops before you had to shut them down for a recharge. In my experimentation, I discovered that I could siphon some energy from one [Item] to supercharge another.

Why they never taught us this, I would never understand.

Well, I guess I understand. Why teach dead men walking more than was necessary?

I must have reached the end of the lifecycle on my [Items] because they seemed to hold even less of a charge than usual. I had a couple of miles left before the city, and I knew that if I had the [Amulet] on full, then I would make it to a trench mostly unharmed. There I could wait it out till my Items charged.

Doing that, though, would mean missing my delivery time to the city noble. Missing my time would mean no payment. No payment would mean another night of bone broth and hardtack.

I would kill myself before I ate more of that crap.

I had nothing in this world, no family, no real friends, no real prospects. What I did have was the drive to eat delicious food. I remember starving during my youth and enlisted with promises of a full stomach and a soft bed. Age made me realize that nothing was more precious than a good meal.

Good meals were few and far between, especially with my meager wages.

I stuck my finger into the package and put it in my mouth. The tang and heat of the spice mix bring clarity to my head. I had been paid to make this mix with the wild herbs outside the city and bring it to a noble in the besieged city. I would be paid three months' wages for this little package.

My stomach growled. I had not eaten since yesterday morning.

I pulled the last charge from the [Amulet] and filled my body with it. It had felt strange when I first figured out this trick. It felt like being full of water with no release until the energy disappeared. I dumped the charge into the [Boots], feeling like I was getting thirsty as my stomach deflated. In an explosion of force, I rush forward at breakneck speeds.

Almost immediately, my bones started to ache from the pressure of the ambient mana in the air.

I didn’t know when I started bleeding. Without the [Amulet], the very air itself was tearing me apart. I was leaking blood from my helmet as my ears and nose started bleeding profusely. I felt the mana crushing my arms and neck.

I couldn’t stop running. If I stopped, I would surely die.

The City was about a mile away now, and I was getting lightheaded from the blood loss.

That was when I saw the [Paladin].

I had never seen a [Paladin] before and only heard rumors of them. The Enemy usually holds them for long sieges, using them as wall breakers. They must want this city if they were willing to field one of the heavy hitters.

He glistened in his full plate mail armor, swinging his [Hammer] through scores of infantrymen like some avenging [Titan] of old. It looked like some [Mage] took shots at him because his armor wasn’t as clean as it should be. Said [Mage] was now a crumpled corpse with a caved-in chest at his feet. He lifts his [Hammer] to the sky and yells “Holy Charge '' as a bolt of lightning crashes down, wrapping it in arcing energy. He sweeps the [Hammer] as the lighting surges like a fan, immediately killing five men before him. Not missing a step, he follows up by shoulder-checking some bumbling fool who thought to try and shoot him with their [Mana Gun]. He sends the poor sap sailing clear past his comrades, landing in a sickening snap on the ground. The infantryman died before he touched the earth.

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I think I know why the Enemy sent out this [Paladin] .

It was pure shock and awe.

I run behind the broken corpses of summoned beasts, always keeping the [Paladin] in sight, never lingering too long in any area, and always trying to keep at least a few infantrymen between him and me. I am on my last reserves of consciousness as the blood loss worsens. I can see the gates of the city now. I'll have finished my delivery if I can pass through them. Just one last stretch of dirt before me. Then I can finally have a good meal.

I drew my dagger in case I had to get past the [Paladin] to the finish line. Who was I kidding, though? It wouldn’t be a fight; I would be lucky even to scratch him. No, the dagger was for me in case he tried to take me hostage. I knew what the enemy did to prisoners of war; I had seen them crucified above the enemy encampment like some garnish flag.

I would rather die on my terms than be taken by the [Paladin].

****

My legs are starting to cramp up, I know that the charge in my [Boots] are running out. I had to take my helmet off because I was swimming in my blood—the ambient mana in the air tears at my cheeks, little biting daggers carving into my face. I breathe heavily, choking slightly on my bile. I never slowed down, though I never stopped moving, my legs churning at the ground like jet pistons on a [Train]. Suddenly, the earth in front of me cracks and splits, spilling out golden radiance and forming a spellfame.

He had seen me. Fuck, he had seen me.

He looked at me, smiling like a farmer would smile at his livestock before delivering the killing blow.

I can feel the mana in the air condense and gather to him. It was like looking into a whirlwind of light.

The spellfame condenses and solidifies into multiple runes as I see his [Hammer] emerge from the ground before me. It shoots a golden tether towards my chest. I pitch myself forward and tuck my knees, narrowly dodging it. I grab a handful of dirt and keep running. I feel my [Boots] increasingly fade as I struggle to dodge the tethers.

I try to hide behind a downed war machine, hoping that someone other than me has spotted him and will engage with him. I was an idiot to think like that because no one would ever dare to face a [Paladin] alone. I heard in basic that we sent whole platoons with heavy weapons and a [Healer] to try and slow these walking forces of nature.

The heavens split as a bolt of energy slams right into me. I feel pain as I struggle to keep conscious. As I slump to the ground, the energy bolt has fully depleted all the charges left in the [Boot]. It coils itself in my body, seizing up all my muscles. I can not control the spasms as I flail around on the ground. My wounds fully open up as I bleed out of all my orifices. I grip the package closer to my body, awaiting my death. I fight to keep my eyes open. I refuse to die in darkness.

He is standing before me with his [Hammer] resting on the floor and his helm open. He is quite young, with a fair complexion, bright eyes, and a look of superiority on his face. He looks down at me, and he laughs.

“You took a full “Thunderbolt” to the back, and you’re still breathing, a commendable feat, old chap.”

He scans the battlefield, watching as his allies slaughter the rest of the resistance, the rest of my comrades.

“Monologuing is for idiots, but I am curious: what is that package that you would risk your very life for?” he asks as he rolls me over with his foot.

He looks amused at my tenacity as I struggle to keep conscious.

I tried to clutch my packet closer, but my muscles refused to obey. The [Paladin] plucked it from hands easy as pie.

I spit the blood out of my mouth and plead, “Please, please don't, just give it back to me, please’. My words were not doing my throat any good as I spit up more blood.

My body was failing me. I knew I was dying but I didn’t care, all I cared about was my packet. I just wanted to keep it close. I just wanted to smell its contents to get one last taste. I was crying, big, heaving, gasping cries. Blood and tears run down my eyes.

“Whatever this is, it smells great. It reminds me of those highborn dinners the [Priests] dragged me to. What’s a grunt like you doing running around with something like this? Probably cost more than what you make in months stuffed in here.”

Despite the pain, both physical and mental, I realize I still have my dagger in my hand white-knuckled. I can feel some control returning to my arms. This bastard had my package, and I needed to get it back.

The [Paladin] puts his [Hammer] down as he tears the parchment wrapping off my package. I smell the fragrant bouquet of the spices. It brings me briefly back to my senses and sharpens my mind. In desperation, I formulate my plan. I would have only one chance, and I would not waste it.

“Damn, you got the good stuff here,” he says as he dips his finger into the mix before putting it into his mouth. He made a face relishing the taste of the spices I had sweated and bled for.

“Delicious! This ain’t no amateur work. You make this? It has a good balance of heat and sweetness with a hint of sourness to cut through it all. Rough shit, man that you met me today, or you’d make a fine [Chef]. I'll be quick about it, in acknowledgment of your skills. You won’t even feel a thing, I promise. Just close your eyes and don’t move too much.”

I strain to get my words out through a maimed throat.

“Please don’t kill, please let me live. I'll tell you everything, all our base location, and passcodes; just don’t kill me.”

He knew that I was lying through my teeth. He knew that I knew nothing of any importance. He knew that I was just a runner. He didn’t care; this was just another faceless grunt he would blow through and be on his merry way.

I hated the [Awakened] with the very essence of my being. If only I were one this would have been different, I wouldn't be here groveling for a bag of spices. Life was not fair, though. I knew that, but why did it have to be so goddamn unfair all the time.

The [Paladin] tucks my package away in his chestplate and twirls his [Hammer] as he approaches me. All emotion has left his face, replaced by the looks of a man who has done this thousands of times. I was just another human bug that he would crush.

His boots crunch on the dirt as he marches to me. I can still smell the spices in the air, masking the scent of the battlefield. I can still remember the roots and flowers I had found and the mixtures I had made with them. I remember the look on the noble's face when he walked past the barracks on some outing. The look of surprise when he smelled my craft and the look of greed and longing in his eyes as he made his offer to me.

The [Hammer] infuses itself with a blinding white glow as the [Paladin] draws the ambient mana into his weapon. His eyes are blazing with power as he inches closer to me. He was telling the truth. I would be dead before I knew what was happening.

“Please, before I die, grant me one boon, sir. I want to taste the mix. I made it for some rich baron in the city, but seeing as he’s probably dead now, I don't think he would mind much. Let me taste something delicious before I meet my maker.” I croaked out with sincerity. I meant every word I spoke.

“ HAH! I never heard that before. Most of you peasants go on and on begging for their lives. You're the first to ask me for some spice. So much for the Righteous Revolution, they can't even feed their troops. I'll give you a taste, then it's off to bed with ya.”

He returns the packet and walks over to me, never missing his stride. He was just a farmer who was going about his daily tasks. The [Paladin] takes a pinch of the spices from the packet and leans over me, dusting it into my face. He raised his [Hammer] over his head, preparing to end it all.

That is when I throw the dirt I had palmed from earlier straight into his stupid face and stab him in the leg with my knife.

He didn’t even flinch, just smiled. “Honestly, I expect nothing less from scum like you. Please don’t say I didn’t fulfill your last wishes. Nighty night.”

The [Hammer] came with such blinding speed and force that I felt nothing before my world went black.

I’ve had a short and miserable life full of suffering and loss.

I had lived scrap by scrap, always fighting for my next meal. When I got those meals, they were the castoffs that no one wanted.

Dying didn’t seem so bad if, in my last moments, I could taste something as good as my spices.

I just hoped that whatever happened to me in the darkness, I would remember my last moments had been delicious.