My captor appeared to have transformed into a merciless executioner.

Standing tall, a wooden lance in his hand, he bore a menacing expression on his face as he approached me. With just a few more steps, he would capture me.

Reacting swiftly, I sprang to my feet and darted into the forest.

I ran as fast as I could, stealing a glance over my shoulder only to see him calmly walking in pursuit.

"This doesn't make sense. Why isn't he running?" I wondered.

Suddenly, he raised his lance like a javelin and hurled it at me with such speed that it seemed to vanish. Then, I felt my body collapse, and a searing pain surged through my right calf.

The lance had impaled me, piercing through from one side to the other.

The pain was so excruciating it left me grounded, whimpering as I watched the man, now just a few steps away, approach with measured steps.

"I refuse to be captured again!" I vowed.

Gripping both ends of the lance, I exerted all my strength to pull it out from the back of my leg.

Tears streamed from my eyes, and my head throbbed.

The intense heat in my skull felt strangely comforting, as if the pain had triggered my brain to release a soothing substance.

I watched my hands move as the reddish shaft gradually emerged from my leg, followed by a gush of dark red blood. I held onto the lance tightly.

I was on the verge of fainting, and my tormentor drew nearer. But I had one last card to play and just enough strength to play it.

"I'm putting all my points into reaching level 8," I mumbled, barely able to articulate the words.

Instantly, the hole in my leg sealed shut, and all the pain dissipated.

I felt refreshed, as if I had just awakened from a restful night's sleep.

With the lance still in hand, I rose to my feet and resumed running.

"All my talent points into speed!" I shouted.

I felt lighter, and the trees in my peripheral vision seemed to blur as they sped past me.

My legs, I could sense, had the power to take me anywhere.

Glancing back to check on my pursuer, I was taken aback.

He was no longer in sight.

I kept running, stealing occasional glances behind me, filled with unease.

"He couldn't have given up that easily... Or maybe he did and didn't allocate any points to his speed?" I questioned myself.

I continued running for a while until I heard a sound behind me.

I turned my head and saw an arrow narrowly miss me, grazing my left side.

There he was, about ten Yards away, holding a bow and wearing a smirk.

"He had time to retrieve his bow and get this close? Is he that fast?" I thought, feeling confused.

There was only one explanation—this maniac was relishing the hunt.

Perhaps he had let me escape on purpose, just for his own twisted enjoyment.

Did he want to sell me or simply use me as a plaything? I questioned everything.

But he hadn't caught me yet. I had a slight lead, and the main advantage was that he underestimated me.

"Zigzagging between the trees, I..." I didn't have time to finish my thought as another arrow pierced my left arm.

I nearly stumbled but managed to maintain my balance.

The pain was unbearable, almost unfair.

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I felt like I didn't deserve such agony.

In fact, I believed I had made enough efforts to deserve an escape. But instead, I felt my chances slipping away.

"Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Was I such a terrible person in my previous life?" I pondered.

I desperately clung to the concept of justice.

There had to be a reason.

But I was in Hell, and there was no indication that this place operated by any sense of justice.

The only thing that seemed to prevail here was the law of the strongest, the most vicious, the cruelest. The man pursuing me had accepted this fact and wasted no time in exploiting his numerous advantages over someone weaker.

To defeat him, I had to be as ruthless as he was.

"At this rate, he will catch up with me, that's certain... And still no sign of any other enemies on the horizon, just trees upon trees, none of them appearing hostile..." I muttered to myself.

An idea took hold, albeit a risky one. But it was that or end up as a slave, or worse.

I continued running, determined to see my idea through.

"He shot both arrows from the same side, one close to my head, the other at arm level, so following that logic..." I thought.

I turned my head and saw him draw his bow, ready to release another arrow.

Everything was happening so quickly.

I had to take action.

I pretended to trip, falling to the ground, and my body made contact with the earth.

At the same moment, his arrow was hurtling toward its target. As I fell, I shifted my leg to the right and moved my head to the left, making it the new target for his arrow.

Intentionally putting myself in mortal danger, I discovered, was incredibly difficult.

It took all of my willpower to defy my survival instincts, as if pushing against a wall with my head.

Perhaps it was my strength stat that aided me, and it was maybe also that survival instinct that allowed me to move just enough to avoid taking the arrow to the head and being killed.

Instead, it struck my ear.

The arrow hit it directly, tearing it away.

The pain was excruciating, surpassing even the lance in my leg.

It felt like a part of me had been ripped away.

I wanted to cry.

No, I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to laugh because the pain was so intense.

It was as if my brain had said, "No, listen. This is too much, I think you're hallucinating."

My body crashed to the ground.

I wanted to scream in agony, but I remained silent.

I bit down on my lip as hard as I could, replacing one pain with another, this time more controlled.

My eyes remained open, my forehead pressed against the damp earth.

I could feel him approaching rapidly, running at great speed.

That was a good sign. With a bit of luck, he must have thought he had killed me.

I had his lance within reach.

Just a little closer, and I would impale him with his own weapon.

He stopped, just a few yards away.

That's when a neglected idea crossed my mind. "Oh no, what if his screen indicated that I was still alive!" I thought.

My eyes widened.

A bitter sense of wasted opportunity overwhelmed me.

A huge "all of this for that."

I had lost an ear, the pain was too much. I felt like vomiting from all the running. And all of it for nothing because I had forgotten that crucial "detail."

But then, just as I was on the verge of succumbing to despair, I felt his steps drawing near.

"Didn't he see that I was still alive?" I pondered.

He had stopped again, maybe just a meter away.

I wasn't sure. Perhaps he was within lance's reach, and all it would take was a stab in the leg to immobilize him.

"But what is he waiting for?" Without giving me a chance to react, he grabbed me and hoisted me onto his shoulders.

In an instant, my body was jolted in every direction as he sprinted at incredible speed. I squinted my eye open to see what was happening.

I could see his left side, so I turned my head slightly to see what was transpiring behind him.

There, a few Yards away from me, a hideous creature was running, wielding a sword.

My eyes widened.

It was nighttime, and my vision was blurred.

The only moments I caught glimpses of its face were when the trees allowed the moonlight to filter through.

This creature had a human face, but with extremely pale skin and deep crevices covering it.

Its eyes were white, and its mouth was stained with blood, revealing sharp teeth.

Clad in tattered rags, it wielded a sword that appeared to be made of bone, razor-sharp.

The most unsettling aspect was the silence with which this creature moved, as if it didn't breathe. I could only hear the faint sound of its footsteps upon the earth.

At that moment, I understood what must have transpired.

When he approached me, he must have spotted this creature and glanced at his screen, as he always does. But if he had started running so desperately, it meant... This creature was too powerful for him. This was my opportunity.

Just inches away from me, his quiver swung with each step he took.

I reached out for an arrow, drew it, and slowly lifted my arm, planting the arrow in his thigh, near his hip. Startled, he stumbled and fell to the ground.

I fell with him but immediately began rolling away from the pursuing creature.

The creature paused for a moment, seemingly unsure whether to go after me, or him.

But my captor swiftly rose to his feet and attacked the creature.

I took advantage of the situation and ran with all my might, as far away as possible.

I had no idea what fate awaited him or why he chose to attack instead of fleeing, but it didn't matter.

If he died, I was next.

If he survived, I would become a slave.

Despite the grim reality, I felt a twinge of guilt gnawing at my conscience.

Abandoning this man felt malevolent, as if it were an act of betrayal.

Perhaps I was too naive to survive in Hell, but forsaking that part of myself meant risking becoming just like my captor.

I would rather die.