After a few more days, the busy streets had started to get to me, waiting to get my armor fixed. When I walked through crowds breathing became difficult. To avoid this, I used my usual methods of heading out to hunt. Hector’s Stone would be delivered to the guildhall, where I could pick it up in a few days.

For now, I was camped a day’s hike into the woods to the west of Brunswick. The area had signs of hurlocks, and sure enough, I found a group of three skulking around the outskirts of a tiny Thumsland village.

Night had recently set in, and clouds covered most of the sky. They were beyond difficult to spot. It was bitterly cold, and their breath made small puffs of easily visible vapor. The white streams of breath contrasted heavily with the dark earthy tones of our surroundings. I kept just enough distance between us to make out their silhouettes, taking an angled approach to keep downwind for them. I may have imagined the faint grunt from one of them before they slowly began moving towards the nearest hovel to the village’s edge.

The village lies in a clearing with roughly 20 meters of clear space from the buildings to the thick treeline. I kept pace with the hurlocks, now I could make out that there were eight of them—much more than I was comfortable with fighting on my own. As a rule, I never took fights that I wasn’t entirely sure I could win. I stopped at the treeline and looked out towards the doomed village. There were probably less than thirty people living here, and I doubted any of them knew how to fight. They might not even get the chance to fight with how careful these hurlocks were being.

A nighttime slaughter, this village was a lot smaller than mine, and Cass’s was. I couldn’t help but think about her. There were couples like us here, starting their lives together with optimistic hopes for their futures. Futures that would be cut brutally short soon. They wouldn’t get a second chance at life, but I got plenty.

Before I realized what was happening, two of my hand axes were flying towards the closest hurlocks. They hadn’t learned what hit them by the time I reached the group. Hurlock’s reaction times were better than the average man but not as quick as someone like Hector. I pulled the axes from their backs, hacked down towards their necks, and then began moving onto the next hurlock.

By this time, the remaining six hurlocks were turning towards me. Now that I was closer to them, I could see their gear was made up of standard scavenged armor, swords, axes, and one club. The one with the club was the only one within striking distance at the moment, and it was quickly recovering from my surprise assault. One hit from my left axe to bring its weapon out of a defensive position, a second swing from my right aimed for its neck. I hit its collar and felt the bone snap under pressure. My strike sent it to its knees, hurlocks were strong, but nothing could compare to a human who had absorbed enough Stones. I spent a hefty number of mine enhancing physical strength, nearly as many as I had spent on my reflexes.

I kicked off its chest, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed from a hurlock on my left. There were two hurlocks on my left, one behind the other. Three were on my right, two almost within striking distance and another behind them. If that wasn’t enough, the one I’d hit and kicked would be getting back up before the fight was done. Hurlocks were tough sons of bitches.

Momentum and the fact that I could take any one of these guys in a fight, these were my only advantages. I dashed to the left, putting the two hurlocks there in between myself and the rest of them. Fighting two at once was much more preferable to fighting three and waiting for it to become five. The other three had obviously not stayed still during this action. My numbers disadvantage would only worsen over time.

The left hurlock I was engaging had a large shield; I promptly used the same trick Hector fell for. It ended up with a crippled knee and an axe in its shield. If the fighting up to this point hadn’t woken up any of the villagers, the crippled hurlocks’ roar of pain should have finished the job. Shouts of alarm started to spring up in the village as I turned to engage the hurlock on my right. It swung down at me with a heavy axe, and despite my enhanced strength, I had to use both of my freshly drawn axes to block his strike. The pressure on my arms decreased, and I pulled my right-handed axe down slightly and then slashed across its chest.

I did more damage to its armor than to its chest, but the point of the attack was mostly just to reposition my axe. Once my left-handed axe started to pull its sword away, the hurlock tried to grab my right-handed axe as it came back up, but ultimately it was too slow. My axe planted itself in its armpit, rendering that arm useless.

I paused to reassess their positions now. One crippled immediately to my left, along with one unwounded coming to join the fight. One in front of me and the one I’d injured and kicked behind it somewhere, probably getting up around now. Two on my right, both were already beginning to attack me. Two options quickly passed through my mind. I could dodge backward and probably avoid at least one of the attacks, losing my momentum and giving them more time to surround me. I could also commit to my attack on the hurlock in front of me, finishing him off but getting hit by both attacks unless I was fortunate.

I chose the second option. Letting go of the firmly lodged axe in its armpit, I grabbed the right axe out of the two on my back—this left one on my left back and one in each hand. My right axe planted itself in my target’s skull, and I pushed towards him. I hoped that by dodging in an unexpected direction, I could still avoid both incoming strikes. They hit. A line of pain ran separately down my back and into my side as I rolled over the corpse of my most recent victim.

Spinning back towards the three advancing hurlocks, I desperately threw my left-hand axe, and surprisingly it landed firmly in its chest. I heard something behind me and realized I had forgotten something essential. I turned face first, directly into a club.

[Derrick POV]

Two injured and three untouched hurlocks against every able-bodied man and woman in our village, and we lost a dozen of them. We weren’t armed well, and most of us didn’t have much physical enhancement. Even the one with an axe in its knee almost got Elias when checking to see if it was dead. After that incident, we put an arrow into each downed hurlocks neck from a distance.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Near the center of the massacre was an adventurer and the sole source of our life-saving warning. If we had any less time to prepare for their attack, we would have indeed had more than twice our losses. While studying the bloodied and broken face of this adventurer, I noticed his chest rise and fall.

“James! Come get this man’s side patched up, he’s still alive but losing a lot of blood.” We didn’t have many wounded, just a lot of dead.

James hurried over from the side of a grieving father and immediately fell to his knees and started bandaging this man’s wounds. The adventurer was lying in a pool of blood, more than non-enhanced men could afford to lose. It was hard to make out his features under the blood and viscera coating his face, but his chest continued to rise and fall. “Spirits be damned, how is this poor fucker still alive?” James hadn’t met any adventurers in his time here; he didn’t know first hand how much their unassuming figures could hide overwhelming strength.

Many of them seemed to be the cowardly type to Derrick, though, not that he’d ever say that to their faces. This man may have rushed into combat with eight hurlocks knowing he wasn’t their match, just to give the village a warning. At the same time, he might have been far too confident in his abilities. “Well James, you saw what he did to those hurlocks before we arrived. He might have used plenty of Stones on more defensively inclined strengths. His blood seemed to become more solid as it exited the wound, which would’ve helped slow the blood loss. Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought of using Stone enhancement in that way, but maybe it’s a common option for adventures.” The slash across his back was no longer bleeding due to this effect, and James patched his side up enough that the man wasn’t in danger of dying anytime soon. “Let’s take him to my place, he’ll probably need a few days rest.”

“Days he says, fuckin adventurers.” James muttered as we lifted the mystery man up.

[Trace POV]

I wasn’t dead. This thought might have been an inherently true statement for most people because thinking at all implies life, but it was a little more complicated for me. The ability to feel pain told me everything I needed to know.

After opening my eyes, I realized the villagers had driven off or killed the hurlocks, and I was inside one of their homes. Hurlocks didn’t take male prisoners often, especially not ones that could fight back. My fight with them took quite a toll on my body, but I could tell I’d be well enough to travel back to Brunswick in a day or two. It was bright outside and not quite as cold. None of my gear was in the room with me, which made me feel on edge. I shifted in place, testing the extent of my injuries, and found that I could walk. Once I made it out of my room, I found a cozy cooking and living area, with a lean dark brown-skinned man sitting at the table. A steaming bowl of something delicious smelling sat in front of him, and he had a large grin on his face.

“Hello, my name is Trace. Thank you for taking care of me.” I gave a slight bow, not a common tradition in these parts, but it paid to be respectful when you were someone’s guest.

“I am Derrick, it’s good to see you’ve recovered, Trace. Come sit and eat, I’m sure you’re hungry.” Healing took a lot of energy, and my stomach felt like a pit, so I quickly obliged him. I ate in silence for a while. It had been a decade since I needed to speak with someone for more than a few sentences, and I had a feeling this might end up being a long conversation. I’d hold onto my silence for a little bit longer. Far too quickly, the bowl in front of me was cleared.

I looked up to Derrick and waited for him to speak. A few moments passed before he spoke with a grin on his face. “You’re either more injured than I thought, or you’re not a great conversationalist.” The man seemed happy to make jokes at my expense, and he continued speaking before I formulated a response. “Either way, the state of those hurlocks was damn impressive by the time we got there. From what I understand, you fought eight of them on your own and lasted long enough for us to get properly organized. You’re practically a hero to some of the folks here.”

“Well I’ve been tracking hurlocks in the area lately. I knew of this village and decided to see if they were here.” I paused for a moment, realizing I had been trying to deflect from the compliment. “I didn’t aim to be a hero, but I experienced a somewhat similar circumstance in my youth. When I arrived here, I knew I could change the outcome.” That I had been unable to do anything in the past was left unspoken, but something small changed in his face, and I knew he understood.

“You did the right thing, and I’m happy to say the village voted to give you the hurlocks Stones. Including the ones we killed after you fell in combat.” Derrick knew the adventuring life was about getting stronger; gifting Stones was the best way to show their gratitude.

“I refuse.”

“I’m afraid we have to insist, Mr. Trace.”

“No. I will take the stones of those I slew alone, your people earned the rest, and I’m sure more than one of you lost someone in that fight.” These people needed a few hurlock Stones much more than I did, this wouldn’t be the last time they were attacked, and the Stones would help with manual labor regardless. A moderate increase for myself would equate to life-changing strength for several villagers.

Darrick frowned. It was somewhat relieving to be assured that he was capable of anything but a grin. The man had been all smiles despite this being a trying time for his friends and family. Maybe he was scared of upsetting me, or perhaps he just had a positive attitude about life. Something about overly optimistic people always rubbed me the wrong way. “Hmm, well, I can’t force you to take them. I’m sure you know how much this would benefit us. Usually, we have a few adventurers hired to keep things peaceful around here. They take hurlock kills, as is their right, which leaves us dependent on their continued support. We’re in plenty of danger in times like this where they don’t show up on time. They should have arrived two days ago.”

“Ahh, well, I’m sorry for the misfortune they’ve caused you. If you want, I can lodge a formal complaint with the guild on your behalf? Something like being late to a guard shift should be taken very seriously.” There was a chance the adventurers had died somewhere in the woods on the way here, but I’ve heard them being late by a day or so is relatively standard. Most of them don’t take the job seriously enough. The lives of civilians are at risk, and they jeopardize them without care. I thought I was desensitized to death, but this was egregious behavior.

Derrick winced, and his eyes left mine for a moment. “I’d like that very much, Mr. Trace, but not many groups come out here to protect us for the pay we can afford to offer. Losing one of the groups, however careless they may be, could put the entire village at risk.”

If hunting hurlocks wasn’t shunned like it is, villages like this wouldn’t need the protection. At most, they would get attacked by one or two hurlocks at a time, the ones that slip past hunting parties. In those cases, villagers wouldn’t die nearly as often and would enhance their strength through Stones. The adventurers here didn’t give a damn about the big picture, and sitting around a village dependent on you for support was more comfortable and profitable than hunting down hurlocks in the wild. This kingdom has one of the most backward systems I’ve come across.

We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us silently criticizing that which couldn’t be criticized aloud. “Derrick, could you do me a favor?”

“What do you need, Mr. Trace?”

“I’d like you to tell everyone in the village that I’ve left tonight. If that adventuring group arrives, I’d rather them not know I’m here.” A look of concern crossed his face. “I understand none of you would allow anything to happen to me during my stay here, but solo adventurers are frowned upon, and the woods are large.”

Derrick gave a resigned sigh and assured me it would be done.

“I’ll see you in a while, I’m going to lay back down now. My body isn’t done putting itself back together.” We stood together and touched wrists, a symbol of mutual understanding. He handed me the three Stones I had earned before heading outside. I went to my temporary living quarters. It was time to rest and think.