I took around thirty minutes to rest and then gather my axes. There was light damage to some of my steel axes, but the mithril ones were pristine. After cleaning the blood off all but one, I began stripping the men of their valuables. The adventurers had a total of fifty-three gold on them, while Santiago had none. Taking Santiago's armor and shield would be more trouble than it was worth. His weapons went into my bag alongside the adventurer's.

I stripped any chest armor from the corpses and began breaking their rib cages open to collect their Stones. It was gruesome work but well worth it. The remaining three adventurer's Stones are light yellow-green variations, while Santiago's is the deepest green I've personally seen. I could see why some adventurers chose to kill each other for profit. This one fight was worth more than a hundred hurlock kills.

I used two yellow-green Stones to harden my bones and skin. Then I used one more to increase my stamina. I felt my bones and skin slowly become heavier after the transformation began. I put Santiago's Stone in my pocket and started walking further into the woods.

Obviously, I needed to be stronger and faster. I could have avoided several injuries in my last fight with more brute strength and speed. I needed education on the bodily functions if I was to develop more creative enhancements in the future. My self sealing blood only required moderate observation. I haven't noticed other applicable traits to enhance. Saving the Stone until I could get an education is tempting, but I might need it's strength much sooner than that would allow. I allocated the Stone to my reaction times and physical strength. My thoughts were noticeably faster, and my body responded to my commands much quicker. I started to run, and the wind began to rush past me.

*

I started targeting areas with larger groups of hurlocks. The most I could fight and leave unscathed was nine now. I could fight fifteen at once if I had a few hours of rest to recover. Their movements seemed too sluggish to me now, and when they could land blows, they rarely caused any bleeding. My skin was better armor than the leather I wore, and I hadn't suffered a fracture since my fight with Santiago. Decent steel blades will still be able to damage me, but hurlock weapons are poorly cared for. I always avoided blunt weapon attacks with extreme care. My intimate learning experience with a hurlock club was still fresh on my mind. Despite only fracturing my nose, a single strike was able to knock me unconscious.

I came across groups of hurlocks hunting travelers or attacking villages several times. None of them survived, and I was gone before those I saved could ask me who I was. Adventurers were dying at their posts as the tide of hurlocks became thicker. Trees and plants had begun to decay and I caught sight of a few twisted animals. I saw several deer with sharpened teeth eating the remains of one of their own. It was rare now to see any less than ten hurlocks at a time, and around half were equipped with better gear than usual. I have yet to see a true hurlock encampment, but there's no doubt an army is forming. The very land has been infected by their presence.

The guild probably knows this by now, with the disappearances of adventurers being so high. The last proper horde attack in this region was somewhere around three hundred years ago. The capital wouldn't fall, and the fortified cities would probably survive. The villages and smaller towns would be doomed unless the nation acted quickly and aggressively. They never did.

*

Derrick's town looked terrible when I first spotted it. Several huts were reduced to burned-out shells, and a pile of burnt hurlock corpses told me all I needed to know. They had suffered, and I was here to deliver more bad news.

I heard the argument before I saw its source. Derrick was facing two adventurers, standing between them and a grieving woman and child.

"We need any Stones we can get if we're going to continue defending this village. Otherwise, we may be forced to end our contract with you early." The man spoke through gritted teeth. His pose looked non-threatening, but his spear was held in a white-knuckled grip that told a different story.

"Their father's inheritance was not left to you. I will not allow you to threaten them into giving the only thing they have left of his." Derrick spoke calmly. He was a good man, I thought. Having the will to look death in the face and say 'No' for the sake of his people told me a lot. I was glad I chose to come here, to warn these people.

The spear-wielding man took a step towards Derrick with his arm extending as if to push him. I wouldn't allow this innocent man to be intimidated. A steel axe flew past the adventurer's face, from his left to the right. It landed in a sturdy wall a few meters away from him. "Whoops, my hand slipped." I walked past the stunned man to pull my axe from the wall and turned to face Derrick. "Hello, Derrick. It's good to see you've been safe in the hands of your adventurers since I left." I gave the spear-adventurer a grin and offered my hand. "I'm Trace, and you are?"

He took my hand slowly, and I gripped his hand just hard enough to see a flicker of pain in his eyes. Clearly, he was still shocked at my appearance. "Uh, I'm Grant, and this is Don." He shifted his head towards the man partially behind him.

"Now, Grant, can you clear something up for me? You see, I could've sworn you just said you would cancel your contract to protect these people." I still held Grant's hand in mine, and his complexion was slowly whitening. "As far as I'm aware, it's illegal to abandon village protection contracts, and the punishment for breaking that law is the immediate revocation of your adventurer's license. Have those laws changed in the last few weeks since I left the capital, or did I mishear you?" The man had given up trying to squeeze my hand.

"Ah, you must have misheard me, sir." I let go of his hand immediately.

"Great, well, I'd love to continue speaking with you, but I've got some business to discuss with Derrick." The man nodded and turned to leave. My anxiety began to return once the disagreement was over. What was it about conflict that made me feel at ease?

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

*

Derrick and I sat across from each other in his home. I wasn't looking forward to this conversation. "You're going to need to leave your village. If you don't, you'll all be dead within the month. The hurlock groups are going to keep getting bigger."

I was prepared to sit here for an hour or longer if necessary. "I know."

"I'm sorry, what? I expected more of an argument."

"Yeah, I can see the changes happening, but most of the people here won't leave. They can't imagine living in the city." He sighed and took a sip of water. "The ones that are willing to leave won't make the journey alive. We've already lost most of the able-bodied men and three adventurers since you were last here."

"That explains Grant's behavior from earlier. I don't know if they'd admit it, but without their dead companions, they might not make it back to the city."

"Speaking of which, how is it that you're out here among all this? You weren't able to fight eight hurlocks a month ago, and I haven't seen a group of less than a dozen." That could be an awkward subject.

"I'd rather not talk about it and hope you don't jump to the wrong conclusions."

"Nah, I don't figure you for the type to hunt his fellow man." There was an awkward silence before he asked the question I knew was coming. "Can I ask you for a favor, Trace?"

"Yeah, I can do it."

"You do know what I'm asking, right?"

"You want me to escort those who want to leave. I'll do it."

"We can't afford to compensate-"

I interrupted. "I was going that way anyway. It won't be that much of a bother to slow my pace to match them. As long as I don't have to talk with them."

*

Derrick stayed behind. He said he couldn't leave, knowing his friends and family were going to die. I would have offered to stay if it would have made a difference, but it wouldn't have. What was coming to this land wasn't something I could prevent or even delay. I killed over a hundred hurlocks since I left the city. Thousands were coming, maybe ten thousand if we were genuinely unlucky.

The capital had less than two hundred thousand inhabitants, and most of those people weren't fit for combat. I hadn't seen any sieges in all my lives, but I've read stories. Usually, adventurers were forcibly drafted into the military and paid only a little more than the standard soldiers. On average, soldiers were worth a little less than a hurlock in a fight, while adventurers were complete wildcards. Hopefully, enough of the adventurers here would stay despite the worsening conditions. A battlefield was one of the best places to gain strength.

We were resting, and the villagers were preparing for sleep after our second day of hiking when we were first attacked. There were thirteen people under my care headed towards the capital. Most of them didn't see me stalking through the woods around the campsite, watching for danger. During the day, I slept in the back of a cart. The horde was more likely to attack at night. I found a group of fifteen while I was doing my rounds. They had split up into groups of five, forming a half-circle with fifteen meters between each one. I was approaching from behind, angling towards the leftmost group in the hopes that I could kill them before engaging the rest.

The first three hurlocks fell almost at the same time. My axes were blue waves of death, hacking into their skulls and spines rapidly. The remaining two heard their companion's death gurgles and turned to face me when they received a strike to the face. They stayed down.

I had made enough noise to attract both other groups' attention, and they rushed towards me. I matched their run. Three of them reached me at once, slashing and stabbing at me with laughable slowness. I stepped forward and to the right, putting myself between the middle and right hurlocks. The right one took my axe to his elbow, while the hurlock on my left found my axe meeting its temple. There were two hurlocks on my left now, with a falling corpse in-between them and me—one in front of me, hacking downward with an axe—and one on my right, with a crippled sword arm.

I blocked the incoming attack and finished off the hurlock to my right. Without adjusting my axe, I swung its stiletto spike back towards the hurlock in front of me. A chunk of his throat was ripped out, and I narrowly avoided being showered in a stream of black blood.

I turned to my left, facing the remaining two hurlocks from this group and the five others who just arrived. Their savage hisses and grunts gave no indication of any emotion beyond rage. I was now facing five of them just a few meters away, with two lagging slightly behind. As they approached, I holstered my left mithril axe and threw three steel axes before having to redraw the mithril one. Two of the axes landed on the leftmost hurlock; one hit its chest, and the other its left knee. Both axes stuck deep and caused it to fall over, probably not dead yet. The third axe was blocked by the second leftmost hurlocks shield. Still, he took a step back under the force of the blow.

Then they were on me, three to my right, one behind the others—two in front of me, one behind the other—and one on my left, with the fallen hurock next to him. A sword and spear stabbed at me from the right side, while another sword cleaved down the center. I stepped backward fast enough to avoid both sword swings, but the spear caught me in my right thigh. Fortunately, there was very little blood on the speartip when it was removed.

I stepped back forward before they could regain their guards and got one hack into the central hurlocks right shoulder with my left axe. Before I could strike again, the hurlock to my left stabbed towards me. I decided to take the hit to finish one of them off. My right axe swung towards the central hurlock, and his head flew off. At the same time, my left side had a sword planted a few centimeters into it just above my hip. The culprit of my wound stepped back before I could attack him.

Sword and spear strikes from my immediate right drove me towards the hurlock that just stabbed me. I turned towards him and took stock of my situation. There were three behind me, one in front and one to my right. I needed to reposition or kill the one in front of me. I opted for the second option. The hurlocks behind me couldn't keep up as I dashed a few steps forward. Before it registered what I was doing, it's shield was pulled down, and my axe was in its skull. I continued pulling the corpse's shield as I stepped past it. It gave me a moment while the hurlocks who were following close behind me got caught up.

I was now standing over the hurlock previously injured by my throwing axes. It was attempting to rise off the ground, so I finished it off. Four more were left standing, two left and two right. These things really didn't learn. In fact, they seemed even less organized than before. All four were basically sprinting at me, screaming. I only had two wounds, and neither was bleeding anymore. The only troubling thing was my heavy breathing, but that wasn't going to matter given how quickly this would end. I stepped around a sword swing and knocked a spear aside before beheading both of the offenders. The last two died similarly.

*

A nearly identical fight occurred twice more before we arrived at the city. I ended this trip with a hundred and sixty-four heads. Their stones were distributed primarily between my strength and reaction times. While a smaller portion was dedicated to toughening my skin and bones. I'm more than pleased with my progress; hurlock blades barely do anything to me anymore, even when they score a solid hit. Despite the good news I can’t help but dread the coming storm.

The guards seemed upset with the number of refugees entering the city, or maybe their temper stemmed from the looming horde. I left my charges at the line for new admittance and headed towards the adventurer entrance. The guards there were shocked at my haul, and I heard a few of them whispering about the upcoming war for survival. The news of horde movements was occupying everyone's minds; as proof, I got far fewer dirty looks from upset adventurers. They had larger issues to handle, and now every hurlock I had killed was one they wouldn’t need to worry about.

I arrived outside the guildhall shortly after sunset. The people inside took little notice of me as I approached Klaus at the counter. He didn't look terribly happy to see me again. "Ah, Mr. Trace. How may I help you today?" A strained smile forced its way onto his face as he spoke.

"I'd like to turn in some bounties, in private if that's possible." At my words, relief flowed from the man's every feature.

"I'd be happy to help you in one of our private rooms."

I left the guildhall with a smile on my face and four hundred and ninety-two gold richer.