----------------------------------------

I was tired.

I couldn't draw enough air in my lungs, my heart was beating like crazy, and my mind was getting clouded. It was getting harder and harder to maintain concentration, and I couldn’t find any opening for striking vulnerable parts; my few hits amounted to nothing more than a nuisance to the orc.

It took but a moment of distraction, and it was too late to dodge.

I sidestepped the axe blow, but I was too slow, and the handle of the axe grazed my arm, its strength and speed enough to throw me off balance. Seeing the opportunity, the orc lifted its foot to kick me away before I could shift my weight.

My reaction was instantaneous, an instinct born out of countless battles; I jumped back to lessen the blow while aiming the weapon at his foot to at least do some damage to his mobility, and then everything became a blur.

A few things happened in an instant; my sword arm shot back, turning me in midair, and then an impact shook me on the side. For a moment, I think, I lost consciousness. Then came the impact with the ground.

That's the sky, I thought, confused, looking at the clouds. My heart was beating like crazy, I was having some problems breathing, and I felt numb and dizzy, and a strangely familiar tingle on my skin.

I heard the people screaming, then I heard a roar. As I tried to sit up, I noticed I couldn’t move my right arm. I lifted my head and looked down, confused at what I was seeing for a moment until I understood the problem. The arm was turned on the wrong side, my wrist folded on my forearm, and my right chest looked a bit caved in. A laugh came up, and a few coughs went out, splattering some blood on my chest.

I suddenly remembered the orc roaring, so I turned my head to the side and saw it was kneeling. It looked like it was about to lose its mind — something that commonly happened when they got too angry, or… one of the many reasons they could have to get mad. In this case, I think that the missing piece of his foot may have played a part.

Ah! Fucker, I got your foot. A consequence of kicking pointy things too hard.

A moment later, his gaze landed on me, and, in his eyes, I saw the rage quickly taking over.

The pain that should have been there was strangely absent.

Battle rush, I thought. I needed to get up. I saw my weapon not far from me, so I took a few steps to pick it up, and fell down near it, coughing out blood. It was hard to move and to maintain balance, with half of my body mangled — rush or not, I wasn’t in any condition to fight anymore. The tingle was getting stronger, almost pressing on my skin.

The orc roared again, picking up its weapons and getting up, I would have followed with my own if I had enough breath. I pushed myself up with my good arm.

I saw the orc jumping, just like the first time. Probably, I flew for around twenty meters before stopping, but when orcs rage, their strength increases greatly, and feel no pain, so it was able to cover most of the distance with the jump.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I raised my sword in a last pitiful attempt at retaliation, fully aware of my impending death.

Something out of expectations happened, though.

Since it couldn’t think clearly anymore, it forgot that the left foot was missing a piece and, when it landed on it, it lost balance, crashing down not too far from where I was attempting to get up.

It was an opportunity. One I couldn’t miss.

I forced myself to stand up, desperately reaching out for every scrap of energy, every bit of power I could muster, and then something happened. That tingle on my skin, that flow that I usually only ever felt during meditation, that I couldn't ever get a hold of, suddenly began permeating my body — and it wasn’t a slow process.

In a rush, what I believed was mana flooded me, offering what I was desperately searching for. It was both power and energy, and it was enormous — it was too much for my body. The feeling of pain came back to me, as every cell in my body screamed in agony, but I didn’t have the leisure to fall down and scream.

My legs, now supporting me with a strength I never felt before, allowed me to cover those few steps that separated me and the orc that was already getting up. I didn’t know if it thought I would have run away but, even in its rage, it seemed surprised to find me in front of it when it lifted its gaze.

I’m sure that, had it been clear-minded like in the beginning, it would have been able to react, but instead, it paused — just a moment, but long enough for my sword to pierce through his eye and brain. After I twisted the sword and drew it out, it fell down, dead.

There was silence around me.

Were they disappointed? I didn’t care, I couldn’t even think straight anymore. The flood of mana didn’t stop, and I felt like I was about to burst. There was only one thing that still kept me on my feet.

I lifted my sword and looked at the private stand of the First Oligarch.

They made a spectacle of my suffering, they enjoyed seeing me bleed and struggle, and they would have enjoyed seeing me die. They gave me no choice but to fight, or beg to one of their so-called gods, so as to take away my pride, my work, and my dignity. I’ve been here for more than half my life. Almost all my memories are of this damned place, but now I’m free. I would step out that gate, even if I had to die right after.

The First Oligarch was silent, I couldn’t really focus on her face at this distance — it was already hard to see things clearly a few meters ahead of me.

“Your luck knows no bounds, heathen,” I heard after what felt like an eternity. “You are free to go.”

After she said that, I didn’t linger. I turned and dragged my feet over the Gate of Triumph, towards my freedom.

As I was walking, I heard the bitch starting another speech, but I couldn't hear the words clearly anymore — I was too busy staying on my feet.

I barely remember crossing the gate. I don’t know how much I walked; I just felt like I was burning alive, and a host of other quite unpleasant sensations. Also, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, which may or not have been caused by that dent in my chest… I wasn’t sure. Probably, I fell down somewhere, but I was too busy dealing with the pain to understand where or when - I wasn’t even sure how long I had walked.

So, I fought to stay conscious. I tried, unsuccessfully, to halt the unending flow entering my body, or to make it go out, or to somehow have it stop destroying me — it changed nothing. I could only wait and endure, like always, hoping I would survive, and wishing I could heal.

In the end, after a long time, the feeling of pain started to lessen. It was gradual in the beginning, then faster and faster, until it stopped — with it ended also the flow of mana entering my body. I opened my eyes, seeing a dark street with dilapidated houses, I was lying near a bunch of garbage, and I didn’t have the sword in my hand anymore.

There wasn't time to do much more as an overwhelming sense of fatigue crashed on me. I wanted to stand up and leave, but I really needed to rest, so I dragged myself over the pile of trash and covered myself in it — better dirty than killed in my sleep.

After that, I started drifting off.

I expected to see my Status Screen and was ready to dismiss it once again, but something different happened this time.

----------------------------------------