My hands tried to move into the ‘Don’t shoot’ gesture. They didn’t get a chance to. They were barely halfway to horizontal before the crossbow bolt hit me in the right side of my chest.

The metal-tipped bolt pierced my chest and stopped after breaking the back of my ribs. The force of the bolt caused my weak legs to fall out from under me, and I fell flat on my ass.

Getting shot with a crossbow bolt is unsurprisingly quite painful. But the first thought through my head was not, ‘Oh gods, I’m going to die, this hurts so bad,’ it was,

How… the grove should stop them. Annabeth said it kept hostile things out.

Then the pain hit, and the first thought I should have had passed through my thick head, and I tried to stand up.

I don’t know how to explain it, but I could feel the use of a skill. I could tell as the man put his hand on a second quarrel that he was about to use a skill. I flipped from sitting up onto my front on hand and knee as the hunter blurs. A crossbow bolt slammed into the ground beside me, right where my neck was a moment ago.

That got me moving, my body quaking, and my feet below me, I turned towards him and planted my feet.

Is he going to do that again or come in close? If he drops the crossbow, I can leg it to the shed, or inside. I’m closer to the side than the front door, and he is closer to the front door than the side. I could go inside for a knife that I can barely use and would be woefully short, or I can go for a spade and use the range to keep him from mauling me. I can’t hide behind the door forever, there are just too many windows, but with the longer reach, I could take cover in the loft and knock him down until he fucks off or Anna comes home.

He picked up the sword and dropped the crossbow, I picked up the shovel. I turned and started to move while he was freeing his sword. I was wobbly and jittery, but I managed to get around the corner before he even started moving.

I started coughing as I heard the footsteps thwapping behind me. I pulled close to the shed by the time he got close. I peeked back and saw him swing.

The blade came up as he got within a few feet of me, then he swung down and to the side. But it was away from the shed, so I stepped closer to the shed, and he missed. Whiffing into the dirt.

I needed to buy a bit of breathing room and got an idea. I stepped forward and went to claw his face, and panicking, he pulled back a few feet, dragging his sword out of the ground with him.

Enough space to pull the shed open, forcefully breaking the tiny bar and flinging the door wide. I reached in and grabbed the spade, the tool I trusted most.

I managed to pull it out of the shed, grasp it in two hands, and free quickly enough to interpose it enough between the two of us to meet the downward swing of his blade.

His swing made my legs almost buckle, and my arms, not quite fully outstretched, wanted to fold in. He was rather strong, but the spade did not care. [Durable tools] did not care if it was a rock, or a drop, or a sword trying to kill me, and he couldn’t overcome it with just his body.

I step to the side and back a bit so the blade won't get me, then tilt the shaft to let the blade slide down.

Well, I might as well ring his bell a little.

I swung the shovel at his head, [Rapid action] slamming the shovel into his head twice where I could only do it once.

The shovel smashed his head, he screamed, I screamed, and he fell on his ass. I backed up.

I start stepping backwards as he cries out in pain, I go to breathe and start hacking. I manage to recover as he wearily stands, blood flowing down his head.

I started backing up, and halfway to the next corner, he wearily followed after me. We turned the corner ten feet between us.

We were tracking blood on the ground as we circled the house. I could feel the blood in my lungs, every moment and breath blooming to agony. Blood ran down his head, and a tiny amount dripped into his eye.

It kept the time as we circled to the front of the building. He flinched each time it dripped, I just needed to time it and rush the door.

It drips, I step, and he steps after me. My steps are longer than his, and I lengthen them and gain a little distance.

Three things happen simultaneously. The blood gets in his eye, there’s a yell, and he cries out that word he called before, and I run for the door as he turns his head.

Three steps to the door, I throw it open, I take a step inside and fall over.

“huh.”

I landed on my side and looked down at the door.

Three more people stood farther out. But I couldn’t quite make them out. My eyes were blurry, and the floor felt nice. I flopped my arm and tried to move, but my left shoulder and my right leg didn’t respond.

I could feel the blood fill my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe.

Cold… Why is it so…

I collapsed.

I felt my body give out, and I fell out of myself. I was surrounded by the dark as I fell, I felt the veil around me, thinning as I pressed down into it. I could feel it surrounding me, like sinking into a soft bed. So cold.

Then I start to get pulled back up, Jerked away from that place. I was being rejected again, I heard the voice again.

…

You have bled to death.

You are currently under the effects of the skill [True Immortality].

You are being returned to your body.

Bye Bye.

…

And I woke up to agony, I was once again in a body with four crossbow bolts stuck in it. My lungs, still full of blood, emptied of blood as it was sucked back into my body. I could feel my body try to mend itself. I started to wriggle in agony as my body started to try and push the bolts out.

I could hear four people, three men and a woman, freak out and the sounds of swords being drawn and weapons clanking. Confused and wriggling, trying to move my body as it started returning to the state I had woken up in. I could feel two weapons strike and cut through me, blood flowing from my body like a cracked bowl. I could feel whatever I was on fall out from underneath myself, and I slammed into the ground. I fell on my side and felt the shafts snap as I rolled.

The world was screaming, I could see one of them running at me with a mace. They were screaming, the two with bloody swords were screaming, the man who had been carrying me was screaming, and dully I recognized I was screaming.

The woman cracked me over the head with a mace, and I returned to the fall.

…

You have been bludgeoned to death.

You are currently under the effects of the skill [True Immortality].

You are being returned to your body.

Bye Bye.

…

I woke up again, thrust into my own dead body as it mended. The blood pulled out of my lungs. And this time, with the broken bolts, my body found it could, in fact, remove them. Like the worst toy crossbow ever made, they were ejected from my body with a gross pop. The cuts that the swords had made started to flex and mend. The bones and skin on my face shifted, grinding horrifically, and fused together.

I jerked and fell off my perch, rolling. When I tried to move on the ground, I found myself surrounded by rope. Using my claws, I started cutting the bonds as my four captors started freaking out again.

I need to get away, I have to run, I can't even fight one of them, I doubt I can kill four and get away.

I managed to cut myself free while they drew their weapons, and I jumped up onto my feet. My body screamed to fight or flee, and I went to flee. I got five steps away when one of the thumping sets of footsteps caught up to me, and I got slammed on the head, again.

I fell flat on the ground as my legs gave out, more yelling. The second slam killed me again.

***

I woke again, my bones mending, my blood, somehow, replenishing. This time it had lost its horror.

I had woken back up two more times.

What’s new this time? We're out of the tree line. Going towards the city? I can’t quite hear the noise yet. I have metal in my body, and chains around me instead of rope.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Fantastic. I push against the chains and felt them give not at all. The metal spikes limiting my movement. I fought against them anyways, pulling myself apart and trying to get them out. Blood poured out of me as the iron spikes pulled free, and this time the oaf carrying me held on.

I yelled profanity at them as I ripped myself apart, and by the time one of them got over to me, I was already gone.

***

I, Woke again. And was surrounded by voices. I could pick out words I knew, I went to move my mouth, to ask for help. I had an iron spike hastily slammed through my jawbone. The spikes had increased. The oaf was asking people something, waving them out of the way. I fought again, screeching through my broken mouth.

I wonder if this is why the undead are always so hostile. Maybe they just want a way out of being trapped in a corpse. Struggling until there mad. Oh, I’m cold again, thank goodness…

***

I wake up on a stone floor, enveloped in a cocoon of chains pinpricked with pegs. I could hear the others arguing. Bits of words, and yelling. I manage to worm my head out from the chains, turning my head and dislocating my jaw. My body once again tried and failed to mend itself, and instead of turning my head like a normal person, all I could do I shift it around.

I’m even acting like an undead. Shambling and screeching and moaning. Even I would think I was an undead. Where am I? It looks like temples… oh hey, it’s a mob.

I fell unconscious again as stones rained down on me.

***

I wake up to more heated bickering, and my body mending forces my jaw back in place. I don’t even get to look at the bickering.

Let’s see, lots of rocks around me, cool. I don’t see any more incoming. Let’s see if I can wiggle a little and check out who they’re talking with.

I shuffle a little, using minute movements to not tear myself apart. I shuffle until I can see them.

Let’s see, mace guy, a lady with a sword, and a big guy with a big crossbow. Each of them had blood on their clothes, but the big guy must have carried me here because, wow that’s a lot of blood. That’s going to be a pain to get out. Oh, I was wearing my new clothes, and now they’re ruined. Well, at least the last guy is gone, and I took down their clothes with mine.

There was bickering with priests. It takes me a moment to remember what each must be. There are two of them, each covered in a different robe. Both look like old priests, though they are just priests, not bishops or anything. I guess those guys are in church town or whatever it’s called.

The one on the left is a priest of life, I think. That’s kind of funny, in a grim way, [Clerics of Life] can turn and destroy undead. No clue what a priest will do, but he’s shaking his head a bunch, so my guess is nothing. The priest of commerce is certainly out of place, why is he there?

I can hear a word here or there, one word in fifteen. “Me” and “Coin”, and whatnot. Lots of “No.” The guy with the club gestures, and with the gesture he looks over and sees me looking back at him. He starts walking over, and with that, there is a flurry of fast-clipped words of argument.

I suppose I get to sleep again, maybe the priest of life will call out a [Cleric] to end me, that would be nice. Way nicer than being buried alive like this.

“hegh,” I garbled out, in lieu of hi, though he didn’t seem to get it. He gets about halfway to me before a huge blip of mana suddenly moves, and Sir. Clubsalot is thrown thirteen feet into the air and lands in the crowd, and understandably, people start freaking out.

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I left Saphine behind to cast her spell, I had some things to do, and a gift to pick up.

I hope she likes it, it’s both something to help with learning the language and a copy of the scripture for her to have after. I need to get some dye to Seymour and go to the temple, I might even be back in time to see her cast the spell. However, that’s often quite embarrassing.

I walk along the path to town at a casual pace. When I came with Saph last time she was practically dragging me by the arm. Casual pace and short legs make my trip longer than last time, but what’s the point of stats if not to make a walk less tiring?

I walked until the path became packed dirt, and packed dirt became cobbles, and cobbles became a proper street. I walked all the way to the [Tailor] I used. Seymour was an impeccable man, and he made impeccable clothes, at a fair price. Each thing of dye was worth a garment in and of itself, and with how my dye were so colorful It was a trade in his favor. I asked him to make some more clothes for Saph, and before I knew it, I was off to the temples.

The walled off section of the noble quarter, way have been decrepit, but the temples were not the same. The gods, their epithets and their servants covered almost every aspect of life. Roads were handled by [Acolytes] instead of [Laborers], and temples might have their rivalries, but at the end of the day, most would help with one another, and they did good work.

Each temple was different, some were stone, some wood, somewhere just a small statue or a mural. Walls were used not to keep others out, but to give a little privacy for those who prayed at the outside alters. A garden for the goddess of nature and flora. A public hearth adjoined to the large inn for Hearth and Hospitality. Workhouses for gods of craft sat next to large stone temples for gods, like Library.

The eclectic district had large squares and tiny allies for private smaller gods, and it was only somewhat bustling.

Aside from prayer, most people didn’t have a reason to come to the temples, and piety was not something most people did all day. Some gods didn’t care, some gods insisted on sermons and constant adoration, generally, those gods were dicks, gods like Avarice, for example, cursed those that did not give him coin while attending, and was only worshiped by the worst of society, like the lords of the valley.

It was the temple of scribes that I went to now, joined to the library, and next to workshops for binding books, and making ink and paper. The front was heavy stone with windows, but the back was solid stone. I walked into the front, a tiny lobby staffed by a [Acolyte] so young he might as well be a baby.

He was dressed in the robes of the library and was face-first in a book.

I knock on the desk, “Hello, I’m here to pick up a book, it’s supposed to be ready today.”

He startles and looks up from his book before sitting up, “Uh, what? Oh, a book, you ordered a book, Oh, ok, hold on.” He says, his voice cracking three times, before he reaches under the counter and pulls out a book and looks through it before asking, “Uhh, name?”.

“Annabeth,” I answered with a smile.

He looks down awkwardly, a slight flush looking for my name.

Poor kid, he has no chance. I wonder if I should ask him about death, I never did ask about that.

He finds my name in short order, “Uhh, here, yes Annabeth, it’s not ready yet, but you can come back later, or read over there. It should be ready in an hour or two.”

“I actually have a few questions about some of the gods, I was wondering if you would tell me about Death. I know almost nothing, about them.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, he was expecting me to leave him alone. “I, I, uh, don’t know much about that, but I could find someone who does. If you want to talk to them.”

I nodded, “Yes, please. An [Archivist] maybe?”

I would love to get into the stacks, that way, even if they know nothing like me, I’m still likely to find something about Death.

“Uh, yes, I could do that, follow me.” He said before shuffling off his stool and walking back into the temple.

I followed him through the hallways of the temple as he found his way toward the back. When we got there, he led me through the stacks. Thousands of books piled high, making corridors in the dark room.

Far in the back, a dim light could be seen, and like a moth to a flame, we walked through the stacks. Books towered over us, one on top of another. A tomb of tomes, so old they could be transcribed from memory after the fall or early during the upheaval.

Sitting at a desk was an old man who read by a magic light, the orb floating a few inches off his desk. The man, much like the boy before, reads. Making meticulous notes with one hand and using his other to flip the pages of the book. He doesn’t even stop when he addresses us first.

“What is it, Jeremy? You were to watch the front desk, not lead people to the stacks.” His voice is cool and uneven.

He, Jeremy, I suppose, seemed to psyche himself up, before he squeaked up, “O of course [Archivist], uh, one of our clients asked a question I did not know the answer to, so I uh brought her here while she waits for her book.”

“Go on then, Jeremy, back to the desk. You lady, ask.” He replied briskly.

The boy squeaked, and power walked back to the front.

“Thank you for your time [Archivist], what do you know about the god of Death?”

That got him to stop. He started to tap his finger. Every second, faster and faster.

“Not much, I can retrieve a book on it if you want, mostly hearsay, little to no records. The last time the goddess of Death replied was before the upheaval, there has been no official church of Death for almost as long. Death does not receive prayer, nor give guidance, so there are no priests or clergy of any kind." he started, leaving a long pregnant pause as he stopped to remember. "Hmm, most groups that do worship her are made up of people who practice necromancy, although it’s mostly in a somewhat religious capacity, they bind souls to stop them from being used and unmake undead. Most lands don’t suffer the presence of necromancy, so it’s often in a cult capacity. [Necrotic Priest], [Death Cultists], the monks that used to live in the valley, are a good historical example, but their classes were a secret not recorded here. May I ask why you’re interested?”

I thought about it, librarians were recorders and preservers of knowledge, what I told him would doubtless be recorded, but he might have the answers I looked for.

I decided to risk it, the secret would come out eventually, and the knowledge might help Saphine.

“I have a guest at my cottage, she mentioned asking about Death. I don’t know why, but she has eyes like an undead, even though she’s alive, and I think they might be connected.”

He looked up at that, he looked at me and squinted. A look of understanding overcame him.

“Ah, you are a [Druid], you can feel mana. I’m sorry to say I don’t know the answer to that, but I can look it up if you want. That sounds both like trouble and something I would like to know the answer too.”

He was old, his skin like paper and covered in liver spots. His eyes had tiny cataracts and held something in them. A spark of interest that seemed to take twenty years off his appearance.

“I have time,” I told him.

I sat down near him, and he gave me the book he had paraphrased from, and we read together by magical light in the stacks. We sat quietly for more than an hour before he simply said, “Ah.”

I snapped up and turned towards him, “Did you figure it out? Or was that thinking ‘Ah.’”

“I think I know one possible answer,” he confirmed, “I read up on obscure eyes and found a passage on how saints have fascinating eyes. I checked, and apparently, many high-level [Clerics of Death], many divine mages or [Clerics] in general, end up having magical eyes reminiscent of their saints, and Death’s mages were said to have flames in the black of their eyes.”

That was… an interesting conclusion.

I suppose if she can cast [Status], she could show me though. It’s been long enough, and my copy should be ready by now.

“I suppose I can ask her, although she’s learning how to speak Halsi, so it will take some time. I’ll get back to you when I get my answer from her.” I told him.

He just smiles, “And I will be here for when you find out. I have always wanted to ask one about their god.”

I nodded, excused myself and began to power walk back out to Jeremy, recovered the book of scripture and walked out.

Could that be it? Is she a saint? I need to hurry back and ask her before I die from the wait.

I walked a little faster than normal, speed walking through the streets home before I heard the clamor of a crowd. It got louder and louder as I continued forward until I came across a square. People were murmuring about [Hunters] and an undead they caught. Something about a priest refusing to help them get rid of it.

Great, now I need to make my way around the side.

I was close to leaving when I caught sight of the bickering trio, two priests, and a figure covered in chains and blood and decided to watch. It was a gruesome sight, there was just too much blood. The figure that looked like she should be dead wriggled a little. Shifting until she could look at the figures that bickered, shifting a ring of stones that were piled around her.

“I cannot help, that creature is not undead.” One priest said, the other butted in, “And I cannot verify your claim of clearing an undead without verification.”

Two of the [Hunters], for what else could they be, started to bicker back before one with a mace spoke up.

“Look at that thing, we’ve put it down more than seven times. Oh great, it's awake again, make those eight times, the fuckin freak.” He said and started to walk over to the chained person-shaped thing.

It garbled out something, at that changed everything because it was familiar. I looked a little closer, and between the chains, I could see what looked like an ear.

Oh, gods…

I had to decide, and I decided it was better to act now than be sorry later. I walked over to him, while the priests and the [Hunters] bickered. They never even saw me walk towards their companion. They weren't paying attention.

I reached out to cast a spell, and the land flooded in with a vengeance. I decided that a non-lethal spell would be best, I would hate to move a bit of mana and be the [Druid] the land lethally overcompensated for.

I skipped over, formed the spell, and punched the mace-wielding moron.

I hit him with [Air hammer]. A simple, non-lethal spell made to hurt a little and push someone back.

He flew thirteen feet into the air and slammed into the crowd with an audible Thud. Pandemonium ensued.

I... Well, let's hope this is Saphine, I would REALLY hate to have almost killed a guy in front of the gods and everyone and have it just be an undead that looked like her.