WHOEVER KILLS THE WHITE HAIRED BOY WITH THE BLESSING WILL RECEIVE A BLESSING OF THEIR OWN, FROM ME.

"Well there's that mystery solved," Albatos said to Zeph, "A blessing. We've had someone with a fucking blessing with us this entire time."

"Yes, so it seems," Zeph said, his hand on his temple. "Surely that scene you saw before doesn't seem so monstrous anymore."

"True, but we don't have much time to think it over here, Zeph." They were still surrounded by enemies, both old and potentially new, depending on how tempting the average soldier found Reverie's offer.

And by the look in the eyes of the warriors around him, he bet they found it nigh irresistible. A blessing was the stuff of legends, and it was said that those few who had been blessed by Reverie were undisputed champions, rivals to ascendants.

"Lee, Lin, Red," Zeph called out. They assembled before him, dutifully awaiting orders. "Go back to camp. Help Holeria and Nika throw everything on the wagons. We'll join you as soon as we can."

"With Stein in tow, right?" Redina asks, a hint of nervousness showing in her voice.

"I won't let that kid die today if there's anything I can do to stop it. But there's nothing for us here anymore, it's time to move on. And we need to do it in a damn hurry."

The three of them nodded, then ran off through the woods.

"I assume you need me since you sent my husbands off without me," Annora said, having been listening from the side.

Zeph turned to the dwarven woman, clad in plate armor so thick it sometimes made him wonder if it even had any way for air to get in. He had traveled both continents and seen more fighters than he could count, but Annora was the only person Zeph had ever met who could wear such an amalgamation of steel and use it even somewhat effectively.

Heavy armor was unusual for battlemages and above. Armor in general was seen as unnecessary for several reasons. Anyone who was at least a battlemage could already reinforce their skin to be as tough as leather. With the increased perception and speed of a battlemage it was also seen as more of a hindrance, something that slowed you down.

The biggest reason it wasn't used, however, was that there were very few skilled enough in reinforcement to be able to reinforce their body, their weapon, and their armor all at the same time. And he had no doubts she was reinforcing her body under that suit constantly. She had to be, else he doubted she would even be able to move under the weight of it.

She was extremely lucky she had a husband that could serve as her specialized blacksmith, because any ordinary smith wouldn't even know where to begin repairing such a suit. The suit, and also her massive greatsword and titanic tower shield.

She was a sorcerer, but Zeph had never known her to use either a domain or a projection. He, like many others in his group, assumed she was using some kind of projection to be able to use her equipment. But he had no way of knowing for sure, and he didn't put stock in speculation, even his own.

"We need someone to clear out the horde. This battle is over, the only thing that will rule this field from here on is chaos. I need the kid to be the eye of the storm, safe from the raging maelstrom as he passes by. You'll lead the bulwark to hold back most of the tide. You up for it?"

"I won't stop anyone strong. They take too much time to finish, it'd break the line."

"That's fine, we'll take care of them," Zeph said with a nod. "Albatos, Arim, and that beastboy should still be with him. You, me, and Black will head there to pick him up. Put everybody else with Annora."

Albatos nodded, then started sending orders out through his communication magic.

"You better not die on me, kid." Zeph grumbled to himself.

***

Holy shit I'm gonna die.

What had been a somewhat disorganized line of defense became a full-on dogpile. On me.

That asshole… All it took was that one sentence and now everything's gone to shit.

At the very least I wasn't alone. Arim and everyone else from unit 3 stood with me. Everyone with enough discipline to resist the temptation of claiming a blessing for themselves that is. Some had turned, trying to use my moment of shock as a way to seize their prize.

They had been cut down instantly by their former comrades who remained loyal to Zeph. It hadn't been many, three or four, but it shook me how easily the people I had been fighting beside turned on me.

I didn't have a clue where Orelio went, and that scared me. From what I understood of his motivations, he sought fame and recognition. Gaining a blessing seemed like a pretty damn good shortcut to that, so I was all but certain he would make an attempt on my life.

It was this, even more so than being surrounded by enemies all focussing on me, that terrified me. I had survived his initial thrust in our last fight only by the luck of having two teammates to act as buffers before me. It would have been foolish to count on such luck happening again.

But still, there was nothing I could do about it in the midst of fighting off waves of enemies. The best defense is to be aware. Too bad all my focus was being taken up by the endless onslaught of carnage before me.

In all honesty, the blades and other melee weapons are the least of my worries. It's the arrows, bolts, and bullets that keep whizzing at me from out of nowhere that are the real threat.

Before, when the battle had had some slight sense of rationality to it, ranged attacks were spread pretty evenly through the line. Guns hadn't been very common, what with flintlocks being more of a pain to reload than bows and crossbows. Didn't mean that people didn't bring them though, as I was a prime witness of.

Now all the firepower of both armies was focused solely on me. It felt like being the last player on the dodgeball team. Except these weren't soft balls of rubber.

If it wasn't for reinforced perception, I'd be dead by now. Reinforcement acted on concepts, like magic, so you could reinforce certain ambiguous aspects of yourself if you wished to. The most common and useful of these aspects is sight and hearing. You could even reinforce your 'sixth sense' to an extent, which was crucial in my act of literally dodging bullets.

Above it all that manic named Reverie keeps spewing out encouragement to the horde.

Oh come on, he's right there! You can do better than that! I can't tell if I'm cheering for warriors or losers. Put some effort in! Come on guys, we're losing manpower, more to the north. He's in the north, I say!

"Stein, go!" Arim yelled from next to me.

"Where?!"

"North! Loop around east and back south toward camp! We'll hold them off somehow!"

"You want me to just abandon you?!"

"It shouldn't be too much longer till Zeph sends reinforcements here! And if you leave the heat should die down a bit!"

It hurt, but I knew he was right. "Okay!" I yell, breaking away from the front line.

I dash away, toward what I think is north. I wasn't entirely sure, as I had gotten a little disoriented when both armies dogpiled. But generally speaking, we had been on the outermost right side of the line that was facing west. Ideally, I should be able to run towards the direction with the least amount of screaming.

Oh look, the kid's running. How predictable, no spine at all. He's heading north away from the battle.

Damn him.

I dodge behind a tree as a projectile whizzes past. Even in the woods here, it seems there's some stragglers. Evidence of just how nonsensical the battle had been, for people to have gotten lost in the forest.

I duck into the underbrush of the untamed forest, running while crouched hopefully out of sight. I hear another projectile whoosh past, a blind shot I guess based on its poor accuracy. Peeking through the bush I spot my attacker, a woman with a crossbow cautiously approaching my position, already in the process of reloading.

Unfortunately, her greed has blinded her to basic strategy, or maybe she isn't even a mage. Regardless, I shoot a cluster of rocks at her using magic since we're not currently within any anti-magic area.

She sees them coming and tries to dodge, but isn't capable of avoiding all of them and two lodge themselves in her left shoulder. She grimaces, but aims her crossbow where the rocks came from.

She never gets to fire that shot. The two fragments in her shoulder detonate, blowing off her arm and ravaging her chest. She collapses, dead before she even hits the ground.

That little tactic is what we call a cluster bomb back in the desert.

The slightest rustle alerts me to danger from behind. I whirl, seeing the man bringing a dagger down upon me.

Blood blossoms from his chest as it's punctured by a tip of steel and shaft of wood. The man grasps at it, shocked, before it's quickly pulled from his chest. He too collapses, gurgling as his airway fills with blood.

As he drops away I see the beastkin I had feared most behind him, covered in grime and holding his bloodied spear.

"You gonna sit on your ass all day or get up so we can leave?" He asks, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Huh?" I reply dumbly.

He gives an exasperated sigh and grabs my shoulder, heaving me to my feet. "I said come on, we need to get moving."

"You're not gonna try and kill me?"

He sighs, "I don't betray my allies. Even if they did throw me off a cliff."

"I thought we've been over this, you deserved that!" His verbal jab helps me reorient myself. It was certainly a surprise he wasn't going to make another attempt on my life, but for a surprise it was a damn good one. "Where the hell were you anyway?"

He thumbs upward, "Watching from above. Figured something like this would happen, so I wanted to be prepared."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Well let's get moving," I say, passing by him. He doesn't move.

Looking toward him I see his gaze locked onto someone else, a roided up muscle man wielding two bloody hatchets.

"You go, I'll take care of this one."

"It would be faster if we-" He turns to me, and I see a feral glee in his eye. I recognize it as the same look he had when he fought me.

"Thanks, but I'm not a fan of sharing my accomplishments. Go."

"Good luck," I say, before turning and continuing my escape attempt.

Ooooooh, his ally comes to save him. He's still heading north, can't somebody get up there already? You people are threatening to bore me. Aaaand here comes another one. I swear, you blessed always attract allies like flies to a corpse.

I see Vurt through the trees, and angle my running to meet him. I call out, "Vurt!"

He sees me as I call out, stopping to wait. At least that's what I assume, before my hopes are dashed by him drawing his weapon from its sheath.

I pull up short and say, "Really? Come on, I thought we were over this already."

He gives a derisive smile, "I don't think I'll be getting over the shit you've pulled."

Now that I'm closer I see the burning rage in his eyes, making me wonder what exactly I did to piss him off. Last we talked was when we searched the battlefield of Holeria, and I was helping him then, so it couldn't be that.

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know."

"No, I really don't."

"You told me to figure it out. I did."

"Figure it out? What are you… Oh."

Before I had gone to help look for Holeria, he had asked why I cared. My response was 'figure it out.' That night, Holeria and I returned to camp by ourselves. I hadn't known it at the time, but I had heard that immediately after she returned, Holeria had broken up with Vurt. I knew she did it likely because she was afraid of him after that day, or maybe just because of their difference in nature.

Either way, when you looked at it from Vurt's perspective, it was really, really easy to assume she had been cheating on him. With me. And I had been the asshole leading him on the entire time.

"Okay, I can-"

"You know, we never got a chance to rank you with the rest of us. You always kept off, in your own little world. I wonder if you even know what I'm talking about. Well, I was always ranked first. Time to see if that little scuffle after the dungeon was a fluke or not. Time to see if you're as good as you think you are, if you're better than number one."

"God damn dude, you need to chill out."

His face contorts in rage, but he speaks softly, "I loved her. I'm going to kill you for stealing her away from me."

"That won't fix your relationship."

"I know. But I'm not going to just forgive and forget. Sorry, I'm just not that kind. Anti-magic area." He starts slowly walking toward me, blade outstretched to the side as the area engulfs us.

Oh, what's this? An interesting development everyone! It's ally against ally, friend against friend! It seems on this field tragedy knows no end! And I gotta say, that's the way I like it.

This asshole just won't shut up, will he?

Vurt's weapon is something like a modern day foil, basically an oversized needle with a handle. It fits Vurt's lithe elven body well, and I can tell simply by the way he handles it he's extremely confident. It's an odd weapon for a warzone, but I can't forget he's now survived two battles on the front lines.

I take the stance of Flowing Crane. Though I don't want to fight Vurt, I don't value his life so far above my own to attempt to disarm or capture him. I know what half measures can lead to. That said, it's not like I hold any real grudge against the guy.

In the back of my mind, a voice whispers that something might be wrong with me. Despite having been enslaved, bullied, and belittled I haven't felt any real resentment toward anybody. But now isn't the time to give that voice any thought.

Though I'm not particularly adept at Flowing Crane, the style emphasizes parrying and dodging, something I expect to have to do a lot against that tiny blade. Heart of Oak isn't helpful, it's tailored to fighting bigger weapons. No, what I need to do is draw out his fighting style and adapt to it.

Vurt steps within range and readies his weapon. He opens his assault with a power slash from the left.

The fuck?

Vurt swings his minuscule blade with all his might in a straight slash. My body instinctively reacts to his posture and changes stance to Heart of Oak. Though his blade is small, he's put so much weight into this attack it's killed his speed, giving me time to morph stance and put up my rapier to block his slash.

The foil collides with my sword and bends. Before my mind can even fully comprehend what's happening, the force of Vurt's swing forces the base of his bending sword past my blade.

Physics do their work, and as the base of his foil passes in front of my face his sword bounces back like a spring past my blade with blinding speed. I feel a bright line of pain blossom across my face as the full length of his sword smacks against my head.

My left eye is blinded as a tide of blood rushes down my face. Reeling, I barely manage to look forward as Vurt prepares a thrust.

Using the pain as a catalyst, I feel my anger explode. With wild fury, I batter his sword to the side as he tries to stab my chest. The blade misses my chest but stabs through my arm, sending a new wave of pain.

Surprised by my sudden display of fury, Vurt backsteps away, pulling his foil free. I take the opportunity to assess my damage. Or more accurately, wonder how I'm not dead.

I feel the gash above my eye and find it isn't terribly deep, or I guess I should say it didn't manage to reach the skull at least. Still, it's a wide wound, across the entire left side of my head. And it's leaking blood at a rather annoying rate. Even if I bothered to wipe the blood out of my eye it'd be back in an instant, endlessly.

My arm isn't that bad, it was stabbed through but it doesn't seem to be bleeding too much and my movement doesn't feel stiff. If he had hit an artery though, the fight would be over already.

I laugh at myself a bit. Even after three months of training my ass off I still make assumptions based on a world I'm no longer in. I hadn't watched that much fencing, but even I knew you didn't whack your enemy with a foil. Hell, the blade wasn't designed for it. The only reason my skull wasn't split in two is because the foil has no real blade on it.

Glancing at Vurt, I see he's taken out a cloth and is wiping my blood off his foil.

Smug bastard. Still, gotta figure out what to do as a counter. I don't think he'll try that slashing again, it's too obvious and easy to counter once you expect it. Screw Flowing Crane, Steel Rage works way better here.

With injuries sustained, it was no longer to my advantage to be passive. I need to be aggressive and put the pressure on.

Still, if he manages to get an attack in, my usual defensive reinforcement won't do jack. I should shift the focus to my bones.

Conventional reinforcement dictated that the skin should be reinforced for defense. It made a lot of sense considering it was like wearing leather armor all over your body. But leather doesn't stop the needles that sew it together, like my skin wouldn't stop his foil from piercing my body. It had already been put to the test, and the victor was clear.

If I shifted my defensive reinforcement to my bones they would stop that foil in its tracks. If it hit the bones at least. It was a gambit, and I didn't even know if the odds of it working were worth attempting it.

Vurt walked a few steps to the left and readied his weapon, ready for my assault.

The hell is he doing? Trying to get on my blind side? I can just turn left to compensate, and now I know that's a ploy you might try later too. Whatever, here I go.

Letting the pain in my face and arm once again fuel the anger burning deep inside, I charge him. Vurt remains calm and still, weapon pointed at me, ever at the ready.

Right as I'm about to enter his range, Vurt angles his foil downward. Light angles off the blade, blinding me.

***

Vurt feels little satisfaction as he stabs his weapon forward for what will be the final attack in this short lived duel.

Stein had offered far less challenge than he had expected. All it had taken was his two usual gambits and it was over, same as everyone else he had slain today.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the fact he would likely acquire a blessing. He had no love of the god named Reverie, but he didn't hate the ideology either. He was something in between. He enjoyed the exhilaration of a fight, but held no true love for death. He would, however, take pleasure in this death.

Vurt's greatest asset was his accuracy. When he tossed out an attack, unless it met with some interference, it would hit where it was meant to.

The foil was both a weapon he loved and was annoyed by. Its blade was so small it could pierce most anything not metal. But it was also so small that anything it wounded wouldn't die immediately. Even a wound to the heart could be shrugged off for a few moments, enough time for a last ditch effort to kill your killer. This was something he had learned in that first battle.

The best way to instantly disable somebody, he had found, was a strike to the brain followed by a twist. He hadn't yet found anybody who kept moving after that.

So his target, of course, was Stein's already bloodied head. In the moment Stein was blinded Vurt pierced his forehead with his weapon.

At least, it pierced the skin and flesh. It was stopped by the skull.

What?

His foil was reinforced to both be more flexible and penetrate better. It was inconceivable that it should fail to pierce a skull now when it had gone through at least five others in the last hour. Unless…

No way…

In Vurt's brief moment of confusion and awe Stein acted. Still blinded, he lashed out with his sword at the last target he had seen, Vurt's arm. However, due to it having moved since he had last opened his eye, he missed a bit.

Stein's rapier, reinforced to be far past what a normal rapier should be capable of, cut through both the foil's handguard and the hand behind it.

Screaming in pain, Vurt dropped the foil. His hand had been mutilated, part of a finger cut clean off, and the rest of his hand near bisected.

Stein rushed in, clearly intending to finish the job. Vurt threw his hands up in a rash attempt to guard his head. Even as he did it he knew he was about to die.

But instead of being stabbed or slashed, he felt his leg and ankle grabbed. Without even having time to process what was happening, he was lifted off the ground and pulled into the air like a ragdoll.

Then the back of his head slammed into something and all went dark.

***

I breathe a sigh of relief as I let go of Vurt's unconscious body. For the first time, I was thankful Orelio had picked a fight with me in the woods before. If he hadn't, I probably wouldn't have thought to finish my fight with Vurt in the manner I had. I would need to remember I could easily throw people around with reinforcement. Or in this case, spin them in a circle until I smash them into a tree.

I pick up my rapier and sheath it before bending down to examine Vurt's foil. Reinforcing my eyes to be able to see ambient mana, I saw there was some lingering on the weapon even after it had stopped being reinforced.

An enchanted weapon, as I thought.

To pull off the trick with the light as Vurt had done would take an ungodly amount of either luck or preparation. Neither of which it had seemed he relied on in that moment. I hadn't realized that when he had shifted position, it wasn't to step into my blind spot, but to stand in one of the only spots around where sunlight shone clearly through the treetop.

Enchanted weapons were weapons with a bit of oricite melded into the steel. Bodelee had told me about them before. Apparently, you could imbue a concept into the oricite to create weapons with special effects. Those concepts went beyond the enhancement ideas of reinforcement, and were much more akin to the raw concepts involved in magic.

If I had to guess I'd say it had the minor effect of being able to reflect the sun into the eyes of one's opponent. Not stellar, but definitely valuable enough that it would be a shame to be left behind. I put it back in the sheath it came from on Vurt's waist.

I dig through the pouch at my waist and bring out bandages and medicinal paste. The paste is a mixture Nika concocted from several herbs I've never heard of and assume they didn't exist in my previous world. It has a slight pain numbing effect, but most importantly it's a coagulant. I rub it all over my forehead wounds before dressing my head in bandages. I do the same to my arm.

Turning to Vurt, I figure since I went through the effort of knocking him out I might as well dress his wounds. I quickly bandage his hand. I don't have enough pity for him to use any of the wonderous paste, that stuff is mine. I steal his medical supplies to restock my own.

I know the whole no half measures mentality should indicate I finish him off in case he ever comes back to get revenge, but I really don't think a romantic misunderstanding deserves death. I've already ruined his hand and slammed him against a tree. I think that's good enough.

I hear footsteps rushing through the underbrush. Drawing my rapier, I turn to find Zeph.

"Kid! Good, you're still alive."

"Yep."

Zeph looks down at Vurt and a dark expression crosses his face, "He do that to you?"

"Yeah, but I dealt with him."

"...He's still breathing."

"He is."

"I condone a lot of things, kid. I don't forgive treachery."

"He's not a traitor, not much of one anyway."

"Oh? What then, is he?"

"Worse, he's a hopeless romantic. I'll let you carry him, seeing as how I'm the injured one here."

Zeph raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn't argue since my face is still covered in my own blood. After he picks up Vurt, I let him lead the way further into the forest.