It wasn’t just the meat. These people could also contribute to her mana pool, generously donating part of theirs to Mila. And they were not good people.

After observing for a bit, it became clear the mercenaries had come after. They had discovered the meet and had tried to force the guards to give it up.

When it had failed, the mercenaries had killed one of the guards. They had chosen murder over decency. These men and women were not starving or weakened. They could have found a populated area and food soon enough by walking.

And the other party was Stilag’s guards. More than likely, their sins made a long list. Despite their equipment being smudged by the travel, it was still clearly new, specifically prepared for the moment of rebellion.

Together with their mana indicating they had not been simple grunts and a few stray remarks, Mila realised they had been part of the forces staffing Stilag’s walls. These people had been part of the reason escaping the city had been so hard.

Mila looked at the black dagger in her hand, still weighing her options. Lives of almost twenty people for a piece of meat and a bit of mana.

Logically, the choice was clear. Mila understood that, but…

“What will it do to me in the long term?” She muttered. Mila’s fingers tightened around the dagger’s handle.

A couple of people in both groups were trying to stop the fighting, to cease the bloodshed. They conceded their rights to the meal, offering it to others.

These people's lives had some value. They were not rotten to their cores, but…

Mila hardened her heart. If she did this, none of them could be allowed to escape. Furthermore, she had to make sure it looked like almost everyone had died in the fight between them.

With the pursuers surely coming…

Forcefully, Mila relaxed. Her grip refused to leave the dagger’s handle, but she made her fingers give up. The murderous thoughts were purged from her mind as she recognised them as reckless.

Yes. This was foolish. Even if Mila did everything to mask the slaughter, it would still leave traces. Even though she felt confident in killing them all, there was a risk of someone getting away.

Mila sighed, suddenly remembering how tired she was. Her mind still screamed it was possible. There was so much to gain if she let her bloodthirst reign free.

But it would leave traces pointing at her. It would lead to the party Mila had promised to defend. Furthermore, the reasoning for killing was logical, but viewing people as stat increase was abhorrent. She did not want to become someone who slaughtered based on how much it would help her.

Mila understood that and wrapped herself into a tighter blanket of concealment. She watched the fight unfold, her eyes still on the prize that had sent these people into a frenzy.

Another two people fell, one on each side. The precarious equilibrium between them remained unchanged. The fight remained undecided as they continued to hack and slash.

The balance wouldn’t last. Mila could tell the guards were gaining the upper hand due to their superior equipment. The mercenary leader was the strongest among the fighters. He was valiant and overbearing, but thanks to the guard's superior armour, he couldn’t land many decisive blows.

This wouldn’t do.

Mila watched the bloodshed with half-closed eyes. Her attention had moved back to her newly crafted spell. She had honed and crafted it to a usable state.

It would still not be deadly, but it wasn’t what she needed now. Mila formed an icicle, measuring how much mana it took.

Creating the ice above her palm didn’t take much energy. Mila could do hundreds of these. Unfortunately, they were useless. Even if she threw the icicles with all her strength, they would not become a weapon and give away her position.

It was just ice at the moment. There was not enough magical reinforcement to make these projectiles deadly or covert.

Letting the creation melt in her palm, Mila decided to try something different. Her eyes found one of the more reckless fighters among the guards. She swung her sword with wild abandon, moving her mana to reinforce each strike.

The woman’s attention was on her opponent, ignoring all else. Just one mistake and the guard would lose her life with how daringly she moved.

Which made the woman the perfect target for Mila’s experiment.

After another sweep of her senses, Mila was sure no one else was hiding or coming to join the fight - at least not for the immediate future.

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Mila focused on the spatial part of her icicle spell, forming a small mana pocket next to the reckless guard’s neck. She kept track of it using her mana sense, carefully filling the spell matrix with energy.

It was a finicky task, and Mila failed upon her first attempt, going too slow. The second attempt was a failure, too, with her rushing things too much and overloading the spell, making it fizzle.

The third attempt, however, was promising. Mila’s attention was mostly on her spell as she fed it with mana. She still observed her target, trying to time her distraction.

And then it was time.

Mila rapidly finished the cast, creating a translucent, thin needle of ice that slowly spun in the air. Belatedly, she realised her mana reserves were already about a third done - mostly due to her failures.

And they were shrinking further, the distance draining her energy at prodigious speed. Mila gritted her teeth, seeing a chance. She yanked her creation towards her target, striking at the woman’s exposed neck.

The icicle did little, leaving just a red mark where the tip had hit the neck. But it was enough, as the woman reacted violently, spinning around and swinging her sword at an unseen enemy.

And then, the guardswoman died, her torso pierced by a stab. Not even her chestplate was enough to stop the attack. Her desperate opponent had used all his strength to take her out.

Unfortunately for the mercenaries, it simply restored the balance, as one of their weaker comrades had fallen a moment before.

Still, it ensured the fighting continued without any of the sides retreating. They both felt like they had a chance and would win.

It wouldn’t likely last for long. Maybe two or three deaths more, and one of the groups would call for a retreat.

In the end, they were fighting just for a lump of meat. And while the fight was currently fuelled by rage and the vague sense of duty in front of the already dead, those were running out.

Mila saw another chance to screw over the guards. One of the men had injured one of the mercenaries and pushed for a victory. His attacks were quick and precise, but she could see the injured person was bidding his time for a decisive counterattack. And she would provide it.

The fourth time Mila cast the spell was a large improvement. She was faster in execution and more precise, not wasting nearly as much mana to keep the coordinates right. Her mind didn’t have to focus fully on the casting, allowing her to observe the rest of the battlefield.

Just as the guardsman raised his sword, Mila found an opening, sending the ice projectile flying. Her aim was true, hitting the target’s pinky, making his strike falter.

The guardsman’s opponent didn’t waste the chance. He discarded his sword and retrieved a dagger, which quickly found its way between the guard’s armour, robbing him of his life.

Once more, the balance was restored. However, with the decrease in the number of people in the fight, there was a risk that they would become vigilant.

It was time for Mila to act. She tightened her concealment spell around her and dropped from the tree, letting the bush beneath hide her. She took a deep breath, waiting a moment longer for everyone to recognise the new deaths and focus on those.

From her position, Mila couldn’t oversee the battlefield, but she could feel another life extinguished.

It meant it was almost time to strike. Mila poked her head out of the shrubbery, finding herself just a few meters away from her goal.

Everyone's attention was now on the corpses slowly collapsing on the ground or the opponents each faced.

It was time for the last choice. Should she strike now or once one of the parties began retreating?

In the end, Mila chose to do it now - while the blaze of battle shone the brightest. She hoped it would be enough to cast a large enough shadow for her to vanish into.

It should work. Mila was confident it would. This was a much safer plan, but…

If it didn’t… Mila’s grip on her dagger tightened…

If it didn’t, there was always the plan B.

Mila ignored the part of her that wished to slaughter these people. It came from the many lives she had gone through in her dreams and represented people that were not her. She had to find her own path, even if it was hard.

… especially because it was hard. That way, the lesson would remain ingrained in her body.

While wishing to become truly herself, Mila moved forward while watching the poor souls struggle against each other.

They did not look at the unremarkable bush in the vicinity and did not see Mila stepping out of it.

They did not notice her jumping forward, passing between their legs.

They were oblivious to her grabbing the prepared meat by the spit and pulling back.

They did not react to her pulling the loot under her cloak and covering it with her spell.

They clashed further, and two more people died. This was their last straw.

As Mila found her way back into the bushes, she glanced back, listening to the mercenary leader calling for a retreat. Her senses told her mana pools were swiftly pulling back from the location.

Mila decided to not wait. She was sure the guard would notice her thievery soon. And they would blame the mercenaries. The blind rage and regret would make sure of it. It was even possible they would chase just to retrieve what they had lost.

But none of that mattered to her. Mila hefted the cooling roast. It wasn’t hard to carry the large piece of meat.

No. What was hard was resisting the smell of food.

Mila swallowed, resisting the urge to take a bite. Still, her eyes lingered on the charred surface of her loot.

But that was for later.

First, Mila made rounds, making sure no one would be able to trail after her.

Then, she would return to her camp and share her gain. Mila knew Isabel needed it, and she hoped it would bring a smile to her girl’s face.