Chapter Seven: I will always hate camping.

“Maybe try to lean into it more!” Kev shouted from the safety and comfort of the bank at the side of the marsh.

I slammed my short sword repeatedly onto the chagkraaw brood mother with continued failure. The quest was simple: kill the twelve chagkraaws and the brood mother to eliminate the infestation—current quest status: twelve out of thirteen. We had all taken turns chasing down the slow-moving, massive amphibians around the marsh area. Now that the offspring were dead, the party decided to let me eliminate the queen to boost my XP.

The problem is that a chagkraaw brood mother is a massive salamander the size of an elephant seal with the hide of a slimy rhinoceros. With all my strength, I could do little to penetrate the outer hide. It also didn’t help that my left arm was swallowed up almost entirely by the creature. It didn’t hurt, thankfully, as chagkraaws were herbivores, but I couldn’t free my arm or do more than slap at it with my pitiful short sword. To add insult to injury, as I struggled with my fight, I saw the rest of the group pulling out silver coins as they quietly placed bets on the outcome.

“Fuck You!” I shouted at the beast. I then looked over at my so-called friends. “And fuck you! Fuck You! Fuck You!” I pointed to each of them in turn with my useless sword. “But not you, Heather.”

“Actually it was my idea.” Heather beamed.

“Fuck you too, then!”

The brood mother kept pulling on my arm. No matter what I did, I simply did not have the strength to cause any damage at all. As a fighter, I sucked. I had no strength or cunning ability to take on a monster at a higher level than me. But, after a moment of squatting in the marsh with a mindless creature latching onto my arm, the realization came to me. I have a null space.

I called Sick Stick from my inventory into my left hand and gripped it tightly. The skin on the back of the beast’s neck bulged up where the dagger pushed against it from the inside.

BACKSTAB ATTACK ON CHAGKRAAW BROOD MOTHER FOR X2 DAMAGE.

32 VP DAMAGE TO CHAGKRAAW BROOD MOTHER.

CHAGKRAAW BROOD MOTHER SUFFERS TILT A HURL DEBUFF

TIME REMAINING: 5 SECONDS

Technically, it was a backstab as the blade went in behind its head. The brood mother’s eyes rolled back as the muscles in its throat constricted around my arm. I gripped the dagger with all my strength. An instant later, my arm was shoved out, the dagger dragging along the inside of the creature’s throat and then into its mouth. A string of damage notifications doubled by the Back Stab bonus along the way. There was an audible crunch as the blade penetrated its skull.

YOU HAVE DEFEATED CHAGKRAAW BROOD MOTHER.

+157 XP.

My arm popped out of the creature’s mouth, along with the entire contents of its stomach. There were hoots and clapping from the bank as the party celebrated my victory. Drenched in the vomit of the brood mother, I sank into the water of the marsh since it was, unfortunately, the cleaner liquid. The stinking water rinsed away the even more stinking vomit.

PARTY QUEST COMPLETED:

CHAGKRAAW HUNT

Chagkraaws are venturing into the fields of Grey Anvil and eating the crops. Eliminate the creatures and their brood mother to rid the farmers of the pestilence.

Your party has eliminated all twelve chagkraaws and the brood mother.

REWARD:

1. 125GP each

2. +421XP

An instant later, a new notification appeared:

CORPSE:

CHAGKRAAW BROOD MOTHER

LOOTABLE ITEMS:

1. CHAGKRAAW BROOD MOTHER HIDE (CRAFTING MATERIAL)

2. IRON BOOT, LEFT

3. 7SP

DO YOU WANT TO LOOT?

Yes. I responded in my head, and there was a Shlop sound. The brood mother shifted in the marsh, and all her skin vanished in a puff of greasy steam. The items were added to storage and nicely highlighted in the inventory screen.

I emerged from the marsh a moment later, having scrubbed as much of the mother’s vomit off me as possible. Heather smiled smugly as she helped me out.

“What’s with the stupid grin?” I growled at her.

“You made me three silvers.” Heather chimed. “I bet you’d find a way to backstab it. You’re a rogue, after all.”

I peeled off all the stinking, slimy crap and unceremoniously dumped it into Gem’s laundry bag. I had pretty much run out of fucks for the day and didn’t even bother turning around, though the party averted their eyes out of respect except for Gem.

Grabbing the magic soap, I’d splurged on at Greybrow’s, I got to work scrubbing away the layers of marsh muck and monster vomit. The soap was a game-changer, transforming the camping nightmare into something slightly less hellish.

With a swipe, it left a trail of frothy white suds that rinsed off easily using just a splash from my canteen. Sure, it was a single-use item that dissolved dramatically in my hand like it was part of the show, but honestly? Best five gold I’d ever spent.

It was late afternoon, and we unanimously agreed settle in for the night before tackling Castle Longhorn. The marsh’s edge wasn’t overly buggy, and it seemed like a safe enough spot. I joined Heather and Gem in gathering wood and kindling for the fire while Kev took charge of the food prep, lining up meat and vegetables like he was auditioning for a fantasy cooking show. Jinx worked around the perimeter, chanting an incantation he claimed would keep the mosquitos and other bugs away.

“They’ll be some right nasty creepy crawlies tryin’ to get in ‘ere, but this’ll keep ’em out,” he said with a cheeky grin and a wink when he was done. “Don’t go stompin’ on ’em, though, or they’ll give you a proper bite.”

“Will it hold everything out?”

“Everything less than ten pounds in weight, so if you feel compelled to go take a stroll, the protection will hold up. I wouldn’t recommend it until you get more levels.”

“So, it’s gonna be a fun night.”

“It’s the night of the new moon,” Jinx said as we settled in at sunset around the fire. “You ain't seen it yet.”

It was a warm evening, and the moon appeared as the sun set in the west. It rose out of the east. About twice the size of Earth’s moon. It was a thin crescent, but even from my vantage point on my log seat by the fire, I could see the blue glow of the atmosphere that surrounded it. The surface was deep ocean blue and forest green with clouds in the sky over it. As it rose, it gave off a warm glow all over the world. Not the cold blue light of the dead moon I knew.

“Oh my god.”

“Ours’s dead,” Jinx said to the group. “Grey and plain as chalk.”

“Something definitely lives there,” Heather said. “But it’s not like anyone can go there to see.”

“We’ve been to our moon,” I said. “A long time ago.” I gazed up at it in wonder. “But they couldn’t stay for very long, no air.”

“How did they survive without air?” Kev asked.

“Suits,” Jinx said. “They 'ad suits with air in 'em. They poked around for a while and then came back.”

“They did all that without magic?” Gem asked.

“We made do pretty well without it,” I said. “Electricity, chemicals, computers. I guess people made stuff that did what magic does.”

I shared stories about my family with everyone. Like my sister and me, my parents couldn’t have been more opposite. Mom was a staunch conservative, chasing some utopian libertarian dream, while Dad taught high school art and probably smoked too much weed when she was at the office. Mom was a lawyer, and I didn’t even have to explain that—apparently, lawyers are a universal constant. Megan was Mom’s golden child, while I was Dad’s little oddball. If I weren’t stuck in a different universe, I’d probably be signing up for therapy right now… just as soon as I got health insurance.

I talked about college, which doesn’t seem to exist in this world. Here, education is all about practical skills, so the concept of studying Art History for the sheer joy of learning made Kev’s jaw drop. When I explained student loans, the group looked scandalized, like I’d just described a form of medieval torture.

I rambled on about life in Denver. You know, living near the mountains, but never really going to the mountains. I shared the irony of spending summer weekends at the Renaissance Faire in Larkspur and how I had way better outfits in my closet back home than anything I’d managed to find here, not that they’d fit this body or anything.

I complained about the city’s outrageous rent and shitty traffic. I bragged about its craft beer scene and casually mentioned that weed was legal. That got Jinx’s attention, and he lit up like a kid hearing about Christmas for the first time. I wasn’t a smoker myself, but he was thrilled.

Finally, I told them everything I could about living on Earth in general: there was streaming TV, cell phones, WIFI, a world wide web of information that just made us all more stupid, and social media that did nothing but put a wedge between people. Jinx, having been out of the loop for thirty years or so, hung on every word I said, but I think he was most excited about weed.

“You’re technology sounds like magic to me,” Kev said.

“I guess so. We just kind of make it ourselves, is all.”

After dinner and a bit of conversation, we settled down with our bedrolls around the fire. I volunteered for the first watch, and Kev told me just to tap him on the shoulder if anything suspicious popped up. One by one, the group drifted off to sleep.

As the moon climbed higher in the night sky, I found myself unexpectedly at peace. For a brief moment, everything felt… okay. The moon was incredible. It was a massive crescent of green and brown continents.

The contrast was hard to ignore: Nya’s moon teemed with life, while ours was barren, a dead light in the sky. This world was just so much more alive than home. Every inch of it seemed to hum with something vibrant and untamed. At home? Not so much. It was comforting, in a way. But the city girl in me felt a little queasy, too. No pollution here. No smog. No litter-strewn roads or stinking rivers. I doubted there was a garbage island anywhere in this world. If there was, I figured something would’ve eaten it by now.

I was yanked out of my reverie by a faint, creepy sound behind me—a rhythmic scrape-scrape, scrape-scrape. My body tensed as I spun around, summoning Sick Stick into my hand. It sounded like scribbling with chalk on a sidewalk.

Thanks to my elf eyes and the moonlight that turned the night almost as bright as day, I scanned the campsite—no immediate source of the sound. I activated Stealth, sneaking away from the group toward the noise.

“Oh,” I muttered, spotting it at last. “Fuck me,” I whispered, just in case the universe was listening.

It was a bug. Or at least I think it was a bug. The thing looked like a particularly deranged xenomorph fan had dreamed it up. About eighteen inches tall, it stood on long, celery-green, spiky legs. I think it had six, but who could keep track since they were constantly moving in different directions? The body was indistinct, but the head? Oh, the head. It was baseball-sized, with large, swiveling, toad-like eyes perched ominously on top.

The scraping sound came from its mandibles—nasty, six-inch-long things that clicked open and shut over and over. They were green and red, with venom sacs bulging at their bases. As they scraped against Jinx’s shield, thick fluid dribbled from the tips, pooling into a milky, gross mess on the mossy ground.

I froze, just watching it for a few minutes, trying to keep my composure. I didn’t want to be all princessy about it. But come on. Where I come from, we don’t even deal with roaches. And this thing? This was some unholy Australian outback land crab thing, turbocharged with meth and growth hormones.

The bastard noticed me. The scraping intensified. Jinx had warned me not to stomp on anything out here unless I wanted to get bitten, and suddenly, that advice felt particularly relevant. I didn’t know why, but it felt like this creature had been put in the universe specifically to ruin my night. Sure, I could take down orcs, but this little demon spawn? Way more terrifying.

So, I did the most big-girl thing I could think of: I walked away. Yep, I turned my back on what was clearly meant to be the boss battle of the century. Somewhere up above, I imagined the gods shaking their heads in disappointment as their prime-time entertainment fizzled out.

I finished the rest of my watch without incident, though the scraping was soon joined by a chorus of similar noises from its buddies. For some reason, the little snappers seemed particularly drawn to me. Maybe I just had the right kind of energy. I tuned them out, focusing instead on the moon as it crossed the sky. In its darkness, I caught faint flashes of lightning dancing across the unilluminated portion. It was breathtaking.

When the moon was about halfway across, I gently tapped Kev on the shoulder to wake him. He startled awake, instinctively reaching for his hammer before realizing it was just me.

“Your turn,” I said, crawling into my bedroll. Somehow, I doubted he’d appreciate the chorus of tiny nightmares lurking around the camp.

“It’s cool, big guy,” I whispered. “Your watch now.”

He grumbled about something unintelligible and got up, not even looking at me. With the watch over, I slid my tired self into my bedroll and silently reminded the universe how much I hated camping.

There were no dreams again. It was weird because I always used to have them. Almost every morning I would wake up, something lingering in my head from my slumbers. But not since landing in this world.

As had become routine since arriving here, I was awake with the first light. Kev was back down, and Gem was now on watch. She was sitting quietly on a log, watching the sunrise.

She looked mythical in the dawn light. Her raw, natural beauty was painted in golden hues by the rising sun. I couldn’t help but admire her, caught by the way the light seemed to highlight every delicate and rugged feature. For a fleeting moment, I thought about grabbing my phone to capture it, but the idea felt… wrong. Earth and Nya didn’t mix well, not in the ways that mattered. Dragging something like that into this moment felt like it would shatter this world into a million pieces.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Instead, I lay as still as possible, like the thief that I was to become. I was going to steal the scene without disturbing it. I studied every line and curve, every shade of gold and amber. I wanted to imprint it all, to preserve the moment perfectly in my mind. But the harder I tried to hold onto it, the more of it I lost.

So, I let it go. I stopped trying to capture it and just let myself be part of it. For what it was: a fleeting, perfect alignment of beautiful things.

After a few moments, I rose. Instinctively, I’d activated Stealth but quickly switched it off. The soft crunch of moss beneath my foot gave me away, and she turned to me. Her face lit up with a smile as she stood and crossed over to me.

“Morning,” I whispered, stretching up to kiss her. It started as a gentle peck, but soon we shared something deeper, more passionate. Kissing her was always a thrill—feeling the warmth of her lips, the strange, wonderful texture of her tongue, and the way her mouth moved against mine. Her arms slipped around my waist, her hands finding their way to my bottom. She gave me a playful pinch. It sent an electrifying shiver down my spine. I let out a little Yipe!

“Still hate camping?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I returned her gaze, smiling. “Yes,” I whispered softly. “I will always hate camping.”

“By the gods,” Kev moaned as he sat up. “If you two are going to carry on, at least take it on the other side of the camp.”

The other two groaned in agreement with the orc, but by that time, everyone was pretty much awake.

“Sorry.” My face burned with embarrassment. Gem just giggled quietly.

Everyone was up, thanks to us. Each headed to their respective spots of relative privacy to take care of the AM business. I stoked the charcoals back to life, and before too long, Kev had us a nice little breakfast of bacon, biscuits, and coffee.

It was as pleasant as last night. Sitting on the log, enjoying the greasy food and campground coffee. Spirits were high among everybody. Even Jinx seemed happy as he sipped his cup, enjoying the warm morning sun on his pale face.

Heather said a blessing after we finished, and I could feel a warm glow. Her healing magic filled my body, smoothing out the little aches and pains of sleeping on the hard ground. I could see the faces of the rest of the group as they enjoyed the effects of top-shelf holy blessings.

We gathered our gear and were back in the wagon in less than half an hour after eating. Jinx joined Kev on the bench like yesterday, and the girls sat in the back.

The highway stretched out in front of us. It snaked lazily through the marshland and then straight on between fields of corn and wheat. Even with land that was tamed with cultivation, the world here just felt wild. In remote places back home, there were always signs of civilization. Here, there weren’t powerlines cutting through the landscape, no markers on the road. The sky was wide with fluffy white clouds, no contrails above, just magnificent, huge falcons that circled around, riding the thermals up thousands of feet.

The only signs that the fields were being worked were the tiny villages like the one I arrived in, usually every couple of miles or so. They consisted of a half dozen small huts surrounding a communal barn or other building set about a hundred yards or so off the highway. I never saw anyone in town as we passed since the inhabitants moved inside before we got too close. It was best to be wary of strangers, I guess.

We had an early start, and before noon, we had moved passed the fields and into the forested hills beyond. The highway now climbed up in long switchbacks, with trees and tall grey, mossy stones that jutted up like pillars from the land around them. The evergreen trees were so thick that the sky was almost obscured by the canopy above.

“Can we stop?” I asked Kev.

“We don’t stop.” He said.

“I had too much coffee at breakfast.”

“You should have thought of that before we set off.”

“I didn’t need to go then.” I pleaded. “I have a tiny body now, okay? Tiny bladder.” I looked up at him with a pouty expression, cranking my new uber cuteness up to eleven.

“Just hop off and go by the side of the road.” He pointed ahead, past the horses.

We were approaching the top of the first hill, it was a steep climb, so it was slow going. At the peak of the hill two rock faces rose up, one on each side of The Imperial Highway. Each was about fifteen feet tall.

“It’s not like you can’t catch up.”

I growled and hopped down. I folded my arms and glared at him, stamping my foot on the ground. He smiled with a little laugh. I stood aside while the cart passed. It was heading up towards the crest of the hill we had been climbing for the past half hour or so. I skipped a couple of steps to get around the large pillar rock by the road.

“You okay?”

“Whoa!” I spun around, startled, to see Heather standing there. “Who’s the sneaky one now?”

“Sorry,” she said, her face lined with concern. “I saw you hop off and just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“I just have to pee.”

“Why didn’t you go before we left?”

“I have a tiny elf bladder, okay?” I said, exasperated. “I’m still not used to it.”

I stepped off the road and unequipped my lower armor, muttering, “Jesus, people…”

“Okay,” Heather said, her tone a little wounded. “Sorry.” She turned and jogged back toward the wagon.

I squatted behind a rock, relief washing over me as I emptied the last of the morning’s coffee.

BAM!

The explosion was like a thunderclap, leaving a ringing in my ears as I staggered, still squatting. Two more blasts followed in quick succession—BAM! BAM! Smoke filled the air. Heart racing, I hurriedly re-equipped my lower armor and peeked around the rock.

The wagon lay overturned at the top of the hill, flames licking at the straw in its bed. Smoke billowed, and the horses screamed in panic, their reins tangling as they tried to bolt. Gem and the boys had spilled out onto the road.

Jinx was clutching his arm, cursing through gritted teeth. Kev stood with his hammer at the ready, eyes scanning for threats. Gem leaped into the air and bounced from rock to rock, her weapon flashing as sparks and fire began to rain down from above.

Before I could react, half a dozen men jumped down from the rocky outcrops flanking the road. Some brandished swords and crude weapons, while others raised their hands, magic shimmering in the air as they chanted incantations. Others stood up on top of the spires, brandishing bows.

More explosions tore through the scene, filling the highway with dense, choking smoke. I lost sight of my friends, and it looked like nobody knew I was back here.

The sounds of chaos intensified—shouted warnings and threats mingled with the clash of steel and the crackle of magic. Flashes of blue and green light pierced the thick smoke, casting eerie shadows on the carnage.

I looked toward Heather. She stood frozen in the middle of the road, her wide eyes locked on the chaos unfolding above.

I activated Stealth, slipping into the shadow of the trees as I started making my way up the hill. My priority was to reach Heather and snap her out of it. I needed to get her into cover and safety. After that, I could try to figure out what the hell was happening. I could hear Kev bellowing something about the gods.

As I crept closer, hugging the stone for cover, a piercing scream ripped through the air. It was Heather.

“Got one!” a man with a rough voice yelled out. “It’s a Priestess!”

I stayed hidden, pressed tightly into my spot, but the sounds of a struggle reached me from the road. Heather was fighting someone. The ripping of fabric cut through the air, followed by a muffled cry.

Peeking around the edge of the stone, I spotted her. She was face down on the road, her robe torn and hanging loosely, exposing a bare shoulder.

A man loomed over her, pinning her with his weight. His mismatched leather armor and helmet obscured the upper half of his face, leaving only a grizzled jaw and a sneer of yellow, crooked teeth visible. He was saying something to her, low and guttural, as he wrestled to clasp manacles onto her wrists. Heather squirmed beneath him, her struggle desperate but overpowered by his size and strength.

I didn’t hesitate. Pulling my short sword into my right hand and readying a dagger in my left, I moved silently into position. A backstab would double the damage I could deal, and with a well-aimed strike to his neck, I could triple that. Enough to kill him outright—or at least incapacitate him long enough to grab Heather and run.

Step by step, I crept closer, keeping an ear tuned to the fight by the wagon, and my eyes locked on Heather’s attacker. To her credit, the priestess wasn’t giving in. Her arms flailed wildly, keeping him from locking the chains into place.

Two more steps, and I was directly behind him. I raised my sword high, my grip steady, and brought it down hard on the back of his neck. The blade met bone with a sickening crack.

BACKSTAB ATTACK ON PRESS GANG MEMBER

12 POINTS DAMAGE WITH SHORT SWORD

X2 BACKSTAB DAMAGE

X3 CRITICAL WEAKNESS DAMAGE

72VP DAMAGE TO SPINAL CORD OF PRESS GANG MEMBER

YOU HAVE DEALT CRITICAL DAMAGE TO PRESS GANG MEMBER

PRESS GANG MEMBER PARALYZED

He collapsed on top of Heather as he cried out. I brought the dagger down hard below the shoulder blade with all my strength, aiming for the gap in the armor. It sunk to the hilt.

BACKSTAB ATTACK ON PRESS GANG MEMBER

6 POINTS DAMAGE WITH DAGGER

X2 BACKSTAB DAMAGE

X3 CRITICAL WEAKNESS DAMAGE

36VP DAMAGE TO RIGHT LUNG OF PRESS GANG MEMBER

YOU HAVE DEALT CRITICAL DAMAGE TO PRESS GANG MEMBER

Hmm, I thought, Not dead. I grabbed him by the left shoulder and yanked him over, rolling him off Heather.

“Let’s go,” I whispered in her ear.

She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, struggling to rise. I grabbed her arm to help her to her feet. Before I could steady her, something, or someone, twice my weight barreled into me from behind and to the left. Heather let out a sharp yelp, and I might have shouted something too, but the impact knocked all sense from me.

I was thrown clear of her, tumbling across the rough dirt road. My head smacked the ground more times than I could count, and I finally came to a jarring stop against the stone pillar I had hidden behind earlier. Pain lanced down my spine as I hit, though I managed to keep my skull from slamming into the rock. Yay for small victories.

“’Nother one!” a harsh, strained voice barked out. There was no reply. “Looks like an Elf. Tiny one.”

Gritting my teeth, I fumbled for a healing potion from my bandolier. The cork popped free with a satisfying thunk, and I downed the contents in a single gulp. The tang of mango juice hit my tongue, and I felt the warm, soothing tingle as my VP bar began creeping back up. Clarity followed, sharpening my senses. Fear lingered at the edge of my mind, but something stronger was taking hold—a surge of adrenaline, a fire in my veins. This body of mine was ready to make some moves.

Heather was recovering too. She crouched low, her wide eyes fixed on me. Scared but resolute, she was playing weak, staying unnoticed for now. Smart.

Backstab Guy wasn’t doing as well. He lay sprawled on the ground, sobbing for his mother. The stench of shit and urine was already wafting from him. Not my proudest moment, but when in Murder World...

The other one though—he was the real problem. A hulking brute, towering and broad-shouldered, his glare locked onto me, and his lips curled up as he growled. Without a word, he reached for his belt and drew two wicked-looking hatchets, the blades gleaming.

“Not here to kill you, elf,” he rasped, his voice low and coarse like boots scraping over dry gravel. “Not here to kill anybody.”

He was tall and broad, maybe two-fifty, but his look screamed laborer, not soldier. No armor, just a stained leather apron over a tunic and pants. His greasy brown hair was slicked back, collar-length, and matched a short, tangled beard that framed his scowl. He looked like a damn carpenter.

“But I’ll break you into a dozen pieces if I have to,” he added with a sneer.

I sized him up, my thoughts drifting to the orcs I’d fought before. He wasn’t as big as an orc, and judging by his stance, he was not much smarter either. If I could keep him moving and wear him down, I’d have the advantage. Yeah, that sounded like a good roguish tactic.

I took two deep breaths—one to smother the rising panic, the other to shove away the fear—and summoned my second short sword and another dagger. I sprang to my feet, bouncing lightly, ready to dance.

He charged, one hatchet cocked back to strike, the other raised defensively. Clumsy. Predictable. I darted to his left, slashing with my blade as I moved. The edge bit into his thigh, a satisfying spray of blood following the arc.

“Gods!” he snarled, staggering slightly. I didn’t give him time to recover. I leaped to his right, slashing my dagger across his back as I moved past, feeling the resistance as it slid through his flesh. The notifications blinked in my peripheral vision but, thankfully, didn’t get in the way.

He grunted, spun faster than I expected, and swung the hatchet down in a vicious arc. I twisted at the last second, and the blade glanced off my chest armor, the impact sending me sprawling. I tumbled across the ground, and my breath was knocked out of me.

Before I could get to my feet, he was towering over me, hatchet raised again. This time, he flipped it to bring the blunt end crashing down toward my face. I rolled, dirt grinding into my side, and he stumbled as his weight shifted onto his wounded leg.

“I’m gonna like hurting you,” he growled, his voice dripping with malice. He stomped toward me as I rolled again, his movements uneven, each step a struggle to keep his balance. “Got a whole night to enjoy it too.”

I managed a quick tumble, landing back on my feet with surprising grace. Facing him again, I stole a glance at Heather. She was still on the ground, recovering from the blow that had sent me flying. Her wide eyes locked onto me paralyzed with fear. Move, Goddamn it! I wanted to yell, but I had no time.

Fighting someone with weapons wasn’t my usual game come to think of it, fighting wasn’t really my game. But still, his movements seemed basic enough. I think he relied on big and strong. He swung his hatchets wildly left, then right, then left again. He was strong and fast, but I was quicker, reacting on instinct. Metal clanged against metal as I parried each strike, but his relentless attacks drove me backward. I retreated carefully, keeping my footing, each step measured.

My dexterity was the only thing keeping me alive. I could almost sense where his next move would land before he even swung, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t gaining ground. I could feel it—I wasn’t winning.

Then his sluggish movements began to quicken, and dread coiled in my stomach as the truth hit me: he was healing himself. Every wound I’d inflicted was vanishing right before my eyes. All that effort, gone. Back to square one.

He let out a snort and lunged at me, his hatchet arcing down in the same predictable way. I parried the strike with ease and seized the opening, ramming my left shoulder into his armpit. With a sharp thrust, I drove my dagger deep into his side, feeling the blade bite through flesh. His scream of pain was guttural and raw, and I knew I’d hit something vital.

It was time to end this. I left the dagger buried in his side and gripped my short sword with both hands, raising it for a decisive blow aimed at his head.

But somehow, he spun around at the last second. I tried to get back behind him, but his hatchet came swinging toward my neck. Desperately, I moved to block with my sword, but he changed his swing mid-strike, slamming the blunt end into my hand instead.

Agony exploded through my fingers as they shattered under the force of the blow. It felt like being struck by a hammer. I cried out, my vision flashing red as the pain shot up my arm, threatening to consume me.

YOU HAVE SUFFERED BLUNT FORCE TRAMA TO THE RIGHT HAND AND FINGERS.

11 POINTS DAMAGE TO HAND AND FINGERS.

YOU HAVE SUFFERED CRITICAL DAMAGE TO THE RIGHT INDEX AND MIDDLE FINGERS.

It was excruciating, worse than anything I ever felt before. I lost the sword, broken fingers not great at holding things. I took to step back to regather, but he moved too fast, pressing his advantage. I kept my eyes on him, again, he swung the thing at me, blunt edge only. He really didn’t want to kill me. I thought. I didn’t really want to test the theory, though. The dagger in his side had fallen out, but I didn’t see where it was.

I was running out of options. The panic I had breathed away was coming back with each throbbing of my broken fingers. He kept swinging and swinging. I needed to heal, to get a potion in me, so I could pick up my weapon.

Out of nowhere, in the middle of one of his famously unoriginal attacks, he pivoted on his right foot and gave me a wicked kick in the chest. Hard. It wasn’t enough to really cause any damage, but I found myself knocked back against the pillar of stone at the side of the road.

He came down again with a hatchet. My head was rattled, and I stupidly tried to parry with my broken hand. This time, however, he twisted to the left and altered the swing, bringing the hatchet down on my open palm. The thing cleaved my hand in two, between my middle fingers and down to the wrist. Blood gushed. I screamed as he yanked the weapon out of my hand.

“You little shit.” He sneered, swinging his other hatchet broadside onto my temple. There was a crunch when he did that. It was not a crunch I ever wanted to hear again, and I could feel my right eye shift in its socket.

“Fucking Elves. I should fucking kill you.” He grabbed me by the front of the collar and yanked me, throwing me onto the road.

I bounced onto my chest; my left arm had rolled under me, and my mangled, destroyed hand in front. It was over. I could feel it. There was nothing but pain, and what happened to my head wasn’t good.

I could feel pressure behind my misshaped eye socket. It was swelling. Something was pushing the eye out…

I could only look at my bisected and demolished hand. Blood gushed onto the gravel as the world started to fade from my vision.

But then, it all stopped. Not the world, but the gushing. A feeling of warmth entered my body. A golden glow started pushing away the darkness. The edges of my decimated hand knitted themselves back together. My eye shifted, and the swelling reversed.

Within a second, my hand closed back up like a zipper. The fog of my mind started to clear. I looked up and saw Heather, still lying on her stomach, holding out her hand, which glowed with healing magic.

I was about to get up when a heavy boot slammed into the small of my back, knocking the wind out of me. My chin banged onto the hard-packed surface, rattling my teeth.

Carpenter guy quickly stepped over to Heather and kicked her hard in the face. There was the sound of a cracking bone, and she flopped over, unmoving.

I tried to get up, but my body was still in shock, not responding; the magic that was healing me had stopped. But my hand was as good as new, and my VP was close to the top. My head was still spinning, but I was back in it.

The dagger was just a couple of feet away, and I rolled to grab it.

“Oh, no, you fucking don’t.” He was on me in a flash, kicking me in the head with the same ferocity as he did Heather.

The image of his boot colliding with my face and the dagger just out of reach, lingered in my vision for what seemed an eternity, but slowly, blackness was all I could see.