Pain.

A negative feeling that is employed to alert the mind that something is causing harm to one’s body.

Why is such a feeling coming from my stomach?

Ah. There’s also a feeling of cold, like that of a piece of smooth metal brushing against the skin. The combination of both tactile sensations can only mean one thing:

I’ve been stabbed.

Time began to slow as I opened my eyes and observed my surroundings.

Before me, there stands a stubby, dwarf-like man with a bushy beard that holds an artisanally crafted scimitar in his right hand, a shield in his left, and has thick leather armor cloaking the rest of his body.

From the look in the man’s eyes, I can most likely assume that the stabbing was intentional.

In my left hand, I am holding a wooden crossbow that is loaded with a single metal-tipped bolt and ready to fire; however, the crossbow is rather heavy and would be hard to move at a moments notice. Protecting my body is a simple leather armor that barely covers my vitals and has openings in places such as where I had been stabbed in the stomach, around my hands are a pair of leather crossbow handling gloves, and covering the rest of my skin is a set of simple medieval-like peasant clothes made of some sort of crude cotton fabric.

Next, surrounding me is a vast plain filled with a miasma seasoned with the scent of blood, ashes, and decay. Scattered distantly about to my left are combatting groups of more dwarf men fancy weaponry and humans, like myself, armed with crossbows. The crossbowmen all seem to be in a frenzied panic while running away whereas the dwarves are marching steadily onwards in an organized formation towards their fleeing prey.

How the hell did I get here?

If I were to recall what I was doing before I got here…

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Shit. I don’t remember anything.

I literally can’t recall any memories whatsoever.

How is this possible? Amnesia? No, people who undergo amnesia usually lose portions of their personality and the ability to logically deduce things. I know for a fact that neither of those things have occurred to me from the sheer fact that I am capable of reason and still have the twisted personality I recall from a past I cannot remember.

Although, I probably shouldn’t be trying to find the reason for my memory loss at this very moment. The dwarf man likely plans on stabbing me with his sword a second time if I don’t do something and freezing time in my mind is starting to give me a headache.

I need to come up with a plan now.

First, I have a heavy crossbow in my hand and a scimitar stabbed into my stomach. I can likely assume that as soon as I let time resume normally, the sword will be extracted as ruthlessly and quickly as possible in order to continue stabbing or slashing. My only hope for fighting back will be shooting the dwarf man with the bolt - preferably in the head - before proceeding to run away.

Second, seeing the way that I have it aimed right now, the closest thing I can shoot with this crossbow is the dwarf’s foot. Although a bolt to the foot is surely not a pleasant experience, I should assume that the dwarf is a veteran warrior and his mental fortitude is close to my own. If I want certain results, I need to find a way to aim the crossbow closer to the upper chest or head to get the most effectiveness from one shot.

Third and finally, we are rather far away from anyone else for some strange reason. It is highly likely that I - or whoever was in control of me before I got stabbed - was trying to escape from the enemy advance and got caught by this dwarf before I could escape. Trusting my intuition, there is likely something in this direction that should enable my safety or at least somewhere to escape to if I was headed this way.

Now, my gameplan is ready.

The world around is now accelerating back to normal flow and the stress on my mind is lessening. As I regain control over my limbs from frozen time, I begin to clasp the gloved fingers of my right hand around the blade pierced through my stomach.

Mr. Dwarf Man, please be a good person and kick softly, won’t y-

*PAHCK!*

Ahh… damn. That really does hurt. Who knew that being kicked in the stomach would hurt so much? From a short man, more so.

There isn’t much time to focus on the pain; quickly now, body! Raise the crossbow!

Fire!

…

Well, shit. I missed.

What do I do now?

Well, I suppose I don’t have anything to regret since I don’t have any memories in the first place.

I suppose I can only hope that I go out swiftly.

Ah, good. It looks like the dwarf man is aiming for my neck.

Farewell, cruel world. I suppose that it is my time to leave.