The goblin shaman didn't run this time.

  My breath hitched, a jagged, sobbing sound that echoed against the cold stone walls.

  I thought I had it.

  I thought it was a coward.

  But as I took that final step, the shaman's watery eyes turned a sickly, glowing green.

  It raised its bone staff high, and suddenly, a burning mist wrapped around its body like a swarm of angry emerald hornets.

  I watched, paralyzed by a fresh wave of terror, as its spindly muscles began to swell and ripple.

  Its hunched back straightened with a series of sickening cracks.

  It didn't need the staff anymore.

  It hissed, throwing the wood aside, and pulled a jagged, bck-metal dagger from the folds of its filthy robes.

  Its posture was different now, sharp and predatory, like a wolf pretending to be a bug.

  This wasn't a curse meant for me. It was a spell for itself.

  My heart sank into my stomach.

  "Frans..." I whimpered, but my brother was busy with the regenerating mountain of the troll.

  Then, the shaman vanished.

  No, it didn't disappear.

  It just moved faster than my seven-year-old eyes could follow.

  Pain exploded across my ribs before I could even blink.

  I didn't see the bde, I only felt the hot, wet sting of it.

  I stumbled back, gasping, and threw my shield up just as a second strike arrived.

  CLANG!

  The force nearly broke my arm.

  Something hit the metal and bounced away, cttering on the floor.

  The shaman ughed a high, wheezing sound that made my skin crawl.

  It pulled another dagger from its robe.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  It was a walking pincushion of hidden weapons.

  "Damn it…" I choked out, the copper taste of fear filling my mouth.

  It rushed again.

  A low attack aimed at my ankles, I dropped my shield to block, but it was a feint!

  Suddenly, the creature was leaping, striking from above.

  I managed to catch the bde on my rim, but a second knife fshed out, slicing a hot line across my cheek. Then another scraped my neck.

  It was too close. Way too close. I could smell its rotten breath, see the yellow gunk in its eyes.

  In a fit of pure, blind panic, I saw a gap and stabbed forward.

  I missed.

  The shaman twisted away with a mocking cackle.

  I tried to chase it, my legs feeling like lead, but it counter-attacked instantly.

  It kicked my wounded knee with a strength that shouldn't have been in those thin legs.

  My joint buckled. I fell and rolled across the gritty stone and felt the cold air whistle as a bde sought my throat.

  I rolled again, my face scraping against the rock.

  A knife stabbed into the stone where my head had been a moment ago with a terrifying clink.

  I didn't think.

  I just reacted.

  I swung my shield upward with every ounce of strength I had, smming the ft of it into the creature's face.

  It flew back, but it didn't stay down.

  It stood up again, blood leaking from its nose, still smiling.

  Still fast.

  Still dangerous.

  My arms were so heavy I could barely lift them.

  My vision was shaking, the edges of the room turning fuzzy and dark.

  My body was screaming at me to stop, to just lie down and let it happen.

  But if I died, Frans was alone.

  I couldn't leave him.

  It charged again.

  Too fast.

  I barely saw the silver fsh, and it was already right in front of my throat.

  I leaned back so hard I almost fell, and I felt the wind of the bde cut the air where my neck had been.

  I panicked.

  I didn't care about honor or being a warrior anymore.

  I roared, a high, cracked sound, and threw my shield at its head.

  The shaman dodged, but the distraction was enough.

  I rushed forward, and we crashed together like two messy heaps of limbs.

  We fell.

  My sword cttered away into the darkness.

  The shaman tried to stab me, but its arm was tangled in my tunic.

  I punched it in the face.

  Once.

  Twice.

  The skin felt like wet parchment.

  Before I could punch a third time, it grabbed me, and we rolled over the bloody floor.

  It tried to stab me again, the bde inches from my eye.

  I grabbed its wrist, my small fingers digging into its bone.

  It screamed.

  I didn't care.

  I smashed my fist into its head.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  I don't remember when the knife fell.

  I don't remember when the shaman stopped moving.

  I just kept hitting it, my knuckles splitting, my heart a frantic, dying bird in my chest.

  I was sobbing, eyes squeezed shut, just hitting and hitting until my arm wouldn't lift anymore.

  Something grabbed my shoulder.

  I shrieked, filing, until a familiar voice cut through the fog.

  "Rick."

  "…Rick."

  "Good job. It's dead."

  I froze.

  I was breathing like a wild beast, my chest heaving, my hands shaking so hard they looked like they belonged to a stranger.

  I looked down.

  The goblin shaman's head was... crushed. It didn't look like a monster anymore.

  It just looked like a broken toy.

  Behind me, the troll y beheaded in a ke of its own bck blood.

  Its massive body was mutited by countless wounds where Frans had carved it down.

  My brother stood there, his armor spshed with gore, but his eyes were calm.

  "Here," Frans said. "Drink the potion. Apply the herb. Your wounds are severe."

  Only then did the world come rushing back.

  The stinging in my side, the burning in my leg, the throb in my cheek.

  At any other time, I would have felt proud.

  I would have wanted to brag about killing the "boss."

  But now?

  I only cared about not falling.

  While I drank the bitter potion and pressed the stinging herbs to my skin, Frans searched his bag.

  He took out the seal, the heavy, ancient token Uncle Gradios had saved for us.

  After I finished, we stood up, leaning on each other, and walked toward the opposite end of the chamber.

  There was another massive door there, and beside it, a stone pedestal.

  "That's the key," Frans said, his voice echoing in the hollow room.

  He looked at the door with complicated, sad eyes.

  "Father told me… this door was made to block the Krona Duchy from entering the Empire. The entrance we used is the opposite. Our cn made the Empire-side door keyless so we could guard it and let travelers through... but we kept the key to the Duchy on this side."

  He looked at me, a shadow crossing his face.

  "So, Rick… the key only exists on one side. Once we go through, we lock the door behind us."

  We walked toward the pedestal, hope finally beginning to bloom in my chest.

  We were almost safe.

  We were almost…

  GROOOOM.

  The sound was like a thundercp.

  We froze.

  The entrance door, the one we had just come through, was opening.

  "…Oh? What a cool mechanism," a man's voice said, sounding zy and bored, as if he were just strolling through a garden. "Too bad only the two of us survived."

  A man stepped inside.

  My blood turned to ice.

  He was holding a severed hand, a guard's hand, using it to trigger the mana sensor on the door.

  He had short, tidy hair and heavy armor with a rge Starheim emblem engraved on his chest.

  I knew him.

  He had visited our vilge once.

  Usually, Father would drive the Empire's men away with shouts and insults, but this man... Father had let him go politely.

  When I had asked why, Father only said: "He's an Empire captain. Annoying to deal with. A little strong, and he has too many friends."

  Another voice ughed, high and sharp.

  "Oh? No sympathy at all, Captain? You just lost your strongest squad and a vice-commander, you know?"

  A woman with short hair stepped in behind him.

  A snake tattoo coiled around her head, looking like it was moving in the torchlight.

  She wore light armor and held a whip that hissed against the stone.

  A bow was slung over her back, and many knives glinted at her waist.

  Frans's voice was a terrified whisper.

  "…Damn it. The Starheim Captain… and the Vice Leader of Blends."

  The captain shrugged, stepping over the carcass of the troll.

  "Well, if we catch Frans alive and sell all the Avenir eyes we've collected… I can repce those weak knights with better ones."

  He turned to the woman, grinning as if they were sharing a joke.

  "Maybe you want to become a knight, Selena?"

  She ughed, a cold, tinkling sound.

  "Well, if the pay is good, why not?"

  The two of them ughed together, standing amidst the bodies of our kin and the monsters we had fought.

  They weren't even looking at us like we were people.

  They were talking about selling our eyes, our organs, piece by piece.

  I gripped my sword, but my knees were shaking so hard I could barely stand.

  The "monsters in human form" had arrived.