Ten horsemen charged off the road, heading into a dark grove in pursuit of Soul Viper, leaving Roberto with over a dozen armed personnel surrounding the cart.

  A horseman casually dismounted, strolled up to the cart and pulled me out by my legs. My back hit the ground as I stared up at the level five, my supposed executioner.

  As he unsheathed his sword, I broke my silence with the hopes of sparking a civil discussion. "Wait, your organization wants the chaos shard, right? I'll gladly sign over the rights for safe passage to Ingcaster."

  The infantryman simply glanced at Roberto, who dismissed my once in a lifetime offer with the flutter of his hand. Without hesitation, the executioner swung his blade down.

  I blocked the strike with my right forearm. Iron sliced through my vambraces and flesh, but ricocheted off the bone, sending a jarring shockwave through my assailant's arm like he had struck a steel post with a metal baseball bat. With his sword faltering, I leaned up, grabbed a hold of his arms, and pulled him to the ground.

  He squirmed on top of me, wrestling for control. I relented, dropping my hands at my side, allowing the armored tips of his gauntlets to press into my windpipe out of sheer curiosity. How durable had I become with a second point in Resilience?

  I prepared for a suffocating squeeze as his grip tightened. Instead I was greeted with a flaccid strangulation attempt. Our eyes met and we exchanged a simple non-verbal contract.

  Strangle me or die.

  Fear trickled into his gaze as he put his back into it, pushing his knees into my chest for leverage, clamping down on my throat with all of his might, upgrading his grip to that of a weak handshake.

  A sliver of empathy flickered through my mind. After all, it sure was an embarrassing spectacle. His comrades had formed a circle around us, idly standing by on their mounts, dumbfounded by his struggle to finish off a cripple that wasn't fighting back.

  Fingers cramping, he reached peak desperation and then his limit. His grip surrendered as he turned his head to call for help.

  I clapped my hands together, crushing his helmet inward like a tin can. Blood pulsed out through the slits in his visor, body gone limp. I flung his corpse aside and tried pushing myself to my feet only to fall back down.

  "Have you reconsidered my offer?" I asked in good faith, completely serious about avoiding more bloodshed. "I promise, killing me is more trouble than it's worth. Soul Viper's on their third attempt. Speaking of which, I doubt those men you sent after them are coming back."

  "A cripple and a liar? Our orders are simple and negotiations are beyond my purview." Roberto scoffed. "Sentinel Infantry Unit, kill him without mangling his face."

  The circle of horsemen descended. Pointed lances rained down from above, pricking my back and arms as I protected my head. Despite their weapons tearing through my armor, they failed to inflict more than superficial scratches on my skin.

  Their barrage continued, and although it was annoying being poked and prodded by a blitz of cold lance tips, it was hardly life threatening. So, I took the time to brainstorm a new plan. Originally, I wanted them to escort me back to Ingcaster, but clearly that wasn't happening.

  I considered using Dagger Step followed up with Invisibility to flee this angry knitting circle. But without my legs or a mobility scooter, I wouldn't get far. Plus with each additional hit, they were chipping away at my generous self-restraint.

  Shadow Weave would've made short work of them. But without legs to stand on my line of sight was ground bound, leaving too much room for error and potential witnesses. No, Shadow Weave was a messy last resort and for once, I didn't want to kill them, well not all of them at least.

  I wanted to use them as meat shields until we got to Ingcaster. Then I'd break the bad news to Eamon about Xodoven's likely death and the loss of the dungeon key. Maybe afterwards I'd fake my own death. Living as a noble adventurer fucking sucked. A clean start in the shadows was exactly what I needed. I operated the best as a lone wolf.

  What about Viessa?

  She's dead.

  What if she's captured?

  The cursed elf derailed my train of thought.

  "Enough already, there's no need to make a mess," Roberto called out as he oversaw my supposed execution in a ditch from his comfy spot up on the road.

  "He won't die," a horseman yelled as he concentrated his soul into a single thunderous strike.

  It had no effect.

  "Gods damn those merchants! One of them must have cast a defensive spell on him," another attacker said.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The circle of horsemen pressed their lances into my back, pinning me to the ground while a bounty hunter dismounted and approached my body. Metal hissed as his blade slid free from its snug leather holster. I listened to the gentle rustling of dirt as he scuffled closer.

  As the blade whistled through the air, I pushed myself up, bucking the lances from my back. The sword's edge struck the ground at my side. I latched onto his arms, using his body as a crutch to pull myself up. However, my lower half being dead weight caused the awkward maneuver to result in us both toppling to the ground in a tangled mess.

  "Help, someone get him off me!" the level four shouted.

  "I just want to talk!" I yelled as I grappled him into a headlock, using his body as a shield from the lances.

  "Sentinel Mage Unit Operation Manager Number One, do something about this," Roberto said, unimpressed by his unit's struggle to kill the temporary paraplegic.

  The downpour of lance strikes ceased and the circle of horsemen dispersed, retreating from the ditch. They re-positioned themselves behind Gladys, who took to the front line, towering over me from the road's edge.

  The level four urgently squirmed in my grasp, tapping on my arm. I loosened my grip and he choked out, "Please let me go, we'll both die!"

  Gladys raised her staff overhead, looked to the sky, and inhaled a deep breath. "Cyclone Piercer," she screamed loud enough to beckon the gods.

  A gentle breeze swept down from the road, bending the grass as it concentrated around us, whirling before it shot into the sky.

  The breeze turned into a pressurized gust, picking up dust and debris, wicking moisture from the grass. A narrow cyclone formed in the sky, parting the clouds overhead. Raindrops spritzed the area, the horses bucking wildly as the air howled and swirled.

  Gladys swung her staff down and the cyclone mirrored her action. It whisked through the parted sky, moonlight concentrated on me like a spotlight.

  Abyssal Veil.

  The cyclone's intensely pressurized tip spiraled down in a flash. Sharp air tore through the level four in my arms, drilling through his chest as the spiralized wind headed for my heart.

  A freshly blended smoothie of flesh, blood, and bone splattered the area. Yet, when the cyclone's drill tip reached my body, the pressure dissipated, leaving me unharmed, but facing a steep dry cleaning bill.

  "He's dead." Gladys lowered her staff, panting hard as she reached for her canteen.

  Roberto nodded and signaled once more for a horseman to collect my body. A level four came trotting down, and I sat up once more, wiping blood from my eyes.

  I took a knee, bracing myself as I concentrated on activating my leg muscles. Gladys sprayed water from her mouth, eyes bulging as she saw me stand up on two shaky feet.

  "Archers, finish him, quickly!" Roberto yelled with the high-pitch of worry bleeding into his command.

  Yet, his troops were disconnected, sitting on their mounts stunned by my survival.

  "I wonder what happened to the troops you sent chasing after Soul Viper," I said and took a step forward. "You could probably use them about now."

  "Sentinel Infantry Unit Archer Division, fire," Roberto said.

  Finally, they unleashed a hail of arrows in my direction. I swiped a projectile out of my face, while the rest pelted my body but failed to stick. It was like they were shooting me with paintballs.

  Roberto backed up on his steed and said, "Everyone kill him now!"

  I stuck out my left leg and shook it, casting away the last remnants of numbness as the horsemen charged forth. A lance came flying at my forehead, but I caught its shaft, and pulled the wielder down from his steed.

  He hit the ground and I stomped on his throat, lackadaisically swaying through a gauntlet of attacks. They were too slow and weak. Armed with a lance, I began swatting them from their mounts.

  Less than a minute later, I had dismounted each cavalryman with a boring series of pokes, one by one, until they were all writhing on the ground, their horses fleeing into the wilderness.

  Only Gladys and Roberto remained, watching in horror as I walked from soldier to soldier, nonchalantly ending their lives with a precise lance thrust to their necks, as if I was working an euthanasia assembly line.

  +720 XP

  +140 Karma

  "Sentinel, huh?" I said. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

  Neither of them answered my question. "Good for you, not bending to my will in spite of seeing your comrades slaughtered. If it was any other night, you'd already be joining your men in hell for being so stubborn."

  I rubbed my chin, pacing back and forth, overjoyed by the simple pleasure of stretching my legs. I held up a single finger. "One more chance, it's all you get. Understand?"

  Roberto looked at Gladys like he was hoping for her to perform the magic ass-pull of the century, but she quickly dismissed his notion with the shake of her head.

  "How did you know of my whereabouts?"

  "The details were published in this morning's Ingcaster Bulletin," Roberto said. "You won't make it far. Everyone interested in the chaos shard and the bounty has cast their die. Countless groups have already arrived in Waystone with the aim of hunting you down."

  Published this morning? How was that possible?

  "Specifically, what did the newsletter say?" I asked.

  Roberto cautiously reached into his saddle bag, retrieved a folded newspaper and tossed it over.

  The newspaper consisted of 10 pages, filled with headlines regarding the upcoming coronation of Aclana's new king and several opinion pieces praising the Sawara faction's political maneuvers.

  "Page three and four," Roberto said.

  It was impossible to miss the massive headline that spanned across two pages.

  Ticket to Riches: A 1000 Gold Bounty

  Beneath the obnoxious headline was a detailed black and white illustration of my face accompanied with a physical description. I skimmed through the article, disturbed by the section detailing my known whereabouts.

  It mentioned how I was last seen in Waystone, but also included the coordinates to my shack, and how I could be en route to Ingcaster. The rest of page four delved into the bounty, which required my head be delivered to a coordinate in Oarwin.

  That scheming little shit.

  Besides Justice and myself, Chaos was the only one who knew about the shack. Was he somehow inside of my head? I hadn't even decided on going there until after the paper had already been published.

  Why go this far, Chaos?

  "Give me your horse," I said.

  Roberto turned to Gladys, but I interjected. "I want your horse, not hers."

  The Sentinel Prime Something or Whatever, dismounted, rightfully disgraced. He flinched as I walked past him and climbed onto the steed.

  "I suggest you start running. Soul Viper won't be happy when they get back and I'm gone."

  I spurred the horse into action, cursing my impulsiveness, driven by an illogical urge to undo a history that had already been written.