As I regained consciousness, confusion clouded my mind until I attempted to move. A sharp pain flared in my pelvis with the slightest shift, snapping me back to reality. Glancing down, I noticed blood caked on my face and arms. It was clear I had obviously suffered considerable injuries and, although much of the damage had begun to heal, the lingering pain was a stark reminder that my recovery was far from complete.

  Each time I woke from unconsciousness, the thought grew more troubling. These repeated blows to the head could lead to long-term damage, like the old-time boxers who, after too many fights, found even simple conversations a struggle. The lingering ache suggested my body still needed more time to recover.

  It was then that I realized I was no longer above ground. Darkness enveloped me, broken only by a sliver of light seeping through a small opening in the cave ceiling. My body ached with a dull, throbbing pain, and I soon understood that I had been hurled down into one of the fissures. The jagged walls and the wagon's own weight had inflicted serious injuries, causing me to lose consciousness.

  As my focus began to return, a mixture of voices reached my ears. I turned toward the noise, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. Between the speakers and me lay dozens. No, hundreds of identical daggers. They were uniform, as if they had been mass-produced. Why would the Dwarves need so many of the same weapons? I guessed they were smaller, and the blades might be useful, but there were more knives than Dwarves.

  When my eyes caught sight of the source of the sounds, I saw one person moaning while the other was yelling. When I shifted my gaze toward them, the shouting one noticed me.

  “I thought you were dead. Well, you will be soon enough. When my men get down here, they will heal me, and we will have our fun with you,” the man said, leaning on the wall while sitting.

  He didn’t look well, but it seemed he ignored the pain. His fibula and tibia were sticking through the skin on his knee. He had blood on one side of his body, but I couldn’t tell what else was damaged. He wasn’t going to be able to chase me anytime soon.

  It was odd how he was talking. It was as if something was off, but I didn’t know what. He had a slow drawl, and it was annoying to wait for each word to come out. As if sensing my thoughts, Rabbit interjected, “Remember, your Time Spell is now at 11%.”

  He was right. With the damage to my head, I thought it might just be me. Speech had seemed strange before when the spell was active, but I couldn’t tell if it was the spell or just how he usually talked, since I had never heard him speak before.

  “Is there anything you can do to speed it up?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Rabbit replied. “However, I would suggest you get used to it now. As we often talk, this would give you more time to think. You could use all the advantages you can get. I mean, you are a couple of apples short of a bunch.”

  While I disagreed with the last statement, he was right. It may be a little annoying, but it was smarter to get used to it rather than have Rabbit adjust it. “Agreed.” I finally said to myself and focused back on the others.

  I looked at the other man, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Unlike the first person, he didn’t have any visible injuries or broken bones, yet he was huddled up as if in unbearable pain. Strangely, not a single drop of blood stained his clothes, but his face was twisted in agony. He was slowly moaning until he saw me, then his eyes widened with terror, and he went silent, as if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

  When I rose to my feet, I could see the surprise in the heavily injured man’s eyes, yet his defiance remained unchanged. Standing sent waves of pain through my body, and the agony intensified when I put weight on my right side. Struggling to maintain my balance, I limped over to a large rock and clung to it for support, my breath coming in short gasps as I tried to manage the pain.

  “Come over here, and I’ll finish you myself,” the first man challenged and drew his sword. Even though he couldn’t stand, he could easily move his arm around. I doubted he would be any good defending himself on the floor, but at least his attitude might make an enemy think twice about attacking him. Especially one as injured as me.

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  “Who are you?” I searched for answers on what to do next. As a rule, I only wanted to kill if it was necessary. This man lying before me was helpless, and I didn’t want to start murdering people because it seemed convenient. I didn’t have any beef with the soldiers in the army. If there were any way to make peace, I would. But I wouldn’t allow the Dwarves’ freedom to be taken.

  “I am a First Lieutenant in the Union’s great army. I am in charge of this group, and they will come for me, so you'd better beg for mercy. Once the Union gets you, you and everyone you have ever loved will be killed in the most unseemly ways,” the man threatened with an evil monologue that was reminiscent of my world. He was laying it on thick, but I assumed he was used to people fearing the Union and getting everything through intimidation. In my opinion, persuasion would have been more effective, but some people didn’t share that view.

  “Is there any way we can just call this even?” I asked, hoping he would see reason, as I was at a clear advantage.

  “No. The Union is justice,” he declared as if he had memorized those words and wasn’t thinking for himself. “If you surrender, I will give my word you will have a swift death, but we are at a standstill here. If you attack me, you may kill me, but you are likely to be injured yourself. I know where to cut to guarantee a slow death.”

  I raised an eyebrow at the man’s threat, noting that he could only strike me on my legs. His words seemed like nothing more than empty bluster to me. While he might be able to inflict some pain, I doubted he could cause any lasting damage. He clearly didn’t know about my healing ability or my dimensional bag, which gave me a considerable advantage. Despite his bravado, he appeared nervous at the prospect of me getting too close.

  I put my hand into my dimensional bag and started to pull. A bow wasn’t something that could easily fit through the opening, but when it was disassembled, it was easy. To the onlookers, this must have seemed like an odd magic trick. I was pulling a long piece of wood out of my bag that had a string attached to the bottom.

  It was comical when I saw the thought process as he slowly realized what was happening. As he realized what it was, the man’s eyes bulged in panic. “Wait, we can figure something out,” the man pleaded, but it was too late. He told me his true intentions. If he got an even footing with me, he would try to kill me. He made it clear that he was a hammer and would knock down any perceived nails.

  I bent over on my bow, even though it was excruciatingly painful, but I was able to get the string into the notch and complete it. I pulled back an arrow from my quiver, pointed it at him, and released it. He swung the sword at the projectile, but it didn’t connect. The arrow passed by him and merely grazed his right shoulder.

  Man, I really sucked at shooting.

  In my defense, my leg still hurt, and I wasn’t standing perfectly. Yet I was extremely close, and no one should be missing at that range. Luckily for me, I had more arrows.

  Initially, it appeared as though the person believed I had intentionally missed the first shot, given how close I was. His eyes conveyed a sense of relief, as if he had been granted a reprieve. However, that relief soon turned to panic when he noticed me drawing another arrow.

  With a smooth pull and release, the arrow found its mark in the man’s chest, piercing through a hole in his armor created by his earlier fall. I had anticipated a swift kill, but to my surprise, the man let out a piercing scream of agony and clutched at the arrow shaft. He seemed smart enough not to move the arrow, but even with his existing injuries, he could not ignore this new source of pain.

  Taking the man down wasn’t a swift process. It required me to sink five more arrows before he finally succumbed, his body slumping to the ground. With every shot I fired, two more bounced off his armor harmlessly, prolonging his suffering. The drawn-out killing drained me emotionally, each hit taking its toll on both his strength and his life force.

  By the time I fired the final arrow, the man was barely able to emit a sound, his eyes fixated on me with terror. The cumbersome armor he wore meant that each hit had to land on a vulnerable spot, which only added to the slow, torturous process. Watching him die so gradually at such close proximity was a harrowing experience, one that left me feeling more like a murderer than a soldier at war. A sword would have ended things much more quickly, and at least that would have been a merciful act, but I didn’t have confidence in a sword fight with him, even with him so injured.

  It was a moment of gruesome triumph as the man finally fell motionless, his life slipping away from him. With measured steps, I approached his limp body and knelt beside him. I placed my hand on his arm as I activated my soul absorption, drawing the last remnants of his life force into my grasp.

  It was a strange sensation, a mix of satisfaction and revulsion as I watched his blood seep into the ground, and the wounds on my own body slowly began to heal. The energy coursing through me was palpable, and I couldn’t help but revel in the power of my own abilities. The man’s pain was now mine to bear, but it was a small price to pay for the strength it granted me.