“Attention, soldier!” Adarin thundered, using his best parade-ground voice. “We’re on a vital mission—retrieving reinforcements!”

  The sergeant frowned, his grip tightening on the haft of his pike. “Why would two outsiders run off in the middle of a battle if reinforcements were their only objective?”

  Adarin cursed internally. Fucking hell.

  But then Liora stepped forward.

  “Sergeant!” she snapped, brandishing her bronze heart medallion. “Do you doubt the word of a priestess of the Holy Mother Ishna?”

  Her voice rang with righteous fire. “We’re on our way to our allies. I swear by the Goddess.”

  Adarin grinned. Well, technically she's telling the truth.

  The sergeant squinted at her. “Then why are you wearing the robes of the Order, Priestess?”

  Liora’s spine straightened. Her jaw set. “Because I was captured by the enemy. My robes were torn and covered in blood. The Order rescued me and gave me clothing. Would you prefer I wander the battlefield half-naked, Sergeant?”

  The man blinked—and blushed, just a little. “N-no, ma’am.”

  His grip tightened on the pike instead of loosening. Sweat beaded on his brow. “Then prove it. Swear again—in the Mother’s name.”

  Liora’s chin lifted. “By the Mother’s light, I swear.” Her voice cracked like a whip.

  That did it. The sergeant groaned and finally lowered the weapon. “Go then. But if you lied, priestess—may the One have mercy on you.”

  Adarin pulled at her arm. “Sergeant, every second counts.”

  She echoed him, sharp as a blade. “Every second costs your men’s lives. Are you really going to stop us?”

  The sergeant sighed. “No… no. Go. I’ll report that reinforcements are coming.”

  Fuck, Adarin hissed in the privacy of his mind.

  And then they were gone—free again, back in the ruined streets of Northgard. They ran.

  Adarin guided them roughly southward, toward where he remembered the city’s edge being. He mentally recalled the map from earlier, guiding Liora through the alleys. If I’m right… that tower should be… yes—and now this street—

  The sounds of battle faded behind them. Liora panted beside him, but kept pace. Adarin surged ahead, his thoughts already shifting—already sketching blueprints in his head for the next wooden spider.

  Suddenly, Liora stopped. Panting hard, she bent over, hands on her knees. Then she slumped back against a ruined wall, chest heaving.

  “You have to keep moving,” Adarin hissed, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

  But she shook her head—eyes blazing with fury.

  “What did you do back there?” she snapped. “You started a fight! You started a battle!”

  Her voice was a mix of disbelief and outrage. Adarin forced down a snarl. Debate, here of all places, with arrows ready to fall. The timing could kill them both. He shrugged with one of his manipulators and extended a root whip toward her wrist.

  “What I did,” he said coldly, “was save our lives. We’re a prize. Don’t you understand that?”

  Her gaze sharpened as her lip formed into a pout. But she remained silent.

  “We need to get out. We need to—”

  “To get to Rüdiger?” she spat, cutting him off. “He sold us out to that black goblin shaman! And you saw what happened back there!”

  She took a shuddering breath, then continued, voice rising:

  “I don’t trust that man. I would’ve preferred to stay with the Olivists. But you—”

  Her voice cracked toward hysteria.

  “You turned them into tools,” she whispered, horrified. “Not enemies. Not even men. Just tools for your escape. That’s what terrifies me, Adarin. Not the killing—the ease with which you chose it.”

  Adarin waved a manipulator like a windshield wiper. Dismissive. “They were combatants in a war. Legitimate targets. By the rules of my world, the attack was justified.”

  He smirked inwardly. And let’s be honest—given how the system treats us? Shoot on sight. Pretty much anything is fair game. Even under normal ROE…

  He paused. Considered. Then nodded.

  “I acted because hesitation meant death,” he said flatly. “Call it evil if you want. But if we’re to survive this war, our morals have to keep us alive—not drag us into graves.”

  Liora merely sniffed and glared at him. Adarin held himself still—but groaned inside. The silent treatment. Wonderful. I’ve pissed her off, and now it’s the silent treatment. Utterly predictable.

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

  He let the root whip retract, watching her tremble. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, her fists clenched so hard her nails drew blood. Rage and grief shook her whole frame—yet she wouldn’t speak to him.

  “Liora.”

  No reaction.

  “Liora.”

  Still nothing—but now there were sobs. Low and shuddering.

  He stretched out a manipulator and gently tapped her leg.

  She flinched.

  “What?” she hissed.

  “Use your healing spell. You’re drained. Exhausted.”

  She looked at him for a long, conflicted moment.

  Then she finally drew her knife with shaking hands and sliced her palm. Blood welled, then spread in glowing rivulets over her veins. Rainbow scales rippled faintly across her skin as her breathing steadied. Her shoulders relaxed, the tremor in her hands fading. For a heartbeat, she almost looked whole again.

  A faint smile touched her lips—gone just as quickly. Adarin allowed himself a breath. Okay. Emotional state stabilized—for now. Next problem: How do I make sure she doesn’t bolt?

  He watched her carefully.

  “What Rüdiger did,” he began slowly, “I understand it. That’s a conversation we’ll have with him. But… he knows things. About me.”

  He hesitated. “And hasn’t he helped us before? Sure, he’s strange—”

  Liora cut him off. “He fed us to wolves,” she spat, voice breaking. “I saw it in the shaman’s eyes—Rüdiger handed us over like bargaining chips. And you still defend him?”

  Adarin nodded—and then remembered to mirror the motion with his spider body. “Yes, he did. But for a reason. He preserved the lives of his troops. Any warrior should be willing to die if it guarantees a victory.”

  He paused. “And we didn’t die. We ended up in a… problematic situation.”

  “Problematic?” Liora snapped. “We were captured. Who knows what they would’ve done to us?”

  She stepped closer, voice trembling now. “How are you so calm about this? I would’ve been fine. But you—they wanted to burn you.”

  Adarin shrugged again—this time remembering to echo the motion in his wooden body. “Do you really think I can die that easily?”

  But then a chill ran through him.

  His mind flashed back to the goblin in the underground chamber, the diamond-tipped pickaxe, the way it gleamed with purpose. Maybe they do know how to kill me.

  He pushed the thought down and turned back to Liora. “So. What do you suggest we do now? The past has happened. There’s no use dwelling on it.”

  Liora’s shoulders slumped. Her expression softened, and she let out a long, steady breath. She pressed her palms against her tear-streaked face. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’d like to go back to the temple. But…”

  She looked down at her black necromancer robes. “If I show up like this—and Rüdiger… The Margrave hasn’t released me from his command. I might be branded a deserter.”

  Adarin nodded and pressed his lips together. Can I use that? Should I?

  He spoke carefully. “Maybe we should just… escape. From all of them.”

  Adarin pursed his lips and considered. If she stays with me, she’s a guide. And she’s got levels. That matters. This world’s built on system progression. Power. But then again—humans organize for a reason. Rüdiger’s support… no, I can’t give that up so easily.

  They talked for a while longer. Adarin offered options: flee into the wilderness, disappear into the city, vanish under new identities.

  Liora shot each down—sometimes with logic, sometimes with tears.

  And still, he kept trying.

  And still, she kept resisting.

  Over and over. The pattern repeated itself. It was like she didn’t want a way out. Eventually, Adarin’s patience began to fray. “So, girl, what do YOU suggest we do?” Adarin snapped—almost shouting the word you.

  He regretted it instantly. Liora flinched, shrinking back against the wall. Her eyes were wide, trembling with fear. Goddammit. I miss the emotional regulators. I’ve been so unstable lately.

  He caught himself. Looked at her again—this scared girl pressed to the crumbling stone, hugging her arms close.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just…”

  He shook himself like a wet dog.

  Liora gave him a thin, cautious smile. “Exhausting,” she said quietly. “So much has happened today.”

  “Yes,” Adarin sighed. “But really—what do you suggest?”

  She looked away, up toward the darkening sky. Evening was creeping in, fast.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “All our options are…” She hesitated. “Unpleasant. Maybe… maybe we just have to pick the least bad one.”

  A ripple of cold air stirred the alley. The faint clack of a cane on stone echoed—out of step with their own movements. Then came the voice, smooth and amused, sliding into the silence like a knife. “That is my cue to enter, I believe.”

  Both of them flinched.

  Adarin’s stomach turned to lead. No. No no no.

  They knew that voice.

  Liora scrambled to her feet, panicked. She looked ready to run—but Adarin snapped a root whip to her wrist, yanking her back just in time.

  She yelped as he caught her, steadying her with his wooden arms.

  They both looked down the alley.

  Skull-embroidered trench coat. Feathered head. Stupid grin.

  Rüdiger von Erlenwald.

  Surprisingly, Liora composed herself fast. She bowed stiffly. “Honored Margrave… you promised to release me from your service once—once…” She sniffled. Steeled herself. “Once the battle was over. I’ve fulfilled your conditions.”

  Rüdiger tsked. “Well. Making an argument for why you should come with me would be a waste of time. You’ve spent the last hour doing it for me.”

  How long has he been listening? Fuck. Is there anything he doesn’t know?

  Adarin glanced at the man’s tattoo.

  Level 27 [E]

  Class: Economist, Arch-Necromancer,

  He’s already grown stronger. And yet…

  A cold pit stirred in Adarin’s gut.

  I need him. But if he’s truly insane—

  Before Adarin could speak, Rüdiger’s smile widened—stretching into something far too toothy.

  “It appears,” he said lightly, “you two have had quite the adventure.”

  He gave an exaggerated, sweeping bow in Adarin’s direction. “The most honored City Lord. A pleasure.”

  Liora stepped forward, spine straightening. “You betrayed us!” she snapped. “You sold us out—to the enemy! You—”

  Rüdiger silenced her with a lazy, slicing gesture through the air.

  “You should listen to Adarin,” he said, casual as a man discussing the weather. “He understands.”

  His tone turned colder. “There are sacrifices that must be made.”

  He gestured at both of them. Eyes glinting. Voice low and final.

  “This world rots,” Rüdiger said softly, the grin never leaving his face. His coat snapped in the wind, silver skulls glinting like mocking faces. “It must be broken—burned—and rebuilt. And you…”

  His eyes gleamed like coals.

  “You will light the match.”

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