“Why is he running away? Doesn’t it just make him suffer more?” asked a crisp feminine voice.

  “If you see a mythical beast charging at you, would you run or stay?” This time, it was a male with a croaky voice answering.

  “Run, obviously. I don’t want to die.”

  “See. That’s the same reason why that guy is running.”

  “You mean I am as strong as a mythical beast?”

  “I mean you scare the heck out of him with your arrows.”

  “But I don’t want to kill him?”

  “How would he know that? Oh yeah, now he knows, but he is still fleeing.”

  “What a waste of time.”

  Zalanir was baffled at the conversation of the two who were on his tail to the point where he considered stopping to ask for the reason for the attack. The woman said that she didn’t want to kill him, could he hold her accountable for that?

  He had been running for a while now, and it was obvious that those two were playing with him. The cloth on his left thigh had slid down from all the running already, and the two scratches had also returned to exuding blood.

  But that wasn’t even the most egregious wound. It was the one behind that had numbed half of his back around the area already. He had no way of seeing it, but with the arrow still there, the more he ran, he had no doubt the more serious it would become.

  Another one of such an arrow pinned the tree on his left, its fletching shaking from the impact.

  Sighing to himself for being useless, Zalanir stopped and turned back. He could still run a bit more, but to where? It could only worsen the open scratches on his leg, and he needed treatment soon for the arrow on the back. A hysterical laugh from the pursuing woman drew out his goosebumps.

  Then, Zalanir dropped to his knees. Calm down. This isn’t the time to act tough. This could save him, right?

  He stretched his head forward and opened his eyes wide at the ridiculousness. His pursuers emerged from behind a tree, and he didn’t know how to act at the first sight of the residences of this world.

  On the left stood a woman holding on to a normal bow in her hand, who also had ears as big as a dog and planted on top of the head instead of to the sides. Her companion was no different with his over-sized arms full of black fur and claws in the place of the supposedly fingernails.

  Were they human? This was a fantasy world, but still, he didn’t expect these freaks. He had hoped to find people in this forest to figure out what this world was, but not ones who shot him arrows, and definitely not beast humans.

  “First time seeing those clothes. Where do you find them?” the man asked.

  “Ahhh … I am lost in this forest. My friends are nearby,” Zalanir bluffed. There was no way he could tell them that he got isekaied here.

  “Lead us to them. I will let you go if you do.” The woman smiled. If she didn’t have the bow in her hand, perhaps Zalanir would’ve bought in that obvious lie. Didn’t look like having a pseudo group backing him up would mean anything in this situation.

  “I … don’t know where.”

  “Why are you kneeing? Oh, those scratches? What a weakling!” the man sneered.

  “40 coins at best.” The woman turned her head to her accomplice.

  “I think 30. Haha, level 5 only? Just a bottom tier. I doubt they would pay higher for a weed.”

  Zalanir maintained his poker face. He had no idea how this world worked, so being called a weakling didn’t really mean much to him. Showing defiance now would mean provoking them, and he sure didn’t want that. The pricing, though. Why did they talk like he was goods on the shelves?

  Though a part of him was surprised that he was able to maintain this clear thinking. He had thought that he would be scared, but reality showed otherwise. Better remaining silent for now. At least it didn’t look like he would be killed.

  “Follow us, and don’t think of anything funny,” the woman turned to him again.

  Goosebumps crept onto his skin. To where? Their hideout, perhaps? He didn’t like the sound of this.

  The man with the over-sized arm dangled behind Zalanir’s back instead of going in the front with his accomplice. They were this cautious to a man who couldn’t even move? Then, sharp pain knocked him down when a piece of skin on his back was jerked out. It squeezed his back muscles and flared up its intensity as if he was having a shower in hot water after a surgery.

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  “Yours.” Zalanir was heaving for breath when an arrow did an arch above his head and landed on the woman’s hand.

  “Thanks.” She poked and rubbed the arrowhead on a patch of green grass and then put it back into her own hip quiver. “You, move. We don’t have all day for you to play with that tiny wound.” Her chin lifted up.

  “Tiny? I had a fucking arrow plucked out of my back without any preparation. You just rubbed the arrow to get rid of my flesh and blood there, didn’t you? MY OWN FLESH!”

  “And? Why the scream? You like to scream?” She came over and whacked Zalanir in the face with her bow, painting a line on his cheek.

  He spat out a mix of blood and phlegm, and then another one before he could stabilize himself. His throat swelled, like there was something stuck inside. Its interior was dried of saliva and any kind of wet substance. It hurt just inhaling for now.

  Fortunately, he had tilted his head in the last second so that the cut wasn’t that deep, but still, this was daylight torture. He pushed his hand and got up again, the ground cold and wet where he touched.

  No more defiance. Keep it to yourself. Learn how this world works first. He repeated this line inside his head. He had just convinced himself a moment earlier to show nothing and act subservient to avoid trouble, but that arrow pull had touched his nerve. Needed to be calmer.

  He said nothing more. What was there to say except bending for the time being? He would remember this, but this wasn’t the time. Let’s be an elastic ring that was stretchable. Better be a weed on the outside.

  “If your look could kill, haha. Try harder, boy. You will need it,” the woman said and led the way. A snicker made itself known behind Zalanir’s back.

  They brought him to a small base at the base of a yellowish hill filled with flowers and shrubs. A widespread pasture lay on the left, with gentle winds skidded across the landscape, occasionally fondling his skin. The grass wore a set of light yellow mixed with a splotch of black stones here and there. And wandering puppies. He counted eight of them in his vision, the same kinds with orange and silver fur that he had killed.

  His legs were moving better now, not sure if that was how this world worked, or that endorphins had kicked in during the walk that let him temporarily forget about pain. Hardly anything new, as he had experienced this sensation a lot by playing through the pain until he could no longer feel it during the match. Perhaps a bit of both.

  They passed over a large gray hut standing in the middle of the camp, its height was about the same as a normal school bus, but looked taller because of the beige dome sitting on top. Plain design on the outside, with a black curtain hanging loosely acting as the entrance. A boss place? Could be, as the design and its place inside the camp screamed such.

  The woman pushed him into an empty yard in the back and locked his hands to a wooden pillar. There were five other captives like him, locked inside their own empty areas, separated apart from each other by thin fences. Three beast humans sat on a table outside, playing and bickering among themselves.

  After an hour or so, according to his internal clock, the dog-eared woman returned with food. Looked to him like Silverfur Pooch’s meat, as the silver furs were mostly intact, though with the black color mixed in, coupled with the burning smell, he was glad that at least it was grilled.

  It was left hanging on a stick in the air, right in front of him, which sowed confusion in his head. He stared at the woman for two minutes, but she showed no sign of being bothered. What a bitch! Zalanir swore when the woman took out a thigh and gnawed it on the spot. Her eyes were clearly mocking and provoking him.

  Stretching to the front, he cursed the woman’s family, friends, health, and whatever appeared in his mind, while taking a bite at a time. Eating only using his mouth sucked. He chewed away the meat a piece at a time, like a rabbit nibbling its food. To his consolation, the food was actually decent, despite the disgust of having to chew even the furs.

  Not bad for his first meal in this world. He had considered this yesterday, but somehow, his stomach didn’t give any warning about being hungry. He wholeheartedly supported this notion, as he had no idea how to find food on his own. Perhaps food was a luxury dessert only, not a necessity?

  “Say … where do you plan to sell me to?” Zalanir took the chance. That woman was enjoying the food, so perhaps he would be able to get something.

  The woman stared at him for a brief moment. “A fighting pit.”

  Zalanir stopped the chewing. That … wasn’t good, was it? What would be the fighting pit version of this world? The raw and grim type full of gore, or the kind that offered acting and entertainment?

  He wasn’t weak by any means, as he did go to the gym twice per week and with all the sets playing day after day, but being a tennis player, he purposely avoided heavy lifting because what was needed in tennis wasn’t mass muscle, but agility, technique, and endurance. Would any of that transfer here for his upcoming time in the pit? Oh, maybe it was already reflected in his stats. Yeah, had to be.

  “How about I work for you instead? I can be a helper with the pasture and cleaning stuff.”

  “Hah, in your dream,” scoffed the woman. “Better enjoy the little freedom you have now.” She left after leaving the last word.

  Staring at the night sky, Zalanir wondered how he had ended up in this situation. Freedom, she said? Like he had any right now, being tied to a place, literally. A meal that he could finish in ten minutes now took about 4x the time because he couldn’t even use his damn hands.

  The next day, the bastard with the furry arms returned, untied, and pushed Zalanir toward the base’s entrance. He had no need for food, but a bit of water could go a long way.

  “Can I have water—”

  Zalanir stopped when a cold gaze punched straight through his eyes. Someone seemed to be in a foul mood today.

  His wounds were miraculously healed again, though. The two scratches on his thigh had all the scales covering up like they had been there for weeks, and his back, while still a bit aching, didn’t really torture him with each step anymore.

  Sleep. It had to do with sleep, as the speed of recovery was absurd during his bedtime. It had fixed his two holes from the pooch’s bite on the first day, and now, even a body full of bruises seemed to pose no problem whatsoever.

  With the whole fighting pit issue coming up, this discovery would be huge in guiding his approach there.