Aaron barely registered the touch. His mind floated, detached like a string had been cut.

  Theon’s hand gripped his shoulder. “Snap out of it.”

  Theon shook him again, harder this time. “Snap out of it. We need to move,” he whispered in Aaron’s ear. I zoned out. Yeah, getting used to this, right.

  Aaron clenched his spear until his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, running naked through the forest seemed a lot less funny. With mounting dread, he followed the others, keeping low as they moved toward the man’s last known position.

  After two dozen steps, Aaron heard voices—low, angry, close. A flicker of movement. Rhea’s hand froze mid-stride.

  The trio halted at her signal. Aaron’s breath caught. The weight of the forest pressed in.

  “... don’t care. I’m down to one-in-five odds of not coming back,” an angry voice snarled. “If I’m going to die a slave, I’ll die making one of the masters suffer. A worthy way to go for a Krisnir, don’t you think?”

  “You…” A hesitant voice spoke up—then a thump. A body hitting the ground. Holy shit. I know this wasn’t uncommon in premodern warfare. But still. This is different. Being there.

  We have to do something. Hopefully, the guy who rejected it isn’t dead. One of the few moral people doesn’t deserve to be killed by these psychos.

  “Anyone else here love our masters? They take everything. Let me at least take some revenge, brothers.” Sounds of acquiescence murmured in front of them. A girl started screaming, a rough man’s laughter cutting through the night.

  Move. Get in there. Or get out of there. What the hell are we doing just listening to this? Aaron’s teeth ground together, painfully clenched with anger and frustration. The spear felt like it had merged with his hands.

  Rhea raised a hand, three fingers extended. She lowered the first.

  The woman’s screams turned shrill, edged with pain and desperation. The second finger dropped. What the hell is she waiting for?

  The moment stretched. Aaron’s body thrummed with tension. He felt like a spring, coiled tight, ready to snap.

  The last finger fell.

  Aaron nearly lunged forward, but Rhea moved smoothly beside him, touching his rigid arm. I’m too tense.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  His muscles loosened—just enough.

  They moved forward in a tight triangle, Rhea leading the way with an unsettling, measured slowness. As calm as if they were back in the river.

  Aaron’s heart pounded. I’m going into battle again. Shit.

  I want to hurt them. But shit.

  They reached the edge of the clearing and saw the scene clearly.

  Five men. One on the ground.

  Two roughly beheaded corpses, their heads resting beside them.

  The smell of blood was curiously absent. Wind direction, noted a distant part of Aaron’s mind.

  Three men stood in a half-circle.

  Around a fourth, leaning over a struggling girl.

  The trio stopped at the edge of the undergrowth, fifteen steps from the horrific scene. A strange calm filled Aaron. The rage and fear felt distant, fading like echoes.

  Something else replaced them.

  Something wild.

  Waiting.

  At Rhea’s signal, they raised their secondary spears. Aaron’s hand held the wood with a solid yet relaxed grip.

  Rhea silently pointed out their targets. Aaron was to kill the man in the middle.

  Rhea drew her spear back. Her other hand held up three fingers. Two. One.

  Aaron felt them all exhale at the same moment. Arms shot forward, spears loosed in perfect unison.

  The quiet before the storm settled over the clearing. Spears sailed like falcons, poised to strike.

  They grasped their secondary spears in both hands. Raised them high and charged.

  Rhea’s hit first.

  The left man took it in the back of the neck. Bone splintered with the lethal strike. Gore spilled forth. He fell like a pine.

  Theon was more conservative. His spear took the right man in the side, sinking deep into his gut. Little blood spilled. He folded around his stomach like cardboard meeting a fist.

  Aaron’s spear sailed serenely toward his target. The man had started to turn at the screams. A last-second twist—wrong angle.

  The shaft veered past its mark, striking flesh with a sickening squelch.

  A scream. Not his. Hers.

  The projectile had embedded itself in the girl’s thigh. Her anguished cries turned into startled yelps of pain.

  Oops.

  Then he was on the central enemy. A scream. Step. Thrust.

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  Clang. A shock in his hands. Hold on.

  The target whirled, blocking with a cudgel. No matter.

  The warmth. It flowed like liquid tin, thick and slow, drawing him in like syrup.

  Step back. Recover spear. Aim at the head.

  Step forward. Thump. Got you.

  The block—overcommitted.

  Lower the spear. Thrust out arms.

  Breathe out. The guts fell like a spool sliced jelly.

  Aaron pushed off the spear, redirecting his momentum backward, creating distance with a shove off his front foot.

  He looked at his newest victim. The cudgel slipped from the man’s hands. They clutched at his stomach. He took a step toward Aaron. Well, shit. I ought to do something.

  Before that brilliant realization could turn into action, the man gasped. Blood splattered onto the soil below, soft as a spring rain, glittering in the light.

  Theon had struck the man’s throat. He glanced at Aaron, quick and sharp, then turned toward the last duel.

  Rhea knocked the man kneeling in from of the moment to the ground, spear raised for the kill. But the girl—bloodied, trembling—was already moving. With a swift kick, she moved his head out of the spear's path. It found soil instead of flesh.

  She crawled toward them on elbows and one leg, dragging the javelin behind her like it was someone else's pain. She didn’t look helpless. Or broken. Well, apart from my spear sticking out of her leg.

  She had murder in her eyes. “Mother-cursed bastard! Eat chains!”

  The girl crawled over, awkward with the spear still in her leg. Not my finest hour.

  “You should have known your place!” Screaming, she climbed on top of him.

  “I will find your family!” She grabbed a stone. Paused for just a moment.

  Then, with a precise movement, she shattered his teeth.

  Then his jaw.

  The man only gave a restrained whimper. “I will have them tortured! I hope you have children!”

  Her uninjured leg pinned one of his arms. She found his wrist, pressing it down. The stone began grinding his fingers into pulp.

  Aaron could only stare at the systematic carnage. “You will—”

  Rhea’s boot cut her off, slamming into her side. The girl tumbled off the shaking man. He had remained stoically silent.

  She yelped, then screamed as she hit the ground. The impact did nothing good for the javelin still lodged in her leg.

  She raised the blood-wet rock again. Torn clothes, a face splattered with red—she looked almost demonic.

  “You stand before Clan Hellenios! Act as befits your station!” Theon’s voice was sharp, edged with restrained fury.

  For a moment, it seemed like she would throw the rock anyway. Then she winced. Her face twisted with pain.

  The ground beneath her had turned to bloody mud. She lowered the stone.

  “Anax Hellionis Erythros,” she nodded to Aaron. “Anax Hellionis Leukos. I thank you for my rescue,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

  Theon let the awkward silence hang. Let her bleed. That is fucking petty and cold. Wouldn’t have expected that.

  “We greet you, Erai Neonis,” he said calmly. Her face twisted in anger for a second. What is going on? Do they have history?

  “I would be obliged to your Clan if you would tend my wound,” she said, voice tight with reluctant formality.

  “How obliged, exactly?” Rhea inquired idly.

  “You bastards!” Her voice cracked. “Xandros, what is wrong with you? Why do you permit this? Did I never mean anything to you?” The last words came out quieter, almost a sniffle.

  Amazing. Teenage romance drama. Here. And now. In this bloody mess. Given what I’ve learned about Xandros… I bet she isn’t a little lamb.

  Aaron glanced at the moaning, bloody ruin of a man. Definitely not a lamb.

  But was she an old flame—or something worse? The way she looked at him—half fury, half something else—didn’t make it clear.

  “Your illegitimate amorous advances will not sway him again,” Theon said with some relish. “Remember your time fondly, for it will be the only time a noble shall dare touch you.”

  On the one hand, thanks, Theon. On the other, damn, Theon, what happened between you two?

  I’ve never seen him this cruel and angry. It’s more terrifying than Rhea. And she kills people. Aaron stepped forward. “Enough.”

  With a slashing motion, he cut off the bickering. I can’t let her die. But I also don’t want to annoy my companions.

  “We will heal your injury. But then you will help us in the remaining trials,” he proclaimed. Since I apparently have the highest social status here, I might as well use it.

  Rhea’s eyes narrowed, offended. Might have to smooth that over later. Once I understand this mess.

  Erai’s expression was one of puzzlement. Why? Oh. I haven’t verbalized my verdict clearly enough. She knows something is off.

  No matter. Everyone will find out soon enough. The masquerade option has already failed spectacularly.

  Theon looked thoughtful, then nodded to Aaron. “Should you fail to remember your debt to our clan, or sow discord, we will kill you ourselves. Let this be written in the Bookworms’ annals. I shall not care that it is your second death.”

  Aaron returned the nod.

  I should learn about this revival thing. I know I have unlimited revivals, but apparently, a second revival matters somehow? Do I care if she knows? Maybe.

  The clearing stilled. Only the wind moved. The blood smelled sharper now, without adrenaline masking it. They gathered up the dead men’s robes.

  Are we really going to let the injured slaves suffer and die? At least the one who intervened deserves something. Moral courage against the majority is rare and precious.

  Aaron stepped back, watching the procedure. Erai lay stoically on the ground. Or maybe blood loss had drained the fight out of her.

  While the clothes were torn up for bandages, Aaron examined the man who had intervened. He was still breathing. Blood-matted hair clung to the side of his skull.

  Just unconscious, then. The others were about to remove the spear.

  “Hope to the Weaver it missed the arteries,” Theon muttered, gripping the shaft.

  “I will not—Ahhhhh!” The muffled groaning into the cloth she was biting down on turned into a full scream. Blood welled up, rapid but not in a fountain. Still enough to stain Theon’s clothes.

  Rhea shoved a bundle of cloth onto the wound. I feel useless. But they know what they’re doing. My first aid courses were years ago, and I’m pretty sure the solution here is just to keep pressure on it until a doctor arrives. And keep the wound clean.

  Not that we have much of a choice. Aaron moved up as they wound cloth around her leg. He held it steady. Erai’s moaning had turned into grumbling. Seems like she’ll be fine.

  Rhea wrapped the cloth tightly, securing it with ropes.

  “We have you all bound up,” she said with false friendliness. Then she stood and stabbed the crippled slave through the throat. “May the Worm find you, and the Mother take you.”

  It was the first time Aaron had seen her perform any funeral rites. Why now?

  Erai looked upset but stayed quiet. Did she want to torture him more? Did she mean what she told him?

  “The other one is just unconscious,” Aaron pointed out. Theon and Rhea walked over to examine him.

  Erai tested her leg. Her face twisted slightly with each limping step, but she endured. She’s tough. Not sure I could do that.

  Aaron and Erai recovered their weapons. As they rejoined the group, Aaron spoke up.

  “How is he doing? Will—” Erai cut him off by stabbing the man through the throat.

  “Scum,” she muttered. The body twitched as she yanked her bloodstained spear free.

  With each slowing heartbeat, the blood seeped into the soil, turning it into red mud.

  +++ Shout-Out Time +++

  As always, this chapter was edited using the mighty Infomancy Analyst Spell called ChatGPT.

  Upload schedule: Mon/Tue/Wed/Thu/Fri 4:47 PM EST / 10:47 PM CET → Each chapter is 1500 +/- 500 words long.

  What do you think of Aaron's decisions? Would you have done the same?

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