Mark danced around the Mongols' sabers, his Skills [Phantom Presence] and [Traitor’s Premonition] working at full tilt, guiding his every step.

  He stopped with his dagger the lateral thrust of a Mongol, kicked out the leg of another Mongol, and his [Traitor Premonition] made him duck under an arrow aimed at his head. He moved fast in front of the Mongols, trying to reach the two barrels of water on the side of the ship.

  Because his suicidal charge toward the Mongols had two objectives:

  The first one was to distract them so everybody else would be able to take cover in the lower deck of the ship.

  And the second one, to reach the two barrels of water standing next to the railing of the ship. They reappeared on the deck of the ship every time the Glimpse of Valhalla was restarted. And it was the only source of drinking water the Mongols would have access to, unless they managed to break through towards the lower deck of the ship.

  Mark tipped one of the barrels toward the Mongols, who took a step back, fearing some new trick. Mark’s [Traitor’s Premonition] was depleted. And when an arrow went toward his neck, he had to use [Phantom Presence] at the last moment to avoid it.

  He was running dangerously low on [Phantom Presence], and he still needed it for his exit plan. His heart pounded in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep breath of the salty air.

  No time for the second barrel of water, he thought when he saw the Mongol’s commander charging towards him, with murder in his eyes.

  Mark jumped over the railing, toward the ocean below. After a second, his fall was cut short when he hit a wooden plank. He thanked God that the other Gamers had managed to extend it through the porthole. He grabbed the plank desperately; if he fell into the ocean, he would have no way of getting back on the ship. The wooden shield he had been using fell toward the ocean, making a little splash.

  And Mark stayed there for a couple of seconds, lying on the plank, looking out into the ocean.

  Nobody pulled him in.

  What the fuck is happening? He looked back and saw through the porthole the sweaty and scared face of Liam. He was looking away, shouting something Mark couldn’t understand.

  They had practiced this action a hundred times. They should have already started to pull him into the ship.

  Mark looked up. The Mongol commander looked over the ship's railing. And for a moment, they locked eyes.

  Mark then let go of the plank with his left hand and showed the middle finger to the Mongol.

  “This is our ship, motherfucker,” he said.

  The Mongol’s face was a scowl of fury. He pulled the bow over the ship’s railing, and he drew the string taut, ready to shoot.

  Mark looked at the arrow aimed at his chest. He didn’t need his depleted [Traitor’s Premonition] to know he was in danger…

  And then, right before the Mongol shot his bow, Mark felt somebody grab his leg and pull him into the ship. He had to exhaust his last remnants of [Phantom Presence] to make his body fit through the porthole.

  As his head was passing through the porthole, he looked back and saw the arrow hit the plank where he had been lying just a second before. The solid thud of wood splintering made him shiver.

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  Then he was in the compartment where he had slept with the other Gamers the first day, right after arriving at the Glimpse of Valhalla for the first time.

  Harald the Viking had been the one who had pulled him into the ship. And now he let go of Mark’s leg and took a step back. Liam and Wyatt, who had been holding the plank, ran toward Mark and patted him over his body, trying to find out if he was injured.

  Mark pushed them back, trying to calm them and telling them that he wasn’t injured, that it wasn’t his blood.

  “What the fuck happened?” he asked. They should have pulled him into the ship as soon as he had touched the plank. “Where is Gustav?” he added when he realized the other Gamer wasn’t there.

  It was Gustav who should have pulled him into the ship.

  “He was injured back in the cave,” Wyatt answered, pulling the plank back into the compartment. It was a tight space, and he had to leave it half-reclined on a wall. “We didn’t realize until we were here.”

  “Fuck…” Mark murmured.

  From the moment they had arrived at the Glimpse of Valhalla, Liam’s and Wyatt’s mission had been to run down to the lower deck, pull out a plank from a closet in the kitchen, and then run to the compartment to put the plank through the porthole, giving Mark a way to escape from the upper deck.

  It’s not like they could expect Mark to survive very long alone on the deck with tens of Mongols. So they had to do the whole thing flawlessly, in less than ten seconds.

  They had managed to do that. But they needed two people to hold down the plank. And it had been Gustav’s job to pull Mark into the ship.

  “Yeah…” Liam said. “So we had the plank out, but nobody to pull you in. Thank God Harald arrived at the last moment.”

  Mark looked at the Viking, who was staring at him as if he were seeing him for the first time.

  “Thanks for the help, Harald.”

  “What you just did took a lot of balls,” Harald answered. He seemed pensive.

  “Thanks, man. Did you see Gustav? Was he very badly injured?”

  “The Mongols got lucky. They hit him on the shoulder with an arrow, back in the cave when everything was filled with smoke. It was a big injury. But Emily was helping him heal —so he’ll recover. When Gustav recovered his senses a little, he started shouting that somebody needed to come get you, and I came running.”

  “Thanks.”

  They looked at each other in silence for a couple of seconds. Mark could hear the metal clashing of the fight happening nearby, at the entrance to the lower deck.

  “What you just did took a lot of balls,” Harald repeated.

  Mark smiled a little.

  “You sound surprised. This was always the plan.”

  “I expected you to get scared and back off. Or to try to do it and die gruesomely.”

  “Nobody will ever say you’re not honest,” Mark said, chuckling. He was still sitting on the floor. He started to get up, and the Viking approached with his extended hand. Mark took it to get up.

  “It’s an honor to fight at your side, Mark.”

  “I feel the same, Harald.”

  “Got both barrels?”

  “Only one. They reacted too fast for the second one.”

  “That’s a shame. Two barrels would be perfect, but one will be enough.”

  Harald was probably right. Making the Mongols lose one barrel of drinking water was probably good enough. The sun was going to be pretty hard for the next twelve hours. The Mongol commander would soon realize that he had a very small window of time before he ran out of water. And that would force his hand, making him commit all his forces trying to take the lower deck by force.

  The most important thing was to not allow the Mongols to rest—it was probable that they hadn’t Leveled yet, and if that was the case, they couldn’t be allowed to do it now.

  “How’s it going?” Mark asked, making a gesture towards the fight nearby.

  “Good. The lower deck is ours. We have the food. We have most of the water. Everything’s going according to the plan.”

  "Awesome. Let’s go kill some Mongols, shall we?"

  Harald took from his back a massive axe, almost as big as the one Erik Bloodaxe carried.

  “Let’s do this.”

  And the Viking walked out of the compartment.

  The three Gamers looked at each other. Liam took his hatchet from his hip. Wyatt drew his sword. Mark grabbed one of his daggers from the ground and drew the other one from his hip.

  “You could…” he started to say, looking at the very young Liam.

  “I’m going. I’ll fight like everybody else,” Liam interrupted.

  Mark exchanged a look with Wyatt. Wyatt shrugged and muttered:

  “It’s not like we’ll convince him. And being realistic, his Skills are too useful to waste.”

  In those few days, Wyatt had proved himself to be a very level-headed person. The kind of person who never complained, even if he had been dealt shitty cards. He just did the best he could with whatever he had available. The Gamers had started to trust his opinions.

  Mark looked at Liam, who was holding his hatchet, ready to fight. Wyatt was right: The teenager was going to ignore any order about hiding deeper into the ship.

  “Let’s fucking do it, then,” Mark said, starting to walk out of the compartment, going directly into the battle.