Day 38, 6:40 PM

  One against two. You’d think that means things get easier, but this is where the real fight starts. Hell, I remember going through an army of mooks, and the only problem being the knight who led them.

  Add in an important woman, whose dress is smoldering as she stands atop a blazing pyre, and you get some nasty pressure. The only upside is that Edna had apparently made her dress impervious to everything, including flames. Smoke and suffocation are the real hazard, but I hope I can make it in time.

  My heart beats like a galloping grasshopper, or whatever Everrainians ride, and I lunge towards a randomly chosen inquisitor, hopefully the weaker. The man steps back, his poleax blocks my path, and I leap to the side. The ax-head, tipped with a sharp point, follows me even after I duck and roll.

  My maneuver seems random, but other than testing the man’s solid defense, I also opened the path towards Edna. Another choice, end these two now, and save Edna once I deal with them. She can almost certainly handle a minute of being roasted and choking on smoke fumes. Or, dash for Edna, take her off the stake and flee while leaving my back exposed to the two inquisitors.

  Based on the way this guy moves his ax-spear, his physical stats should be around twenty, maybe twenty-two, and my guts told me he was the weaker of the two.

  I twist around, the other’s poleax slashing at my midsection. I block with my staff, locking it with the ax-head, but the other inquisitor’s ax swishes through the air. A strange thought strikes me. I could let him hit me.

  If I get wounded, I’ll pulverize these two during my rage, but its duration increases with physique, and Edna might die before I regain my senses.

  Yeah, that’s not an option. I jerk the ax-head I have locked towards me with half my strength, and the inquisitor pulls with all he’s got. The sucker fell for it. I jump straight towards him, and his eyes go wide.

  The second ax whistles impotently behind me as I soar forward. I’m inside the stronger inquisitor’s reach, and he can’t use his polearm. I’m still flying towards him as he releases the shaft. His hand moves for the knife at his hip, and he shifts his weight to the left, trying to get away.

  Good thinking, good reflexes, too slow. My fingers claw between his neck and lower jaw, they dig into the flesh with all my weight and momentum, and I use him to turn mid-flight. He gurgles a shout as his neck snaps, sounding like a bough cracking. I somersault and land on my feet just as his lifeless body squishes on the sponge-earth.

  One on one.

  I look at the stunned inquisitor and dash. Stunned enemies are great for one thing; killing.

  His arms are heavy with his fear and realization that he’s the last one on his side standing. His morale is low, his movement just a tad slower than they could be.

  Batsy II connects with his fingers holding the polearm. Flesh and bones burst, and he lets go. The final mistake of his life. I spin the weapon, using his remaining gripping hand as leverage, and ram the ax into his temple.

  I don’t deign him a look and sprint for Edna. The fire is already burning her and getting through it is next to impossible, even with my body and willpower. So, I jump. My strength and agility lift me twenty feet into the air, and I kick at the top of the stake with both my feet. It flies while I push myself back out of the fire. Man, having almost four times the strength and agility of a regular human lets you do amazing things.

  I somersault again and land on my feet before circling around the fire and pulling out the stake, along with Edna. She’s a mess. I move to untie her arms and legs, then I see they nailed her to the beam.

  “Edna, look at me.” Her eyes are wide with pain, muffled screams still escaping her lips. “Edna, I won’t let anything happen to you, but I have to pull these spikes out. It’s gonna hurt.”

  She doesn’t respond, but her screaming grows louder when I draw the first one. Sadistic zealots rammed twelve into her body, three into each limb, to keep her from escaping. Blood oozes out of her wounds, and I can feel rage welling up inside me.

  They pulverized her hands, her fingers broken in such a way that even if she made a full recovery, her hands would lose most of their mobility. Finally, I remove the rag, and she whimpers, strength for screaming long gone from her body.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Edna, focus.” I grab her as gently as I can, carrying her like a princess. “Can you heal yourself?”

  The question strikes home. The rational part of her, backed by inhuman willpower, grabs hold of the thought, and she starts singing. Her song is weak, melody much simpler than anything I’ve heard her sing, and merely a handful of green motes draw towards her.

  The effect is weak, but she’s healing herself, and she will recover.

  Good enough.

  “Edna, I’m going to run now. I’ll try to keep steady, but expect some jostling. Work on the puncture wounds, not on your hands. Hands we can fix once we’re sure you won’t bleed to death. And Advanced Healing is telling me Edna’s dying. I need to apply pressure to her wounds, but I can’t stay here, who knows who or what might come after us.”

  She seems to have heard me. The green motes cling to her thighs and upper arms, and I start running. A blue screen flashes before my eyes, showing a notification I have been waiting for centuries.

  [You have leveled up.

  Select a defining feature within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.

  Amicable - Human interactions have a higher chance of positive outcomes. Your choice affects your personality.

  Aggressive - Your punches strike harder when you’re the one attacking. Your choice affects your personality.]

  I read the notification. Aggressive seems like the one for me. I rarely defend, since offense is the best defense, but I’m tired of fighting.

  I can already slay beasts, men, and monsters with much more proficiency than anyone I’ve ever met. More than I ever wanted. And maybe, just maybe, the higher chance of positive outcomes might translate into me not having to go through life by leaving a pile of bodies behind me like I just did.

  I might regret it later down the line, but I choose to be Amicable. With a thought, my anarchist screen comes into view.

  [Anarchist Level 6

  Abilities - Rage, Redo, Blunt, Heavy Handed, Direct, Insightful, Precise, Amicable, Godly ??, Vengeful ?, Grandmaster Rider ?

  To level up, start a large-scale riot or a nation-scale public disturbance.]

  So, given Everrain’s population distribution, to level up, I need to overturn the entire system.

  Well, ain’t that dandy. I run through the dark forest, rain hammering at the canopy high above my head.

  “Thank you,” Edna whispers ten minutes later. She’s not healthy yet. Either she spent her mana, which I doubt, or she can’t focus anymore.

  I check her condition, she’s no longer dying, and she’s lost a frightening amount of blood, but she’s stable.

  “You’re welcome. You’ll pull through this, but we will need to focus on escaping. After this incident, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire Church of Holiness starts hounding us.”

  I keep my eyes on the ground before us, but I can sense her despondent stare.

  “Can you speak?” I ask, and she nods. It would’ve been a pointless response for someone less perceptive, but I won’t fuss over the little things, so I focus on the big matters. “What happened? How did they capture you?”

  It’s a sore point, but so is all of Edna, and after a moment’s hesitation, she explains what happened after we parted ways.

  The inquisitors scouring the area for Fyoor found her hut and seeing so many magical items, set a trap for her. She confessed that part was a guess, but it sounds reasonable to me, even if she’s shifting some blame my way with those words.

  The inquisitors set up an ambush, in which she killed three, but the rest of them got her, muffled her, broke her fingers, and knocked her unconscious. The inquisitors woke her in a dark cell and interrogated her through yes or no questions. She wasn’t allowed to speak, her mouth still muffled, and responses came as nods and head-shakes.

  Again, the matter of greatest interest was Fyoor, followed by magic in general.

  “So, you’re saying a mage can be ambushed by four peasants, as long as three are ready to die in the process?” I ask as she concludes her account.

  “They aren’t peasants. They have high magical resistance. I keep a constant lookout a hundred yards in all directions, but their resistance interfered with it, and I failed to spot them until it was too late.”

  They are wearing blood-red in a gloomy forest, Edna. All you needed was eyes, not magic.

  “They are wearing—” I clamp my mouth shut. Damn Blunt, using the chance while I’m mentally fatigued.

  “—mages out. That’s how they plan to win this conflict.” I don’t know how good that cover was, so I change the topic just in case. “We need to get out of here, Edna. You were fine in your hut for twenty days, so we can assume we have a grace period half as long as that. We need to make these ten days matter. Are we running together, or do you plan to stay here?”