Priscilla didn’t have enough time to panic over Sulaiman’s magic going out, as Azurin rushed forward with his sword raised. Now, Priscilla was plenty good at punching and had some fancy footwork, but she was unarmed in a sword fight against an opponent that looked like he knew how to swing that thing, so things were stacked against her.

  Priscilla was able to dodge the first swipe of the sword but saw Azurin’s arm coming back for another blow from the angle she was dodging into as he moved forward to chase her.

  Fuck, Priscilla thought as she tucked her head down and stumbled into Azurin’s guard instead, and felt the sword rake the air above her, sending a few more red strands falling. He was much taller than her, so Priscilla was awkwardly positioned under his arm and chest as his momentum carried him forward.

  Azurin slammed his elbow down on Priscilla’s left shoulder, sending sharp, tingling pin pricks of pain all the way down to her wrist. The pain worked with the power behind Azurin’s blow to send her to the ground as Priscilla’s legs buckled. But Priscilla didn’t let the pain overwhelm her as she used her falling momentum to roll out of the way, Azurin’s sword stabbing into the dirt where her arm had just been.

  Azurin’s leg reared back and kicked her directly in the ribs, her armor doing little to block blunt force damage. Priscilla let out a choked groan as he hit the exact area she hit the ground with earlier and she felt more than heard the dangerous creaking of her bones. She could only breathe in shallow breaths, stars dancing across her vision with each inhale.

  “Little suicidal bitch bit off more than you could chew,” Azurin spat, the spittle hitting Priscilla’s hair. “That’s what you get for running your mouth.”

  Adrenaline raced through Priscilla and she knew she couldn’t let him keep dictating the flow of battle if she wanted any chance to survive this.

  Despite the pain blossoming in her chest, Priscilla threw herself at Azurin’s left leg, locking her elbow around his knee to pin him in place as she whispered, “Spike on.”

  Then she punched Azurin right in the dick, the spikes sinking in deep, tearing through the material of Azurin’s pants and into tender flesh. A spray of hot blood hit her face as Azurin shrieked in pain, his sword clanging onto the ground as he lurched backwards. Priscilla held on just long enough for him to become suddenly off balance when she loosened her grip.

  Azurin’s flailing almost hit her, but Priscilla was already rolling away from him. The quick movement was painful and the ribbon holding her hair up had loosened so much that it was nearly useless as her hair kept escaping its confines, but Priscilla kept her gaze on Azurin.

  The man’s face was ghostly white and he was on one knee, nearly bent in half. His hands protectively cupped his mangled dick and a steady stream of blood ran down his fingers, pooling onto the ground below him. Azurin looked like he could be blown over by a stiff breeze and there was a tremor in his body as he fought the instinct to curl into the fetal position.

  The sight made Priscilla smile and she felt Asha’s satisfaction resonate with hers, and that gave her the energy to push herself to her feet despite how her body protested. She took in a deep, painful breath to speak.

  “I told you I’d kick your ass, dickless,” Priscilla said, voice full of savage delight and her smile was so wide it hurt her cheeks. Azurin let out a pained wheeze, his eyes red and watery as he glared at her.

  Someone yelling in pain drew Priscilla’s attention, and then she heard someone closer scream, “I won’t let you hurt them!”

  A woman was standing in front of a door, a bleeding arm hanging limply at her side and a hefty frying pan in the other as she stared defiantly at a pair of bandits in front of her. The bandits laughed loudly at the display and swept the woman’s feet out from under her, the pan clattering loudly to the ground.

  “Forget the fucking villagers,” Azurin yelled, his voice high pitched and breathy, “and kill this bitch!”

  The bandits paused and looked back to their fearless leader and Priscilla, surprise on their faces. Priscilla’s mouth always ran faster than her brain and for once both her brain and mouth were in agreement to get the enemies to focus on a single point.

  “Aww, poor little dickless is so afraid of little old me that he needs his minions to come and save him,” Priscilla said, mimicking Azurin’s head shake of mock sympathy from earlier. The woman was already slowly crawling away from the bandits and that was a success in her book.

  Priscilla heard a tiny gasp of disbelief from behind her and she snapped her head towards it, ready to fling herself to the ground in case it was an enemy.

  Standing there, half in the shadow of the bell tower, was a dark skinned young man with neat, coily hair staring at her with wide copper eyes, his hand clamped over his mouth as if he could take back the sound that escaped him.

  That… that had to be Kavil. He said he escaped the attack because he had been in the bell tower and now Kavil was standing right there beneath the bell tower – and that fact momentarily took Priscilla’s breath away (or maybe that was because her ribs were fucked up).

  And then a crossbow bolt sank into her left shoulder and Priscilla felt a pain unlike she had ever experienced before – a type that was on a deeper level, like the nerves in her shoulder had all suddenly been set alight and that fire was burning down every connected pathway down her her spin, like a thousand furious wasps were burrowed beneath her skin and stung her again and again.

  “Son of a bitch,” Priscilla choked out and then tried to focus her attention on her enemies rather than the pain.

  It turned out that one of Azurin’s minions had gotten hold of his discarded crossbow and shot Priscilla. Azurin laughed like a madman as Priscilla stumbled to her knees, the pain radiating through her body with every beat of her heart, like an electric pulse, spreading further and further, making her fingers shake and vision go blurry. She tried to take joy in the fact Azurin was still cupping his balls and his laughter had a tinny texture to it, but the pain overwhelmed her senses entirely.

  Distantly, Priscilla recognized Asha was distressed and trying to send reassurance through their bond, but it barely cut through the haze of pain.

  Damn, Priscilla thought, one crossbow bolt and I’m on the ground like a little bitch.

  Someone tried to touch her and Priscilla instinctively struggled until she got a glimpse of the hands – dark in color and ungloved unlike the bandits. Priscilla tilted her head upwards and saw Kavil’s face wound up in intense concentration.

  Kavil muttered, “Sorry,” and then grabbed Priscilla by the armpits to drag her behind one of the bell tower posts. Being moved like that was painful, but Priscilla ignored it as Kavil carefully laid Priscilla against the wooden post.

  “Sorry for just grabbing you like that,” Kavil whispered as he looked at her again, tone apologetic, “but I had to get you out of there.”

  Priscilla tried to laugh and settled for a wry smile when the movement caused her pain.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “There’s no need for my savior… to apologize,” Priscilla managed to get out through gritted teeth.

  Kavil paused before shaking his head and examining Priscilla’s shoulder more closely. His hands emitted a white, milky glow as he held them above the bolt.

  Kavil winced, meeting Priscilla’s gaze.

  “The bolt is cursed,” Kavil whispered, “and I need to take it out before I can cancel out its magical effect.”

  “Make it quick,” Priscilla gasped, “before dickless comes to finish us off.”

  A ghost of a smile went over Kavil’s face before his expression hardened.

  “Three, two –”

  Before Kavil said one, he was already ripping the bolt out of her shoulder with a sharp twist that left Priscilla gasping.

  But then she realized she felt better already, like the pain that had been rapidly spreading through her body paused its momentary tide, though it still continued to ache where it already gained a foothold.

  Then, it felt like Priscilla’s nerves had been placed into a refreshing ice bath, soothing out the worst of the agony into a duller ache. She felt invigorated as the energy moved through her body, chasing the last of the curse out of her system like a guard dog does a fox, insistent and focused on running off the intruder.

  Priscilla knew she wasn’t fully healed, her ribs still ached and moving her left arm might be a struggle, but with the magic out of her system, she felt sturdy enough to stand.

  “I’m not done,” Kavil protested, hands lightly gripping her bicep, “you still need healing, your ribs–”

  “Save your magic,” Priscilla said, gently pulling Kavil’s hand off her, the glow dimming the further it got from the wound, “as there will be others who need it far more than me.”

  Kavil looked unhappy and opened his mouth, but Priscilla was already peeking around the pillar, rolling onto her feet but staying crouched.

  Azurin was unfortunately standing, his groin glowing as a bandit pointed a healing stave towards it. Azurin’s arm seemed to be a lesser priority as it hung limply at his side, but the crossbow was in his left hand now. The rest of Azurin’s minions had returned to banditry instead of tracking down and killing Priscilla like he ordered.

  But Azurin wasn’t looking towards where Priscilla had been dragged to, as if once the bolt hit her, she was no longer a viable threat. Instead he was facing the houses the bandits were trying to burn down – right where Sulaiman was fighting off the bandits, his sword a deadly flash of silver and red in the night as he cut off an arm reaching for a child who had fallen. The bandit reared back with an angry scream and Sulaiman kicked him in the chest to knock him to the ground, making the bandit easy pickings for a nearby villager to stab a pitchfork through his throat.

  Sulaiman seemed to have rallied those who were able to fight back, but she could see blood running down his face from a wound on his forehead and the dent in the armor on his shoulder. He likely had been taking the brunt of the damage done by the bandits so the villagers had a chance to fight on more equal footing, and, knowing him, he likely hadn’t even considered doing anything else.

  Azurin’s face turned nasty as he began to raise his arm, and Priscilla knew he wanted to sink the cursed bolt into Sulaiman’s back.

  Fuck that, Priscilla thought as she sprinted towards Azurin’s own unguarded back. The bandits were all focused on the villagers and didn’t even turn to try to stop her, probably having similarly dismissed her from their minds as Azurin did.

  Priscilla didn’t have enough breath to run and speak, so she just slammed Asha without spikes into the side of Azurin’s head, right on his ear. The bolt hit the side of a house harmlessly as Azurin stumbled to the side, disoriented from the punch.

  Azurin turned towards Priscilla, eyes wide as Priscilla threw another punch, hitting Azurin square in the nose with a satisfying snap, the bone visibly curved, and she struck once more since she could, the impact sending jolts of pain up her left arm.

  Azurin stumbled backwards as blood ran down his face and Priscilla followed, kicking the man’s knee as hard as she could. She felt the joint snap under her foot and Azurin fell hard, gasping in agony.

  “You,” Azurin rasped as he tried to drag himself away with only one arm while Priscilla stepped forward to look down on him, “you’ll regret this like all the duke’s dogs do.”

  Priscilla stilled at the unexpected words and the assumption she was sent by a duke. Azurin seemed to think his threat worked, satisfaction on his face.

  “My king doesn’t let his warriors go unavenged,” Azurin said, baring his bloodied teeth and lifting his head. “You will be hunted by the best mercenaries on the continent.”

  These words do send a chill down Priscilla’s spine, but not for the reason Azurin might think.

  It was the mention of the Mercenary King being affiliated with these bandits that momentarily frightened and surprised her, since nothing of the sort had been mentioned in TDE. The Mercenary King, also known as Commander Lex Vastum, was a high level operative for the Church of the Violet Moon and was known for his cruel discipline and enjoyment of the hunt. Lex Vastum was one of the physically strongest people in the entire world and he reveled in that fact, holding the belief that it is only natural for the strong to rule and the weak to die.

  Being threatened with the Mercenary King’s wrath would be an effective warning for just about anyone who understood who and what he was.

  Everyone except Priscilla, that is, because she knew that Lex Vastum was currently wrapped up in a project for the cult and wouldn’t be done with it for at least a year – and Priscilla had a sneaking suspicion that Lex Vastum couldn’t care less about a band of mercenaries that had turned to banditry that had been taken out by just two people.

  It was the strong who deserved to live, after all.

  Priscilla laughed, though it hurt, and decided to kneel on Azurin’s chest to make him wheeze, though that movement also hurt. He tried to grab at her leg to move her, but his attempts were weak as she pressed her knee down.

  “Tough luck for you, you dickless lunatic,” Priscilla said in a low voice, “because I don’t fear any king, especially one with an inferiority complex to rival the moon’s.”

  Priscilla coughed up blood for saying that, but she relished in the wide eyed stare of Azurin as blood splattered against his face. Priscilla then punched the look off his face, the man’s head slamming into the ground with a loud crack. Azurin went limp and Priscilla did it once more for good measure, watching as his head hit the ground and bounced up once from the force of it.

  Based on how blood was rapidly pooling beneath Azurin’s head and the blank gaze he had on his ruined face, Priscilla knew the brain damage would get to him soon as long as she kept his minions from healing him.

  Every part of her body ached fiercely and protested being used but Priscilla slowly pushed herself off Azurin and blinked towards the fighting. Sulaiman and the villagers seemed to have gone on the offensive while she took down Azurin, several bandits now laying still on the ground since she last saw them.

  The remaining bandits, when given the choice to face off with Sulaiman and a horde of angry villagers and Priscilla, who could feel herself swaying on her feet, decided Priscilla was the better option. Three were rushing her right now, their eyes blazing with anger.

  Priscilla readied herself best she could, dodging the swing of a short sword by a hair before sending an uppercut to the bandit’s jaw, catching the man’s tongue between his teeth.

  But another man took this as an opportunity to tackle Priscilla to the ground, sending painful vibrations through her body as her abused shoulder and ribs slammed down with a painful snap. The bandit scrambled to straddle her, his weight pressing harshly against her ribs, stealing the air from her lungs, and raised his fists to pummel her.

  Priscilla caught the first fist that swung down with Asha – the glove's texture hardened into stone the instant before the man’s fist hit, so the man’s knuckles hit it with a solid crack. The bandit reared back, staring at his bloodied hand in shock, before raising his other fist.

  And then a sword broke through the man’s chest, splashing Priscilla’s face with more sticky blood.

  Sulaiman pulled his sword out and kicked the man to the side, staring down at Priscilla with a frown. He was covered in sweat and blood, and breathing heavily.

  Priscilla offered him a weak smile and wheezed, “Are all the problems solved?”

  Sulaiman glanced around before sharply nodding.

  “The fires still need to be put out, but you –”

  “We make a pretty good team, huh,” Priscilla said, her brain going a little loopy and relaxed at the confirmation they defeated the bandits. The adrenaline leached from her body as the pain steadily took over. Maybe she was going into shock, Priscilla had read something about that once, hadn’t she? The details were fuzzy.

  Sulaiman looked taken aback by her words before saying, “It seems we do, but –”

  “From you, Sulaiman,” Priscilla said, breath rattling as she closed her eyes, “that’s worth a million gold.”

  “Why did you – Wait – are you –”

  But Priscilla didn’t get to hear the rest of Sulaiman’s sentence as she passed out from the pain.