Of course, the peace didn’t last long at all. If there was one thing

  he’d learned during his short time in this world, it was that.

  Perhaps

  because he was Ares’ champion, he seemed destined to be a magnet for

  trouble. This particular mess, however, he’d brought upon himself. He

  hadn’t been able to hold back.

  He had to admit it—though of

  course, he didn’t regret a thing. Max left the cabin. Across the way, as

  expected, an elf waited for him.

  This one was different. No, not one of those he’d defeated and humiliated before.

  “Enough,” said Max. “Things don’t have to spiral out of control.”

  “Such

  arrogance!” the elf retorted. “You think you can come here, hit a

  child, and then decide when enough is enough? All humans are the same.”

  “Call it whatever you want, but this ends now or you’ll regret it. We’re allies. Your own boss recruited me.”

  “Silvana

  can sympathize with humans if she pleases, but I refuse to tolerate you

  wandering around doing as you please. Hurting our children. Come on,”

  he assumed a combat stance, unsheathing the sword hanging from his back.

  “Come on, fight, coward!”

  Max didn’t unsheathe his own blade—not yet.

  “Are you that little shit’s father?”

  “No,” the elf replied bluntly.

  “Then

  why the hell are you here playing hero?” Max shook his head. “Well,

  suit yourself. But that brat deserved it. You should be grateful I only

  gave him a kick.”

  The elf spat, his face twisting with rage. So

  much rage that he choked on his own words. Max assumed. Or perhaps he

  saw no need for words. Not when his murderous glare conveyed everything

  important in an instant.

  “Now you try to justify yourself?”

  “You

  justify—if you can—what he did to my daughter,” Max shot back. “If a

  human had done something like that to your son, you wouldn’t have

  stopped at a kick to the mouth. You’d have strung him up on a damned

  tree. You’d have gutted him like a pig.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Max snorted.

  He

  should try to de-escalate the conflict. Apologize, even. But every time

  that idea crossed his mind, the image of Helen lying on the ground

  reappeared—the red mark on her pale cheek. Her face in that moment

  flashed in his mind’s eye: her wide eyes, her trembling lips.

  Helen

  had told him it wasn’t a big deal, after all. That she’d been used to

  not belonging to either the human world or the elven world since birth.

  Yet those had just been words. Her immediate physical reaction told another story. A very simple one.

  Helen had tried to connect with her own kind. Simply to play a little. And as a reward, she’d received insults and a slap.

  That was simply intolerable. His blood burned just thinking about it.

  It

  was impossible to resolve this problem through dialogue. The elf—whose

  name Max still didn’t know—wouldn’t listen to reason, and neither would

  he, he admitted.

  But he wouldn’t cross the line. He wouldn’t kill him. The elf hadn’t actually done anything.

  Not

  yet. So he’d just teach him a lesson—one that would serve as an example

  to all the others who might be nurturing similar ideas. A living proof

  that messing with them wasn’t worth it.

  Naturally, he worried far

  more about what they might do to Helen than about any retaliation

  against himself. The fight was attracting attention, of course. Crowds

  gathered at a safe distance.

  Some shouted their support. Others their displeasure. No one, absolutely no one, stepped forward to try to stop this.

  “I

  don’t know who you think you are, human. But it’s time someone took you

  down a peg. It’s time someone—” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Max

  would forever be left with the mystery. It wasn’t that the elf had

  chosen to fall silent or reconsidered in the moment. He’d never finish

  the sentence because an arrow had pierced his throat.

  His blood splattered across Max’s face. He watched him collapse, choking on his own blood.

  Okay, he was still alive, but he didn’t have much time left in this world. Seconds of agony, minutes at most.

  What

  did Max know? The point was, seeing how his head twisted and his body

  trembled was enough to know he was a goner. You didn’t need to be a

  medical expert. In any case,

  Max turned around and ran without a second thought.

  He’d

  thought orcs were too stupid to set up an ambush, but anything was

  possible. Or maybe it was humans. He’d bet both sides had enough reasons

  for retaliation throughout history. Well, that was obvious. It was

  always like that.

  He slammed the cabin door open. He slipped inside, wary of traps. Of course, there were none.

  He went to the room he shared with Helen. The girl’s first reaction was to give him a tense look. No—a frightened one.

  Maybe

  she didn’t know exactly what was happening. Though, to be fair, neither

  did he. But she’d have heard enough: the whistle of arrows, the

  gurgling of that unlucky son of a bitch choking on his blood, the

  screams.

  “Grab your staff and follow me,” Max said. “Don’t leave my sight for a moment, Helen. Understood?”

  Helen

  simply seemed too scared to speak. Or perhaps, as usual, she

  overthought everything and had nothing to say beyond what she felt.

  “Where are we going now? What will we do? Are we sticking to the plan, the ambush one?”

  “Good question.”

  Max thought about it, but not for long.

  “The

  plan is to survive however we can,” he finally said. “If an opportunity

  arises, well, we’ll see. Stay close to me. Do what I do.”

  They

  left the cabin, and it immediately became clear this wasn’t the work of a

  lone archer slipping behind enemy lines for the perfect shot. A rain of

  steel descended upon the elves and their shitty little treehouses.

  When

  the elf—whose name Max still didn’t know—was shot in the throat, the

  first and by far the wildest possibility that had crossed his mind was

  that one of Silvana’s elves had taken the guy out before he could become

  a real problem. But that was unrealistic, not just because they

  should’ve known none of those guys could put up a fight, but mainly

  because they wouldn’t do that to one of their own.

  They were being invaded, plain and simple: elves, humans, merfolk… whoever was responsible.

  Now they were under a waterfall of shit, and the only thing they could do was try to come out as unscathed as possible.

  “Orcs attacking with bows and arrows,” said Helen, “and setting ambushes?”

  “Yeah, doesn’t seem likely. I don’t know what’s happening here.”

  But that was the least of their worries, naturally.

  They were alive, they would survive, and they’d come out of this better and stronger than before. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Thanks to the power Ares had granted him, that was literally true.

  Part

  of him wished he’d left as soon as Helen recovered. To not think about

  repaying debts or growing stronger. To chase his goals by throwing

  himself into another life-or-death fight.

  But he’d decided to

  accept Silvana’s request. He’d chosen to be here, and Helen had wanted

  this too. Too late for regrets, for second-guessing, for telling himself

  fire burns.

  The attackers emerged from the trees, growling and roaring. Orcs, without a doubt. So they were smart enough to set an ambush.

  To catch the elves by surprise. Fine. Shocking, but fine.

  It was better than the alternative, at least. Max was different now. More willing to speak his mind, to enforce his will.

  But

  he wasn’t a warrior or a monster. He wasn’t sure he could kill humans

  without hesitation, despite everything. Something that merely looked human was a different story.

  At

  least, that’s what he believed. One of the orcs cut into their path,

  leaping and landing right in front of them. Max doubted it recognized

  him, despite the feat he’d accomplished in Ethos and the massacre of

  those bastards.

  No, Max thought, placing a hand on Helen’s

  shoulder and hiding her behind him, pushing her back carefully. It had

  likely been drawn by Helen. They didn’t care, after all.

  It meant

  absolutely nothing to them that she was just a child. If he fell, if no

  one remained to protect her, she’d suffer the same fate as her mother.

  Max gritted his teeth and, unflinching, faced the orc as it unleashed a

  war cry and lunged at him.

  A mace in one hand, a shield in the other. Its shadow swallowed him quickly. It was a massive monster.

  But size didn’t matter much. Not such a trivial difference. Its attacks were just easier to see.

  They

  made it easier prey, that’s all. Max shattered its right leg, sending

  it crashing to its knees. He achieved this simply by kicking and

  pressing his boot down until the bone cracked, until he felt the leg

  twist.

  Then, with both hands, he decapitated it. He watched the

  head—frozen in a stupid expression of surprise—arc through the air,

  trailing a spray of blood. Not a single drop stained him or his armor.

  The

  severed head hit the grass with a dull thud. It seemed to stare at him,

  but it was already dead. Those eyes only saw through him, if they saw

  anything at all.

  If it wasn’t entirely dead, it had little

  consciousness left. It must’ve seen nothing. That was something he’d

  read in the hospital: when you die, hearing is the last sense to go.

  He

  wasn’t sure if it was true, but why was he thinking about that? Maybe

  because, before coming to this world, he’d never even been in a fight.

  And of course, he’d never killed anyone. But now he could do something

  as monstrous as decapitate a being without hesitation, without physical,

  mental, or emotional strain.

  He told himself again it was because

  it was an orc—a monster, a thing only vaguely resembling a human. But

  deep down, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate even if this were an invasion by

  human forces. It probably wouldn’t even disturb his sleep.

  I guess time will tell, he thought. Like everything in life.

  “Don’t stop,” Max said. “Run.”