Chapter 20 - Trial of Blood (Patreon)

Blood crusted over my skin. Pain wrecked my mind. Every nerve burned. My vision blurred. My mouth tasted like iron—wet and raw. I’d never been hurt this badly. Ever

Then something started happening at my forehead. A slow, deep pull—like a vacuum opening inside my skull. Not just pain leaving. Something coming in. Mana. Raw mana from the world around me.

My body was battered and torn. My ribs were cracked. My lungs barely pulled in air. But the moment that new mana filled me, I felt none of it.

First, the pain dulled. Then it blurred. Then it was gone.

My breathing evened. My muscles no longer ached. Something warm curled inside my chest, filling me like a rising tide. I wasn’t just healing. I was becoming stronger.

And Gods, it felt good.

It was better than when I ate the wrong mushrooms in the forest during my hunting days with Quintin. I felt open, light, and powerful. Color. Sound. Light. All of it brighter, sharper, deeper. I could hear the wind splitting around the broken trees. I could see the way every leaf swayed, the exact rhythm of movement.

I wasn’t just here. I was everywhere.

My body felt like it was floating, the weight of exhaustion peeling away like old skin. I swayed, arms loose, light as air. Nothing hurt. Nothing dragged me down.

I could do anything.

My steps became almost playful, my boots barely touching the ground before I moved again. A liquid kind of movement. Like I wasn’t walking—I was gliding.

“Is this what you’re supposed to do?” I giggled, touching my horns. They were longer now. Definitely longer. That realization should have bothered me, but I just stroked them like an old friend and grinned. “You’re finally good for something, heh heh.”

I should have been terrified.

I wasn’t.

It could have been minutes or hours, but all I remembered clearly was walking through the forest through a fine path of destroyed trees, branches, and leaves.

All of a sudden, the feeling started to slip away. The warmth in my veins cooled. The rush in my head dimmed. I suddenly felt cold and empty—like waking from a perfect dream and realizing it was never real.

The ground felt too heavy under my feet. My limbs, which had been weightless moments ago, were suddenly dragging at my sides.

A rush of dizziness swept over me. I stumbled, nearly falling to my knees. The real world came rushing back in a flood of exhaustion.

Kardin. Gabby. Lars.

My breath hitched. “Need to hurry,” I grunted, sweating. "Gotta save them."

I tried running, but my body wasn’t completely better. My legs and body still felt raw even though they’d just healed. Flashes of pain still reached me under the bliss.

Another dose of mana dripped from my horns throughout my body. I slowed down, the pain disappeared, and I stumbled again until I stood in place, smiling, and looking up into the sky.

Just go with it, Yen.

The next thing I knew, I was back in the clearing, muttering, coming out of the trip.

Give back what you got.

I spotted the man who sent me flying into the forest. The look on his face was divine. He wasn’t as cocky now. He gave me the same look rabbits did when I pulled them from traps for dinner.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the stranger. Our noses could have touched. I didn’t even feel the wind mana channel in my body. It was so natural, so second nature; I couldn’t have imagined getting to him any other way.

He must have focused a massive amount of wind and blew it at me in a single point of contact, I reasoned as I stared at the stranger. It’s the same principle as my fireball but with wind. Very creative. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Was it like this?” I flicked my wrist at the stranger. A concentrated wall of wind followed my nonchalant strike, slamming into him. The man was sent flying into the forest at the same speed he sent me. “I guess it was.” I stared after him with a devilish smile. “You’re not even a footnote in my story.”

“Yen!” a voice called to me.

When I entered the clearing, I had tunnel vision. My only goal was revenge. With that simple word, the world around me gained the color it lost, the noises I blocked out were perceivable, and the intoxicating feeling in my body went away.

I turned to the noise to see Kardin standing over Gabby. She had a pool of blood under her body while thick, black veins lifted from her skin. Kardin was in a panic, but he didn’t look that wounded beyond a few cuts and scrapes.

Where’s the other one? Lars?

There was an odd shape lying a ways in front of Kardin and Gabby. My gaze focused on it, and my stomach twisted.

Lars.

His body slumped forward unnaturally, arms sprawled at odd angles. Where his neck should’ve been, there was nothing. A gaping, jagged wound, dark with congealed blood, left a hole in his torso.

His head lay nearby, half-buried in the dirt, eyes glassy, mouth slightly open as if caught mid-breath. His face, which only hours ago had been laughing around the campfire, was frozen in the last emotion he had ever felt.

A heartbeat passed.

My chest caved inward.

“Help me!” Kardin’s voice shattered through the moment, raw and desperate. “Gabby’s dying! Please, help me!”

My head snapped up. Lars was gone. I couldn’t save him. But Gabby—

Quickly, I rushed over to their sides and knelt on the ground. “What happened?”

“That assassin said his sword was coated in poison!” relayed Kardin. He looked up at me frantically, panic set in his eyes. “I-I don’t have anything that can—”

“I do,” I interrupted. I opened my codex, flipped a page, and pulled out a vial. “Quintin always made me carry high-powered antidotes in case something happened to me in the forest by myself. Do you know what kind he used?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then I’ll…I’ll have to give her the…shit.” I scratched my head. “If I give her something that reacts with the poison, it’ll only make things worse.” My neck craned toward the forest. “If it’s on his sword, I might be able to pick it out by scent.”

“You can?!”

“I’ve got a good nose.” I tapped it to confirm. “And I’ve mixed a lot of potions in my free time. At the very least, I’ll be able to rule some things out. We can give her a temporary solution, then run back to Sandy Branch and let Dr. Bink handle the rest.” I stood. “Hold up a sec, I’ll—”

A force slammed into me hard.

I felt the air rush out of me again as I was sent backward.

The strange man, the assassin, stood where I once was. He leered at Kardin and Gabby. “Don’t. Move,” he ordered them before lunging after me.

My body tingled with excitement.

I can’t say I’d ever fought anyone before, for real. Turk was a different matter. I just killed him. The only reason he had any advantage over me was because he took me by surprise. Even at ten, I doubt he could have beaten me in a fair fight.

This guy was a different story. His eyes indicated that his mana level was a step above anyone in the Trailblazers and only two below mine. If this turned into a war of attrition, I’d win, but he clearly had skills to compensate for his deficit if he survived my blow and could unleash such a powerful retaliatory attack.

I never had the opportunity to test myself. All my fights these past four years were mindlessly easy, bordering on practice. Even the Velcavious was something I likely could have managed on my own with little effort. It’s not as if monsters were intelligent at that level; they were simply stronger.

This man was intelligent, powerful, and ready to kill me.

I’d either live or die. He intended to end my life with his earlier attack. Not only was it powerful, but he targeted me first, which meant he recognized I was the biggest threat in the group.

Even now, he left Gabby and Kardin behind to handle me personally, risking their potential escape. It meant he either had to confront me and accept that risk, or he was confident enough to capture them no matter how our fight played out, assuming he won.

It excited me either way.

I grinned at the assassin as he propelled himself into the air after me, blade drawn, ready to fight.

I ripped my weapon from my codex, metal scraping against the magic-bound pages just as his blade came down.

Clang! 

Sparks exploded between us as our weapons met, the force of his strike sending me hurtling backward. I twisted mid-air, the weight of his attack threatening to throw off my balance.

My instincts kicked in. No time to think. Move.

He lunged again before my feet even touched the ground. I pushed hard off the air with a burst of fire mana, propelling myself sideways in an instant.

My sudden movement made his next strike miss by a hair. His sword sliced through empty space where my head had just been.

A split-second window. I took it.

Twisting my wrist, I redirected my fire, sending a controlled wave of heat sweeping toward his face. The flare burst like an ember caught in the wind, flickering across his vision.

He flinched—the opening I needed.

We both hit the ground at the same time.

My back slammed against the hard, unforgiving dirt, propelling me into a dizzying flip through the air. With a surge of adrenaline, I managed to brace myself just in time, avoiding a painful collision again.

The assassin’s feet hit the dirt. He dug in, leaving a trail of sediment in his wake. After brushing ash from his eyes, he glanced at me, ready to speak.

My blade streaked toward his temple, the arc of my swing precise—deadly.

But he was faster. A calculated sidestep, effortless. His body barely shifted, just enough for my blade to carve through the empty air beside his head. Too smooth. He expected that.

Which meant I expected him to expect it.

Before he could counter, I snapped my left hand open. A focused blast of wind exploded outward like a hammer against his ribs.

He barely had time to react. The impact lifted him clean off his feet. The air crackled as his body shot backward, smashing into a thick tree trunk with a deep, reverberating thud. He hit the ground, sliding down the bark, but he was already moving again. Not even shaken.

“Now we’re even.” I bowed sarcastically, my eyes never leaving him. “Ready to begin?”

“Ah, you find this kind of thing fun.” The man looked dejected. “I honestly wish for this to end as quickly as possible. People like you don’t get along well with people like me.”

“Murderers?”

“Employees,” the man corrected. “I want to do my job, go home, enjoy my free time, sleep, and do it all over again the next day, week, or whenever I get home. I’m someone who values my free time. This job? Not so much. It’s very taxing and mentally draining. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone considering the profession.”

My head cocked to the side with genuine curiosity. “Then why are we here right now doing this bullshit?”

“You do what you’re good at, even if you hate it.” The man shrugged as if it were obvious. “I have delicious food whenever I wish, a large home, and a beautiful woman I’d die for. That’s enough.” His eyes flicked toward me, unreadable. “Why pretend it’s more complicated than that?”

“Wow.” I paused, lost in thought. “That almost makes you worse than someone who does it for fun.”

“Does it?” The man pondered my words for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“I’d be sad if you killed me, and it didn’t make you feel anything,” I retorted. “The least you can do as the person ending my life is have some emotional stake. I’m not a lump of shit you stepped in.”

“I never said I didn’t care about my victims.”

“Whatever you say.” I twirled my sword and entered a stance. “Why would I believe that? Admit it. You enjoy killing. You’re good at it, aren’t you?”

“What about you, devil? You’re enjoying this even though one of your companions is dead, and another is dying.” He narrowed his rapier at me. “Let us finish this, please. Executing Prince Christopher is more important than killing some devil, no matter the kind.”

“Prince Christopher?”

“Oh?” The man looked amused for a moment. “Did he hide it from you?”

“Prince of this country?” I pointed at the ground. “Of Zalevet?”

The assassin nodded.

“Wow. Cool. Anyways,” I beckoned the man with my hand, “let’s go, whatever your name is.”

“Rook.”

My eyes sparkled. “Yennifer of Sandy Branch, at your service.”

Rook’s nose crinkled. He looked at me like he was exhausted and disgusted. “Is all your kind like this?”

“Devils?”

“Archdevils.”

“Wouldn’t know. I shipwrecked here as a baby, and humans raised me. No one’s like me.” I held my free hand out to the side and connected it to the dirt.

Rook sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Not needing further prompting, I immediately fired a jagged pike of concentrated soil at Rook’s head.

Rook sidestepped it using the Warring style, as it was moving at a speed impossible to achieve without it.

I’d have cut it, I thought as I assessed what I learned from the first attack. He must not be proficient with the Heavenly style; if he is, he isn’t as good as I am. He keeps relying on wind abilities. He’s probably better with the Warring style than I am. In that case, I shouldn’t try to match him. My goal is to slow his movements and land a decisive blow with my sword if I can’t surprise him with my spells.

Rook dug his foot into the grass and rocketed at me at blinding speeds.

My first spell established a strong connection with the dirt, allowing me to effortlessly channel my power into a wall towering as high as two people stacked on top of each other.

To my surprise, Rook ran over the top of it like it was nothing. His feet stuck to it at his will.

He’s a Warring Master…

I sensed an imminent attack, moving at a speed I couldn’t handle. I channeled water mana internally, and soon, white sparks of energy began to fly off my blade. With that mana coursing through my body, everything suddenly slowed down. Rook’s actions became easier to understand. No matter what he did, I knew I could respond.

Rook planted his feet and stopped moving instantly after noticing the change in my sword. “You use the Heavenly style?”

I sneered. “Bad match up?”

“Not at all,” said Rook, but he looked much more cautious than before.

The Heavenly style had an advantage over the Warring style, the Warring style had an advantage over the Chaos style, and the Chaos style had an advantage over the Heavenly style. In general, skill mattered more, but what made each strong also made them weak against another style.

Slowly, we started to circle each other.

No more words. No more games. Just the sound of our boots in the dirt and the whisper of steel in the air.

Rook was watching me, waiting for an opening, looking for a moment to strike. He was waiting for my hesitation. The tiniest shift. The faintest misstep.

Rook’s height and weight were a problem. His reach was farther than mine by a great deal. Meanwhile, I was still short for my age, annoyingly so. A duel to the death usually ended in only a few swings. That’s what Barcus told me. All it took was one mistake to gain the advantage. It made people cautious.

The fact that Rook was being so careful meant he saw me as a threat and was acutely aware of the dangers a duel like this could mean for him.

Suddenly, Rook dropped his stance. “You’re outstanding.”

“Th-Thank you?” Neither my stance nor my mana wavered, but the tension in my face softened into visible confusion.

“Your eyes must make you confident. You’re truly blessed, you know. It’s a shame.”

My eyes narrowed. “What is?”

“What do you think makes a good archer?” asked Rook as he ignored my question. “Ability, yes?”

“…that’s what I’d say.”

“The color of our eyes represents the number of arrows one might have to shoot.” He pointed to himself. “I was blessed with orange eyes. In terms of arrows, let’s say that amounts to forty. But you—you have reached the highest level an intelligent being can aspire to! Your eyes are white. That gives you a hundred arrows.”

“What’s the point of this?” I asked. I was starting to get annoyed.

“The arrows don’t define the archer,” Rook mused, his voice calm. Too calm.

A flicker of movement—too fast. Even with the Heavenly style, I could barely process it and couldn’t react. White-hot pain ripped through my side. A cold hand landed on my shoulder, light as a whisper.

Rook was already there.

I froze. My mind screamed, “Move!” but my body lagged behind. I could feel his breath.

“It’s over,” he murmured.

No the fuck it isn’t!

I lashed out, but my blade cut through empty air. He was already gone—three paces back, watching me like a man studying an insect.

“Relax,” cooed Rook. “Let the poison work. It’ll be painless. That’s a guarantee.”

I placed my hand on my side. My fingers gushed with blood as the gash on my side poured down my left.

Rook looked at me with genuine sympathy. “Sit down. Rest. Soon, you’ll fall asleep, and your struggles will end. I know you’ve had a hard life here, especially in these lands. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

I waited.

Nothing happened.

I concentrated a massive ball of fire in my left hand. “Not my style.” I threw it directly at him.

Rook didn’t expect that. He hesitated a step and couldn’t make it fully out of the way of the fireball as its force sent him off his feet.

“You like my fucking arrows?!” I said, laughing.

“How?!”

It was my horns. I’d never been in a bad enough state to realize their potential, but they healed me and empowered me in danger. That’s what happened after Rook’s first attack sent me flying, and I was able to recover. It looked like it worked the same way with poison. I felt fine. Better than fine. I felt amazing!

“Secret,” I beamed, putting on finger over my lips as I smiled.

Rook frowned. “What does it matter? So you must suffer.” He was suddenly on my left side, and a new cut opened on my left flank. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Why?” I felt even more blood trickle out of me. “Try moving.”

Rook tensed. His feet were in soft sand that I quickly hardened.

I attempted to slice through his neck.

In a blink, Rook was gone, but I felt my blade hit something. There was blood on the edge and a bit on the ground.

“Must we do this?” asked Rook. He was somewhere hidden in the trees. “Your death is not necessary?”

“Oh? I thought you were going to kill me?” I called out. “What happened to your forty arrows?”

“You’ve had more training than is typical for someone your age, and it’s evident you’ve endured a lot," Rook acknowledged. “Your tactics are impulsive, unique, and daring. If we continue to prolong this as we have, we’ll both end up severely injured.” His voice trailed off. “I must apologize for what I’m about to do next."

A blast of wind shot into my shoulder with the force of a hammer. I winced, dropped to one knee, then spun to look around for the source.

There was no one.

“Your body will break soon,” he said.

Another blast struck the back of my leg. My other knee gave way, and the skin tore open as if a sharp rock had been thrust into my flesh at unnatural speeds.

“You could always fall on your blade,” Rook’s voice echoed from the woods.

Another blast rocked the back of my head. I fell forward, seeing stars as my face bounced off the ground. Quickly, I stood back up.

Water mana internalized within me. Everything slowed. My senses heightened.

I heard a blast generate behind me.

I spun.

A pocket of air distorted the atmosphere. I barely met it with my blade. My mana sliced through it, shattering the spell and transforming it into a spray of white mana particles.

“A Heavenly Expert?” Rook’s voice echoed through the forest as he stayed hidden. “You’re full of surprises. Alright then.”

A sharp whistle behind me—two blasts of wind howling through the air. I twisted mid-step, slashing through them, their force scattering in bursts of raw mana.

Before I could reset my stance, another strike ripped toward my ribs from the side. Too fast. I barely managed to pivot, throwing my weight backward to avoid the brunt of the impact.

I couldn’t keep up.

Eventually, one slammed into me, breaking my defense. Then another. Then another. A concentrated pelleting of wind caused me to curl into a ball. My skin chipped and bruised as my vision blurred and my body became weaker and weaker.

Then, I felt it.

A pulse—not of pain, but something else.

Bliss.

My horns drank in the mana around me, ravenous, insatiable. The agony in my ribs melted away, replaced by a rising warmth—no, a flood. My limbs tingled as if every nerve had been kissed by lightning. My chest rose and fell in frantic bursts. Every inch of me buzzed with untamed, raw power.

I wanted more.

The wind blasts came faster. Harder. They barely registered. My fingers curled inward, pulling fire mana into my palms, squeezing it so tightly it felt solid—a throbbing mass of white-hot destruction.

It needed out.

I twisted the energy like wringing the last drops from a ripe fruit—then hurled it outward with both hands.

The world ignited.

Flames erupted from me in a spiraling inferno, roaring higher than the trees, turning the clearing into a furnace. The ground cracked beneath my feet, scorched black in an instant. The very air trembled as the firestorm swallowed everything in its path. It swept through the grass, scorching the earth in its embrace. Suddenly, the forest was empty, quiet, and incredibly open.

I huffed as the sensation from my horns faded. All that remained was a numbing pain, as if I had been beaten and dragged by a horse across a rocky road for miles. It hurt to even lift my arms while my legs desperately urged me to sit down.

My mana was slowly healing me, as it usually did. If I broke a bone, it would heal in a few days. Scrapes closed up quickly. Serious wounds would heal in hours with a bit of rest and first aid. But that general ability, which everyone possessed and relied on one’s mana levels, was nothing compared to what my horns did for me multiple times. It was at least ten times faster, and way more intoxicating.

“He isn’t dead, is he?” I wondered out loud. “Wouldn’t be that easy.”

The world burned around me.

The fire had consumed the trees, blackened the ground, and left the air thick with the choking scent of charred wood. It should have felt overwhelming, terrifying—but it didn’t. I felt nothing. Just the echo of something raw and consuming inside me.

My hands trembled as the heat faded from my fingertips. My body craved it—like it wanted more.

Before I could think too much about it, a voice cut through the clearing.

“No, devil, I am not,” Rook’s voice came from behind me.

I reeled back, a concentrated ball of water sitting on my middle finger, poised in a position ready for it to be flicked. Rook stopped his blade just inches from my throat.

We were at a standstill.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to fight,” admitted Rook.

“This is my first life-or-death battle,” I gloated. My eyes glimmered with happiness. “Isn’t this fun?”

Rook shivered. “I don’t care for people like you.”

“That’s the nicest insult anyone’s ever given me, and I’ve heard a lot.”

Rook scoffed.

Slowly, we stepped back from each other. I stood and took a few steps back, my water never losing its aim. Rook did the same, although he switched to a defensive stance with his sword once I had total control of the range.

I contemplated just shooting him in the head but held back. There was a good chance he’d dodge it since he was a Warring Master, and this was my chance to prepare for the final stage of this battle.

We kept walking until a large space was between us then stopped.

Rook held his blade overhead at an angle pointed down at my body. His weight was forward, and his focus was entirely on me.

I readied my sword, too, having stopped my water spell.

He knows I wield mana and swordsmanship evenly, I analyzed. But I still have one more card to play.

I had one hand pointed at the ground connected to the dirt while my other held my sword lightly in one hand.

The first to move was crucial.

It was me.

Pikes of earth darted out of the ground from the left of Rook.

He reeled left faster than my eyes could make out.

I fired more pikes at a right-ward angle where I anticipated he’d go.

Rook darted left, narrowly dodging my attack.

The distance between us closed. I could either send him left or right, narrow his area of attack, and strike.

I sent pikes from both angles, pinching him in the middle.

Rook did something I didn’t expect: jump. He did so at such an extreme angle it was like a javelin had been perfectly thrown at me from atop a tower.

I cut off my feeling to the earth, surged water mana into my body, and boosted it into my sword as strong as possible. The blade was glowing white with power.

Rook flinched. He knew what I was doing was a sign of a Heavenly Master, but it was too late for him to move.

I quickly cupped my free hand onto my sword handle, angled my blade downward at an angle, and pulled it up. Mana arced, extending my blade longer than it should have through normal means.

I felt the power connect and sever flesh. Some of it splattered on my face.

At the same time, a sword entered just to the right of my heart into my lungs and out my back. Rook’s arm was still attached and gripped tight to the steel.

My world blurred, but I steadied myself.

I looked around for Rook, but he was nowhere to be seen. Only his arm and his weapon had been left behind. There wasn’t even a trail for me to look for.

What if he doubled back?

Urged forward by this thought, I gripped Rook’s arm and sword, ready to pull, but paused.

I’ll bleed out if I do that. I don’t know if I can heal something this bad.

My skin felt like parchment stretched too thin, cold yet burning. My remaining lung fought for air, each breath a shallow, wet gasp. Blood pooled somewhere inside me. Too much of it.

I tried stepping forward. Agony tore through my ribs, my stomach, my chest—a brutal symphony of pain. My vision swam. My legs buckled. All my accumulated pains came roaring back.

No. Not yet.

Wind mana surged into my muscles—not enough. I shoved more in, forcing them to work, ignoring the sharp sting of magic scraping through my failing body.

I ran. Or tried. It was a stumbling, lurching blur of desperate movement. The world tilted beneath me, branches and earth shifting in and out of focus.

Keep going. Keep—

I crashed forward just as I reached Kardin and Gabby, my knees slamming into the dirt. My weight twisted, shoving the blade in me deeper. Stars exploded behind my eyelids.

“All…done…” My voice cracked, a whisper of its former self. I looked up at Kardin, barely seeing him through the haze. “Pull out…the sword…” My breath hitched. “Please…”

Kardin was stunned to see me arrive, but since he was alive, Rook clearly left. He was faster than me, so they’d already be dead if he hadn’t fled.

Kardin raced over to me. He hesitated. “I can’t—” His hands hovered near the hilt of the sword lodged through my chest. “If I pull it out, you—”

“PULL IT OUT!” The words tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

His fingers curled around the handle, trembling.

Not fast enough.

I grabbed his wrist. “NOW!

He wrenched the blade free.

Agony detonated throughout my body. My throat seized. My vision snapped to black. A sickening schlick filled my ears, followed by the sensation of liquid warmth gushing over my skin.

My hands hit the dirt, struggling to hold me up. I couldn’t feel my legs. I was hollowing out.

My fingers barely worked. I lifted them, reaching for Kardin, a weak, twitching motion. “The…blade.”

He hesitated.

“Kardin,” I wheezed. “Now.”

He shoved it into my hands, and I almost dropped it.

The metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils, but beneath it—something else. Acrid. Toxic. A scent I recognized, but only barely.

Blighted-Tier poison. It was distilled from monster parts.

My chest clenched. “Not good…but…fixable…”

I fumbled with my codex, fingers slipping over the pages. Found it. The vial tumbled out of my grasp as soon as I pulled it from the pages, but I caught it just before it could hit the ground and break.

No hesitation. I tore the stopper off with my teeth and downed the entire thing. The bitter liquid burned on the way down, but it was better than dying.

“Here.” My voice cracked. I shoved a second vial into Kardin’s hands, forcing it toward Gabby.

“What—what do I—” Kardin stammered.

“Give it…to her,” I gasped, barely above a whisper.

Kardin’s eyes widened as he held the bottle. Quickly, he stumbled over to Gabby and lifted her head. He carefully poured the antidote past her lips and held her neck so that she’d swallow it. Her color returned almost immediately, and the black veins protruding from her skin started to recede.

My fingers shook violently as I grabbed another vial from my codex and dumped its contents over my wound. It bubbled and knitted my flesh together into an acidic cap that kept me from bleeding out, but it didn’t heal me. It just covered and sealed the wound. I held in my screams as I coiled forward into a weak ball.

“Get… us…” My tongue felt heavy. My chest burned. I could barely hear my own voice. “…to…Dr. Bink…or…we’ll… die.”

I tried to move my hands, tried to make him understand, but my limbs barely twitched. My body wasn’t listening anymore.

The edges of my vision curled inward, shrinking the world into nothing.

I barely heard my own whisper.

“All…temporary…fixes…”

The ground caught me.

I watched at half-speed as Kardin assessed the situation. He ran over to Lars first. For a moment, he just stared at him. Then he opened his codex and used one of its pages to store his body. Next, he returned to Gabby. He hoisted her onto his back and tied her hands and legs to his body so she wouldn’t slip. Then it was my turn.

My mana was exhausted, my horns weren’t working as they did earlier, and my organs had been stabbed. Oxygen wasn’t getting to me the way it should with me down one lung, and everything I’d done was only keeping me stable. If I didn’t get to a doctor soon, I was going to die.

“I…blacked out…too much,” I groaned as Kardin picked me up princess-style.

“Stop talking. Save your breath.” Kardin immediately started running toward Sandy Branch with the aid of wind mana.  

“Can’t. Scared,” I admitted. “Dying’s terrifying…no matter how many times…you do it...”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re a prince, right?” I muttered, looking up at his face. “Can I see…your…Crest? I never thought…I would…get the chance…in person.”

Kardin said nothing and ignored my request.

“I’m sorry…you have to carry…a filthy…devil…like me,” I teased.

“I don’t care what you are,” said Kardin. “You saved me and my companion while risking your own life. I’m in your debt.”

“Oh…good. Then…I can…enjoy getting carried…by royalty,” I said as my consciousness faded. “If I die…before…we get there…dump me…take Gabby. She can still…make it…”

The world of dreams awaited me.

For some reason, I imagined being carried amongst the stars by a two-legged horse.