The broad man took another step toward Macarius.
Aksibilian tried to move, but the moment he lifted his upper body, pain tore through his ribs. His arms gave way, and he fell back onto the wet ground.
"Don’t... touch him..."
The broad man ignored him.
He crouched beside Macarius and reached for the arrows embedded in his body. Then a hand seized his wrist. He froze. Macarius’s fingers tightened around his arm.
For a moment, the man simply stared at the boy lying in the mud. Macarius’s head was still lowered, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. Blood stained his clothes, and three arrows protruded from his back.
Yet his hand was warm. And it was getting tighter.
"What the..."
Macarius slowly raised his head. His gold-brown eyes settled on the man.
There was no clear expression on his face. No anger, no fear, not even the twisted smile he had worn while fighting the goblins. He looked exhausted. He looked miserable. And he looked as though he had finally reached the end of his patience.
"Hey."
His voice was hoarse. The broad man tried to pull his wrist free. Macarius didn’t let go.
"Didn’t you hear him?"
His fingers tightened until the man’s expression changed.
"He told you not to touch me."
The woman immediately raised her bow.
"He’s alive?!"
The first man, still recovering from his earlier fight with Aksibilian, stumbled backward.
"That’s impossible. Those arrows went straight through him!"
Macarius glanced down at his own body.
The wounds around the arrows were already closing. Beneath his torn clothes, damaged muscles slowly knitted together, while the broken tissues around his injuries regenerated with agonizing slowness. His body was repairing itself. But the pain hadn’t disappeared.
Not even close. His hands began trembling. His teeth clenched. Then a sudden, violent spasm ran through his back.
"AAAAAAAGH!"
His scream echoed between the rocks. The broad man instinctively tried to retreat, but Macarius dragged him forward by the wrist.
"YOU!"
Macarius’s voice cracked.
He didn’t know whether he was shouting at the man, at the tower, or at the entire miserable existence he had somehow ended up in.
He only knew that he was hurting. Again.
He had just escaped the goblins. He had finally found somewhere to rest. He had almost convinced himself that he might get through the day without being attacked again.
And now this. More arrows. More blood. More people trying to kill him.
’Seriously? What the hell is wrong with this place?’
He could barely stand.
His body was exhausted, his head was pounding, and his legs were shaking so badly that he could hardly trust them to support him.
But Aksibilian was behind him.
And those people had hurt his friend. Macarius slowly got to his feet. The broad man finally managed to tear his wrist free and stumbled backward.
"Stay away from me, you freak!"
Macarius tilted his head. Then he laughed.
It wasn’t a happy sound. It was a short, broken laugh that escaped between his uneven breaths.
"Freak?"
He took one step forward.
"Fine."
Another step.
"Call me whatever you want."
His expression suddenly hardened.
"But you’re going to regret touching my friend."
The woman released her arrow. Macarius moved.
He didn’t dodge gracefully. His body lurched sideways at the last possible moment, and the arrow scraped across his shoulder instead of striking his chest.
The impact spun him halfway around.He nearly fell. But he kept moving.
The arrow wound began closing before he had even regained his balance. The woman stared. Macarius looked at the blood running down his arm. Then he looked at her.
"That hurt."
He charged.
"THAT REALLY FUCKING HURT!"
The distance between them disappeared faster than she expected.
Macarius had never been particularly fast. He had no refined swordsmanship, no proper combat training, and no understanding of how experienced fighters were supposed to move.
He simply threw himself forward. The woman abandoned her bow and reached for the dagger at her waist.
Too late.
Macarius slammed into her before she could draw it properly. Both of them crashed onto the ground, and the impact drove the air from her lungs.
She tried to roll away. He caught her arm. She struck him across the face. His head snapped sideways. Macarius barely seemed to notice.
He grabbed her weapon hand with both hands and forced it away from his body. She struggled violently, attempting to kick him off, but he held on with a desperation that frightened her more than his strength.
"Get off me!"
She managed to drive her knee into his stomach. Macarius doubled over with a strangled cry. For an instant, his grip loosened. She seized the opportunity and shoved him away.
Macarius rolled across the wet ground, coughing and gasping. The impact had aggravated the injuries in his torso, and the pain made his vision swim.
He planted one hand against the ground. His arm shook.
"Come on..."
He tried to stand. His knee buckled.
"Come on, you piece of shit..."
He pushed himself up again.
The woman had regained her footing. She drew her dagger and stared at him with growing alarm.
Macarius stood crookedly, one shoulder hanging lower than the other. Blood ran from his mouth, and his breathing sounded terrible.
He was in no condition to fight. He knew it. She knew it. Yet he kept coming. The woman lunged.
Macarius moved into the attack rather than away from it. The dagger cut across his side. He screamed.
But he caught her wrist before she could pull the weapon free, then drove his forehead into her face. The impact left both of them reeling. She stumbled backward, disoriented.
Macarius followed and struck her again, this time with his entire weight behind the blow. They crashed against the rock wall. The dagger fell from her hand. She tried to reach for it. Macarius seized her before she could.
He drove her down onto the ground and held her there, ignoring her desperate attempts to escape. She struck his arms, scratched at his face, and begged him to stop.
For one brief moment, Macarius hesitated.
He had never wanted to kill another person. He hadn’t even understood what he was doing when he killed the goblins. But then he remembered the arrows.
He remembered Aksibilian lying on the ground, unable to move. And he remembered the way these people had spoken about killing them as though it were an ordinary chore.
His hesitation vanished. When Macarius finally stood, the woman no longer moved. He stumbled away from her, staring at his trembling hands.
"What..."
His voice caught in his throat. He swallowed.
"What the hell am I doing?"
He didn’t have time to answer himself. The first man was already moving toward him with his blade raised.
"YOU BASTARD!"
Macarius turned just as the sword came down. He raised his arm instinctively. The blade cut into his forearm. Pain exploded through him.
"AAAAAGH!"
He staggered backward, clutching the injured arm. Blood streamed between his fingers as the wound began to regenerate. The man stared at him. Then his expression twisted into something between disgust and fear.
"Why won’t you die?!"
Macarius looked at the wound. Then he looked at the man.
"That’s..."
He inhaled shakily.
"That’s a good question."
The man attacked again. This time, Macarius was ready to move. Not because he had suddenly become skilled. Because he had begun to understand one simple thing.
His enemies expected him to protect himself. They expected him to avoid their weapons, retreat when injured, and stop fighting when the pain became unbearable.
But Macarius’s body could survive things that should have ended a fight. And he was beginning to realize how terrifying that advantage could become. He let the man slash across his upper arm.
He screamed as the blade tore through flesh. Then he stepped closer. The man’s eyes widened. Macarius struck him with his uninjured fist.
The blow was clumsy, but the man was already off balance. He stumbled into the rocks, and Macarius followed with another strike.
Then another.
Every movement hurt. His damaged arm barely worked, and his legs threatened to collapse beneath him.
But he refused to stop. The man tried to defend himself with his sword. Macarius seized the weapon’s flat with his injured hand. The edge cut deeper into his palm. He screamed again. Yet he held on.
The man desperately pulled backward, trying to free the sword, but Macarius used the moment to close the distance and drive his shoulder into the man’s chest. They fell together.
The sword slipped from the man’s grasp.
Macarius landed heavily on top of him. The man tried to crawl away. Macarius caught his collar.
"No."
The word came out quietly. The man looked up at him.
"Please..."
Macarius’s expression flickered. For a fraction of a second, he looked almost as frightened as the man beneath him. Then the man reached for a hidden knife. Macarius saw the movement. He reacted before he could think. The struggle ended violently. When Macarius finally pulled away, the man lay motionless on the ground.
Macarius stared at him. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away.
He wanted someone to explain what he was supposed to do after killing a person. Instead, he wiped his bloodied hand against his clothes and forced himself to stand. Two down. The broad man remained.
And he was no longer smiling. The broad man backed away, his eyes moving between the two bodies.
"You..."
He looked at Macarius’s wounds.
The cuts were closing. The blood was slowing. Even the deep injuries across the boy’s torso were gradually repairing themselves.
It was horrifying.
The broad man had fought monsters before. He had killed people, too. He knew what a wounded person looked like, and he knew what happened when someone took enough damage.
This boy should have been dead several times over. Instead, he was still standing. Barely. But standing. The broad man tightened his grip on his weapon.
"You’re some kind of regeneration type?"
Macarius didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to keep his legs from giving out. The broad man noticed. His expression changed.
"Doesn’t matter. You can’t keep moving forever."
He rushed forward. Macarius tried to sidestep. His exhausted legs responded too slowly. The weapon struck him across the ribs. He flew sideways and crashed against the rocks.
Something cracked. Macarius screamed so loudly that his voice broke. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His body folded around the pain, and he slid down the stone until he was sitting in the mud.
The broad man approached without hurry.
"You’re tough. I’ll give you that."
He raised his weapon.
"But let’s see how long that lasts."
Macarius looked at him. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. His vision had begun to blur. He couldn’t keep fighting like this.
Not at this speed. Not with his body falling apart faster than he could think. He needed to move. He needed to get away from the next attack. He needed to reach Aksibilian.
The broad man swung. Macarius threw himself sideways. The weapon struck the ground where his head had been. He landed awkwardly, twisting his ankle beneath him. Pain shot up his leg, and he nearly collapsed.
But something changed. For one brief instant, the world seemed to slow around the movement of his own body.
Not the rain. Not the man. Only the distance between where Macarius stood and where he needed to be.
His legs tightened. His body leaned forward. And he moved. The sudden burst of speed carried him several steps farther than he had expected. He nearly slammed into the opposite rock wall before managing to stop himself.
The broad man’s attack struck nothing but air. Both men stared at each other. Macarius looked down at his legs.
"What... was that?"
A notification appeared at the edge of his vision.
[New Skill Acquired: Sprint]
[Your body has developed a burst of accelerated movement through repeated life-threatening combat.]
Macarius blinked.Then he looked at the broad man again.
"You’re kidding me."
The broad man charged before he could process the message. Macarius reacted instinctively. He leaned forward and sprinted.
His legs drove against the ground with a sudden, explosive force. Mud sprayed behind him as he shot past the man’s weapon, narrowly escaping the blow.
The speed was unfamiliar, almost uncontrollable. His body strained under the acceleration, and the pain in his injured legs threatened to bring him down.
But he was fast enough. He turned sharply, using the narrow space between the rocks to force the broad man to adjust his stance.
Then he attacked. Macarius slammed into him from the side.
The impact didn’t knock the larger man down, but it disrupted his balance. Macarius grabbed his clothing and pulled, using his own momentum to drag them both toward the uneven ground.
The broad man roared and struck him across the face. Macarius’s head snapped sideways. He screamed. His feet nearly slipped out from beneath him, but he activated Sprint again, bursting forward before the man could land another blow.
He didn’t have the strength to overpower his opponent in a fair contest. So he stopped trying to fight fairly. He moved in short, frantic bursts, forcing the broad man to turn and readjust. Whenever the larger man committed to a strike, Macarius darted out of reach, then rushed back before he could fully recover.
He was still taking damage. A blow struck his shoulder. Another caught his thigh. The broad man managed to drive his weapon into Macarius’s side, and the boy’s scream echoed through the shelter. But every time Macarius fell, he forced himself up again.
Every time he was injured, his regeneration began repairing the damage. Every time he felt himself approaching the limit of what he could endure, he thought of Aksibilian.
’I can’t die here.’
He burst forward again.
’Not here.’
Another acceleration.
’Not when he’s still alive.’
Macarius drove his shoulder into the broad man’s stomach and pushed him backward. The man staggered, finally losing his footing on the slick ground.
Macarius followed him down. The two crashed into the rocks. The broad man tried to rise, but Macarius clung to him with desperate strength. He struck at the man’s head and chest, ignoring the blows he received in return.
The larger man was stronger. He was more experienced. And he was still capable of killing Macarius if he landed a clean hit. But Macarius had something he hadn’t accounted for. He didn’t stop when he should have. He didn’t retreat when he was injured. He didn’t even seem to understand when his own body had reached the point where continuing to fight was madness.
He just kept going. The broad man tried to shove him away. Macarius caught his arm. The man struck him across the ribs. Macarius screamed, but held on. Then he drove the man down against the stone with all the strength he had left. The final struggle was short and brutal. When it ended, the broad man lay motionless beside the others.
Macarius remained crouched over him, his hands pressed against the ground. He didn’t move for several seconds. Rainwater ran down his face, mixing with blood and sweat. His entire body shook, and his breathing came in painful, ragged gasps.
He had won. Somehow. He had actually won. Macarius looked at his hands. Then he began to laugh. A small, exhausted sound escaped him.
"Heh..."
He swallowed.
"Ha... haha..."
The laughter quickly turned into a cough. He bent forward, spitting blood onto the ground as his chest spasmed.
"Fuck..."
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"That was..."
He couldn’t finish the sentence. There was nothing good he could say about what had just happened. Three people were dead. His body was torn apart. And he was still alive only because something inside him refused to let him die easily.
Macarius slowly turned his head.
"Aksibilian..."
The moment he saw his friend lying against the rocks, his laughter stopped. He crawled toward him. Every movement hurt. His knees dragged through the mud, and his injured arm shook whenever he tried to support himself. His regeneration was still working, but it couldn’t restore his stamina or erase the agony left by the fight.
He reached Aksibilian and dropped beside him.
"Hey..."
Aksibilian’s eyes were half-open.
His breathing was shallow, and his face had lost much of its color. Blood stained his clothing around the ribs and abdomen, while the bruising across his chest had already begun to darken.
When Macarius tried to help him sit up, Aksibilian let out a strangled groan. Macarius immediately stopped.
"Sorry. Sorry, man."
He stared at the injuries. Aksibilian was in bad shape. Much worse than Macarius had realized during the fight.
His ribs might have been broken, and the heavy blows to his torso could have caused internal injuries. Every shallow breath seemed to cost him effort. He was conscious, but barely, and the way his body trembled told Macarius that he couldn’t simply walk away from this.
Macarius’s hands began shaking harder.
"No..."
He swallowed, trying to steady his breathing.
"No, no, no. Don’t do this."
He carefully slid one arm behind Aksibilian’s shoulders and another beneath his legs.
The moment he tried to lift him, pain shot through his own back. His legs nearly gave out, and he had to lower Aksibilian again before either of them fell.
Macarius clenched his teeth. He was exhausted. His body was barely holding together. He had no idea where the nearest safe place was, and he didn’t know how to treat Aksibilian’s injuries.
But he couldn’t leave him here. He tried again, moving more slowly this time. He supported Aksibilian’s upper body as carefully as he could, keeping pressure away from his injured torso.
Aksibilian groaned. Macarius froze.
"Sorry. I know. I know it hurts."
His voice shook.
"But you have to hold on, okay?"
Aksibilian’s eyes moved weakly toward him. Macarius forced himself to meet his gaze.
"I’m going to save you."
He adjusted his grip, struggling to get his feet beneath him.
"I don’t care what happens. I’m going to save you, man."
His knees trembled as he rose.
The moment he stood, pain washed through his entire body. His vision darkened, and he had to lean against the rock to keep himself upright.
He waited until he could see clearly again. Then he tightened his hold on Aksibilian.
"I’m not leaving you here."
His voice was barely more than a whisper now.
"I won’t let you die."
Macarius took one unsteady step. Then another. He had no plan beyond finding somewhere safe. He didn’t know whether Aksibilian’s injuries could be treated with anything he had, or whether his friend could survive long enough for him to find help.
He didn’t even know if he could keep walking.
But he continued anyway.
Each step dragged him closer to the edge of his strength. His new Sprint skill might have helped him escape a fight, but using it while carrying an injured person would be dangerous. So he moved slowly, putting one foot in front of the other, careful not to jostle Aksibilian more than necessary.
The rain kept falling.
Behind them, three bodies lay motionless beneath the rocks.
Macarius didn’t look back.
He held Aksibilian as tightly as he dared and kept walking into the darkness.
"I’m going to save you," he repeated, as though saying it enough times could make it certain.
"I’m going to save you."
His voice cracked.
"Just... stay with me, okay?"
Aksibilian gave no answer.
Macarius tightened his jaw and kept moving.
For once, he didn’t care about his own pain.
He only cared about making sure that when the rain finally stopped, Aksibilian would still be alive.