Edwin once again mentally berated himself for trying to fight, let alone in melee. He was not cut out for this in the slightest. He didn’t have the Skills (or skills) for it, wasn’t as strong as his opponents, and it opened himself up to way too many retaliatory attacks. Why had he thought this was a good idea, again?

Oh right. Because he wanted to make sure nobody else died while whoever he called for backup, and because he needed to close in to his foes to use his knockout potion. But, as it turned out, a few days of training from Lefi and about two weeks and a few weekends on Earth spent learning about fencing was no substitute for actual combat experience and System assistance.

Next iteration of the sleep potion would be a bomb. That way, he could benefit from Bomb Throwing, Throwing Weapons and Alchemy all at the same time! Pity he didn’t have anything that he could have… okay, so he probably could have made the potion into a bomb by putting it into a glass bottle and sealing it. But then he’d only get one shot- literally- and he needed to use it to take down way more than one foe. Until he could prepare actual weapons, though (next time, he promised himself), he would stick to doing what seemed to work best- throwing random stuff and hoping it worked out.

It was still annoying that throwing wooden dice at Minfour was more effective than smacking him with what basically amounted to a baseball bat, though.

Having snatched the tiny cubes off the table, he sent them flying at the bandit, aimed at his eyes and face with what he felt was surprising accuracy. The assistance Throwing Weapons provided still hadn’t fully sunk in to his new ‘normal,’ it seemed. Each time, the minion was forced to raise a hand to block the attack, letting Edwin slip a bit further away. Now that he had made it onto the stairs, Minfour kept trying to climb up after him, but Edwin was more or less successfully keeping him at bay.

A spark of inspiration struck Edwin as he threw his tenth dice- only two left- and he uncoiled a length of rope from his forearm. The next time Minfour tried to climb the stairs, Edwin tossed the rope at him, easily ensnaring his face with the tangles of woven cord. From there, the next step was easy! Totally easy. He didn’t need to hesitate. Do it, Edwin!

It’s really cruel, though, he couldn’t help but think, Also really dangerous. What if-

The delay meant that Minfour had enough time to untangle his head from the rope, and he started pulling on the rope, trying to get Edwin to release it or be pulled down the stairs. Edwin’s eleventh dice got him to pause for a moment, but no longer. It was long enough for Edwin to get over his hesitation, at least, and he assessed the situation. Minfour had wrapped the coils of cord around his arms and was grasping it all firmly, insistently yanking on the whole thing. It wasn’t ideal, but… it would do. This time, Edwin didn’t wait. With a deep breath, he let loose.

Firestarting.

Minfour swore profusely as the rope he had so firmly wrapped around his arms erupted into flames. No doubt traumatized by the last time Edwin had set him on fire, he tried to release the burning rope like it was a live snake, but that did little for the lengths he had already bound to himself. Parts fell to the stairs, and Edwin made sure his Skill was inactive before the tower was caught on fire. Wouldn’t do to get that going too soon. It did nothing for the already-burning rope (and minion), but hopefully it would prevent the wooden interior from igniting.

Minfour, by the time he escaped from his fiery bindings, already had fairly severe burns on his palms and forearms. Edwin grimaced, but threw his final dice at the bandit. On instinct- no, it was some sort of Skill that compelled the action, Edwin could finally tell, it was too sudden, to involuntary to have been anything else- the man raised a burned hand to intercept the projectile, but was unprepared for the explosion of pain that came from the tiny, wooden object bursting a fairly sizeable blister and becoming lodged inside the wound.

He howled in agony, but it was enough for Edwin, who took the opportunity to jump kneeing Minfour in the face as he jumped past the man, landing with a stumble on the floor below. He didn’t stop there, though, and used the minion’s momentary stumble as a chance to grab the man’s face with his rag.

Before the man could properly orient himself, the potion did its job and Minfour toppled backwards and slammed into the stairs with such force that Edwin half-expected the boards to give way. The sickening crack wasn’t from the wood, though, and Edwin couldn’t bring himself to look at first, though he couldn’t avert his gaze forever. When he finally did chance a glance, he saw the bandit lying unconscious on the floor below where he had fallen off the steps, arm at an angle Edwin knew wasn’t it wasn’t supposed to be at.

He had a moment to spare, so Edwin withdrew the key for the manacles from his belt pouch and chained the two fallen minions together. Minfour’s broken arm should even help in keeping them disabled, as presumably Mintwo would be hesitant to cause too much pain to his friend to try to fight or move quickly.

He didn’t have the time to admire his handiwork, though, as he stomped out one patch of the floor still smoldering from where burning rope had fallen on it. No sooner had he managed to do so, however, the descending stairs started to squeak and tremble as Minfive and Minseven barreled up them.

As he had… more or less adequate warning, Edwin was able to prepare a bit of an ambush. He dove to the floor, and as Minseven’s head poked above the floorboards, Edwin barely managed to wrap the rag aground the bandit’s face and hold tight before the man’s momentum continued carrying him forward regardless of Edwin’s presence, and he was yanked from his position out into thin air. He briefly fought back his panic that the freefall brought about and scrambled to try and recover his footing, unintentionally kicking Minfive in the face.

The kick didn’t seem to bother the minion at all, but it did give him enough of a foothold to finish knocking out Minseven, and as the bandit slumped against Edwin, he sidestepped to avoid having to take the whole weight of the man against him, shoving the bandit backwards as he scrambled up the steps. It was just in time, too, as Minfive had recovered from Edwin’s kick and was winding his club up to try and knock Edwin out. However, the way Minseven fell meant that the bandit had to quickly redirect his attack into the side of the tower, an insanely strong blow which Edwin could feel reverberate through the building.

In a display of speed which Edwin had trouble keeping up with, Minseven released his club as it rebounded against the wall, letting it fly into the air, caught Minseven, gently set the Outlaw Laborer down on the stairs, and caught his club as it fell back past him. Edwin had no clue what sort of Skill had to have been involved in that, but it must have been something impressice. The man barely even slowed as he stepped over his fallen ally, coming after Edwin with a murderous glare in his eyes.

The Elite Bandit Bodyguard bounded up the stairs and doubled back around to face Edwin in an instant. He said something, but Edwin tuned him out. That was apparently the wrong move, as when Edwin didn’t respond, he bellowed in rage and brought his club around in a devastating swing. Edwin raised his stick to try and block it, but the blow knocked it clear from his grip and across the room, then continued on its trajectory. Edwin felt a rib break as the club connected with his side, sending pain lancing through his entire torso and knocking Edwin into the wall. He narrowly avoided falling into the stairwell, but revised that assessment as he was Minfive winding up an attack aimed at bringing down his club onto Edwin’s head.

A quick contortion had Edwin dropping onto the stairs below, the sudden stop as he landed hard on the steps renewing waves of agony from his broken bones. He cut a hasty retreat downstairs as he fumbled to pull out his healing salve while also trying to keep his rag on hand. He failed, though, and had to shove his potion cloth into his pocket before he was able to turn his attention towards tugging his shirt loose and applying the paste where the pain was most acute. He managed to get the lid back onto the tub before his fingers, slippery with sweat and salve, let the precious medicine slide from his grip, the ceramic container bouncing downstairs step by step.

He’d Infused the container through Packing, which was likely the only reason it didn’t break, but it still was firmly out of his both literal and metaphorical grasp. He hastily tried to retrieve it, but wasn’t able to stow it again before Minfive was behind him. A haphazard toss of a small length of cord got Edwin mere seconds as the bandit hit it from the air like a baseball. Okay, he’d have to do some quick thinking.

The first floor of the tower was strewn with random rubble; broken lumber, piles of discarded cloth, a twisted tangle of lightly rusting, but very pointy metal, and some rocks. Edwin wasn’t sure where the rocks had come from- the tower walls, perhaps? There weren’t any obvious holes- but that didn’t matter too much at the moment. He swept over to the pile and slipped his healing salve in a pocket before picking up a pair of rocks, throwing them as hard as he could at Minfive. Packing helped, he could tell, he wouldn’t have been able to lift such heavy stones without it, but the real benefit came from his Throwing Weapons skill, which helped guide each of the sizable rocks at his target. One was swept aside by Minfive’s club, but the other struck the bandit’s shoulder… and left no obvious injuries. His arm barely even moved. Great.

Edwin grabbed two more stones, each slightly smaller than a volleyball, and threw one underhanded, the other overhanded, as though he were playing dodgeball and was trying to sneak a hit in. Minfive’s club blurred, and shattered the overhand throw, closing his eyes to endure the spray of stone fragments. His club moved on its own in an attempt to block the arcing underhand toss, but it missed, the stone colliding with his outstretched arm and forcing it to buckle. Okay, so he wasn’t invincible. That was good. If Edwin were to hazard a guess based on his Class, perhaps his Skills were more effective while trying to directly protect others? If so, that would explain his uncharicteristic display of speed when catching Minseven.

Minfive took a second to wipe the dust from his eyes, which Edwin did not waste. By the time he had finished, Edwin had scooped up two handfuls of small pebbles, throwing them like they were scattershot at the bandit. His club wasn’t able to block all of the rocks- it tried snapping to one at a time instead of sweeping aside all of them- and a few connected with his face, blinding him once more. What he really needed to do was try to use his rag once more, he’d had luck with it so far, after all, but getting close enough to manage that would be… problematic. Edwin grabbed another handful of the stones and started circling Minfive, trying to get back to the stairs. Going back up held a lot of potential, after all.

Shut up. No more jokes. I need to focus.

Next time Edwin tried to blind the minion, he had already grown wise to the tactic, closing his eyes the moment Edwin started his throw. Fortunately, Edwin was able to react quickly enough that he was able to delay his actual attack for a second, long enough for Minfive to suspect a feint and reopen his eyes- just in time for Edwin’s projectiles to connect, opening a new string of cursing from the bandit as he wiped his eyes free once more.

With his last handful of pebbles, Edwin truly did feint his attack, and the bandit shielded his eyes with his hand, abandoning his two-handed grip on his club. It still obscured his vision, though, and was even better for making it hard to defend from Edwin’s true attack, a high-speed rock hastily retrieved from a nearby rubble pile. The projectile smashed into Minfive’s hand, actually leaving a visible mark as a pointed corner of the stone tore open some skin on the back of his hand. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

At this point, Edwin had finally managed to reposition himself such that he was at the bottom of the stairs, and after throwing his last blinding attack- Minfive blocked it by shielding his eyes with his hand- he darted up the steps. Minseven was starting to stir, but Edwin solidly stomped on his face as he passed, and the outlaw slumped back into unconsciousness, blood trickling from his nose.

Edwin’s thoughts raced as Minfive clomped up the stairs behind him. He’d only have a single chance to make any of this work, and as he reached the top, he realized he’d already missed his chance. Minfive had jumped over the body of Minseven, and was just mere steps behind Edwin, eagerly reaching out to try and snag Edwin’s jacket. In response, Edwin drew his knife, rubbed it with what was left of his sleeping potion and threw it, the weapon traveling mere inches through the air before it pierced the bandit’s outstretched hand, the steel tip embedding itself firmly into the soft skin on his palm.

To his credit, Minfive didn’t immediately cry out in pain, though the sleeping potion may have numbed it. He did, however, unleash a dreadful tirade of cursing as he shook his hand in an attempt to dislodge the offending weapon. He didn’t succeed, though why Edwin wasn’t sure. Did the blood form a seal, or was there enough residual healing effect from his potion to heal the wound around the blade. Minfive removed the source of his agony, pulling it free in a single motion which prompted another stream of profanity. By necessity he had to release his club and let it clatter to the floor below, both hands occupied as they were. He swayed unsteadily as he seemed to fight against the effects of the sedative, which gave Edwin just enough of a chance.

Edwin didn’t waste his opportunity, and while his potion rag no longer functioned as he hefted the heaviest thing he was able to find on short notice- the iron ball he had used to such great effect thus far, looped around a leg of the table- and slammed the entire contraption as hard as he could into Minfive’s head. The bandit fell backwards, his foot coming to rest on Minseven’s body. The step he was on creaked ominously, but before it could settle or Minfive could recover, Edwin threw his entire makeshift weapon at the pair. It slammed into Minfive’s body, and the sudden force proved too great for the precarious stairway, and the wood gave way, sending the two bandits plummeting to the floor below. In most circumstances, Edwin wouldn’t trust the mere ten-foot fall to take them out, but specifically where they were… peeking over the edge, he saw them both lying lifelessly on the pile of scrap metal and discarded weapons. What appeared to be the tines of a pitchfork had pierced Minseven’s chest, while Minseven’s neck had been split open by a rusted… plow, perhaps? Besides, the man’s skull was half-crushed by the iron ball, even as the bandit himself was nearly decapitated by the metal blade.

Edwin looked away, fighting not to lose his dinner at the sight. He couldn’t help but grimly think that at least his manacle situation was simpler now, though. He breathed out, trying to clear his head, and drank deeply from his canteen.

The tower fell silent, the only noise being the pained breathing and whimpering of his surviving victims.