Once more, Riza was walking through this encampment with an escort. This time round, the place was observably more developed; tents were fully pitched, repair-work having been started on housing already, and it all looked a lot less provisional and ramshackle than the last time she had seen it, though not that much; there wasn’t much you could do in the span of two days, after all.

They weren’t retracing the route that Riza had come before, instead venturing into unknown territory.

There were occasional glances thrown her way but no one got involved and even those rare, few stares seemed to be some of momentary appraisal but not in a crude and unrefined way; suffice to say, Riza didn’t feel like merchandise being paraded, essentially.

They walked to a building a bit bigger than the one she had slept in. It was rather well-constructed, sturdy it seemed, and seemed to have a squarish footprint.

The woman walked right up to the door, knocked loudly, and waited. Riza hopped from foot to foot, anxious and full of energy, unable to keep still.

They didn’t have to wait long at all; after only a minute or two of awkward silence--though the woman seemed as stoic as ever--a man wearing mail over a gambeson held open the door. The woman nodded curtly and stepped inside, with Riza following.

The interior was dimly lit, with only the sun illuminating the room. The windows shuttered and the wide, open hall meant even that natural lighting seemed insufficient in this dusty, sombre room.

Along both walls of this spacious room sat two rows of benches. They were simply constructed, with no useless ornamentation, and were only partially filled, both with men and women in armour or robes.

One person, however, she recognised; the male soldier at the farm. The one that she had used [Cleanse] on.

At the far end was a similarly-made desk with an aged man sitting at it. He had a rough, brown beard with wisps of grey striking throughout while his head was bald, exemplifying a strong, authoritative aura.

As soon as Riza stepped into the room, she felt dozens of eyes on her, the middle-aged man included. Frozen to the spot, it was only when the woman who brought her here nudged her towards an empty chair in the middle of the room that she finally moved, sitting down with trepidation.

The room was silent, the weighty stares adding to her discomfort. She could feel her own heartbeat in her chest resounding heavily.

Thankfully, they didn’t continue to stare. Once she was seated, the man in charge began talking.

Unfortunately, she did not understand what he was saying. His accent was heavy--far different from any other she had heard--and the words he used were long and convoluted; nothing close to the basics that the farmer had managed to teach her, what with his lesser education and limited time together.

Riza only grew more thankful that Lefie was closer to herself in such a way, using simplistic vocabulary and talking about concepts she was at least somewhat familiar with.

And then, she was nudged again; the woman who brought here her was standing behind her, prodding her with her elbow when the man stopped talking.

Riza whipped her head up to the woman, catching her nodding her head towards the man. Staring at him, he seemed expectant, though she didn’t know of what.

Am I meant to speak? The rhetorical question alone was enough to clog her throat, precluding the ability to even utter a whisper. Unease permeated straight to the bone, uncertainty of the situation forcing her mouth closed lest she make a fool of herself.

After a solid couple of minutes of Riza shouting at herself in her head, supreme discomfort evident, the man finally spoke again, easing her suffering.

His voice bellowed out, deep and with gravitas. At his words, a woman sitting on the bench, hood pulled down while inside, stood up suddenly. Her posture was immaculate, her back ramrod straight and arms held firmly to her side.

Riza recognised her; they had met before, although briefly. She’s the one who brought me here!

It couldn’t have been a coincidence that out of the five or so individuals she had interacted with, two of them would be in this here room.

Her voice confirmed that she was the same person Riza had met.

She spoke a few sentences, the man commenting, and then she spoke again, as if to confirm something. After that, he dismissed her, making her sit down.

He looked back towards Riza, nearly making her jump out of her seat when their eyes met.

Again, more words. Again, no comprehension of what he was saying. The woman didn’t nudge her this time.

After some more silence from the suspicious Riza, the man seemed to give up on interrogating her. He spoke loudly, addressing the entire hall this time, and his gaze swept through the onlookers.

After he spoke those words, the escort nudged Riza again, only this time to tell her to stand up.

And, just like that, as quickly as she had arrived there, she was promptly taken back to her lodgings. To the same, old building that she had slept in.

Unfortunately, as the door creaked open and the dusty interior once more made itself familiar to Riza, her heart sank slightly at the continued absence of Lefie; although they hadn’t known each other for long, having a talkative, companionable person there made things easier, somewhat.

But this wasn’t enough to get Riza down--especially given all that was on her mind.

The woman left her in the building, closing the door behind her, leaving Riza in silence, perfect to ruminate upon her thoughts.

Just what’s going on here? The first step to understanding a situation is to know all the facts so, Riza begin her journey of recollection.

Retracing her steps and actions, to her knowledge, her first contact with the wider world--excluding the farmer--was with the reinforcements that had arrived on that fateful night.

Out of them, however, she only really interacted with one; the man who had shot down the white monster, effectively saving her, as well as her using [Cleanse] on him afterwards as a token of gratitude.

His involvement with this whole situation was only proven more salient by his presence in that room just now.

So, he’s probably the catalyst for everything, and Riza using [Cleanse] publicly and without permission is probably what began this whole ordeal.

From there, the two people who came to the farm, explicitly looking for her, found her running away and escorted her to this very room. They weren’t forceful, although they were firm in their intentions, and Riza certainly didn’t feel like she was abducted.

Coerced, perhaps, but she refused to not acknowledge her agency in this thing; she chose to comply with them, when she very much could’ve ran away.

Hell, I could’ve tried killing them if need be. Not doing so was a choice, not something I was forced into.

After that, she met with two other people who seemed to be in similar situations to herself, both of whom were taken away--presumably, to the same place she had been but she couldn’t confirm that. They provided her with vital information but she doubted they had any involvement or power with what had happened to her.

And, after that, she was taken to a room which seemed to resemble a trial. A vote, or consensus, or something, where the guy in charge was taking statements. Maybe to come to some kind of conclusion? Riza couldn’t follow the exchanges well enough to ascertain a clear picture.

So, those are the facts. Let’s read between the lines a bit.

What actions of Riza prompted this whole thing? Using [Cleanse] seemed to be the most important one. From what she had gathered, [Cleanse] was bad magic--a skill she shouldn’t use. Therefore, it seemed that she had done something illegal, was put into jail, and was awaiting trial.

Why hadn’t the trial that she had endured come to any kind of decision? Either, there wasn’t enough evidence (what they had was most likely purely anecdotal) or the language barrier was a problem. Likely, a combination of the two.

Therefore, what was liable to happen next? Either, gathering more evidence--somehow--or getting a translator, something that had a strong possibility of working given the skills that she had seen before.

What would be the outcomes of this? The case wasn’t looking great for Riza and she didn’t know what strength of evidence they’d be willing to accept, even if her conclusion of the nature of the trial was correct in the first place.

And then, what was even the appropriate punishment for the crime of using illegal skills? She had no fucking clue there.

With all this in mind, Riza wasn’t looking fondly at her future. So far, the technological level of this society seemed positively medieval, and she doubted the justice system would be far from that either.

Execution? Slavery or serfdom? Long-term imprisonment? All of these were viable punishments and, without a competent grasp of the language, she had no way to defend herself against the machinations of society.

Everywhere she looked, uncertainty was around every corner. There was just too little that she knew, too little that she understood.

The unpredictability was beginning to get at her; her mind creaked with worry throughout, and her hands clenched whenever she thought on the multitude of possibilities.

This is all so fucking confusing! Riza was beginning to feel wistful for the routine of the forest.

Let’s stop thinking about what I can’t control and think about what I can.

Things I can do: learn the language to better understand my situation, try to make connections to help my case (unlikely), or just up and run away.

Such an extreme dichotomy between the choices showed how hopeless her situation was.

However, as she stewed in internal angst, she began to think more and more about sneaking away, leaving this town altogether. She had knowledge now, ways to protect herself, that she hadn’t had before.

And, besides, she doubted many people would be looking for or watching her; she wasn’t a terrible criminal and they probably had better things to do anyway.

Pondering over the unchangeable wasn’t doing anything for her mental health so, abruptly, Riza stood up out of her chair, feeling energised and with a strong compulsion to just do something.

Her muscles were getting antsy, her body suddenly incompatible with staying still.

Firstly, she inspected the door. It was lightweight, made of wood, but with metal hinges that were rusty and clearly damaged. They were old and, with a running start, she’d probably be able to break through it--though, that would depend on what lock, if any, they had attached to it.

After that were the windows, shuttered with wood but not securely in place. They batted in the wind, letting in a fluctuating amount of light. They were large enough as well for her to get through them--for once, thankful of her short stature.

The final exit point would be her making one--breaking open the wall somehow. Seeing how it was largely comprised of a combination of stone and wood, that option seemed astronomically unlikely, given how her power was still sitting at 5, which she believed to be average.

It certainly wasn’t superhuman, at any rate.

So, two options there; door or windows. What are the issues with each?

For one, the door would be harder to break through. It was larger and would take more strength to open than the window shutters would.

Two, guards. She’d seen them multiple times to and from this place, the same three people. They’d undoubtably be stationed near the door.

Considering, when she arrived here yesterday, there were already two people inside--both of which posed a danger given their ability to use skills, she surmised--but yet, the three guards were playing a game right by the doorway.

Is the rest of the building unguarded? To test this, she walked around the house for a bit, placing her ear against the paneled walls to see if she could hear anything.

Although faint, there was a clear increase in volume the closer to the door she got.

The window in the bedroom is furthest away from the guards, then.

What else was there to consider? How to actually escape.

The most important aspect there was the physical component; how fast and agile she was. Luckily, this was right in her ball park; years of exercise, marathons, and being physical helped to hone her body; running through a village wouldn’t be a new experience to her.

Even running with other people she had done before. The only unknown in this equation was how the stats would affect things.

Would more power or an increase in stamina make someone faster than me? Shame that I didn’t increase those stats to see the effects more.

Even the minor increase of 1 point didn’t yield a tangible difference, as far as Riza could tell.

However, there was another point that, no matter how much she didn’t want to think about it, had to be addressed; fighting other people. Everyone was armed, to some extent, and even those in robes without visible weapons, Riza suspected were mages of some kind. Afterall, they seemed too comfortable amongst the warriors to be anything other than people of equal caliber.

Could she defend herself if pushed to? She wasn’t certain.

Even ignoring whether she was mentally prepared to, would she be able to do anything in the first place? She had a knife, yes, but these people bore weapons with longer ranges and undoubtedly had combat experience and training--far more than what she had.

Melee combat was not something she could use.

So, it all came down to [Leech]. Just how strong was this skill?

She brought up her stat block and [Leech], not wanting to get anything wrong.

Name Riza Level 7 Health 100/100 Stamina 91/100 Essence

260/260 Power 5 (5) Constitution 5 (5) Endurance 5 (5) Vim 6 (6) Essence

5 (13) Spirit

30 (150) Stat Points 0

[Leech](10/10)+

Drain 550 points of health from a living entity

40m range

Cost: 50 es/sec

With [Well of Essence] levelling to 4, that gives me 260 essence to work with. A maximised [Leech] consumes 50 essence, so I can only use it 5 times and then need to use an unmaximised one.

That’s a total of 2860 points of damage I can deal. How much health would these people have?

Say they start with a power of 5, are level 5, and took the equivalent of [Well of Essence] but for power, and that’s max level. That’s 3000 points of health, not to mention how armour may modulate the damage.

[Leech]isn’t enough to kill someone, though I can severely damage them.

I can’t fight someone one-on-one; it’s too unsustainable.

Leech, my old buddy, you’re relegated back to just being a way to [Heal] me.

Finally, after that, the last thing to think about would be where she would actually run off to. Her lack of knowledge of this area didn’t help but she’d have to make do.

First things first, two routes were obviously off limits; the way in which she came here and the direction towards the trial building. Both were visibly harried by dozens and dozens of soldiers and robed individuals, all too dangerous to try to sneak by.

So, that left the other directions. Just how busy were these, she couldn’t determine. Hopefully, they’d be safer, although she was taking a gamble in not running through a place she had familiarity with.

With everything considered, to the best of Riza’s ability and patience, there was nothing left to think about. She had limited details--anything more would just be speculation and would be pointless.

She had to make a decision; to run or not to run.

Disturbingly, it was easier than she hoped. Checking to make sure her dagger was still firmly, securely strapped to her thigh, she snuck over to the furthest window, pulled up her hood, and tentatively pushed against it.

It had some give but the shutters didn’t open. The slits in the wooden shutters let in light and as she pushed, she could see the loose cord binding both shutters together.

Pushing again, she slotted her knife through the gap, slicing through the cord and pushing open the shutters.

Quickly pocketing the weapon, she raised her head and looked out the window. Empty.

Fuck it.

Without any reservation, Riza smoothly clambered over the windowsill, landing gracefully on the ground just outside, and wasted no time hunkering down and getting a move on, trying to be both stealthy but quick.

The buildings were in a poor state; many walls had holes and gaps in them, loose rocks and stones littered the ground, threatening to make her stumble or alert someone to her in case she inadvertently kicked them.

Rooves were caved in, and the whole streets and alleyways were tripping hazards.

The first intersection she found had her huddling against an alcove in a beaten-up wall, thanking the stars for being small, able to squirrel herself away, as she attentively listened to the passing footsteps and mumbling voices carried on the wind.

Once she believed the people were long past, she slunk out from her hiding space, continuing her nimble slinking further away.

The village was set up haphazardly, with roads strangely laid out and lacking uniformity, with intersections irregular and strange shapes. The whole place reminded her more of the naturalistic and procedural layout of European cities rather than the calculated layout of cities with pre-planning involved.

The next intersection, she quickly stopped short as she saw a wagon go rolling on by, dashing to a nearby shadow instinctively.

Following the wagon came the sounds of voices, the distinctive din of people walking by. Like before, she waited, her mind growing more and more tense with worry, wondering whether they’d find her, before the voices began to grow quieter again.

Like before, she took the opportunity to leave the space and quickly cross the intersection, hoping to slink into more alleyways between houses.

And then there were shouts. Loud voices carried easily, prompting her carefully placed footsteps to be replaced by rapid pounding of feet, her strong muscles powering her body as she began to dash.

She couldn’t spare a glance back as she ran.

Footsteps followed, the sound bouncing between the close walls of the walls, making it to her ears. As she ran, they got louder and louder, less and less indistinct as whoever it was was catching up to her.

Was it even one person? She couldn’t tell, but she continued on running.

At some point, she stopped running straight and cornered between two buildings, nimbly hopping over crates and broken pieces of wood as she tried to make her pursuers lose sight.

A few corners later, the footsteps could still be heard.

Her luck caught up to her; the moment she spared a glance behind her, seeing the hulking, armoured figure giving chase faster than they reasonably should, her feet caught some loose, uneven stones, entangling themselves under her and sending her sprawling across the ground.

Her cloak got wrapped up under her. Her bare knees skidded across the coarse, dirty surface, scraping the flesh off. She tumbled and rolled over, he speed carrying her a little, the familiar pain of tripping rousing her mind.

As quick as she could, Riza jumped to her feet, seeing the armoured man—now able to see his face he had gotten so close—just now enter the threshold of this clearing.

A clearing that, as it turned out, was the hollowed out husk of a house. The stumpy remains of cobbled walls were all that was left—that, combined with the odd collection of rotten, wooden planks that must’ve been the flooring.

Riza couldn’t spare much thought to her surroundings, however, as the man, swift on his feet, lunged for her, arms outstretched, and sword still hooked on to his belt around his waist.

With a made scramble backwards across the debris, Riza narrowly avoided his grab but found herself backing up into a wall.

Seeing the man walk towards her, she pulled out her knife, the sheath a little worse for wear, and pointed it at him.

“Stay back!” Riza shouted in English, quickly followed by “No! Stop!” In the language he should understand.

The man showed no comprehension, not stopping.

Realising he wasn’t taking no for an answer, Riza sucked in her breath, apologised to the man mentally for what she was about to do, and went through the all too familiar motions of [Leech].

Scared of just how much health he had, she kept it unmaximised for now—it’s lowest power—but that was still more than enough to kill her in a single second.

The essence drained out of her but the man barely even reacted. Not in his movements but, rather, his face; he was… Surprised, somewhat.

The closer he got, the higher her panic rose. What was she going to do? He was faster and stronger than her and no way was she going to go all out and try to kill the guy.

A thought came to her mind; was she willing to risk it? Seeing no other opportunities, she took it.

Wielding her knife in her hand, she suddenly launched herself up, reaching out with her mind and flooding the connection with all 50 points of essence she could, startling him if only for a second, as she dashed under him.

With motions just a tad bit more sluggish than before, she barely dodged out of arms length as the [Leech] momentarily slowed his movement, her feet feeling like they were on fire as they thundered across the ground with unerring accuracy.

Her mind was focused on the placement of her feet and the ground ahead of her. She jumped and sidestepped around sudden obstacles, jutting into her path, as she found herself making distance from him.

And then, suddenly, she ran out into a wide, open intersection. Makeshift barricades were set up, comprised of barrels, crates, and large chunks of wall rolled into place.

It was a four way intersection with three of those avenues blocked by an armoured figure holding a fully drawn, large bow, nocked with an arrow, aiming right for Riza as she appeared.

Instantly, her feet skidded to a halt and her mind focused on the person right in front of her, ready to use [Leech] if needed--she still had 214 essence left.

Shit. Surrounded. What to do?

Bows trained on me, strong forms—they’re clearly experienced archers. They’ll land any shots they take. That, and there’s probably reinforcements behind them. Running doesn’t look good.

Is there nothing I can do? Is this the end?

The people didn’t move, apparently not wanting to shoot at her, for whatever reason. For a few seconds, Riza didn’t move, fearful of what would happen if she did.

Heart beating, adrenaline pumping through her system, the fear Riza felt was palpable. She was strong—she knew this—but she wasn’t invincible; [Leech] would only get her so far.

Talented archers could reload quickly; she doubted she’d be able to withstand them for more than seconds at most.

So, reluctantly, she came to a decision.

Slowly, she began to raise her hands, dropping her dagger that she hadn’t gotten to put away yet.

It tinged off the ground, the weapon bouncing at her feet. Still, the archers didn’t react.

Palms up, elbows bent, she raised her hand like she was held at gun point.

An abrupt, searing pain struck her in the shoulder, sending rivelts of pain throughout her system.

As soon as the arrow lodged itself in her shoulder, Riza quickly took a step backwards and, with no hesitation nor trepidation, unleashed the floodgates of [Leech].

One second. Two seconds. Nearly three seconds. By the time she realised what she was doing, she cut off the skill, seeing the archer who loosed the arrow on her knees, hands planted on the ground, heavily breathing, behind the barricade.

She barely registered two more, successive impacts lodged into her body, the damage already healed by the [Leech].

The two, still standing, archers were each nocking another arrow in their bows already, their hands dexterous and moving as fast as hours upon hours of practise could do.

Fuck. In for a penny...

Resolve set, Riza broke out into a sprint, aiming directly ahead, right where the injured archer was hiding.

She only manage to get a few metres before two more arrows struck her torso, fear spiking at her health plummeted. The [Leech] quickly recovering that lost health from a stray, overgrown plant did little to ease either the pain or the mental turmoil she was enduring as she ran.

Past the barricade. Past the archer. Cutting a corner and tunnelling through an alleyway, Riza’s entire body was aching—was on fire. She had run for so long now she must’ve been making personal records.

She could feel the fatigue in her muscles, how it ate away at her strength and made it feel like she was moving through water, fighting against the current. Her breath escaped in ragged gasps of air, her body struggling to get the oxygen that it so desperately needed.

But she continued to run. House after house, alley after alley. Even the numerous arrows that landed, nearly killing her multiple times over, felt like she was getting stabbed by spear after spear. She could’ve sworn her health dipped to 0 before [Leech] healed her back up.

And she was dangerously low on essence by now; just a few more uses and she was tapped. Thankfully, the alleyway was right on time, cutting sight of her from the archers. Why aren’t they chasing after me?

Her feet took her to a wide, open street. The buildings either side were dilapidated and destroyed and the ground showcasing years of inattentive care, the mud still there after the rainstorm days ago.

Riza couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as her feet carried her, thudding against the slick, soft ground. She was exposed here, but there was no other way to go.

And then it hit her—literally. Just one arrow, landing squarely in her back, between her shoulder blades. A strange, paralytic sensation spread out from that origin point, not halting her movements but throwing her to the ground.

Rapidly, she could feel the arrow expanding along her back, with thick, rigid limbs uncoiling from the tip, an impossibly large amount of material stuffed inside a tiny arrow head.

The limbs grew both in size and number, twisting around her limbs, digging into the ground. By the time they were long enough to pass her head, she could physically see them.

Not limbs, but branches. They were brown, with a bark-like texture, and dug into the ground akin to roots anchoring plants.

They squeezed, restricting her limbs as she was spread out on the floor, the mud seeping into her clothing, squelching against her skin.

The rapidly expanding branches were trapping her, she realised, all too late. By the time the realisation of what this thing was took hold, she was all but immobile, unable to move.

Both extreme anxiety and just the slight hint of relief washed over her, her body feeling enervated as it was unable to move.

Out of the corner of her eye, as she strained to lift her head so she wasn’t just staring at the ground, two figures entered her vision.

Both were tall, and one armoured while the other was robed. The former was heavyset, shoulders wide, and looked like a walking mountain while the latter had a certain grace to its movements, lean and lithe.

Only the armoured one walked close, Riza’s eyes widening upon seeing the cord he held in his gauntleted hands. The robed figure was speaking off in the distance, too far away for her to make out what he was saying, if she even could in the first place.

As the man's feet crunched down in front of her, air releasing from the mud, Riza swore she could faintly make out a yellowish glow to his metal boots. It was hard to see, and it could’ve just been her exhausted mind making it all up, but it was like a coloured wall of air a few centimetres away from his feet that followed his every movement.

She felt the man wrap the cord around her wrists, making rings between the branches to tie them tightly together, the woven cord chafing against her skin.

He cut through the branches with ease—one swift movement with something sharp again and again until, finally she was freed.

Literally, not figuratively. As soon as she regained movement in her limbs, Riza was roughly pulled to her feet with such strength it surprised her.

Hands firmly holding her shoulders, the large man walked behind her, directing her where to go.

Great. If I wasn’t a prisoner before, I certainly am now.