Curses and prayers echoed to my left.

With no way out, the troublemakers arranged themselves to my left, raised their weapons, and encouraged each other. No need to succumb to the fear. After all, they had defeated the other leaders in training fights and established their group as the strongest. Those weak leprechauns? Only a stepping stone for their grandeur.

Similar sentiments echoed through the forest as they added more and more layers of bullshit.

Fighting spirit, courage, and heroism filled the air.

And disappeared.

Extinguished by the arriving onslaught.

Six leprechauns.

Not sixty. Nor six hundred. Nor six thousand.

All those songs that had echoed through the taverns recounted stories of giant armies. With numbers so big, nobody could imagine the battles between them. Floods of enemies that drowned the land and devastated everything.

But now?

Six leprechauns.

Only six.

A group so small that everyone knew how to count them.

A group so small, they almost outnumbered them 2-to-1.

Yet in their heads, the troublemakers began to doubt.

The leprechauns used a weird mix of sprints and jumps, switching between walking on two and four extremities.

Shrill shouts and smacking noises resounded

Little demons.

Ready to bring death.

The Púca’s impact was even worse.

It stayed in the back, another leprechaun at its side, grabbed its bone-knife, and - without haste - slit the other’s throat. It took its time and relished the blood flowing into its mouth.

Scornful laughter escaped the Púca’s throat as it dropped to its knees, convulsing in pain. Bones broke and reconnected, his black fur grew longer, and the face behind its mask deformed.

Those thugs, thieves, and would-be murderers to my left shivered with fear.

Welcome to the world of monsters.

Even I felt an intangible discomfort in my head. Something was wrong with the scene in front of me. Yet I couldn’t say what. I knew it was important, and I had to figure it out, but the Púca’s behavior was normal. Nothing came to mind.

Unease flooded my thoughts and drowned my attention.

You have to see this or everyone will die.

You need to understand. Or else.

Pain exploded inside my mouth.

Overwhelmed by the inexplicable fear, I had bitten my tongue.

The taste of blood flushed my thought.

I needed to fulfill my task.

Soon, the battlefield split into two distinct halves.

My duel against the giant black wolf followed my expectations. Attack patterns, body language, warning signs that telegraphed the next bite. A perfect copy of the game.

The same behavior as the last Púca.

But I had changed.

No stumbling. No desperation. And no more need to use one skill after another.

All those battles alongside the sword maiden had taught how experience and trained reflexes would change the course of a battle, and today’s fight rewarded my efforts. Blocks, attacks, evasion. My body kept pace with my thoughts.

Somewhere behind my back, the skirmish between the troublemakers and the remaining six leprechauns unfolded.

Occasional screams, filled with pain and anger, painted a gruesome image in my mind.

But there was no time to check the actual situation.

Thanks to my game knowledge, I was able to hold my own against an early game boss with a higher level. But how many attacks would my weak body survive? One? Two? Three? Either way, not enough to gamble and change the target of my attention.

Soon, I found myself in a deadlock with the Púca.

Its attacks would harm me but didn’t hit.

While my attacks hit to little effect.

Heavy Strike would leave deep cuts, but my endurance limited its usage.

Kill the Púca with Heavy Strike, fall unconscious thanks to the strain, and get killed in my sleep by either the leprechauns or the troublemakers? No way.

I couldn’t fall unconscious.

Hence, my only option was to wait until the Púca’s transformation wore off.

And kill the weakened leprechaun with a single strike.

Block. Evade. Attack. Block. Dodge. Block. Evade.

My attacks became more and more infrequent.

Save the stamina.

Stay focused.

Stay defensive.

I could do this.

No, I would do this!

I only had to keep this up for a few more minutes.

Each block was one step closer to my victory.

Each breath I drew was another second I had wasted.

Keep this up.

One more.

And one more.

And.

An acute pain in my left thigh tore my concentration down.

A subconscious step back.

And my buttocks hit the ground.

What? Did my leg fail me?

Confused, I checked the pain’s origin. Even a slight touch burned.

And my hand, now drenched in red, reappeared in front of my eyes.

What was happening?

The impact of a compact car hit my chest.

Wait? Why would the Púca run me over with his car? That’ll damage the paint!

The back of my head hit the cold forest grass.

Silence embraced me. The sunlight warmed my face. Did I fall asleep and saw a bad dream?

A grinning face appeared in the sky above me. Green. What was its name? Dwarf? Goblin? Gnome?

Yellow and brown teeth.

What a shame. White teeth and a good bath and it would look kinda cute.

The urge to flee surfaced in my head, but was soon drowned by the peaceful fog. Look how cute it is. Let us be friends.

A black snout obscured the setting sun. A dog? I’m sorry, little doggy. I’m too tired to play fetch.

Its paw pressed into my chest and left bloody marks.

Hey! That hurts. Be a little nicer, will you? Five more minutes and I’ll play with you.

But the pain grew and grew. Suffocated me. Extinguished my thoughts.

Something was wrong. If this keeps up then-

The pain vanished. And the fog in my head evaporated as well.

Instantly, I activated Heavy Strike and attacked the wolf’s throat.

Blood splattered and coated my face.

Did the Púca mistake me for dead?

Using the momentum of my attack, I rolled to the side, jumped to my knees, and activated Heavy Strike three more times in quick succession. Two swings killed the leprechaun that had stabbed me in the thighs. The third attacked the wounded Púca and missed.

I ignored my unstable leg, made myself as small as possible, and hid behind my shield.

But the expected attack didn’t arrive.

Second after second elapsed.

Yet no attack arrived.

I lowered my shield and a peculiar sight greeted me.

The heavily wounded Púca had fled, with the other leprechauns right behind it. In fact, only two leprechauns remained in the clearing. Both of them dead.

The Púca survived, but we drove it away. Did this count as a victory?

At least in the short term it should.

The surrounding silence quenched the adrenalin in my blood.

I almost died.

That belated realization sapped my strength, and I dropped to the floor.

If not for my Fortress skill, I would have been dead.

Thank god, the cooldown didn’t exceed half a year.

I checked my chest and found deep cuts beneath the torn armor.

The Púca had stepped on me. Neither a skill nor an actual attack. A simple step and its weight had been enough to kill me. The small level difference between us had been enough on its own. An insuperable wall.

Did the recruits feel the same when they faced the leprechauns? A small level gap that formed a sheer endless obstacle? Was this the reason the majority hid in their villages and cities and ignored the monsters? Because a level one human would never win against the weakest leprechauns?

Ever since my arrival in this world, I had subconsciously looked down on its inhabitants. The farmers who ignored the monsters so they could sleep at night. The weak guards in Gladford with no strength to guard the residents. The recruits who thirsted for fame with no ability to back it up.

In the game, even my sickly self could defeat ogres and giants. Dragons, sea monsters, and named enemies dominated the forum discussions. In comparison, the leprechauns’ speed might be annoying. But that was all. They were too weak to take serious.

Yet in this world, all those weak recruits had to bridge the level gap and slay monsters to grow stronger. Without respawn. Without my game knowledge. And without the Fortress skill.

They would die. Like I did just now.

What difficulties did Rhoslyn and her mercenaries experience? Their discipline, their experience, and their levels. Everything had been paid in blood. So how many comrades had paid that price? The survivors had been an unfair scale for the recruits.

The pain returned to my chest.

Hence, I stopped my musings, retrieved a small bottle from my pouch, and drank its content in one big gulp. A fierce burn traveled through my stomach and set its surroundings on fire. Yet after its departure, all the pain had vanished.

I sent a thought filled with gratitude towards Gladford and hoped that the teamwork of Rhoslyn’s potion and my Fortress skill prevented internal wounds that would take my life later.

Afterwards, I washed the wound on my thigh with some water, dressed it with some linen stripes, and forced myself to stand up.

It was time to leave.

The troublemakers’ battle had been less lenient. Four of the ten were dead. Five more displayed wounds of different severity. And Thea observed the group from a distance, half-hidden behind a tree. Her spear, still spotless, laid on the grass, abandoned by its master.

Guess she fled at the start of the battle.

That scene consumed all the anger and dissatisfaction I had bottled up. Only disappointment and emptiness remained.

Humans were so weak.

Yet the few stronger ones still fought against each other, only to be consumed by their mutual enemy.

Faced with overwhelming strength, both aspirations and squabbles became meaningless.

“Collect the weapons and armor of the fallen.” I addressed two of the troublemakers who had survived with minor wounds. “We have no time for a proper burial, but you can put them to rest in a ditch and pile some soil on top. That should keep their bodies safe from animals.”

They looked at me with unfocused eyes, still in a daze from the battle. But after a few seconds, they nodded and followed my instructions.

Meanwhile, I approached Bari.

He lay on the grass, each breath filled with audible pain.

Two stab wounds in the chest.

“What do you want?” Bari glared at me. “Here to look down on me?”

“No.” I sat down beside him. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Apologize? You!” Bari’s laughter filled the air. Directly followed by labored coughs.

I ignored his scorn, raised his upper body, and helped him out of the restrictive armor.

In turn, his breaths became less forceful and his facial expression relaxed. Even his eyes, always filled with distrust, became softer. “You mean it?”

“I do.” I retrieved his flask, opened it, and helped him drink a few mouthfuls. “I focused on the mercenaries because they were stronger and more disciplined. Nothing wrong with that. But I shouldn’t have ignored you. You guys are weak and not fit for combat. Yet I never stopped to think about how I would improve that. That was my failure as a commander. For that, I’m sorry.”

“Good, good. No. That’s great.” His wide smile displayed his yellow teeth. “I’ll help you create an army that will be even stronger than those mercenaries. After all, we survived even that black one. Even those mercenaries could never do that.”

“A lot happened. And I learned a lot. For that, I have to thank you.” A slight bow. I didn’t tell him my true feelings. That a group of ten mercenaries and Rhoslyn would have killed both the Púca and all the leprechauns.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Even a commander will make mistakes. In the future, I’ll point out all those problems.” Bari continued his self-adulation for a while before he stopped. He had noticed that, starting with his armor and waterskin, I had taken off his pouch, sword, and dagger. “Wait! What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” My attention turned toward his shoes. A lot better than the usual equipment. “Didn’t I say it before? We’ll collect the equipment and take it back. It’s still usable. What a waste to leave it behind.”

“But I’m not dead!” Bari’s agitated voice alarmed the other troublemakers. “So what? You will kill me? Is that it? You think it’s that easy?”

“No. I won’t kill you.” I collected my spoils. “Your wounds will.”

“What?” Bari tried to pounce on me, but the pain forced him back onto the ground. Another coughing fit shook his body until he collapsed, his face frozen in shock. “You will leave me behind?”

“If your men want to save you, they can.” I raised my voice to address them as well. “But they have to carry you through the forest. And who knows when we will meet another group of leprechauns.”

With that, I turned around and made my way to an unconscious casualty.

Curses and swearwords reached my ears, but I ignored it.

The two troublemakers’ silence gave me the answer I had wanted.

In the end, only four people joined the waiting scouts and began the long walk home.