Roland’s eyes shot open abruptly as he found himself lying on the ground in a small street, surrounded by tightly packed houses. He was wearing a thin white shirt, slightly torn pants and plain boots.

These were the clothes he had worn on an eventful day, far back in the past. He long outgrew the real ones, but for some reason they felt like sticking around in here, conveniently always fitting perfectly.

Instincts honed through years of practice made Roland slam his arms into the ground with extreme force, virtually catapulting him to his feet in a blur of motion.

Scanning his surroundings, head jerking worryingly fast, there was not an ounce of drowsiness on his face. Instead, pure determination filled his eyes.

I will not fail again.

Having spotted the best vantage point, Roland sprinted towards a nearby cart. Easily bounding on top of it, he strained his legs and jumped a good three meters high, grabbing onto the roof of the nearest house.

Blinding pain ran through him when he brutally impacted the wall, but his arms nonetheless held their grip. He couldn’t be injured inside the visions, so experiencing some pain in exchange for speed was a perfectly logical trade.

Pulling himself up with gritted teeth, Roland observed his surroundings. The familiar black walls caged him in as usual, this time however a midday sun graced his vision. It, unlike the moon, luckily did appear in his visions, giving him a convenient way to measure time. Something he much desired in night visions.

Normal size, good. Thank the Princess it is daytime.

This always remained the most vexing part of any vision. Roland wanted nothing more than to speed towards his target, but he had to make absolutely sure to pick the right direction. Because while some mistakes could be corrected, running off in the wrong direction usually spelled failure.

The world around his target was more real, or maybe it would be better to say that the vision would unravel the further he got away.

Like an oil painting which had been smudged before it could dry, everything would start to flow into each other until only blurry shapes were left. Sadly, the effects would be barely noticeable so close to the target, which is why Roland needed to observe as big of an area as possible in order to make a solid judgment.

Luckily years of practice had allowed him to pick up several tricks over time. While the past held many frustrating failures, in which he did not even catch a glimpse of his target, nowadays he would not fail in finding them. Special circumstances notwithstanding.

Having picked the direction that seemed most in focus compared to the others, Roland unhesitatingly jumped down onto the street. A feat that would have undoubtedly broken both his legs in the real world, if not outright killed him.

Here a gut-wrenching pain was all he had to endure. Feeling like the lower half of his body splintered into a thousand pieces, Roland’s vision briefly became filled with red, fear coursing through his entire being. It was a kind of primal dread one usually only experienced when something broke beyond repair.

Suppressing the useless feeling, he got back to his feet barely a second after impacting and started sprinting forward at top speed. The boundless pain subsided slightly with every step he took until only a faint mirage remained of it.

If possible, Roland would have preferred running along the roofs, past experiences however had shown him that the construction quality sadly did not meet his standards. Even factoring in the special properties these visions provided, Roland ended up falling into attics and similar places quite often. A monumental waste of time he couldn’t afford.

The noble area’s roofs would probably hold him reliably, but then the buildings there weren't nearly close enough to bound over easily. Not that their district was covered by his range in the first place.

Ultimately streets were made for fast movement, and them being completely free of any other person made them convenient enough for Roland’s purposes.

As the determined boy ran without pause, he instinctively noticed his surroundings slowly coming more into focus, confirming that he was on the right track.

His current direction led him towards Soren’s cathedral. Though he would reach his destination much earlier, somewhere in the residential area. Which was bad, because its high population density made it hard to find the victims in the real world. But also good as everything there had been built in a highly structured way for quick and easy navigation, which made locating them in here that much easier.

A couple dozen streets later Roland reached a series of five large apartment buildings, three stories tall and each build to house dozens of families. He knew it was the right place from the moment he laid eyes on them. They simply felt too real. Somehow even crisper than reality, most likely thanks to his enhanced physical abilities.

Slowing down to a light jog, Roland looked into all the windows as he went past the buildings, hoping to see some movement and not have to search each building separately.

Lady luck apparently took pity on the streak of misfortune which haunted his last two days, allowing him to catch a glimpse of a moving shape behind one of the upper windows.

Instantly turning towards the building’s entrance, Roland once again accelerated to his top speed. The door would most likely easily open, as there would be little reason to keep a public entrance looked during the day.

A fact that did not stop Roland from barreling into it with his shoulder, using the entire force of his body, and the absurd speed he moved at, to blast the poor wooden door into smithereens.

His wanton act of destruction barely saved any time, as he had to briefly recover from the pain. It however may come in handy in the future. Just because the victim was inside at the moment did not mean they would stay there the whole time, and a currently open door could easily end up being barricaded later on.

Destroying objects inside the vision would make it harder to see how they behaved during the incident, but the victim would still react normally no matter how much had been changed.

Trying to instinctively save people inside visions during his earlier years taught Roland that nothing he did could stop the death from playing out, even if he moved or destroyed objects necessary for it. His futile actions would simply make the scene turn more eerie, as the victim started to interact with objects that weren't there anymore.

Ultimately doors ended up being potential hindrances more often than now, while giving little to no information, which is why Roland preferred to clear those in closer vicinity to the victim if it didn’t cost him any extra time.

Taking six or more steps of the stairs with every bound, Roland reached the upper floor in seconds. He briefly considered which apartment the window belonged to, before busting down another door using a quick kick, which was nonetheless several times stronger than his recently performed railing busting side kick.

Running in alongside the scattering debris, Roland quickly looked through the rooms facing the building’s façade until he found his target.

Good, that was quick. Judging by the distance I should have about ten to fifteen minutes.

Standing with her back towards Roland, a middle-aged woman was chopping some meat on a wooden counter. On the other side of the room next to an open window floated a black hooded figure, ever so slowly closing in on her. The moment her life ended would be when said figure finally reached her. Or maybe it was the other way round, Roland didn’t know for sure.

Beside the entrance there were no actual doors anywhere inside the house, simple cloth curtains separating the rooms instead. Roland nonchalantly ripped off the one leading towards the kitchen in passing, before throwing it towards the black figure. More out of spite than anything else.

Arriving next to the woman he had to lean forward awkwardly against the counter to get a good look at her. Slightly taller than Roland himself, her medium length black hair was tied in a loose ponytail, a couple gray strands visible here and there. Green eyes sat in a wrinkly face he’d put somewhere between forty and fifty years old.

She wore a simple hemp tunic and a long skirt, which almost reached the ground. Roland saw no jewelry or other distinctive features, which made him put more effort into committing everything else about her to memory.

Upon closer inspection he noticed her breathing became unsteady at times. And despite not being able to feel her temperature, Roland could ascertain that she looked slightly flushed.

A quick look around the kitchen showed him a big pot full of boiling water, which was most likely supposed to turn into soup somewhere in the near future. A fate that would most definitely not come to pass.

Even accounting for the boiling water, it does not feel too warm in here. Summer just started, and we are fairly high up next to an open window. It is definitely not the heat that is getting to her. Could she be sick?

The though made Roland frown in displeasure. Sickness remained one of his harder enemies. He could do his best to get people the medical attention they needed, sometimes going so far as to personally nurse them back to full health.

The unfortunate truth however was that some people did not recover. Those people being mostly less well-off commoners like this lady here. Who, despite obviously not living in poverty, could most definitely not afford expensive treatment.

Senior priestesses from the Lunar Church could heal even the deadliest of mortal diseases, but their services could not be bought only earned.

Roland rarely managed to get someone from there to help out, many times instead being forced to watch the people he was supposed to save expire helplessly. After all, if a disease is so far advanced that less than a day remained until death there often was not much too safe.

She still has the strength to make food, so things do not look dire yet. Though if she does somehow suddenly fall down dead, I will definitely have to beg the priestesses. Though having Claire ask Tanya for help is also a possible new avenue.

Having formulated a solution for the worst-case scenario, Roland calmed down slightly. Despite the high likelihood of that plan devolving into a lot of groveling, and a much too apologetic Claire making things worse somehow, it was still better than nothing.

Confident he had memorized everything about the woman, Roland walked towards the window, intent on examining the area once again. He was well versed in the layout of the city parts his normal visions covered, and could truthfully find his way back here easily, however better safe than sorry.

Passing the black figure which partly blocked the window, Roland couldn’t help but glance into the shadowed hood. At such a close distance he could make out the features hidden behind the darkness.

Small beady eyes, extremely big ears with hairy skin. And smack dab in the middle of it all, a gigantic elongated pink nose, looking truly disgusting. No matter from which way you approached it, this was a pig.

A simple pig, millions like it strewn across farms or dining tables throughout the world. Well, except this one had a human body instead of that tasty barrel with the four tiny legs.

Looking at it, Roland felt none of the surprise and wonderment of the first time he had laid eyes on one of them. Instead, a slowly creeping terror spread in the back of his conscience. Ideas building in the furthest corner of his mind, one more terrifying than the next.

It didn’t matter to him how completely out of place or comical this thing seemed. How ridiculous the very idea of its existence was, or how absolutely brain-dead the creature itself looked.

It is too deliberate.

These kinds of beings appeared in every vision of Roland’s, and in some way or another reaped the lives of the people he saw. He felt it was too strange, too random. Something must have made them this way for a reason. Or someone.

Forcefully averting his gaze from the Reaper, Roland forced his doubts aside. They were of no use to him. He would simply continue to not eat any pork. Just in case.

Carefully inspecting the outside, Roland still kept a close eye on his target in case anything happened. Said target finished chopping the meat and proceeded to chunk it into the pot, before grabbing a bunch of vegetables and preparing them for a similar fate.

Having once again confirmed he absolutely knew how to find his way here, Roland proceeded to stand next to the woman and watch her carefully. The Reaper had closed the distance by now, a few short minutes remaining until the inevitable happened.

The middle-aged woman’s breathing got rougher with every passing minute, to the point that she stopped cooking, heavily leaning against the counter instead as she gasped for air.

The slight flush Roland saw earlier was completely gone, to be replaced by a pale whiteness. Bringing one hand towards her mouth she briefly shuddered, before violently vomiting all over the counter.

A disgusting smell started permeating the kitchen, making Roland’s own stomach churn thanks to his enhanced senses. He did his best to ignore it, keeping his gaze trained at the unfortunate woman.

Though I can make a pretty good guess as to what happens.

The Reaper literally half an arm’s length away from her left little doubt. And despite her obviously being sick, Roland remained fairly certain the actual cause of death would be something different. After all, a random commoner in a big city would not mysteriously die minutes after vomiting. Poison was much too expensive for delusions along those lines to be realistic.

The woman’s eyes glazed over as she lost her grip on the counter. Falling forward, she had already fainted when her head impacted the hard wood.

One dull thud and a small spray of blood later the unconscious woman continued falling towards the floor while a multitude of vegetables went flying through the air. A vomit covered knife somehow ended up winning the race towards the ground, a shrill clink ringing through the air when it landed.

His instincts screamed at Roland to catch the woman, to help her in some way. But he knew that she, like the cursed pig next to her, would just phase through him. There would be no point, so he merely stood there, determined to prevent this tragic scene from ever becoming a reality.

After what seemed like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than a second, her limp body fell onto the stone floor, head weakly hitting the knife’s side as previous momentum made her slide forward.

Mostly blocked by her scattered hair, the ponytail having come undone during the fall, Roland saw a pool of red slowly forming on the ground. As he stepped closer, ignoring the Reaper hovering right over the body, he saw that the knife had sliced open part of her throat in their unfortunate meeting.

Had this happened in the real world people would have lamented the poor woman’s bad luck. Here Roland on the other hand only stared blankly as he beheld the ghastly sight.

While it looks unlucky, the knife will ultimately be the reason she makes it out fine.

His crass statement seemed inappropriate for such a disturbing scene. It still rang true however. Without the knife’s unfortunate cut she would have most likely survived. Sick, a possibly dangerous wound on her head, but still alive nonetheless. And living people did not appear on Roland’s vision.

“I will keep you from harm,” Roland whispered a solemn promise only he could hear. Which did not diminish its power. “No matter what sickness you have I will see to it that you get well.”

He seemed to see through the dying woman, past this prophetic vision and his everyday struggles, towards something far away, beyond his being.

Because that is my duty.

Calling it determination or resolve would have felt wrong. But whatever it was that currently shined in his eyes, it was without a doubt no less terrifying than the bottomless abyss he had shown a certain self-assured noble scion recently. Which made sense, as any good warden should at least be at the level of his prisoners.

Roland stood back up and continued to watch the woman slowly bleed to her death without looking away. He felt no anger or sadness, neither at the scene nor the Reaper closing in. Every passing second it got closer and closer, until their foreheads touched finally.

Instantly Roland’s surroundings distorted as everything slowly started to fade out of existence. The black walls far in the distance shined brightly with more and more veins of light running through them, whereas the pig, apparently having completed his task, floated upwards towards an unknown destination, leaving the victim’s body lying there motionlessly on the ground.

Roland had wondered in the past where the Reapers were headed, but the longest he ever managed to keep his eyes on one showed it leisurely floating hundreds of meters in the air, displaying no sign of stopping its ascent any time soon.

Having done everything he could, Roland closed his eyes and waited for the light to take him. He had much to do. And this time he would make no mistakes. Not allow any.