Vladimir thought why they didn’t have any long-range attacks, like ki-blasts or something like that. Maybe even pistols… But he threw these notions at the back of his mind and focused on the battle unfolding before him.

“We have to negotiate… This cannot go on!” Vlad proclaimed and glanced at Bread and the temple guard for approval.

“Are ya insane?! Look! We need to divide and run!” The temple guard retorted as he fed another bullet to his rifle, the steam hissed as it escaped from his weapon. Vlad briefly noticed a part of enchantment in the inside of the long barrel. He shook his head; it was not the time for research.

“No! Goulash is in the tank! We cannot abandon him!” Bread denied such a notion without a breath.

“Needless to say, they caught up with us,” Vladimir said as he watched the unfolding mock of a battle. The guards were more and more angered. He concluded that they had to be connected by a skill that did not allow them to move from each other… Maybe some vitality-boosting skill? Defence? Sharing of energy? He could not make baseless conclusions. Sou’Rek was already almost caught up a few times and on his alchemical metal spear appeared a few small dents and scratches.

“How do you negotiate? How smart are they? Experienced?” Vladimir asked, trying to get the needed info.

“Stupid, ugly human… Ya will die, but fine,” the temple guard grumbled, “If ya want to negotiate ya need your group’s mark, ours would be the helmet and throw it before them at the ground,” the guard explained.

“Okay, but I cannot use my own… They cannot know I am human,” Vlad knew what would happen if devils would find him.

“You have to…” Bread suddenly whispered.

“Tradition, huh…” Vladimir understood. Even back on Earth, it was frowned upon, to negotiate with a covered face as it showed untrustworthiness. “Damn…” Vladimir had a hard decision before him. The royal guards would leave and inform the prince. He would report too, and if the assumption was right and devils were the strongest here, the royal family would be under their thumb. At least partially.

Sou'Rek started losing tempo. The decision had to come now. He owed to him too much. He could not let him die here. And maybe… Bread would take it as a heroic attempt. He smiled at that notion.

He grabbed his helmet and took it down. The two suns’ last rays shone on his sweaty, messy head.

“They are trained and will follow the code. Something devils were not able to take away…” the temple guard sighed, “yet.”.

“Good,” he said as he stood up behind their rock formation. He raised the shiny helmet.

“We wish to negotiate!” He yelled and threw his helmet near the struggling orcs. The orcs and goblins stopped their struggle upon hearing this.

He slowly went over, carefully. He glanced at Sou’Rek who was harshly glowering at him but retreated in big jumps to his teams.

As Vlad neared them he noticed how beaten up the guards were. The profusely bled from the ki-augmented bullets’ wounds that would kill an Earthian human a hundred times over. Their armours were dented from the Sou’Rek’s spear. They were heaving but still stood strong.

One of them met him in the middle and took down his helmet. Now, Vlad saw ‘he’ was actually a ‘she’. The orcette wore a grim expression, heavily breathing and sweating. Her mouth was smeared with blood as she coughed out a bullet into her hand. She looked at it and dismissively threw it away. “Talk about right impressions,” Vlad thought to himself while he came to a stop.

“Negotiations can commence,” the orcette hoarsely agreed.

“Release Goulash and you three can leave alive,” Vladimir gave the proposal.

“Impossible,” she hissed and tensed. The remaining two royal guards noticed it and tensed too, gripping their weapons again.

“If we continue to fight, you will die. To goblin revolutionaries and a weak human. Is there honour or in that?” Vlad tried another approach. He hoped that his weakness could be somewhat useful, at least in this situation.

The orcette contemplated for a bit after she examined him much more closely. She paled a little bit as a large bloody clot escaped her lips. She needed to heal.

She did not know how much ammunition they had, or if there were more revolutionaries in reserve.

“There are enough of us. We are all around the road. You won’t be able to escape, not with the injuries you have,” Vlad bluffed. He saw suspicion in her eyes, but he put on a confident face and did not let anything slip.

The royal guard first looked in his eyes, then around, then at her own people. Then she sighed. “Fine, but only if you take us with you…” she said in the end with defeat in her voice.

Vladimir blinked. Then again. Then again. “What?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“We are not idiots. We know the mercenaries were templars of Staumaz…” She was interrupted by another batch of blood leaving her mouth. It seemed like she was in pain and had shredded at least part of her lung. “And that the goblins are their guards,” she added flatly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Vladimir decided to deny everything.

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes, “so will you take us with you? That little lieutenant of yours will need a lot of help. The prince took great pleasure in breaking him. O hope you have a lot of gold for the church, or he will die,” she grimaced.

“Why do you want to go with us?” He inquired. He was running blind, making snap decisions on dubious conclusions. That needed to end.

“Devils, endless corruption, losing honour over trashy goblin… You can choose,” she ruefully grimaced at him. Then she dropped on her right knee as a sudden weakness hit her. The rest of her team came to her and supported her back on her feet.

Vladimir thought they could probably win the fight… Well, maybe the church would be glad for replacement? Or, and that was more probable, they would just kill him for bringing an enemy. He should have asked about the political situation here… He sighed. Then he nodded, “Fine. Sou’Rek!”.

The fallen inquisitor was looking at best flabbergasted. “Human. Explain. Now!” He almost yelled at the man.

“We are taking them with us,” Vlad flatly announced. Sou’Rek blinked. Then again. Then again. Everyone else deadpanned.

“You idiotic human! They are royal guards! And I AM THE LEADER HERE!” He shouted at Vlad from the bottom of his lungs.

“Well, sorry, but the battle…” Vlad tried to say something but was interrupted.

“Holy Steam! Goulash!” A sudden yell reached them from the royal tank.

Vlad and two more temple guards sprinted to the back of the tank. The rest stayed, aiming the weapons at the royal guards. They just grinned and took up weapons, but otherwise did not move.

At the royal tank, Bread was profusely crying as she held the head of unconscious Goulash. They cut off his hands and feet, blinded one of his eyes and broke half of his bones. How he lived, was outside of Vlad’s comprehension, but his chest was slightly rising and deflating rhythmically.

“Sou’Rek, can we move him?” Vlad asked as he did not want to use the royal ride. There was a big emblem that would announce them miles away. Better to take the smaller one. There was plenty of space anyway.

“Carefully. Very carefully,” Sou’Rek said as he moved to Goulash and examined him.

“You are the leader here,” Vladimir shrugged. He wanted to respect the fallen inquisitor.

They moved everything useful to the temple’s armoured truck and destroyed the royals one. The royal guards were laying next to their former ward, their skill completely worn off. Vladimir desired to know what it was; the union expertise based on ki. From what he understood it increased defence and vitality by quite a large margin. However, he was warned long ago in the Coliseum that asking such questions could make you a rotten corpse in a ditch.

Bread stopped crying and tended to her badly wounded step-brother, ignoring everything. Vlad would have loved to help but did not know how.

“We are making our way into the temple! Hold yourself!” Sou’Rek madly grinned and stood on the steam-pedal. The temple truck's engine hissed as it released a bit of superheated steam. It was moving around 30 km per hour on flat pavement. Here they were happy with 20 km per hour. Human’s best runner on Earth, Usain Bolt, could run little less than 45 km per hour. And he was just a peak E-O human.

The goblins themselves could move much faster. Not to talk about orcs. Or devils, who could fly with wings and magic. On the other hand, it was much more convenient.

Soon, they reached the city that was already awoken. A thin veil of steam covered lighted up streets that were brimming with citizens and slaves alike. Bread calmed down a little, sitting on her knees with armour at the side and with Goualsh’s head in her lap. She was humming a calming song the whole ride.

They easily slipped through the street, nobody giving them a second glance and reached the temple of Staumaz without a hitch.

They parked at the side of the temple in a small parking slot with another two shiny trucks. Except, they had freely displayed Staumaz’s emblems on their sides.

Sou’Rek handed the royal guards to the temple, not caring what would happen to them. Vladimir hoped they were genuine. However, if even royal guards deserted… What was happening in this city?

In the temple, they were again brought into the cells, now empty. The kids were brought elsewhere, probably to train as temple guards. Bread was angry a little bit, but she knew she could not take care of them for an extended period. Hopefully, she will meet them again. Sou’Rek laid down and fell asleep without a word. Goulash was very carefully put on the ground.

In the next hour or so, they were fed after Vlad returned his borrowed equipment. When they tried to take away Sou’Rek’s spear and armour, he threatened them with extreme bodily harm. He was fairly expressive and they believed him. He was much stronger than them even without divinity.

Priestess Sular finally arrived after another hour. She was bloodied as if she just went through battle. Vlad guessed the Coliseum but did not comment on that.

“Here you go…” she handed him a potion, ”Three defected royal guards. 500 gold per each. The rest of the money, minus the bullets and the potion, will be given to you later,” she told the astonished Vladimir. He promptly analysed it.

[Analysis complete: Potion of Cure Disease

Beginner-grade potion made by an inexperienced alchemist with good-quality materials without any kind of energy. Please, expand your Encyclopaedia for more information.

Unable to cure 4th-stage pancreatic cancer disease.

Able to suppress pancreatic cancer disease for 20 days]

“God… Fucking… Dammit!” Vladimir swore.

“How much for cure disease spell?” He asked, hoping for a good price.

“5000 gold. No discounts,” she just smiled, knowing he did not have that much. However, that smile was something that would haunt Vladimir’s dreams alongside his mother's death.

He growled at her and chugged the potion. It tasted like a rotten rat. And smelled too. He did not feel anything, so he checked his status.

Vladimir D. Svoboda

VIT: 17.32 / 25.00

CAC: 2.50 / 5

ISS: 2.50 / 5

NSS: 2.50 / 5

MPA: 6.00

Ailments:

Dissociative identity disorder (mind) (subdued)

Pancreatic cancer (Halted - 20 days) (4th stage - 81 days left) (body)

Magic-less (body/soul)

He realized he had to learn to check his status more often. The DID was subdued. Hopefully, permanently, but who knows. It could always flare and overcome his resistance.

“Can I get one more potion?”

“No. It’s not that easy to make and resources are scarce lately,” the priestess replied without emotion while she slowly examined Goulash under the Bread’s watchful and extensively worried eyes. Sular deeply frowned as she examined his cut off limbs and eye hole. “We do not have a Potion of Limb Regrow in stock. It’s an apprentice-grade potion,” Bread wanted to say something, but the priestess hastily interrupted her, “However, it can be commissioned, even though it will take time to brew.”

“How long?” Vlad asked.

“Two weeks at minimum… Harbour had some problems lately and we do not have enough alchemists,” she grimaced.

“Thank you, priestess,” Bread hugged her.

“Don’t thank me yet; the eye is lost forever,” she added, hugging her back.

“Why don’t you heal him with a prayer?” Vlad asked, wondering why she did not use the all-powerful divinity of hers.

“Because, foreign human, I have only a limited amount of prayers for a whole year! The resurrection spell is different, as it belongs only to the god himself! Nevertheless, you cannot plead for it too often, at most once per week, or you will lose your patron’s grace,” she explained, grimacing. Vladimir understood that there had to be some severe limitations. Otherwise, a nigh-immortal army could be easily raised.

“If you give me a recipe, tools and resources I can make you some potions…” Vladimir offered. It was time to participate a little bit more.