"Why am I even here? I'll just cause people more suffering."

I grimaced with an onslaught of rapidly rising anger—anger that wasn't directed toward anyone in particular, nor was I angered for any discernible reason either.

"Tch."

I felt my hands tighten on reflex as I spat off to the side.

"Who the hell am I even angry with?"

I tilted my head back to the orange sky. The clouds were a beautiful shade of crimson red. It was a warm picturesque view above me.

Exhaling a deep soothing sigh, my hand relaxed as did the worked-up tension spread throughout my body.

"Denial, then anger, then...What was it again?"

Leaving that thought aside, I made my way back to the group.

Unsurprisingly, the people of the group looked angry and were giving me the stare of death. Adam notably had large blood vessels bulging on his forehead.

Walking up to me, he muttered, "She really is too good for you."

"Shut up, you weirdo. Let's go."

As I turned to walk, he grabbed me by the wrist with an iron grip.

"Go… Where?" He murmured quite irately.

"Where do you think? The farmer's house."

Adam tilted his head back to look up at the cream-colored two-story home on the top of a hill looking down on the waves of grain. Pointing at it, he asked, "That one?"

"That one," I assured him.

Shaking his hand off my wrist, I continued walking without looking back. I knew he was following at a distance from the sound of his footsteps.

Reaching the top of the hill, Adam walked up to the front window peering in.

The observable vicinity was vacant of any vehicles except for one: a blue pickup-truck parked near the abode's front door.

Front door… truck…

Shit.

I hollered out, "Adam, a truck is out front. They may still be home—"

Suddenly a loud blast sent fractured window glass flying out from where Adam was standing. He huffed and backed away, clutching his stomach, falling back to reveal multiple precisely punctured openings in his stomach. Out them leaked a gradually increasing amount of blood.

"Adam!"

With little time to think about what had happened, I ran up and covered his body with mine, hoping to tank the next blast.

"Die, Demon!" yelled an elderly sounding man.

Another blast rang out as an immediate pain overwhelmed my senses. I had been shot in the back by a shotgun pellet.

I tried moving my legs, but they felt so heavy—like I was trying to drag an entire car with my feet.

Adam opened his eyes and looked me in the face. He tried saying something, instead coughing blood onto my face.

"Don't speak!" I yelled at him.

At this point, I knew I had a few extra seconds to get up. There were two shots and then a pause, implying the assailant's weapon was a double-barrel shotgun. It also meant he was in the process of reloading.

"Geeeet up!" I grunted while trying to lift myself up with the combined might of every fiber in my body.

Grunting and panting, I managed to work myself onto my knees. Adam then observed as I pulled myself back into a standing position on my knees, causing blood to squirt out of the holes in my stomach.

Two blasts in quick succession sent large chunks of my right arm exploding off in every direction, leaving what remained a mangled mess of gristly muscles, tendons, and exposed bone. Howling in pain but quickly recovering, I got off my knees and onto my feet.

My head limply sagged, under an oppressive weight, as did all the muscles in my body. It was like my body was telling me to shut down, but my mind wouldn't let it. It took all my will to fight against what felt like ten times the gravity pulling me to the ground.

Grabbing Adam's hand, I slowly waddled over to the steep edge of the hill, dragging him along with me. Falling over, he and I went tumbling down the verdant slope. Fortunately, it was soft grass tufts top to bottom, so it didn't hurt too bad, but my pain was inconsequential. I had to prioritize Adam's safety over mine.

Clumsily crawling back to my feet, I grabbed Adam by the foot and waded him through the sea of maize.

I heard the elderly man holler from behind me, "Get off my property, demons!"

As I slowly edged my way forward, I felt blood pouring out from all over my body. I was hit in the stomach and a few major arteries.

Attempting to turn my head to look back, twisted my spine too stressfully for the eviscerated muscles in my lower back. I was just going to have to hope for the best and keep pressing forward.

Keep pressing forward.

My arm was a blood-trickling mangled mess that drooped down at my side completely inoperable, but for whatever reason, I wasn't disturbed by the sight of it—not even a little. So then, what was making me feel so squeamish?

It was then I realized something about my power Fearless Resolve. It didn't remove my fear altogether; it removed the fear I felt towards things that jeopardized my safety. It didn't make me any less afraid for the safety of others.

With ragged breath, I groaned, "Hang in there."

Some of the men from the group came rushing up with rifles in hand. Their eyes widened as they saw my bloodied, disfigure visage come into full view.

One of the men ran up and questioned with an expression of shock, "Are you going to be okay?!"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Worry about Adam."

Dragging Adam's foot and placing it in his hand, the other men came up and hoisted him up by his limbs, carrying him away.

Though I couldn't see him very well, what I saw was enough to make me vomit. My vomit was dyed red with blood.

Tilting my head back, I looked up to the orange sky. The clouds were a beautiful shade of crimson red. So warm and picturesque. A view like this was more than enough of a reason to keep pressing forward.

And to think I had wasted all those years in the darkness of my parent's basement when this was what I was missing out on.

What a… fool.

I closed my eyes to let them rest for a few seconds.

…

"Did he pass out while standing up?!"

***