Standing over the bloodied, dead body that had been Renrith, the Master Earth Mage, I regained some clarity. I didn't regret what I had done and would never do it, but as I stood there, covered in blood, both mine and not - I was shocked to feel nothing.

No sense of accomplishment, of bringing him justice. Not even the high of overcoming a mage that even Aison was reluctant to meet. The only things I could feel were pain and weariness.

It would take me some time to calm down enough to think clearly, and my first thought, and the one on which I acted, would be to check on myself.

Health 54/100% Mana 21/48 Stamina 37/100%

The question would come later, the one logical when looking at this, what exactly was [Health]? What did that 54% mean? And while it didn't occur to me at that point, it does now as I [Record] the events. Indeed, how does all that amount of damage translate into a percentage?! And why 46%? Not some other number?

Wounds and Injuries: Whole Body, Blood Loss, Severe. Left Shoulder, Piercing Wound, Bleeding. Left Shoulder, Dislocated. Left Shoulderblade, Cracked. 2nd Rib, Left, Cracked. Right Arm, Upper, Hematoma. Right Arm, Upper, Mana Burn. Right Arm, Lower, Severe Hematoma. Right Arm, Lower, Mana Burn. 2nd, 3rd, 4th Ribs, Right, Cracked. 3rd Rib, Right, Fractured. Upper Torso, Right, Mana Burn. Upper Torso, Right, Severe Hematoma. Lower Torso, Right, Severe Hematoma. Lung, Right, Contusion. Neck, Laceration, Bleeding. Right Cheek, Laceration, Bleeding. Body, Various, Inner Bleeding. Body, Bruising, Various, Bleeding.

{That is not good. Is it?} I was no doctor and hardly had any knowledge except the one supplemented by a few wiki articles I had read. And yet, what my [Status Screen] considered below half [Health] loss appeared far scarier. Was it? Who knows? After all, I am alive to [Record] it.

Afflictions: Accumulated Fatigue, Battle Fatigue, Overexertion, In-Effect. ???, Eyes, Magic, Half-Resisted. Effects: Battle Trance, Self-inflicted, Light.

{This, just what does it mean?!} What is that effect? And self-inflicted?

I actually remember panicking at that moment, a combination of everything I was seeing.

***

I would love to say it all finished there, but it didn't. The blood from the last blow was still dripping from my spur-of-the-moment weapon as I heard a loud crash behind me.

My reaction would be far slower than usual, as it took me several moments to turn around toward the sound. And when I did, five people were already inside the room. My vision had been a bit blurry since Renrith's flash spell. Or whatever that blinding light was. So I barely made out anything but their figures, only becoming aware of their looks and sexes as they started their approach, shouting something. And it was something indeed, as I hardly understood a couple of words, a ringing in my ears dimming the rest. So, such were the effects of this so-called accumulated fatigue?

It was clear that I wasn't in peak condition. Hell! I wasn't in any shape for anything but to lie down and rest. Regretfully, it was clear that the newly arrived guards, which I now could identify as four men and a woman, didn't plan to allow me anything except to lie down and die, preferably under their blades.

"There!" Noticing me, which was hard not to, the man in the front shouted, his arm waving towards where I stood.

"Where's the Mage?!" The one next to him, or maybe the one behind, shouted next.

A moment of silence ensued, with the guards stopping their approach and only breaking into a run as the woman, who stood at the back of their improvised, or maybe planned, formation, would shout, "On the ground!"

With nothing better coming to mind and the question of fighting or not having only one answer, I acted in something close to desperation, reciting the [Word of Filling] - "Laye." I had no advancement in that respective word, well, in neither of the three, so the effect was the most basic, replenishing my need for food and water, not my stamina. And yet, I did feel slightly better, even if my stats wouldn't reflect it.

Better enough to understand I had no chance against five opponents in a direct fight, even if perfectly rested and healthy. Which, in turn, prompted me to act to make sure it would not happen.

***

With the opponents, my final ones, if I didn't act with haste, approaching, I forced my weary mind and equally so, also heavily wounded, body. And I did manage to do something, to gain time and standing, no matter how minimum it was.

[Inventory] was by far the most useful of my blessings. And this time, [Inventory] would play an equally important role. While having some limitations, like seeing the object and being at a reasonable distance from it, it was still far above the [Storage] spell that required nearly touching the object in question.

With a supposedly quick glance around, one that took enough time for the new opponents to close in to be some ten meters from me, I had located all the [Light Orb] lights near enough and, holding their positions in mind, quickly, as I could at that moment, whirled around, storing them all. And right as I did, without even checking if it was dark, I forced my body to the left.

Supposedly, as I planned, it was a step. One that I then changed into a jump but would result in nothing but me stumbling and falling to the ground a meter away. And still, my mind being a kaleidoscope of lights from the pain, I managed to hold back my groans and roll, crawl, and whatever else away from where I had been.

My opponents, would-be killers, were surprised by the sudden darkness that assaulted over half of the enormous room that served as a laboratory, warehouse, library, or else to Renrith. Not enough to shout about it or to flee as I could wish, but still, they did stop on their spots, and the crisp baritone voice of the man moving at the front, a commander of sorts, resonated in the half-dark central passage. But his words weren't to me or even about the situation, like, I don't know, an offer to surrender, asking who I was or what happened. No! He commanded his men, "Rov, Zar, back to the door. Elii, grab an orb. Krast, we two hold the light perimeter."

***

To force oneself to up with such injuries was already a feat. But to do so after forcefully and willingly falling and rolling was far above that. Still, even if I have no idea how or what made me - I did it.

Half-crawling to the edge of the bookcase, using the ensuing darkness as cover, careful about peeking more than required, I took the chance to observe the nearest three people, the other two having already rushed back to the room's entrance.

The man at the front, older, one-eyed. Sword (?) on his back, grip above his right shoulder.

NAME & TYPE LEVEL (Hiding anything below average) E'proe School, Master. (Title? Position?) - Strength 15 Force 17 Quick 13 Detection 14 Close-Quarters 15 Slashing 15 Counter-Attack 12 Feint 13 Parry 11 Orientation 16 Danger-Sense 19 Identification 12 Beasts and Monsters 17 Hunting 17 Leadership 13 Command 13

The man next to him, younger. Unarmed (?).

NAME & TYPE LEVEL (Hiding anything below average) Strength 16 Force 12 Quick 11 Close-Quarters 15 Unarmed 17 Crushing 11 Feint 12 Parry 15 Block 14 Orientation 12 Danger-Sense 17 Beasts and Monsters 13 Holy State of Lithandia Bounty 100

Woman, face barely visible, half-hidden by a mask (?). Two long daggers or very short swords on her belt.

NAME & TYPE LEVEL (Hiding anything below average) Strength 11 Agility 12 Middle-Quarters 13 Ranged-Combat 15 Accuracy 14 Timing 14 Feint 16 Subterfuge 12 First-Aid 15 Poisons & Antidotes 11 Translator 12 Writing 13 Negotiation 14 Medicine 15 Herbs 14

{Impressive.} My first thought, one that quickly opened the way to the one to come crashing after it, {Able to kill me, no matter what I do.} And still, I should not just roll and die, should I? {I am a damn apostle. Didn't SHE say that I had to act like one? Then what the fuck am I hesitating, ACT!}

So, with not even a hint of hope for getting out of the shit I was in alive, but some hope for reinforcements, Aison, to come if I held up enough, my first idea was to continue hiding, search for a way to circle around the bookcases, move towards the exit, hoping that this three spent time looking around.

But I was forced to discard it, partially because of the commander's stats and looks, his weathered, heavily scarred, lacking the left eye, but pristinely shaved and clean face remaining impassive, and facing my hiding spot. The other part affecting my following actions was the woman, Elii. The latter, making sure she couldn't reach the closest [Light Orb] as it hung near the ceiling, was already moving a chair from one of the still-illuminated side passageways. {And with light, they will quickly advance, finding me!}

I was right to consider the commander impressive. From his calm to his stats, everything screamed for such a word. His actions did so as well. Seeing that the Mage, their employer, was dead, there was no doubt I was the culprit. And as he decided to avenge Renrith (Why? Who knows? Let's say a code of honor and leave it at that.), he acted with all the precautions as someone able to kill a Master Mage entitled.

There was no panic, no offers for surrender, no rushing ahead. Even if the man's [Detection] probably allowed to pinpoint my location, he held his men back and even covered the rear. And there was no doubt that he would not commit any stupid mistakes after Elii returned with the light.

{I can't allow her to get it. I have to force them to act without a plan.} While I can consider it my instinct telling me what to do, I do slightly wonder just why I found myself capable of thinking calmly and accurately, with no hint of the panic I had sensed in such situations before.

I had unloaded my own crossbow before reaching this room, and loading it without light was above my capabilities. Yet, in my [Inventory], there was the one gifted by my friends from [Zlolim]. Loaded and ready to be used!

Summoning it out, I slowly, attempting to be entirely silent, lowered myself into a half-prone position. And very slowly peeked the arms of the crossbow around the corner. [Who to shoot?] That could be a good question if it even surfaced in my mind. And indeed, the commander and the one he called Krast were not only looking towards this side but also had trained their [Danger Sense]. So, while it was harder to aim at someone over twenty meters away, there was no doubt about my only target.

***

"Elii, down!" Even with all my preparations, thoughts, and else, the commander somehow managed to feel, sense, and understand what was going on. He barked out right as I released the bolt, pressing the lever, disregarding the pain that clenching my fist brought to me.

Yet, his saving shout came a bit late, the heavy full-iron bolt hitting my target. And while she had reacted almost in time, it still sent her tumbling down from the chair, the projectile hitting below her raised arm.

"Move. Check on Elii." The commander's order was strange - he should have noticed the same I did, even without magic. Furthermore, what if I had another crossbow? Why not search for cover? Why not rush ahead if there was no other option? But maybe I didn't know something, as the man he had called Krast obeyed, turning his back to my location and openly moving towards his now-dead companion.

"I hope you made your peace, stylet." But I had no time to wonder what his orders or words meant as the commander stepped forward, his left arm reaching one of his belt's pockets. And then, in the same movement, throwing something toward my location.

Before I could understand what was happening, it was my [Danger Sense] to ring in alarm. But the ringing quickly subsided, replaced by a flash of my [Status Screen].

Afflictions: ???, Poison, Resisted.

Thanks to instinct or else, I quickly understood that this poison was something rare. And that the commander was sure that I had no antidote against it. Invisible and without smell, probably contained to a small zone, as otherwise, he would have made everyone leave the room, not just stand away. As for him, as I didn't stop looking, he did have the antidote, the gulping of his throat proving he took it. And [Status Screen] confirming it right after.

Afflictions: ???, Poison, Resisted. Effects: ???, Antidote, In-Effect.

*Clang*

I had no idea how long the poison would take to make any effect or what the symptoms of the latter were, but I supposed that risking now was better than showing him I wasn't affected in any way. So, I slightly raised the crossbow before dropping it, even slightly inching forward for my hand, the next thing to fall, to be visible from where the man stood.

"No sound, even under the effect of the dog's last rite? It seems it was a real grey." To my surprise, the commander's voice held nothing but a mix of respect and curiosity, making me inwardly note the term [Grey Stylet].

It was clear that the man had lost some of his composure. Either from his companion's death or what he imagined me to be. Otherwise, how to explain that, barely some seconds after he decided the poison had worked, he closed in? And clearly not on guard, as his right arm, the one until now holding the sword grip above his shoulder, was now lowered?

And even though his [Detection] indicated I was still alive, the commander strode into the darkness, nearly stepping on me as he murmured, "And still alive? Interesting."

I nearly felt how his head turned around, maybe to speak, and the next moment, I sprang upwards, summoning one of the swords in my [Inventory], in this case, the one belonging to Grol from [Zlolim], thrusting it up, aiming to the point where no one should, in a fair fight at least.

The suddenness, the angle, his not-so-calm state, who can say why, but the man didn't react in time, the sword penetrating deeply between his legs, following into his abdomen. As he fell backward, he was still alive, groaning, cursing, and even growling - something about my soon-to-come death. And more curses and promises of death would follow, this time from the one called Krast, who rushed to his commander's voice.

{Huh? Isn't the poison around?!} Yet, while I did hope for such a lucky outcome, it was fated to pass. Krast stopped at the edge of the lighted-up zone and then, recalling I had shot a crossbow before, lunged into one of the passages of the left side, between the shelves filled up with what I assumed to be magical ingredients.

***

A minute later, the situation had hardly changed except for the commander slowly going silent, losing consciousness from blood loss, as [Status Screen] indicated. Krast had not stopped cursing me and the [Grey Stilets], promising that they, the [Drese], would find and root out every damn brother of mine.

Actually, Krast was already repeating himself - "I will piss on your corpse and make your own brothers eat it before choking them to death with their own innards." - I had heard already. And who knows for what time the standstill could continue. Maybe until I fell from exhaustion, my [Stamina] now just at some meager 14%, or until I died from blood loss myself, as now my [Health] had dropped even further, down to 49%, and the red of my [Wounds and Injuries] screen flashed non-stop as I called for it.

And yet, it seemed that I wasn't to die from exhaustion or blood loss, as at last, what I had already stopped hopping for, happened. Shouts, the clang of metal against metal, the unexpected sounds distracted even Krast from inventing new ways to kill me, what to say about me. We both, nearly instantly, looked towards the room's entrance.

"Who?!" He shouted out, probably hoping for an answer from his two companions by the door, the two that not even their commander's death had made leave post. Yet, he obtained none, except the sight of them with arms drawn, clashing against two people I couldn't identify from here.

***

I could have stayed put, waited for the combat at the doorway to end, hoping for the new arrivals to be friends. But something propelled me forward, making me move my battered body forward. Out of cover, away from the hiding darkness, and not towards the door, no. But to the opposite side of the room, towards Krast. I found myself running towards the man who had already devised some twenty ways of how I would die!

"YOU! NOT EVEN YOUR FRIENDS WILL BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU!" Reacting instantly, precisely as I rushed out, Krast turned his bloodshot eyes to mine, his face a grinning, reddened, anger-filled mix.

{He's young, very young.} It was only now that I paid attention to his looks, finding that he was hardly twenty years old. Dressed in the leather as the others, he still looked somewhat different, maybe because of the heavily ornamented sash he wore in place of the more-common belt or the lack of an actual weapon. But it wasn't as he was unarmed, or better said, he was, his weapons being his fists, clad in heavy gauntlets with iron or steel spikes protruding from them.

"I WILL AVENG..." Krast roared as he pounced forwards, but he never reached me. He would fall to the ground, barely a meter from me, an enormous, twice the size crossbow (?) bolt sticking from both sides of his neck.

"...What?!" As I shouted in half-surprise and half-alarm, intending to turn around and meet whoever had shot, I found myself losing footing, tripping over my own foot.

Too much had happened, too much that I didn't understand.

Too much damage, too much fighting.

All possible limits reached.

I fell down on the ground.

And wouldn't rise.

Well, as it would turn out, I merely had lost consciousness...