Of course, the peace didn’t last long at all. If there was one thing
he’d learned during his short time in this world, it was that.
Perhaps
because he was Ares’ champion, he seemed destined to be a magnet for
trouble. This particular mess, however, he’d brought upon himself. He
hadn’t been able to hold back.
He had to admit it—though of
course, he didn’t regret a thing. Max left the cabin. Across the way, as
expected, an elf waited for him.
This one was different. No, not one of those he’d defeated and humiliated before.
“Enough,” said Max. “Things don’t have to spiral out of control.”
“Such
arrogance!” the elf retorted. “You think you can come here, hit a
child, and then decide when enough is enough? All humans are the same.”
“Call it whatever you want, but this ends now or you’ll regret it. We’re allies. Your own boss recruited me.”
“Silvana
can sympathize with humans if she pleases, but I refuse to tolerate you
wandering around doing as you please. Hurting our children. Come on,”
he assumed a combat stance, unsheathing the sword hanging from his back.
“Come on, fight, coward!”
Max didn’t unsheathe his own blade—not yet.
“Are you that little shit’s father?”
“No,” the elf replied bluntly.
“Then
why the hell are you here playing hero?” Max shook his head. “Well,
suit yourself. But that brat deserved it. You should be grateful I only
gave him a kick.”
The elf spat, his face twisting with rage. So
much rage that he choked on his own words. Max assumed. Or perhaps he
saw no need for words. Not when his murderous glare conveyed everything
important in an instant.
“Now you try to justify yourself?”
“You
justify—if you can—what he did to my daughter,” Max shot back. “If a
human had done something like that to your son, you wouldn’t have
stopped at a kick to the mouth. You’d have strung him up on a damned
tree. You’d have gutted him like a pig.”
“That’s different.”
“Yeah, of course,” Max snorted.
He
should try to de-escalate the conflict. Apologize, even. But every time
that idea crossed his mind, the image of Helen lying on the ground
reappeared—the red mark on her pale cheek. Her face in that moment
flashed in his mind’s eye: her wide eyes, her trembling lips.
Helen
had told him it wasn’t a big deal, after all. That she’d been used to
not belonging to either the human world or the elven world since birth.
Yet those had just been words. Her immediate physical reaction told another story. A very simple one.
Helen had tried to connect with her own kind. Simply to play a little. And as a reward, she’d received insults and a slap.
That was simply intolerable. His blood burned just thinking about it.
It
was impossible to resolve this problem through dialogue. The elf—whose
name Max still didn’t know—wouldn’t listen to reason, and neither would
he, he admitted.
But he wouldn’t cross the line. He wouldn’t kill him. The elf hadn’t actually done anything.
Not
yet. So he’d just teach him a lesson—one that would serve as an example
to all the others who might be nurturing similar ideas. A living proof
that messing with them wasn’t worth it.
Naturally, he worried far
more about what they might do to Helen than about any retaliation
against himself. The fight was attracting attention, of course. Crowds
gathered at a safe distance.
Some shouted their support. Others their displeasure. No one, absolutely no one, stepped forward to try to stop this.
“I
don’t know who you think you are, human. But it’s time someone took you
down a peg. It’s time someone—” He didn’t finish the sentence.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Max
would forever be left with the mystery. It wasn’t that the elf had
chosen to fall silent or reconsidered in the moment. He’d never finish
the sentence because an arrow had pierced his throat.
His blood splattered across Max’s face. He watched him collapse, choking on his own blood.
Okay, he was still alive, but he didn’t have much time left in this world. Seconds of agony, minutes at most.
What
did Max know? The point was, seeing how his head twisted and his body
trembled was enough to know he was a goner. You didn’t need to be a
medical expert. In any case,
Max turned around and ran without a second thought.
He’d
thought orcs were too stupid to set up an ambush, but anything was
possible. Or maybe it was humans. He’d bet both sides had enough reasons
for retaliation throughout history. Well, that was obvious. It was
always like that.
He slammed the cabin door open. He slipped inside, wary of traps. Of course, there were none.
He went to the room he shared with Helen. The girl’s first reaction was to give him a tense look. No—a frightened one.
Maybe
she didn’t know exactly what was happening. Though, to be fair, neither
did he. But she’d have heard enough: the whistle of arrows, the
gurgling of that unlucky son of a bitch choking on his blood, the
screams.
“Grab your staff and follow me,” Max said. “Don’t leave my sight for a moment, Helen. Understood?”
Helen
simply seemed too scared to speak. Or perhaps, as usual, she
overthought everything and had nothing to say beyond what she felt.
“Where are we going now? What will we do? Are we sticking to the plan, the ambush one?”
“Good question.”
Max thought about it, but not for long.
“The
plan is to survive however we can,” he finally said. “If an opportunity
arises, well, we’ll see. Stay close to me. Do what I do.”
They
left the cabin, and it immediately became clear this wasn’t the work of a
lone archer slipping behind enemy lines for the perfect shot. A rain of
steel descended upon the elves and their shitty little treehouses.
When
the elf—whose name Max still didn’t know—was shot in the throat, the
first and by far the wildest possibility that had crossed his mind was
that one of Silvana’s elves had taken the guy out before he could become
a real problem. But that was unrealistic, not just because they
should’ve known none of those guys could put up a fight, but mainly
because they wouldn’t do that to one of their own.
They were being invaded, plain and simple: elves, humans, merfolk… whoever was responsible.
Now they were under a waterfall of shit, and the only thing they could do was try to come out as unscathed as possible.
“Orcs attacking with bows and arrows,” said Helen, “and setting ambushes?”
“Yeah, doesn’t seem likely. I don’t know what’s happening here.”
But that was the least of their worries, naturally.
They were alive, they would survive, and they’d come out of this better and stronger than before. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Thanks to the power Ares had granted him, that was literally true.
Part
of him wished he’d left as soon as Helen recovered. To not think about
repaying debts or growing stronger. To chase his goals by throwing
himself into another life-or-death fight.
But he’d decided to
accept Silvana’s request. He’d chosen to be here, and Helen had wanted
this too. Too late for regrets, for second-guessing, for telling himself
fire burns.
The attackers emerged from the trees, growling and roaring. Orcs, without a doubt. So they were smart enough to set an ambush.
To catch the elves by surprise. Fine. Shocking, but fine.
It was better than the alternative, at least. Max was different now. More willing to speak his mind, to enforce his will.
But
he wasn’t a warrior or a monster. He wasn’t sure he could kill humans
without hesitation, despite everything. Something that merely looked human was a different story.
At
least, that’s what he believed. One of the orcs cut into their path,
leaping and landing right in front of them. Max doubted it recognized
him, despite the feat he’d accomplished in Ethos and the massacre of
those bastards.
No, Max thought, placing a hand on Helen’s
shoulder and hiding her behind him, pushing her back carefully. It had
likely been drawn by Helen. They didn’t care, after all.
It meant
absolutely nothing to them that she was just a child. If he fell, if no
one remained to protect her, she’d suffer the same fate as her mother.
Max gritted his teeth and, unflinching, faced the orc as it unleashed a
war cry and lunged at him.
A mace in one hand, a shield in the other. Its shadow swallowed him quickly. It was a massive monster.
But size didn’t matter much. Not such a trivial difference. Its attacks were just easier to see.
They
made it easier prey, that’s all. Max shattered its right leg, sending
it crashing to its knees. He achieved this simply by kicking and
pressing his boot down until the bone cracked, until he felt the leg
twist.
Then, with both hands, he decapitated it. He watched the
head—frozen in a stupid expression of surprise—arc through the air,
trailing a spray of blood. Not a single drop stained him or his armor.
The
severed head hit the grass with a dull thud. It seemed to stare at him,
but it was already dead. Those eyes only saw through him, if they saw
anything at all.
If it wasn’t entirely dead, it had little
consciousness left. It must’ve seen nothing. That was something he’d
read in the hospital: when you die, hearing is the last sense to go.
He
wasn’t sure if it was true, but why was he thinking about that? Maybe
because, before coming to this world, he’d never even been in a fight.
And of course, he’d never killed anyone. But now he could do something
as monstrous as decapitate a being without hesitation, without physical,
mental, or emotional strain.
He told himself again it was because
it was an orc—a monster, a thing only vaguely resembling a human. But
deep down, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate even if this were an invasion by
human forces. It probably wouldn’t even disturb his sleep.
I guess time will tell, he thought. Like everything in life.
“Don’t stop,” Max said. “Run.”