Chapter Fifteen: Died Because of Me

We stood at the cabin doorway, waiting for the saber-toothed bandit nearest the door to come closer. Just as he reached the wine rack by the entrance and was about to turn, a frost arrow shot straight in from outside, piercing his thigh.

Changjiang Delta’s estimate was accurate; the attack on the saber-toothed bandit didn’t alarm the rest of his companions inside. This reckless bandit, completely unaware of his impending miserable fate, charged out brandishing a dagger.

“Thunk!” The moment he burst through the door, a warhammer flashed through the air behind him and struck squarely on the back of his head. The unfortunate fellow immediately wavered where he stood, dazed and confused. Before him, the sorceress who had just shot him with the frost arrow watched with a sly grin, while the dwarven cleric off to the side counted off on his fingers with meticulous precision.

After a while, just as the unlucky bandit shook off his stupor and, face contorted with rage, turned to seek vengeance on his attacker, “Clang!”—a round, sturdy shield landed squarely on his face. With a crisp, satisfying crack, the bandit slumped back into unconsciousness, his nose now visibly shorter than before.

Withdrawing my shield-bearing arm, I gazed with satisfaction at the traumatic shock I’d inflicted. On the other side of the victim, a hulking, tusked, green-skinned half-orc held a warhammer, nervously keeping track of the seconds.

Just as the saber-toothed bandit was about to regain consciousness, the rotund half-orc suddenly poured a vial of potion over himself. The liquid shimmered in the air, dazzling to the eye. As it trickled down, the warhammer-wielding brute gradually faded, blending almost magically with the air around him. Before his body was fully invisible—

“Thunk!” The heavy warhammer crashed down once more on the bandit’s skull. Despite being adversaries, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this poor soul. To be toyed with so disdainfully by your opponents, left in a perpetual daze, never even knowing how you died—that must be the most humiliating experience for any warrior. And all because he happened to be standing a little too close to the door.

“Oh yes! The experiment was a success!” Feyin clapped her hands and leapt with glee, tapping the unconscious bandit’s forehead as she told us, “With this much time, we could easily kill two of them.”

“Clang!” Seeing the saber-toothed bandit stir once more, I raised my shield and delivered another blow to his face, then checked my combat energy. “At most, two more shield strikes—I’m almost spent.”

“That’s plenty…” Longbow Sunshot nodded contentedly, eyeing the unconscious wretch with malicious anticipation. “…We can kill him now, right?”

…

It was our half-orc rogue, Changjiang Delta, who once again initiated the ambush.

This time, he moved with practiced stealth, inching his way toward the saber-toothed bandit chief, Ridathis. We held our breath at the doorway, hearts pounding as we watched—whether the first strike succeeded or failed would determine the outcome of our entire plan. If he were discovered before reaching the chief, not only would our mission fail, but all five of us might die here.

So far, his infiltration was flawless. The sneaky half-orc glided through the room like a fermented specter, drifting past the desk, skirting the support pillar, slipping by the last saber-toothed bandit, and circling round behind Ridathis.

Just as he raised his warhammer, the bandit chief sensed something amiss and spun around, facing Changjiang Delta nose-to-nose.

The sudden twist startled not only Changjiang Delta but all of us. Feyin let out a soft gasp, clutching my arm in a white-knuckled grip.

In that instant when his cover was about to be blown, Changjiang Delta decisively stepped half a pace to the right, sidled up to the chief, and brought his warhammer crashing down on the back of his skull.

“Now!” The moment the ambush succeeded, Changjiang Delta shouted toward the doorway. Exposed, he had no choice but to fight as the remaining bandits erupted in alarm, rushing to defend their leader. Alongside the fierce saber-toothed bandit, two tight-clad, dagger-wielding “Saber-toothed Assassins” emerged from the corners, circling in with agile steps.

“We’re going in!” Almost simultaneously, Feyin the sorceress cried out, charging the room with admirable valor. According to plan, I followed close behind, with Melody of Strings being towed by Longbow Sunshot—if not for this, our nearsighted elven ranger would likely have been knocked senseless by the room’s chaotic furnishings before even getting a shot off.

As we burst in, Changjiang Delta quaffed his refraction potion and vanished before their eyes. Deprived of their target, the bandits wheeled and moved to block our advance. This was exactly my worry—if they entangled me, I wouldn’t reach the chief in time, and once he regained his senses, we’d be done for.

Feyin had assured me this wouldn’t be a problem, though I had no idea what she had up her sleeve. Whatever her plan was, she’d better use it now, before it was too late.

At that moment, Feyin suddenly crouched, slapping her palms against the floor. A ribbon of ghostly blue flame burst from her hands, fanning rapidly outward. Wherever the halo spread, the ground instantly glazed with a biting chill; the soft, thick mountain mud turned to a sparkling crust of frost.

The chill swept right to the feet of the onrushing bandits, freezing their legs in a sheath of ice. The transformation happened so fast they hadn’t time to react—their torsos still lunged forward, but their feet were frozen fast.

The spell’s timing and range were impeccable—so much so that I was caught off guard myself, at a loss for a moment. I stared at Feyin in awe, muttering, “You…”

“What do you mean ‘you’? Did you really think I only knew Frost Arrow? Move it! My magical potions cost money!” Never in my life had I witnessed such an overwhelmingly commanding presence as this fierce woman before me—her indomitable charisma surged from her slender frame, instantly riveting my will. Under her dominance, I acted without a second thought, obeying on pure instinct.

My gut told me that if I hesitated, a much grimmer fate awaited me—Melody of Strings and Longbow Sunshot had made it clear: whatever punishment our human sorceress could devise was likely far worse than being hacked apart by the bandit chief.

Though Feyin’s “Icebind” spell lasted only a short time, it was enough. By the time I reached Ridathis, the bandits had broken free from the ice and were charging at us.

“Longbow Sunshot, hold them off—keep yourself healed. Melody of Strings, take out the mage first!” Feyin’s clear voice rang out, assigning our tasks amid the chaos.

Her command was sound. With me, the armored warrior, unable to join battle immediately, our formidable dwarven cleric was the only one who could serve as a shield. His unique “Intercept Fist” spell gave him considerable defense and attack, and despite his ill-chosen career as a would-be berserker-turned-cleric, he could still heal himself.

Targeting the saber-toothed mage first was also wise. Of the four henchmen, the spellcaster had the weakest defense but, given time, could unleash devastating magic. Moreover, he never left the bandit chief’s side, so after subduing Ridathis, I could join the fray at once.

As Melody of Strings closed in on the mage, he unleashed his “Rapid Shot” skill without hesitation. No one thought it wasteful to use such a powerful ability on a single target; though everything was proceeding as planned, we were not stronger than our foes.

Under the relentless barrage, the saber-toothed mage had no chance to cast his potent spells—we all knew that mages needed to chant incantations, and the more powerful the spell, the longer the chant. This had never been clearer: every time the mage uttered a syllable, two or three arrows left him gasping. Such broken, arrhythmic incantations would never earn the favor of the gods of magic, so, desperate, he could only fling basic firebolts that required no chanting—dealing minimal harm. Meanwhile, Feyin’s powerful spells—Ice Lance, Frost Spike—lashed him relentlessly.

Before long, the bandit chief Ridathis began to stir from his stupor. Sensing my chance, I swung my shield in a wide arc and smashed it into his face. As expected, he fell unconscious again, and I immediately joined the fight.

My timing was perfect: the saber-toothed mage’s health was nearly gone. I dashed in and finished him with a reverse slash; he collapsed instantly.

Without waiting for Feyin’s orders, I leapt to aid Longbow Sunshot, who was beset by three enemies. Our dwarven friend showed remarkable endurance—half his health remained, though his magic was all but spent. I charged in with my metal shield, fending off the roaring berserker.

A warhammer whistled past me, bursting a spray of blood from a saber-toothed rogue—Changjiang Delta, having completed his second ambush on the chief, had rejoined us. Now it was a race against time; we needed to inflict as much damage as possible before Ridathis awoke.

At the front, I shielded my head and vital spots as best I could. Daggers and knives slashed at me, their sharp pain so frequent I felt numb. I swung my sword, returning every blow, creating openings for my companions. I could have done better—if I’d spent my remaining combat energy freely—but I saved half, sensing it might yet be needed.

As the last saber-toothed bandit fell, Ridathis finally woke. Grabbing his massive battle-axe, he roared, “Savor your final breath—I’ll slaughter you all!” and charged us.

“Longbow Sunshot, damn it, why do you and he have the same lines?” Melody of Strings loosed an arrow that felled a saber-toothed assassin, laughing and cursing.

“Are you related? Your cousin or your brother?” Changjiang Delta, with a sinister twist, slit the last assassin’s throat—a fountain of blood and a soul turning to white light. Even as he finished, he couldn’t help but joke.

“Damn it, stealing my lines!” protested Longbow Sunshot, indignant. “My cousin? I’m his uncle! To hell with them! Oh no…”

For some reason, the revived bandit chief ignored everyone else, charging straight at the boastful dwarven cleric, axe raised. At this point, Longbow Sunshot had no magic left, half his health gone, and at level seven—the lowest among us—he stood no chance against a level twelve warrior’s full assault.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold him!” I stepped between Ridathis and my friend, shield raised. My health was still more than two-thirds full, and my armor was intact. I wasn’t so arrogant as to think I could beat the raging chief alone, but I was the best person to buy our cleric time to recover.

Moreover, I still had over half my combat energy left—one last opportunity, a skill that could turn the tide.

Ridathis closed in; for the first time, I took a good look at him. Bald, scarred, and with eyes full of savage malice—his presence alone made my palms sweat.

To him, I was invisible—Longbow Sunshot was his prey. But I swore his reign of terror ended here. As long as I stood, he would do nothing.

I tightened my grip, waiting for the right moment. As he stepped into range, I swung my shield at his face.

Shield Strike—shield, strike!

“Ah-ha-ha-ha!!” Just as my shield was about to connect, he suddenly let out a wild, thunderous roar. The sound was so forceful, so primal, it seemed to batter my very soul. In an instant, a wave of terror crashed over me. My heart felt hollow, something sour and sharp clogged my chest, paralyzing me, cutting off my breath.

It was a crushing, oppressive force. Facing it was hard enough; harder still was admitting it.

Yes, I was afraid—in that moment, as he roared. His booming voice, his cruel eyes, the axe stained with rust and blood… All of it terrified me. My mind went blank, curling up like a hamster fleeing a wildcat, unable to move so much as a finger. It was the most shameful moment of my life—no matter when that life began—I’d been cowed by my enemy.

Ridathis stepped over me and in a few strides reached Longbow Sunshot. No spells, no cover—the dwarven cleric had only his bold heart and a pair of comically carved staves to rely on. Against a battle-axe-wielding bandit, it wasn’t enough.

He died.

Since coming to Saber-tooth Mountain, I’d seen countless dead, many by my own hand. In Campnavia City, I’d seen death too—by beasts, by infighting, by fatal falls from the city walls…

But this was the first time I’d seen a companion fall before my eyes.

His head lolled to the side, his eyes devoid of life, a ghastly wound nearly severing his neck. His stout, sturdy body was cold, the lips that once roared with laughter and threats now purple.

…I could have saved him…

Feyin, Changjiang Delta, and Melody of Strings fought with all they had, but couldn’t draw Ridathis’s attention. Three against one, even against a level twelve warrior, my companions’ combined firepower quickly whittled the chief’s health to a quarter. But the cost was high. While I was paralyzed, Changjiang Delta guzzled healing potions, desperately holding the line. But the chief’s attacks were too powerful—even the potions’ effects couldn’t keep up.

“That’s it, I’m out of potions!” At last, the orc rogue’s efforts reached their limit. With his health dangerously low and no potions left, he cried in despair and turned to flee, hoping the last potion would work fast enough to save him.

It was difficult—his round frame made him an easy target, and Ridathis locked onto him, relentlessly pursuing. As before, no amount of magic from our sorceress could distract him—once he began the chase, Melody of Strings’ arrows were useless. He tried valiantly, but it barely mattered.

As Changjiang Delta neared death, I suddenly found myself able to move again. A fierce resolve surged through me: I would not watch another companion die before me, especially not when their loss was my fault.

Ridathis raised his battle-axe for the final blow—Changjiang Delta couldn’t survive another hit.

And I was still at least five steps away.

“I’m coming!” In an instant, driven by some unknown force, I poured all my strength into my right arm and, without a second thought, hurled my longsword at the murderous bandit chief.

The blade spun through the air, flashing past the villain’s throat just as the axe was about to fall.

A crimson wash. The brutish figure collapsed, his soul dissolving into white light, nourishing the survivors.

Green light flickered—new strength coursed through my limbs, just as it had the first time I used Shield Strike.

The sword crashed to the floor and broke in two.

Changjiang Delta survived, wide-eyed with shock.

“…All-out Throw: hurl your weapon at the enemy, dealing 4x maximum damage plus 100, with a 20% chance to inflict a grievous wound. The thrown weapon is lost permanently. Costs 70 combat energy.”