They heard them before they saw them. The crack of whips, the groan of wagon wheels, the muffled sobbing of women and children—cut through by harsh, jeering shouts.

In the pre-dawn light the convoy came into view. Two wagons strained under their load, each dragged by a single exhausted horse. Rusted iron bars boxed in all the villagers, packed shoulder to shoulder, their fine wedding clothes now dirtied and torn. Two slavers rode each wagon—one with the reins, the other with a blade across his lap. While others walked next to wagons. One of them complained about having to walk in a whiny, why-me voice

The party slipped into the treeline, keeping pace at a crouch as the wagons crawled up the incline of a small hill.

"Looks like we're lucky," Tarni whispered, eyes on the sagging horses. "They weren't ready for this many prisoners. They can't move fast."

Lily's jaw tightened. She leaned close to her mother and murmured, "Mum and I will take the two up front. The rest of you hit the second wagon."

"No!" Zane's whisper cut sharper than he intended, and Lily spun on him, face flushed.

"They're slavers," she hissed, trembling with fury. "We don't—"

Kai crept a little farther ahead as his Sister and Dad had a quite but fierce argument, squinting at the lead wagon. Then he stiffened. "Wait. That's the big guy from the guild hall. The one who tried to shake us down for our gear."

Tarni and Bell exchanged grim looks, nodding. Zane's eyes narrowed in agreement.

Lily surged forward, but Tarni caught her shoulder, stopping her. She whirled on him, teeth clenched, her anger like a blade barely sheathed.

"WHAT?" she spat through gritted teeth.

"They'll get what's coming to them," Tarni said firmly, holding her gaze. "But not like this. Not with us killing them in the dark. Okay?"

For a heartbeat, she looked like she might shout anyway. But the sobs from the cages carried on the night wind, and she forced her breath out, shoulders dropping by an inch.

"…Fine," she whispered, fury still burning in her eyes. "But we get them back. Every last one."

At the head of the convoy, Keith rode silent and stiff, reins in hand, his eyes scanning the road. Beside him Blake lounged on the wagon seat like it was his throne, licking his lips as his gaze swept over the caged villagers.

"I'll take three of the younger ones when we make camp," Blake said suddenly, voice low and oily. His grin widened, eyes lingering far too long on the bride in her ruined wedding gown. "That one, the brunette with the braids, and the girl with the ribbon. No use leaving them to waste their best years in chains."

Keith's jaw flexed, but he didn't look at him. "We've had this talk before, Blake. They're worth more untouched. You want to get rich, you keep your hands off."

Blake chuckled, leaning closer. "You always were such a worrier, Keith. That's why I said three. I knew you'd throw your little fit, tell me about 'condition of the wares' and all that rot. So fine. You can talk me down to one." His grin grew darker. "The bride, then. I'll make her scream for me."

Keith's knuckles whitened on the reins. He forced his voice flat, almost calm. "If you ruin the stock, Blake, you'll cut the profit in half. And if you think I dragged your sorry hide out here to lose money on your appetites—"

Thunk.

Keith froze. For a heartbeat he thought the sound was part of Blake's laugh. Then Blake's voice caught in his throat, twisting into a strangled cry.

A long steel arrow jutted clean through his thigh, pinning him to the wagon's seat. Blood ran in a thick line down his boot. His hands clawed at the shaft, eyes wide with shock.

"What the—?!" Blake howled, the sound echoing down the road.

Keith whipped his head toward the trees, heart hammering, every instinct screaming.

The ambush had begun.

Blake's howl turned to a roar of rage as he grabbed at the arrow shaft. His fingers slipped on the blood-slick steel, and every tug only sent fire racing up his leg.

"Who—who DARES?!" he bellowed, spittle flying, his face twisted with hate. He tried to stand but the arrow held him fast, dragging him back down hard onto the seat.

The horses screamed and reared at the sudden chaos, nearly snapping the traces. One of the lackeys riding shotgun fell backward off the bench, hitting the dirt with a curse.

"Ambush! We're under attack!" another slaver shouted, fumbling for his blade. His voice cracked, half-panicked, and the men at the second wagon scrambled to make sense of the shadows around them.

The villagers in the cages started shouting, banging on the bars, hope and terror mixing in their cries. The sudden noise only added to the confusion.

Keith swore under his breath, snatching the reins tight to keep the wagon from tipping. "Hold formation! FIND THEM!"

From the cover of the trees, Bell lowered her speargun a fraction, lips curled in a thin, satisfied smile. The steel arrow of the speargun had struck true — not a kill shot, but enough to sow panic.

"Nice," Tarni breathed beside her, eyes wide as Blake's roar of pain split the night.

But Blake was beyond reason. His face was purple with fury, spit bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "Kill them! Do you hear me? KILL THEM ALL! I'll flay the bastards and—"

A wooden arrow hissed out of the night and slammed into the wood an inch from his ear, silencing him mid-rant.

For the first time, Blake's bluster cracked. His eyes darted wildly to the tree line, suddenly aware that death was out there, patient and unseen.

The slavers' grip on control was slipping fast.

Kai tugged on Lily's arm, making her lower her bow as she watched her arrow vibrating next to the creeps' head. "Wait—don't rush. Let them stew. They don't even know where we are yet."

Zane's hand came to rest on Lily's shoulder, holding her back. His daughter was practically trembling with fury, fingers twitching toward another arrow. "Steady, Lil. Remember—we take them down clean. No bloodbath."

Lily's jaw clenched, but she gave the tiniest nod. Her gaze, though, stayed locked on the cages of terrified villagers.

The slavers below were in chaos. Horses bucked against their harnesses, men shouted conflicting orders, and Blake—pinned and howling—was still demanding death in between curses. Another arrow from Bell hissed into the dirt, scattering them further.

"They're breaking," Zane said softly, eyes narrowing. "We move when they don't know which way to turn."

Tarni smirked, hefting his sword, though the head shook slightly in his grip. "Let's make them wish they'd never left town."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

In the darkness, five shadows spread through the undergrowth, closing in on the wagons.

Lily darted from the treeline like a streak of silver, the others barely keeping pace with her sudden burst of speed. Drops of shimmering water coalesced around her arms and legs as she moved, each step leaving the faintest splash of light on the ground, as though she were running through a shallow tide only she could see.

The first slaver turned too late. Lily spun in, her hand snapping across his face as if she were brushing sweat from her brow at a dance hall — except the strike cracked with a burst of pressurized water, sending him tumbling from the wagon seat.

She flowed into the next, pivoting on her heel, one arm raised high and the other sweeping low like she was twirling under invisible lights. A whip of water lanced outward, smacking the second man square in the chest and flinging him into the dirt.

Before the third could raise his weapon, Lily's hands came together in a clap above her head. She dropped into a crouch, twisting her hips as if following the rhythm of music only she could hear. A jet of water blasted from her heel as she kicked upward, catching the man under the chin. He collapsed like a rag doll.

The air around her shimmered, the droplets still circling in her wake suddenly condensing into glowing bands. "Group Snare," she whispered, thrusting both arms outward.

The water coiled around two more slavers like ropes, slamming them to their knees. They struggled against the tightening bonds, sputtering curses as the liquid hardened into something like steel wire.

Lily twirled once, just for herself, hair flaring as droplets spun free. Then she stopped, chest heaving, eyes flashing with triumph. She left the bound slavers writhing on the ground and jerked her chin toward her companions to see where she was needed.

The crack of Lily's Group Snare was still echoing when Tarni slipped from the shadows. His build was slight, his movements quiet — easy to overlook next to Zane's heavy charge — but his eyes were sharp, fixed on a slaver scrambling up to draw his blade. Tarni was already behind him.

One breath. A flash of steel. Tarni's dagger slid between the man's ribs with surgical precision. He clamped a hand over the slaver's mouth and eased him to the ground without a sound, already searching for the next opening. He had told Lily not to kill. She was too young for that weight. He… he was not.

Zane came in the opposite way, no subtlety in him at all. He barreled through the undergrowth like a storm given flesh, his machete gripped in his right hand and his shield on his left. A slaver lunged to meet him, blade high — but Zane didn't stop. He smashed the man aside with his shield, then swung the back of his blade into another's gut, the sheer weight of his strength driving the air out of the man's lungs. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't clever — but it worked.

From the treeline, Bell loosed arrow after arrow. She didn't waste movement; each draw was measured, each release crisp. Her shafts thudded into slavers' arms, legs, shoulders — never killing, always disabling, her precision turning the battlefield into a place of controlled chaos. She was the steady rhythm that held their attack together.

A scream rang out. One of the slavers had broken through the fray and driven his spear toward the wagon, the point aimed at the huddled villagers inside.

Kai moved before anyone else could. His boots slammed into the dirt as he threw himself between the weapon and its helpless targets. The spear glanced off a sudden shimmer of light — his skill, Protect the Weak, flaring into being as though the very air had turned to steel. The blow drove him back a step, but he held his ground, teeth bared, baseball bat braced.

Zane came in from the side, roaring, "You'll touch them over my dead body!" as he body-slammed the slaver shield-first, knocking him off his feet and out cold.

By this time, Keith was trying to make an escape. Bell noticed just before he ran into the tree line. With instinct guiding her, she empowered her arrow with Piercing Shot and let fly, aiming for his legs. The shot was high. It took him in the middle of the back, punching straight through his spine and dropping him on his face. It didn't kill him — but for the rest of his life, he wished it had.

Blake had gotten the strange steel arrow out of his leg by forcing it all the way through. Then he downed the large HP potion he'd stolen from an adventurer years ago. He had always boasted he'd never need it. Now he had. A quick glance around showed none of his lackeys would be getting out alive — at least he wouldn't have to punish anyone later for mocking him about drinking it. By the time he lowered the empty flask, his leg was whole again.

He wrenched a heavy shield from beneath the wagon and braced it on his arm. A plan was already forming: grab one of the children, use them as a hostage, then slip into the forest and vanish into the dark. If he had to kill the brat on the way, so be it.

Before he could reach the back of the wagon, Zane stepped into his path. Bell's arrows whistled in from the tree line, clattering against his shield. One charged shot slipped through, leaving him with a bleeding welt, but Blake barely flinched. He was too close to the captives for Bell to risk her stronger skills — she kept her distance, teeth clenched in frustration.

Lily darted to the side, eyes flashing as she invoked Rapid Appraisal. Her voice carried across the fray: "Level fifteen!"

The number froze them for half a heartbeat. Still, they surged together, attacking as one.

Zane met him head-on, shield slamming against shield. Blake didn't budge. He shoved Zane backward as though swatting a fly, then hammered a fist into his ribs, the blow rattling through Zane's armour. Lily dove in to cover him, water spinning around her strikes like ribbons of liquid steel. Her footwork was flawless, her movements sharp — but Blake blocked every slash with lazy precision, his shield jerking her blade aside again and again until sparks sprayed from the edge.

Bell fired arrow after arrow, her shots calculated to strike when Blake turned or shifted. Two landed, one punching into his thigh, another grazing his shoulder. He grunted, annoyed more than hurt, and whipped his shield up in time to catch her next shaft mid-flight.

Kai charged, baseball bat glowing faintly as Protect the Weak surged through him. He struck with all his weight — only for Blake to twist his shield, absorb the blow, and shove Kai sprawling to the dirt. A spear of light rippled where Kai's skill had flared, protecting him from most of the damage; even so, he was gasping, bruised, and struggling to get back to his feet.

Zane roared and came in again, trying to draw Blake's focus. His machete slammed against the edge of the slaver's shield, sparks flying. Blake's free fist caught him across the jaw, staggering him, but Zane spat blood and lunged right back.

The fight was turning desperate. They hit him from all sides, but every strike left Blake standing — scarred, bleeding, but grinning.

And in that chaos, Tarni slipped from the shadows. His daggers gleamed as he moved in behind Blake, steps soundless. For a moment, it looked like the opening they'd all been waiting for.

But Blake was ready. His hand shot out like a snake, catching Tarni by the face.

"Thought I didn't see you, rat?" Blake growled, before slamming him into the dirt with bone-rattling force. His sword flew free. Tarni's belt jolted loose, his one and only potion tumbling onto the ground.

Blake snatched the vial, eyeing it with suspicion. Thinking fast, Kai shouted, almost over-acting. "NO! He's got the Super Health Potion!"

With a wicked smirk, Blake tore the cork out with his teeth, his throat worked as he drained the potion, the last drops spilling down his chin. He threw the empty vial aside, chest heaving, a wild grin spreading over his face.

The wounds Zane's blade had opened sealed before their eyes. Bell's arrows, still lodged in his arm and shoulder, pushed themselves out with wet pops as the flesh knitted shut. Lily's water cuts vanished like they'd never existed. Even the limp where Tarni's strike had nearly taken his hamstring was gone.

"Stronger than ever!" Blake roared, slamming his shield with his fist. "You're nothing. You're ALL nothing!"

He charged.

Zane barely got his shield up before Blake's weight smashed into him, driving him back several paces. The ground trembled beneath their clash. Bell loosed arrow after arrow, but Blake's shield flicked faster than ever, left and right, swatting them from the air. Lily dashed in, her movements a blur of wet arcs and spinning limbs, her strikes sizzling against his skin — but he barely flinched, laughing through it all.

Kai leapt between him and the prisoners, holding his bat like a holy relic, light shimmering faintly as his Protect the Weak skill held. "You'll have to go through me first!"

"Gladly," Blake snarled, swinging his shield like a hammer. The blow cracked against Kai's side and sent him sprawling. Kai's everything groaned under the strain.

Zane roared back into the fray, his machete flashing in tight, brutal arcs. For a heartbeat it looked like brute determination might win the day — until Blake's shield hooked under his guard and wrenched the weapon from his hand. Zane staggered, exposed.

The villagers in the cages whimpered, their hope shrivelling.

The healing hadn't stopped.

As Blake stepped forward to finish off Zane, his laughter broke into a cough, and he staggered his skin bubbled, twisting, stretching too tight over the muscle beneath. Fingers curled unnaturally as if trying to escape his own hands. His veins darkened, swelling like worms under his skin.

"What… what's happening?" His voice cracked into a scream as one side of his neck split open in a spray of blood and tissue. He dropped his shield, clawing at himself, body convulsing.

The heroes stood frozen, weapons still raised, as Blake staggered, shrieking, collapsing onto his knees. His body kept knitting, tearing, and knitting again, faster and faster, until the mutations outpaced the healing entirely.

Chunks of flesh sloughed off. His laughter had twisted into gurgling sobs. The ground steamed with the stench of rot.

When his face finally caved in on itself, Blake fell forward and didn't rise again.

Silence fell across the clearing, broken only by the rattling breath of everybody, including the villagers. The only other sound was the dripping of water from Lily's blade.

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