Huff. Huff.

Air was growing thin in my lungs, but I persisted. We were pushing forward, and many mercenaries roared with some vigor I found... inspiring. They stomped ahead and plunged their weapons into the beasts.

But me? I was getting tired. Tired as hell.

Even when Kassie and I fought the Apes' grandpas, we never had to go for one hell of a marathon on a stretch. First of all, there were usually no amounts larger than seven at once. And with Kassie around, it was always done in like two, maximum of three to four minutes.

Now that she wasn't here, I wasn't sure how long we'd been going for. But I did know that the sun was tender before — now it was somewhat harsh, burning onto the side of my face.

Tristan controlled our part of the wagons surprisingly well. He was sharp enough to know when someone would soon be out and would immediately call for the person to be withdrawn.

The moment someone pulled back, he'd cover forward, his hands swinging with that uncanny speed of his. The muscles of the Gorewraiths would split open beneath his strikes, and they would scatter back in a spray of blood that splashed across his face.

He would simply look at them coldly before rising into the air with kicks that threw them far away from us. Sometimes, he timed his kicks so accurately that they would strike and intercept another attack entirely.

I didn't know if he was just high on luck, or if he was simply hyper-aware of his environment.

Actually, I knew the answer pretty well.

Tristan was someone that looked like he was just fighting. He had half-lidded eyes — it made him look sleepy when he was in combat, and it was hard to attribute his gaze as serious. With me, he was always wearing smug grins, the ones that said "catch me if you can."

Now though, he looked more irritated and locked in. But it was still hard to tell how and when he was focusing on the other Spirit Beasts that he wasn't fighting. His narrow blue eyes gave none of that away.

I threw my hand forward, aiming to bring the dagger down on the damned creature that was lunging at me. However, to my shock, the dagger passed through empty air — just in front of the creature.

At that moment, my eyes went wide open.

'Did I miscalculate?'

Indeed I had. How often does one miscalculate their attack distance?

I was low on spirit essence, and I was feeling it. With it came fatigue and slight blurriness. The man with the dull face had noticed earlier and warned me, saying:

"You're burning through your essence like you have reserves saved somewhere. Fight more with your limbs, brother, and save yourself from early exhaustion!"

It was too late when he told me though, because my two thousand worth of essence was already below five hundred. I was really frivolous in my spending — throwing around fire and chains and forgetting that I was actually taxed per activation.

I was already feeling the fatigue. Burning through my essence reserve had in fact hastened my body's exhaustion, and the blurriness had set in, hence causing my miscalculation...

And my death that was one second away.

I had struck my hand forward already. I was retracting it, but I wasn't going to make it in time for a block. Neither would the flames make it in time. At least by the time the flames would activate, the creature would have sunk its forbidden teeth into my face — or my shoulder, based on how it was angling itself.

My prediction was correct. It came upon me, revealing those delirious maws. I was retracting my hand, my feet were tired, begging to buckle.

For a moment I was resisting.

Then my head sparked in that fraction of a second.

'Push it further one more second!'

In that moment, I allowed the buckling to happen.

My leg folded. At the same time, I tilted sideways. The Gorewraith's jaw snapped over my shoulders, tearing across my cloak before I fell, crashing my other arm and side on the ground.

"Cade!!"

Nisha shouted from where she was — not that I could accurately tell where she was at that moment. All I could see was the lower ground, and for some reason, it was peaceful. An enjoyable watch down here. Many legs moving around.

'Huh. So this is what the dirt sees.'

The Gorewraith that I dodged stumbled sideways and immediately turned toward me. However, my partner was sharp — he twirled his chains and caught it by the neck, snapping it backwards. Tristan appeared out of nowhere, his dagger spinning in his hand as he dragged it across the neck of the creature with a thin silver light.

The Gorewraith froze in movement and slumped to the ground the next moment, the head rolling away.

Tristan instantly shot a glance at me. The next moment, I felt someone lift me and carry me to the wagon, laying me on the ground. Nisha came to my face — I could see her vague figure. She looked worried and was slapping my face, her voice muffled but getting better by the second.

"Wake up!"

"Cade! Wake up!!!"

It seemed that letting the buckling happen had cost me dearly. Before, even though it was not easy, I was managing my tiredness. Now, my body felt sore and painful, refusing to heed a thing my mind was commanding.

I thought about it. Staying down. Resting. It was not a bad idea. It wasn't like I asked the Spirit Beasts to attack us anyway.

But it was strangely unsettling. It was unsettling to at this point say:

'I have tried my best... I give up, man.'

It was probably not a bad idea to rest.

'But why do I feel so... disgusted?'

The road to destroying the church was probably going to be harder than this road to reaching Faeren Heights, I thought to myself.

And there were certainly going to be more dangerous things along that road. Some that would overwhelm me.

And I would certainly get stronger too.

It was a normal thing to tap out when tired.

But that was the problem... what I aimed to do, it was not normal. To be normal right now would be a disaster. Normal people didn't tear down institutions that had stood for centuries. Normal people didn't survive being branded a heretic and hunted across kingdoms. Normal people rested when they were tired.

I couldn't afford to be normal. Not anymore.

A cold white light glowed in my eyes, then it transitioned to red as I commanded my legs with [Warlord's Command]:

"Get up."

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