Marcus lunged again.

He ignored the screaming protest of his ribs.

He swung the dagger. It was a downward slash.

Elowen didn't even raise her hands. She simply leaned back.

The blade missed her nose by an inch.

Marcus grunted. He reversed his grip. He stabbed upward.

Elowen pivoted on her heel. She spun away like a dancer.

"Missed," she sing-songed.

Marcus didn't stop. He pressed the attack.

He swung wildly. Desperately.

Slash. Stab. Swipe.

Every movement sent fresh spikes of agony through his torso.

His breath came in ragged gasps. Blood flecked his lips.

He was fighting through a haze of red pain.

But Elowen was untouched.

She wove through his attacks with effortless grace.

She was playing with him.

She ducked under a clumsy swing.

She sidestepped a thrust.

"Sloppy," she critiqued. "Too emotional."

Marcus swung again. He overextended.

Elowen saw the opening.

She moved inside his guard and slipped behind him.

Marcus tried to turn. He was too slow.

She placed her foot on his backside and shoved.

It wasn't a hard kick. It was humiliating.

Marcus stumbled forward. He flailed his arms.

He nearly fell on his face.

He caught his balance and spun around.

"You—" he started.

Crack.

The sound was like a gunshot.

Elowen had swung the whip diagonally.

It lashed across his back.

It struck him from his left shoulder down to his right hip.

The leather bit deep. It sliced through his sturdy traveling clothes like paper.

It sliced through his skin.

"ARGHHH!"

Marcus screamed.

He arched his back. His eyes rolled back in his head.

The pain was absolute.

It wasn't just a cut. It felt like liquid fire had been poured into the wound.

It burned. It seared.

It felt like his nerves were being stripped raw.

He dropped to his knees.

He dropped the dagger.

He clutched at the dirt. He dug his fingers into the soil.

'It hurts,' he gasped. 'It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It fucking... hurts.'

His mind shattered.

The pain overwhelmed everything.

Why?

Why was this happening?

He was just a normal guy. He was a life coach.

He helped people. He listened to people.

He didn't hurt anyone.

Why was he bleeding in the dirt? Why was he being tortured by a maniac?

'What did I do?' he thought. Tears blurred his vision.

'What did I do to deserve this?'

Was it because he changed the script?

Was this the universe punishing him for interfering?

Was fate taking revenge for stealing the harem?

He writhed on the ground. The burning on his back intensified.

Elowen stood over him.

She watched him suffer. She watched him scream.

She laughed.

"Hahahaha!"

It was a bright, happy sound.

"Look at you," she said. "Squirming like a worm."

She retracted the whip. She inspected the blood on the tip.

"That sound," she sighed contentedly. "That is the sound of truth. The sound of utter bliss."

She watched him for a moment longer.

Then, she stopped laughing.

Her expression grew bored again.

She looked away from him. She looked toward the forest.

She looked in the direction the dragon girl had run.

"Well," Elowen said. She shrugged. "You were fun to play with."

She coiled the whip in her hand.

"But I have wasted enough time," she decided. "I need to catch my dragon pet."

She turned her back on Marcus.

"She is getting too far now. And she is the expensive one."

She began to walk away.

She dismissed him, as if he was a broken toy.

Marcus lay in the dirt.

He heard her footsteps receding.

He heard the crunch of leaves.

'She is leaving,' his mind registered through the haze of pain.

'She is going after the girl.'

He tried to breathe, but even that hurt.

Why did he care?

Why was he suffering for a stranger?

He wasn't a hero. He wasn't Theo.

He wasn't the protagonist of a novel.

He didn't have a savior complex. He didn't have righteous principles.

In his old life, he would have called the police. He would have stayed safe.

He would have put his own survival first.

So why?

Why did he fight? Why did he take the hit?

An image flashed in his mind.

It wasn't Seraphina, Catarina, Vivienne or Iris. It wasn't the plot.

It was the imaginary girl.

Black hair. Green eyes.

He saw her face superimposed over the dragon girl's face.

'Damn it! Why did I had to remember her,' he cursed inwardly

If only he didn't, he might have already escaped.

And the little girl?

Shen wouldn't have been captured or... die.'

'Get up,' Marcus told himself.

He grit his teeth. He bit his tongue until he tasted copper.

He pushed the pain away.

He reached out.

His hand found the dagger in the dirt.

His fingers closed around the hilt.

He groaned and pushed himself up.

His legs shook. His back felt like it was split open.

But he stood.

"Get the fuck up," he whispered.

Elowen was walking away. She was already a few metres away

She heard the rustling, but she stopped. She didn't turn around either.

She sighed. It was a sound of immense irritation.

"Stay down," she ordered. Her voice was cold.

"It is for your own good," she said. "Don't worry. I will come back. I will play with you a lot later."

She took a step.

Marcus didn't speak.

He focused.

He focused everything he had left.

He felt a strange sensation.

It wasn't magic. It wasn't mana.

It was pure, distilled intent.

The world seemed to sharpen. The shadows deepened. The moonlight became brighter.

He locked his eyes on her neck.

He didn't think about his ribs. He didn't think about his back.

He only thought about the target.

He moved.

He didn't run. He launched himself.

At that moment, Elowen felt it. A cold chill ran down her spine.

It wasn't the chill of the wind. It was the chill of death.

Her instincts screamed at her.

'Behind you!'

She spun around.

She saw a blur.

It wasn't the clumsy man from before. It was a shadow.

A dagger swing was coming toward her face.

It was fast, way faster than before

Elowen's eyes widened.

She didn't have time to dodge. She didn't have time to think.

She raised her hand instinctively. She held the whip handle.

Clang.

Metal hit leather-wrapped steel.

She deflected the dagger. Just barely.

Sparks flew.

She stumbled back. Shock flooded her system.

'What?' she thought. 'How is he moving like that?'

Before she could process it, another strike came.

Marcus didn't stop. He didn't pause.

He swung again. A slash to the ribs.

Elowen twisted her body. The blade grazed her dress.

She swung the whip.

Marcus ducked. He moved under the strike.

He stabbed at her leg.

Elowen jumped back.

"You rat!" she shrieked.

She was confused.

He was injured. He was bleeding. He should be on the ground.

But he was attacking relentlessly.

Slash. Stab. Swipe.

He was moving like a wild beast.

Elowen deflected a blow with her forearm guard.

She dodged a thrust to her face.

She was barely keeping up.

'He is faster,' she realized with horror. 'He is getting faster.'

Marcus didn't speak. He didn't groan.

He just attacked.

He swung the dagger in a wide arc.

Elowen leaned back to avoid it.

It was a feint.

Marcus shifted his grip and lunged forward.

He aimed for her throat.

Elowen saw the glint of steel.

Whoosh.

She gasped.

She threw herself backward and scrambled for distance.

She felt a sharp sting on her neck.

She took three quick steps back and created space.

She huffed. Her chest heaved.

She wasn't tired. She was terrified.

She touched her throat.

Her fingers came away wet.

She looked at her hand.

Blood.

It was red. It was real.

The dagger had cut the skin.

It hadn't gone deep. It hadn't slit her throat.

But it had drawn blood.

A mere slave. A man with no mana.

He had hurt her.

Rage exploded in her chest. A vein popped on her forehead.

"You..." she snarled. "How dare you..."

She looked up. She prepared to flay him alive.

"How dare you touch me!"

She looked at him.

And her anger turned into horror.

A chill went down her spine again.

Marcus stood five meters away.

He was hunched over. Blood soaked his back. Dirt covered his face.

But his eyes.

His eyes were wide open. They were focused on her with an intensity that wasn't human.

They didn't blink. The pupils were dilated.

He looked like a wolf looking at a throat.

His mouth hung open slightly.

His tongue was lolling out. It hung from the side of his mouth.

He looked like a predator that had forgotten how to feel pain.

And he was panting like a predator who was about to devour its prey.

Elowen took a step back. Her hand trembled on the whip.

And gor the first time that night, she felt it.

Fear.

.

.

.

A/N:

Hey guys, I know I said today will mark the end of this part. But as I wrote the content was too big for a single chapter or even two.

It is just necessary for the MC's development, well I think you got a some development in this chapter already.

So as an apology, I wrote 2 long chapters for you guys.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.