Ever been eaten alive? No? Yeah, me neither. Until now…

  I snapped awake to searing pain in my leg. My eyes flew open and landed on some bizarre four-legged creature — like someone crossed a crocodile with an armadillo and shrunk it to the size of a medium dog. And this lovely little abomination was tearing my leg to shreds. Luckily, it didn't seem to care much for denim.

  "Let go!" I screamed, and kicked it square in the snout with my sneaker. By some miracle, that actually worked. The monster released my pant leg and stared at me with dead, milky-white eyes, then growled and lunged again — this time going for my head. I nailed it in the nose once more, but this time the bastard was ready and tanked the hit. I barely yanked my leg back before its jaws clamped shut where my shin had been a heartbeat ago. I scrambled backward on my elbows, trying to put some distance between us, and that's when I heard a woman's voice.

  "Duck!"

  Duck? Duck where?! I'm already on the ground!

  But before I could shout back, a ball of fire slammed into the creature, washing over me with a wave of heat. Thankfully it was just the heat — no actual burning — so I got off with nothing worse than a good scare.

  "Are you okay? How bad is it?" A young woman ran up to me — maybe eighteen, nineteen. My age, basically. She was dressed in some kind of fantasy-novel getup, complete with a wide-brimmed hat that screamed witch. At least, the kind you'd see in books. As for the girl herself — she was seriously pretty. Long chestnut hair, blue eyes, a cute little nose, and full lips. Definitely my type.

  But once I tore my gaze away from this beauty who'd appeared out of literally nowhere, I noticed something truly bizarre. The language. She was speaking in a completely unfamiliar tongue, and yet I understood her perfectly.

  "Sorry, I don't speak—" I started, then froze. Those weren't the words I'd expected to hear. This definitely wasn't English, even though I was absolutely sure I'd been screaming in English at the monster. So… I was speaking this language too?

  My head was spinning, but I tried to keep it together.

  "Don't speak what?" She blinked, long lashes fluttering in confusion.

  "No, it's… never mind," I said, still trying to figure out how any of this was possible. Yeah, I probably should've been more blown away by the whole magic fireball thing, but suddenly knowing a foreign language was way stranger to me right now.

  "Let me look at your leg," she offered, noticing the bloody mess that used to be my pant leg. I nodded. Help would be nice.

  I winced a little when she peeled back the fabric to reveal the ugly gash on my shin. The monster knew its business. Couldn't bite through, but those teeth had sliced the flesh up pretty good. No way I'd be walking normally anytime soon.

  "Lady Selina, is everything alright?" came another voice, and two soldiers burst through the dense bushes nearby, clad in — I kid you not — actual armor. Not full plate, but something simpler — lamellar. And swords on their hips. Were these LARPers? Cosplayers? But then what about the language thing? And since when do cosplayers hurl fireballs at real monsters?

  "Yes," she assured them without looking up from the wound. "Everything's fine. It was just a lesser demon. I handled it."

  "A demon?!" The soldiers grabbed their weapons, but relaxed slightly when they spotted the dead creature. Still, their eyes kept darting around, scanning for more threats.

  "You ran off so fast," the second man said, worry plain in his voice.

  "Sorry. My Detection Web picked up a human and infernal activity, so I rushed over. Once we reach the city, we'll need to send word to the Order of the Swallow to investigate."

  "You should've warned us first," the first soldier pressed.

  "There wasn't time," Selina shook her head. "A couple more heartbeats and this young man would've been dead."

  The soldiers grumbled but said nothing more.

  "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, peering into my eyes with a kind of startled curiosity. And honestly, my heart skipped a beat. Probably just the adrenaline.

  "Doesn't what hurt?" I asked.

  "With a wound like that, you should be writhing in agony. But you're barely flinching, like it's a scratch. You really don't feel anything?"

  "I feel it. It's just… I experience pain differently. You could call it my superpower. It hurts right now, but—" I paused, trying to sum it up. "The sharp part only lasts a couple of seconds, then it kind of shrinks down to this… annoyance. Like an itch. You notice it, sure, but if you want to, you can just ignore it."

  "Interesting… I've heard of people who can't feel pain at all, but never anything like this. You're sure you're not wearing some kind of artifact?"

  She waved her hand and a glowing magic circle appeared above my head, covered in strange symbols. But judging by the puzzled look on her face when she dismissed it, she found nothing.

  "Just my weird little quirk," I said with a crooked grin, doing my best not to look at my leg. Way too much blood down there. "But, uh… a tourniquet would be great right about now…"

  "Oh! That won't be necessary," she said with a very cute smile, then rummaged through a small pouch on her belt. She pulled out a vial of strange green liquid and held it out to me. "Drink this."

  "What is it?" I had zero desire to drink that stuff.

  "A healing potion. It'll repair blood vessels, reduce inflammation, and speed up regeneration. I'll treat the damaged tissue from the outside."

  I took the vial, popped it open, and gave it a sniff. Instantly recoiled — the smell hit my nostrils like a bottle brush and punched its way straight to the brain.

  "Drink it," she insisted. "It's not poison. The smell just leaves a lot to be desired."

  I gave the girl a lopsided smile and eyed the bottle in my hand.

  Fine… here goes nothing…

  Pinching my nose, I downed the stuff. And of course it tasted every bit as vile as it smelled. Imagine finding the dirtiest hobo in the country, stealing his socks — the ones he'd been wearing nonstop for a decade — and brewing a tincture from them. That's what this was.

  "Done?" she asked.

  "Yeah… that's foul. I still can't decide which is worse — the taste or the smell."

  "Good. Now relax. It might sting a bit." The beauty placed both hands on my wound and began whispering something unintelligible. Glowing symbols appeared around her hands, arranged in circles. When the construct completed, the symbols blazed with warm golden light and streamed into the wound.

  Then it stung. A lot. Like someone had poured molten metal on my leg.

  "Hold him down!" she ordered the soldiers, and they pinned me immediately. Though a bit late — by the time they had me secured, the pain had already faded. Only faint echoes remained.

  "Phew…" The girl wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and stood, dusting off her skirt. "Quite the reaction you had there. First time I've seen anything like it. But you should be fine. The wound is closed — you'll just be limping for a couple of days."

  "I can live with that," I said as the soldiers helped me up. My leg did feel like it was stuffed with cotton, and putting weight on it wasn't fun. But it beat becoming demon chow. "Tell me — was that magic?"

  "What else would it be?" She smirked. "You've never seen magic before?"

  "Well… let's just say nothing like that, no."

  "Where on earth did you come from?" She tilted her head to the side, studying me.

  "Good question. I'd love to know where I ended up, first."

  "Oh, that's easy. We're on the lands of Count Vular. The capital, Vularian, is about a day's journey east," the sorceress said, pointing toward the forest the soldiers had emerged from.

  "Vularian?" I repeated doubtfully. The name meant absolutely nothing to me.

  "Yes, Vularian. Have you lost your memory? And your clothes are strange…" She only seemed to notice that last part now.

  "More like I just can't figure out how I got here."

  "Try telling me. Maybe I'll understand," she offered. "I'm one of the top students at the Trilor Academy of Magic."

  Trilor? Academy of Magic? Gods… where am I?

  "Alright, fine…"

  I remembered walking through the streets of Moscow that evening, heading home from university. I hate it when classes run into the afternoon — same as most students, probably. Boris Ivanych couldn't pick me up that night like he usually did after school, but I wasn't too bothered.

  I was going to take the bus at first, but thought it over and decided to walk. Home wasn't that far anyway. I was maybe halfway there when snowflakes started falling from the sky.

  First snow!

  And then I felt something strange. At first it was like a distant hum, then some invisible wave nearly knocked me off my feet. Like an explosion had gone off nearby, but I was the only one who felt it. And then things went completely insane. The whole world just… froze. Cars, people, even the snowflakes — suspended in midair. All sound vanished, making my own breathing painfully loud.

  Time seemed to move only for me.

  I didn't get to marvel at it for long, because in the distance, rising above the buildings with a tremor that shook the earth, appeared a stone tower wreathed in light and so impossibly massive it dwarfed the Moscow high-rises.

  "What the—" was all I managed before the world went dark. And the next thing I knew, I was waking up to something chewing on my leg.

  That's what I told my new acquaintance, Selina.

  The girl listened carefully, and when I finished, she nodded. Strangely, she didn't seem surprised. And secretly, I was hoping she wouldn't bind me with magic and lock me in some basement for experiments.

  "I know how you got here," she smiled. "But I'm afraid you might not like it."

  "Lay it on me."

  "That was the Tower of Gods. And you're its Chosen."

  "The what now?" Her words made it sound like I'd suddenly become the protagonist of some isekai story. "And… that's supposed to mean something to me? Please don't tell me I'm the 'chosen hero destined to defeat the Dark Lord' or whatever."

  "Dark Lord? What are you talking about? They don't know about this in your world? The Tower of Gods exists in all worlds simultaneously. Sometimes it moves a sentient being to another world, believing they'll be better off there."

  "Oh, great…" That's exactly what I'd been afraid of. This really was another world.

  "Easy now," one of the soldiers placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to either support me or calm me down. But I was calm. Panic? No. Panic isn't constructive. Still…

  "Who gave it the right to decide for me?!" My anger was building. I'd been dumped into a foreign world without my knowledge or consent because some tower decided I'd be better off here?!

  If I'd wanted to get dragged into something like this, I would've just told my father "Yes."

  Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Panic and anger aren't constructive, Max… Not constructive…

  "I didn't phrase that quite right," the girl said thoughtfully. "The Tower decided Aularon was where you belonged. That here, you might be able to achieve something great."

  "Or die trying," one of the soldiers muttered under his breath, then flinched when Selina shot him a withering glare.

  "Just freakin' wonderful…" I sighed, fighting the urge to break something. Or someone.

  "A Chosen of the Tower, imagine that," chuckled the other soldier — not the one who'd mentioned dying. "Never seen one in person."

  "Calm down. I know my words sound scary," the sorceress continued with that same sweet smile, "but the Tower never assigns specific tasks to its Chosen. It merely provides a place where they can fully realize their potential."

  "And why does it do that? The Tower."

  The girl shrugged.

  "Gods dwell within it. We mortals can only guess at their motives."

  "Wonderful…" I muttered.

  "If you don't mind, I suggest you join our caravan heading to Vularian. You'll have time to think things over and decide what to do next. If you'd like, you can travel with me to Trisent — the capital of Trilor, my country. I think there might be a place for a Tower's Chosen there. The professors at my university would love to hear about your world."

  After a few seconds of thought, I accepted her offer. Wandering around an alien world with a wounded leg and no idea where to go — that didn't sound like a good time. I'd probably just end up as demon food, my bones digesting in some monster's belly.

  Before heading to their camp, I took off my jacket. Too warm.

  Walking around for a bit, adjusting to the discomfort, I found my backpack nearby in the grass. Nothing exciting in there — mostly lecture notes — but I didn't want to leave it behind either. Maybe I could trade this knowledge for something with the local scholars. Selina did say I might interest her professors.

  Then I pulled out my phone. Battery at roughly fifty percent, and I seriously doubted I'd be able to charge it later, even though I had the cable. No signal bars, obviously. I would've been shocked if there were.

  With a sigh, I powered it off to save the battery and slipped it back into my pocket.

  Their campsite was literally three hundred meters away — I'd missed it because of the ridiculously thick vegetation. Around the fire sat four more soldiers, one of them significantly older than the rest — fifty at least. I figured he was their leader.

  Near the people, on the roadside, stood three wagons and about a dozen horses. The wagons looked simple — no frills — but sturdy enough. They weren't falling apart anytime soon.

  "And who the hell is this?!" the old soldier barked in a near-commanding tone as he walked over.

  "Lady Selina found a Chosen of the Tower!" reported one of the soldiers who'd accompanied us.

  "A Chosen of the Tower? Out here in the middle of nowhere?" He sized me up with a suspicious eye. "Scrawny, for a Chosen."

  "No kidding," another soldier laughed. "If it weren't for the lady sorceress, the demon would've eaten him!"

  "Demon?!" The leader tensed up, but the sorceress quickly reassured him that everything was fine. If there were more demons nearby, she'd know.

  "Alright…" the old soldier breathed a little easier. "As for this one… Strange clothes. No weapons. If he were a Faldarian spy, he'd have tried to blend in. Boy, have you ever held a weapon in your life?"

  "No," I answered honestly.

  "Great… a useless Chosen of the Tower. I heard that Commander de Shinro, when he came to our world, personally slaughtered two greater demons! With his bare hands!"

  I just gave him a crooked smile. Sorry I'm not this… Commander de-Whatever.

  "I promised we'd escort him to Vularian, Master Ficht," my savior addressed him.

  "Fine. But he pulls his weight too," the old warrior said, losing all interest in me and returning to his business. "Chosen or not, I don't tolerate freeloaders."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "I never asked your name," the sorceress turned to me. "I'm Selina Auterald. And you?"

  "Maximilian Gothard," I replied. "But you can just call me Max."

  "Unusual name," she said.

  And just like that, without giving me a moment to recover, they put me on firewood duty. Limp and all. Selina shot me an apologetic smile but didn't say a word in my defense. So, ditching my extra clothes and bag, I headed into the forest. To my delight, the beautiful sorceress decided to keep me company, turning the chore into a rather pleasant stroll.

  I learned a lot from talking with her. For one, there was nothing unusual about me understanding a foreign language — that was the Tower's doing. It gave me the knowledge during the transfer. Pretty great, honestly. Learning a language from scratch would've taken forever, and this way I could adapt fast.

  But when I asked if I could go back, her lips pressed together and she said with genuine regret:

  "I'm afraid that's impossible. Well… possible, technically, but there are many worlds. Thousands, maybe millions. Ways to travel between them exist, but there's no guarantee you'd end up in the right one."

  So. I was stuck here. For good. I wasn't ready to just accept that yet, but maybe the Tower really did send me here for a reason. I hadn't even properly seen this world. It might not be so bad.

  At least the girls here seemed pretty great. Or was that just the magic talking?

  Then Selina bombarded me with a ton of questions about my world. She was curious about absolutely everything — from what women wear to the specifics of our political systems.

  And every time, she'd be so adorably amazed by the most ordinary things. Then again, her world was just as new to me, and I figured some things would need to be explained like I was talking to a kid. The hardest part was redirecting Selina's attention back to her world.

  It wasn't easy, but I managed to squeeze some useful info out of her. For instance, we were currently in the territory of the Free Counties. Vularian was one of them. The region comprised several dozen feudal domains, each ruled by some prince or count. Restless lands, but people lived here all the same. The Free Counties sat as a buffer between two great powers: Trilor and the Faldarian Empire. Trilor was governed by a so-called Council of Three, while Faldaria was ruled by a single man — Emperor Husar Faldare.

  A fragile truce existed between these two nations, and the disputes and conflicts between them were typically settled by the rulers of the buffer states.

  I also learned that humans weren't the only ones living in this world — there were elves and beastfolk too. The beastfolk were few in number, mostly living in Trilor. But the elves… When Selina mentioned them, her lips pressed together in fury and she muttered something like "bastards." She refused to say anything more.

  Evening came, so we finished gathering firewood and I finally got a chance to eat. My stomach had been growling in protest for a while. The stew the soldiers made was simple enough: water, meat, and a couple of vegetables I didn't recognize. But it was pretty tasty and filling. A few spices and it would've been perfect.

  At dinner, we were joined by another man — also older, but unlike the others, he wore no armor. As I later found out, this was Gus Shari, a merchant hauling goods from the Principality of Noran to the County of Vular. The soldiers were his hired escort.

  Selina's story was more interesting. She wasn't part of the guard — she was just a fellow traveler, like me, heading back to school after a break in her home county of Zarania.

  After dinner, the girl kept grilling me about my world, except now the rest of the caravan was listening intently too. Sometimes the soldiers would chime in with their own questions, laughing heartily at the absurdity of some custom or other. I became their main entertainment for the whole evening, and honestly, that was fine by me.

  Old Ficht, though, didn't ask a single question. He just sat off to the side in silence, pretending not to listen.

  Eventually, Ficht called lights-out and assigned watch shifts. I wasn't included — either they didn't trust me, or they took pity on the wounded guy. Either way, between the healing potion and Selina's magic, I felt almost normal. My leg was just heavy and half-numb.

  "Thanks for the fascinating stories," the girl said, then stepped closer and kissed me right on the lips. The kiss was quick — playful, even — I barely had time to register the taste of her lips. Selina just smiled sweetly, winked, gave a little wave, and disappeared into one of the wagons.

  Since there were three wagons, the merchant slept in one and the girl got another. The third was so packed with goods that only rats could've fit inside. The soldiers slept on the ground near the fire, and it looked like I'd be joining them.

  "Not bad, kid," one of the soldiers clapped me on the shoulder — he'd seen the kiss. "Just don't fall in love."

  "Yeah!" another backed him up. "Had a buddy who got with a mage girl once. She got jealous over some barmaid and turned him into a frog! So don't mess with sorceresses — nothing good comes of it!"

  "Which buddy? You mean Zurak? I just saw him the other day!"

  "Different buddy. You don't know him."

  "You don't have any other buddies," the third soldier snorted.

  "That's exactly why I don't — 'cause the other one got turned into a frog!"

  "Quit making stuff up! You've never hung around with anyone but Zurak. Only he can stand a dimwit like you."

  "That's enough," Ficht growled. "Unless you all want to pull watch the entire night?"

  The soldiers just smirked, unrolled their bedrolls by the fire, and settled in. Ficht handed me a roll identical to the soldiers', which I spread out immediately. Sleeping on it wasn't exactly comfortable, but way better than bare ground.

  You know what would be even better, though? Sleeping next to Selina in the wagon. Under a blanket. Keeping each other warm.

  With those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep, replaying that brief kiss in my mind and thinking about the beautiful girl sleeping just a few dozen meters away.

  Morning hit hard. The soldiers were up at dawn, and for me, waking up that early was pure torture. I desperately wanted another couple of hours of sleep, but who was going to let me? Even Selina got up at the first command and waved at me cheerfully.

  I could barely get up. Overnight my body had stiffened like a board, and if one of the soldiers hadn't decided to lend a hand, I don't know how I would've gotten to my feet. Probably would've been groaning, rolling from side to side, trying to coax my muscles back to life. To loosen up, I walked circles around the campfire and did some stretches while everyone watched with amusement, then splashed ice-cold water on my face to finish the job. Even Selina was sneaking glances at my attempts to function.

  Or maybe she was more interested in my bare torso?

  By breakfast I was more or less human again and feeling halfway decent. Still limping, but my leg was definitely better. Even the sorceress noticed, happily announcing that recovery was going faster than she'd expected.

  After the meal, the caravan set out. They offered me a horse at first, but I declined.

  "Strange world you come from," Ficht scoffed. "They don't even teach you to ride."

  "Ignore him. He has trouble imagining worlds completely different from ours," Selina whispered to me.

  "And you can?"

  "Of course," she nodded. "I'm a mage! I remember a lecture by Judge de-Fren where she showed projections of some alien worlds. Not literally, of course — just images — but even that was terrifying…"

  She wouldn't say what exactly she'd seen, but judging by her eyes, it was something truly horrific.

  In the end, Selina and I rode on the lead wagon. One soldier rode point, about a hundred to a hundred fifty meters ahead, acting as a scout. A pair of riders brought up the rear. The rest flanked the caravan on horseback, keeping an eye out. But it was more habit than necessity. The sorceress had her Detection Web extended about a kilometer out, so if bandits, demons, or wild beasts showed up along the way, she'd know.

  "Hey, do all sorceresses wear hats like that?" I asked, eyeing her slightly ridiculous headgear.

  "No," she shook her head. "It's just a fashion trend from Trisent, the capital of Trilor. And it's not only sorceresses who wear them."

  "Ah, I see."

  "You actually thought this was part of a mage's standard uniform?" She burst out laughing like I'd told the funniest joke she'd ever heard.

  Damn… that smile is going to kill me.

  "Hey, lovebirds, watch the road, will you? Go into the ditch and we'll have to haul you out," Ficht grumbled from his horse nearby.

  "I'll pull us out with magic!" the sorceress promised, earning a skeptical grunt from the old warrior. And it quickly became clear why. She'd been so absorbed in our conversation that the wagon had drifted hard to the left — another inch and we really would've gone into the ditch.

  "So, Selina… why did you kiss me yesterday?" I decided to ask directly. For the whole short time we'd known each other, it increasingly felt like she was flirting with me.

  The girl blinked at me in surprise for a moment, then turned red and said:

  "Was it too much? There were so many new impressions, and you're quite attractive, and I just… I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have. That was, as my mentor would say, unprofessional. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I took advantage of my position."

  "No, actually… I liked it," and now it was my turn to get a little flustered. "I even… well… wouldn't mind doing it again."

  "Again…" she smiled shyly. "Alright… I wouldn't mind either."

  And with that, she leaned toward me, her lips parting invitingly. I wasn't about to hesitate, and leaned in too. And right at the moment our lips were about to touch, Selina suddenly jerked her head away, and I ended up kissing her cheek instead. I was about to tell her that wasn't funny, but then I saw her face tighten.

  The sorceress was staring intently at something ahead, frowning, as if seeing something the rest of us couldn't.

  "Master Ficht!" she called to the rider nearby. "I've detected about twenty people ahead."

  "How far?"

  "Edge of the Web. One kilometer." She'd actually said eleven shards, but the "translator" helpfully converted it to my usual system of measurement.

  "Not good. There shouldn't be any checkpoints for at least another two hours. Are they moving?"

  The girl shook her head. Stationary. Spread out on both sides of the road.

  "Trouble?" I asked, sensing the tension.

  "Bandits, most likely," the guard captain grimaced.

  "No worries — we've got the lady sorceress with us! We'll push through!" one of the soldiers said cheerfully from the other side of the caravan.

  "Shut it — don't jinx us. In battle, you can only rely on yourself, fool," Ficht snapped, then got back to business. "Nerin, call Hudor. We need to think."

  Once the riders from the vanguard arrived, Ficht gathered everyone for a quick council. It didn't last long — we didn't have many options. The merchant flat-out refused to turn back and find a new route, since the nearest crossroads was almost a full day's ride behind us.

  "Alright, Mekis, or whatever your name is," Ficht said to me.

  "Max," I corrected, not taking offense at the deliberate mangling.

  "Doesn't matter." The old warrior waved me off. "Here!"

  He pulled a battered leather vest and a short one-handed sword from one of the wagons.

  "Try not to stab yourself," he smirked.

  "I'll manage," I said, but Ficht was already gone, heading off to check on his men. No surprise there. The old soldier clearly considered me dead weight — someone who didn't know which end of a sword to hold. He'd handed me gear to ease his own conscience.

  And he wasn't entirely wrong. I'd never held a weapon before. But even I could tell right away this particular sword wasn't doing me any favors. Sat horribly in my hand, and it looked rough. Crude, battered through hundreds of battles — and that wasn't a compliment. I tested the edge with my thumb. Dull.

  I definitely wasn't going to stab myself with this. But I wasn't killing anyone either. Gre-e-eat!

  The armor was less of an issue — pulled it on over my head, cinched the side straps. Voilà. I now looked like a medieval warrior. I rapped my chest — seemed solid, but that was misleading. I knew from books and documentaries that armor like this wouldn't stop a sword or a crossbow bolt. It might save you from a knife or a glancing blow. Maybe.

  "It suits you," Selina said approvingly, still sitting in the driver's seat. She was still trying to smile, but the smile was more strained now. She was worried.

  "Are you scared?" I asked bluntly.

  "Oh, please. What's there to be scared of? I'm a mage. I'll burn them to cinders," she grinned even wider, which only made it more obviously fake. She was practically shaking, but trying her best to project confidence for the soldiers.

  And then it hit me. Just because she was a mage who could incinerate demons didn't mean she'd ever had to fight people. The very idea of burning someone alive with magic might horrify her. And I think Ficht knew it — that's why he'd said you can only rely on yourself. Selina might not have it in her to unleash combat magic against ordinary humans.

  So I gave her an encouraging smile and thumped my fist against my chest.

  "Don't worry! You've got a Chosen of the Tower with you. Maybe the Tower Gods sent me here specifically to save a beautiful sorceress and punish the wicked bandits who dared try to rob her."

  "In that case, the beautiful sorceress will be forever in her hero's debt!" she played along, and I think it made her feel a little better.

  Jokes aside, the prospect of a fight scared me too. But not as much as it probably should have. It was the same deal as with pain — I felt the fear, but it quickly retreated to some back corner of my mind.

  And a fight wasn't guaranteed anyway. From what I'd gathered listening to the soldiers, the bandits around here weren't exactly hardened killers. Once they realized the caravan had a mage in its guard, they probably wouldn't want to start anything. That was somewhat comforting.

  We moved forward in a defensive formation. Ficht told me on the side to stick close to Selina — no exceptions. With zero combat experience, my job in a fight would be to shield the mage with my body.

  When we were about two to three hundred meters from the ambush, Selina announced the people in hiding were spreading out, clearly moving to flank us.

  "Definitely bandits," the old warrior spat. "We stick to the plan. Lady Selina, if they show aggression, use your magic. Personally, I'd love to see these Skarkh-spawned bastards fried, but just scaring them should be enough. The rest will scatter."

  "Understood," the sorceress nodded, visibly relieved at the thought of not having to kill anyone.

  And then, there they were. The fine gentlemen of the road, in all their glory. They'd blocked the path with a couple of felled trees and sat there, nice and cozy, waiting for us to walk right in. The bandits were dressed in a mishmash of gear — some in regular clothes, one in full plate armor. But what concerned me most was that at least three of them had crossbows. We didn't have that luxury. The only crossbow in our caravan belonged to the merchant, who couldn't use a sword to save his life.

  "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, end of the line," one of the bandits called out. "I'll make it simple. Drop your weapons, leave everything of value, and you can walk away."

  "Don't buy it," Ficht told us. "Moment we disarm, they'll slit our throats. My lady — your turn."

  And at that exact moment, the soldier standing next to Ficht moved toward Selina and in one quick motion grabbed her wrist. The girl flinched, but it was too late — a small, elegant bracelet with engravings was already clasped around her slender wrist.

  "No… No! No! No!" the sorceress screamed as the symbols on the bracelet began to glow.

  I stared at the accessory she was desperately trying to tear off, but it clung to her skin like it was fused there.

  "Brand! You bastard!" Ficht roared, drawing his blade, but the traitor deftly dodged and sprinted toward his accomplices. No doubt about it now — this wasn't just a random robbery. This was an inside job.

  The guard captain started after him, but a crossbow bolt slamming into the ground at his feet stopped him cold.

  "Lady Selina, can you—" he started hopefully, but got a devastating answer.

  "I can't…" she whispered, lips trembling, still clawing uselessly at the bracelet. "It blocks magic."

  The rest of our soldiers heard that and began whispering nervously. This was bad. Desertion wasn't far off. And it got worse when another group of about ten bandits closed in from behind, several of them also armed with crossbows.

  "Steady!" the old soldier barked. "They outnumber us, but there's always a chance!"

  But everyone — myself included — knew there was no chance. The bandits didn't even need to engage in melee. They could just pick us off from range. We had one crossbow between us, and the merchant had claimed it since he couldn't fight at all.

  "Brand! Why did you betray us?!" Ficht shouted, stalling for time. "I pulled you out of the gutter, you piece of filth!"

  "Sorry, Captain, but family comes first!" He clapped the bandit standing next to him on the shoulder. Brothers, maybe. There was some resemblance in their faces.

  "For the record, this was all Brand's idea," the "brother" confirmed with a grin. "You paid him poorly, Captain. Very poorly."

  "Ungrateful scum," Ficht spat. "This isn't over. Mark my words — you'll be picking your own guts up off the floor."

  "So! Are we doing this the easy way, or what?!" shouted the bandit leader beside the traitor, laughing off the empty threats.

  "When the fighting starts, grab Lady Selina and run for the trees. You might lose them in there. I'll cover you," Ficht whispered to us. But the sorceress herself seemed paralyzed — frozen with terror and the dawning realization of what was about to happen.

  He whispered the same thing to the merchant, but the man flatly refused to abandon his goods.

  "Suit yourselves," the bandit shrugged. "Light 'em up! But don't touch the witch. Anyone who damages her answers to me personally."

  "Go!" Ficht commanded, and in that instant, I grabbed Selina's hand and pulled her off the wagon. A bolt whistled past my head the moment we jumped.

  The guard captain turned out to be a hell of a fighter. I have no idea how, but he managed to deflect a bolt aimed at us. The other soldiers held their own too, getting their shields up fast. The merchant wasn't so lucky — he was killed almost instantly. He should've come with us…

  We'd taken maybe four steps when a sharp pain ripped through my thigh. I looked down and saw a bolt sticking out of it. My vision blurred, but I took a deep breath and did what I always do — I shoved the pain to the back of my mind.

  "Skarkh's seed!" Ficht cursed, turning toward us — and immediately caught a bolt to the head. It punched through the back of his skull and exited just to the right of his nose.

  Selina screamed. I grabbed her hand despite my wound and ran. But in the next instant, another bolt slammed into my back. Must have hit a lung, but I couldn't stop. Had to run. I had to get her away from here!

  "Max! Max!" the sorceress was screaming, but I couldn't answer. Consciousness was spiraling into darkness.

  So this is what death feels like…

  Unpleasant.

  I saw a pair of thugs run up to the girl. They grabbed her by the arms and dragged her away from me. With my last ounce of strength, I reached for her, but it was useless. About five feet away lay Ficht's body, his one remaining eye staring at me.

  No pain now… Just cold…

  "Pretty thing," I heard one of the bandits say.

  "No kidding. We'll sell her to the long-ears. They love mages. I reckon we'll get silver equal to her weight."

  "That's a fortune!"

  "But first — let's have some fun."

  "Just don't kill her, and don't leave marks. She needs to look presentable. Damaged goods fetch a lower price."

  "You got it, boss."

  Out of the corner of my fading vision, I saw two bandits holding the girl down while a third cut open her dress. A couple more stood nearby, talking. Selina was fighting, but she couldn't do anything. Eventually one of them got tired of her struggling and slapped her across the face.

  "Boss said no hitting."

  "That was barely a tap," the bandit shrugged, already undoing his pants.

  Scum. Filth. Vermin. You don't deserve to live.

  I'd never wanted someone dead so badly in my entire life.

  My arms wouldn't obey, but I had to crawl.

  I had to… If I wanted to save Selina… I had to…

  Somehow I managed to drag myself the five feet to Ficht's body. It felt like a mile.

  "Forgive me, Captain," I whispered, pressing my lips to the pool of blood beneath him.

  "B-boss…" I heard one of the thugs nearby.

  "What now?!"

  "The dead kid is drinking blood off the corpse!"

  "WHAT?!"

  Another bolt hit me, but it didn't matter anymore. One more, one less — it was nothing now. Just a scratch.

  My muscles flooded with power. With every drop of blood my body absorbed, I grew stronger. No more pain. No more weakness. Only strength. The strength to slaughter every last one of these vermin.

  "This is your choice, Maximilian," I heard my father's voice. Detached, as always, and yet — I could feel he was pleased. He was pleased I'd chosen the path of man.

  "Sorry, Dad…" I whispered, rising to my feet. Slowly, my body wracked with countless small contractions. Muscles restructuring before my very eyes. Wounds closing like they'd never been there.

  I raised my eyes — now crimson — and smiled at them with a bloody grin. Then, one by one, I pulled the crossbow bolts from my body. They were terrified. I could literally taste their fear. Good. They should be afraid. Prey should fear the predator.

  They fired again, but the bolt pierced nothing but the blurred afterimage I'd left behind. How pathetically slow. Closing the distance to the bastard about to assault Selina took less than a second. I appeared behind him, grabbed his head, and tore it clean off, tossing it at his comrades' feet. They recoiled in horror — all but one. He came at me with a sword, but I caught the blade between two fingers, and with my other hand ripped out his throat.

  Fast. Clean. Lethal.

  Not a single wasted movement.

  I hurled the sword still in my hand like a javelin at the most cowardly one — the one who thought he could run. No. None of them were leaving. Not after they'd taken my path from me. The force of the throw was staggering — the impaled bandit was launched off his feet and flew a good thirty feet. Nobody survives that… hehehe…

  Finishing the rest was barely an effort. They shot at me, tried to cut me down — all useless. I was too fast. Too strong. I sank my teeth into Brand the traitor's throat and drank from him like a leech. But his blood was garbage compared to Ficht's — the man who'd tried to save at least someone in a hopeless situation.

  One particularly agile bastard — the only one to survive my first strike — I grabbed by the spine and ripped it out. I tore the legs off another and used them to beat a third to death.

  Before I could blink, there was no one left. No one except a terrified girl in a torn dress, staring at me in horror.

  How beautiful she looked in that torn dress.

  I took a step toward her, overwhelmed by how badly I wanted her. Wanted to kiss her… No. That was childish. I wanted more. I wanted to savor her body, to sink my teeth into that slender neck and drown in the intoxicating taste of her blood.

  Shouldn't a beauty reward her savior? She'd promised, hadn't she? So why not take what's mine right now. Hehehe…

  Selina saw me coming and screamed in pure terror, and that scream stopped me dead. Clarity crashed back into my mind.

  What the hell am I saying?! No… that's not me… that's not me…

  The girl snapped out of her shock, scrambled to her feet, and ran — sobbing, she ran as fast as she could. Every instinct screamed at me to chase her, catch her, sink my teeth into that neck—

  "No! That's not me!" I screamed, falling to my knees. "That's not me…"

  I raised my eyes and stared in horror at the corpses surrounding me. Yeah… so this is what I really am. Selina was right to run. I would've run too, if I saw a monster like me.

  So I'd slaughtered every last enemy. But I hadn't earned the beauty's gratitude. Quite the opposite — I doubted she'd ever be able to look at me without fear again.

  A sharp pain twisted through my insides. But that was nothing — just the transformation ramping up. Muscles and organs reshaping. The real agony was coming. Because I needed to stop this process before it went too far.

  So I shoved two fingers down my throat, triggering the gag reflex. I had to get rid of the blood I'd swallowed.

  Mentally, I braced myself for the worst pain of my life.