A very normal recovery

"Just die already!"

The cultist had already taken an arrow to the foot, shield bashed through a wall and taken up to twenty rare grade talismans and managed to still stay standing. He didn't even flinch.

Even with copious amounts of blood leaving his body, he still has the will to keep fighting.

"Dammit! These bastards are tougher than I thought,"

"How do we beat him?"

"Just throw more stuff at him!"

Such a simple yet effective plan. Although the cultist was indifferent to their attacks, it wasn't the case that their attacks were doing nothing, his numerous wounds were the proof. As such, if they kept pressing on, he would die eventually, right? After all, as the saying goes, 'if it bleeds, it can die.'

Well, apparently not. After taking another round of assault, he manages to somehow sneak through the vigilantes' back ranks, corrupting their archers, and mages as well. If only there was some proper light, they might have been able to avoid such a scenario.

"Dammit! SToP him?" Indeed right now, the vigilantes were suddenly placed in a state of confusion. Seeing their nemesis who was just on a killing spree suddenly just flop over was… It was surprising, to say the least.

…

Hm, I can't move my body anymore. Well, it's more so that I'm struggling to, everything feels heavy and there's a delay between when I move and when I actually move. Did I get paralysed? Did they paralyze me? One of those sheets of paper must've paralysed me. A little help would be appreciated. Where is that stupid bird?

However, the truth was in fact something that would be easily foreseen by any other being. He was exhausted. Being skewed and shot was already tiring enough, he then started to move around on top of it. It was asking for a collapse to happen.

"Is he dead?"

"I mean, yeah? I think so?" The archers seemed mildly confused over the current predicament.

I mean, I would be too. Except I wouldn't, I would instead be shooting me right now. Couldn't be too sure if a corpse might start moving again. Trust me, I've had experience.

"He's definitely dead, look at that blood trail. Look at all the injuries. He has to be dead."

While the vigilantes started making small talk about their first kill, a new party appeared. Well, it was just that the real cultists showed up, and there's that damn bird! Showing up late to the crime scene, just like a good law enforcer would, she needs to break out of that habit.

"Oh? Have some little doggies been looking for us?" Laffer taunts.

"Tsk, a diversion?"

"I'm afraid that isn't the case, however, I can give you a special offer for visiting us so late at night," An eerie smirk stretches across his face.

"Hm, what could that be?"

"This!"

Stabbing the poor guy, Laffer cleanly guts him, starting a new round of combat. Though I'm still here, and I would still like some help. Just a bit. A tad bit of help. It can't be that hard.

"Oh crap. Jeff is that you?"

Yup, it is me.

"You good?"

Nope.

"Oh then everything's all right then, I'm sure you'll make a swift recovery!" He smiles giving me a thumbs up.

You're lucky, if I could get up right now, I would kill you so badly that your remains won't even have genetic linkage to each other.

"H-hey hey man, I'm sorry! Please don't glare at me like that!"

Whilst everyone is fighting each other, Lyne, one of the gambling cultists drags me to an obscure corner.

"Crap man, you legit need help," He says after taking a look at my injuries.

"Don't worry, I gotchu," He gives me another thumbs up before pouring alcoholic cider over me.

No you don't!

"It's supposed to help, alright?"

'Supposed to,' huh? But is it really helping? Are you treating my wounds or are you poisoning me, huh? Just give me a potion! I've seen those things in every odd corner shop! And I'm sure you have some, you bastard!

"Sigh, looks like I'll have to do this,"

Are you really that disheartened to part with your potions? They weren't that expensive, and even then, you probably stole yours…

Lyne presses his hand against me, as he starts trying to heal me? I'm surprised he knew some kind of recovery magic, but considering from his tone when he spoke earlier, it most likely isn't the conventional kind. It might cost something or just leave him drained. Though I'm willing to bet he just doesn't like the feeling.

Nonetheless, this recovery magic is authentic, my flesh stitches itself back together and even goes the extra mile and replenishes my blood. Lyne, it seems I'll have to apologise, you aren't that bad of a guy.

Giving me a thumbs up, he seats himself, most likely recovering from the exhaustion of the magic.

Turning to look at the battle, my expectations are rather different to the reality before me, these vigilantes are actually holding up rather well. But, despite that, they are slowly losing. They shouldn't last until daybreak.

I've heard that a single Dark Arts Cultist is capable of taking on a platoon of soldiers unscathed, and well, the rumour is a bit exaggerated but the point should still get across. Dark Arts Cultists are strong. To the point that the weakest of them is of the Silver Strength rank.

Normally, a normal guard or footmen of any sort would be of an Unranked power level, officers or elites perhaps being of the Bronze Body rank. At this scale, Unranked and Bronze aren't really that different. Their strength gap is near indistinguishable, however, the jump to Silver Strength brings about noticeable power changes. These would count as the backbone of any knight order, elite guard, unit or what hath thee, this time the strength gap is easily seen. Above that would be Steel Will, which is what most cultists are ranked as, and at this rank, the power they possess is not what makes them scary. But rather the way in which they operate. No one can simply power up indefinitely, except the dragons, but even then there's a limit. Stupid lizards, not even doing anything with their strength. Deserters should be killed.

Hmm, I digress, at the Steel rank, the cultists would have an extremely limited sense of pain, alongside a further comprehension of the Dark Arts meaning that they can fight for longer, and with the Dark Arts that I've witnessed, as long as they keep killing, they can keep fighting, which is I suppose what makes them scary. Above that being, Golden Mind, it is merely honing the mind to bear stronger powers. Such as crushing people with one's mere presence or causing hallucinations. To get to this rank requires an extreme control of essence.

At the next big power leap is Heroic Legend. Which was allegedly what the previous Kingdom Brave was at. People at this level would usually never be killed by those ranked lower than them. Their individual power is the equivalent to that of a small kingdom, perhaps higher.

When a Legend becomes an Unyielding Myth, it means that they are aiming to become an Immortal Semigod. There is little difference between a Myth and a Legend, except that the only purpose of Myths is to ascend to the higher realm, and as a result, most Legends become Myths, lost in time.

There is little information of Semigods, except that they existed in ancient times, during the reign of the Heretics, but no one in the present ages after those times has ever been recorded to successfully advance into the realm of Semigods. It was alleged Semigods could raze kingdoms in an instant and set entire continents ablaze. Makes sense, they would need that kind of strength to contend against the 'gods'.

Perhaps that's a new goal to set isn't it? It's much clearer than the one I had initially.

Heh, this ingrate of a world hates me, so I'll show them what a 'heretic' can do.