Blood and Strength - Part 9
"Strong! STRONG!" The man roared in delight. "What the fuck have you been eating, boy? You kick like a horse! You're not even Blessed, are ya? You're not – I could tell if you were. And what a fucking mess you've got yourself into!"
Once more Vol came in to attack him. His thrill activated with the pain. His vision cleared, and his hesitation faded. He hammered against the man's guard, once, twice – he almost felt him buckle, he was sure. But when he looked up, the man seemed unfazed. His smile widened in delight.
"You're a heartless bastard, ain't ya?" The man asked, his black beard almost shaking with delight. "And you're a strong little fucker. I'm in need of men, what do you say? Be good coin in it for ya – good raiding. I'll even make sure no one finds out about this, eh? Lydia was a decent woman, but she can't compare to a good axe like you. What do you say, kid? You in?"
"Liar," Vol hissed, pressing back against him. "Ain't no raiding going on in winter. Everywhere's frozen."
"Pah, that's weak talk that. There's always somewhere, if you've the heart to look. Seems like you've been doing a bit of raiding here yourself, ain't ya?" The man said with a laugh.
Vol glanced back at this corpse. This certainly wasn't what his idea of raiding had been. Raiding as glory and spoils. Here, the only glory he'd won was more danger for himself. Right in the centre of a well-populated town, he'd been forced to commit another murder. It put him in a far more dangerous position than his previous attacks had.
And already, he'd been found out. Worse still, it was by a man of the Second Boundary, blessed by Varsharn, the Goddess of War, just as his brother had been. His strength was overwhelming. Even with his newly augmented System strength, Vol struggled to gain any sort of purchase.
But that didn't matter. He simply didn't have a choice. If he couldn't reach him, then he'd have to take risks. He still had far more chance of beating this single man than he did overcoming the entirety of the town's guard.
He flung his axe. A quick whipping motion with a single hand. He hadn't been able to practise it since his last battle, so his mastery of it had not increased, but it was still the best axe throwing had ever felt, despite only 1/3 of the basic-level conditions being fulfilled.
In this close space, he couldn't miss. He had the satisfaction of seeing the raider's eyes widen, as the blade came soaring towards his face.
CLANG!
But even that was not enough. The man delicately redirected the heavily thrown axe over his shoulder using the flat edge of his sword.
Vol's attack didn't end there, though, he ducked his shoulder, and speared towards the man in a tackle, planning to get a hold of him.
Before he could get close, however, an impact thudded against the upside of his head, sending him crashing into the floorboards. The youth's vision dizzied, as he saw the raider standing over him, grinning through those blackened teeth of his.
"Interesting, so damn interesting, boy. You fight like the whole world is against ya," the man said, resting his sword on his shoulder in a self-satisfied motion. He nodded to himself, twice. Vol tried to stagger to his feet, but even though he'd barely retained his consciousness, the dizziness of the impact hadn't left him. He fell flat on his face again.
He lay there with gritted teeth, his hands reaching for something, anything. He couldn't allow this man to kill him. Not again, when he'd been given such a powerful second chance. Why did he have to run into such a strong opponent so soon?
But, just as suddenly as the man came, he left, whistling jovially to himself, like a miner pleased to finally be off a hard shift of work.
It took Vol ten minutes to recover himself enough to stand. Luckily for him, no one else came to the door that day. His first act upon getting up was to latch it closed. He briefly looked at Lydia's corpse again. There was a shocking amount of blood pooled around it now.
He reached his hand back behind his head to feel where the raider had struck him. It came away red. He grunted, pleased that the wound hadn't been any worse.
His heart was thudding with urgency. He was sure that the guards would be called to investigate at any second. He barely stopped to think why the raider had not finished him off – but he was sure that whatever the reason was, it would not end well for him.
A struggle his situation might have been, but he'd still come to that clothing store for a particular purpose. He'd wanted to replace the bloodied clothes that he wore. Even if everything else went to hell, he would at least accomplish that task.
And then… Well, he'd have to run. Get as far away as he could. Where was the next town? He couldn't think of the name. His mind was too foggy, and his youth had been spent too free of travel. He'd only visited Nookhaven on occasion – that was where all his few trips away from home had sent him. That, and a collection of villages nearer Bolrif, but they weren't options. The people there would know him.
He threw off the bloodied clothes, ridding himself of the trousers. The fire was still burning, and he briefly considered throwing the bloodied clothes on… But that wouldn't accomplish much. With the flames being what they were, they'd hardly burn.
Unless…
The door to the room behind the counter opened a crack. Now that Lydia wasn't standing in front of it, he could see through beyond it. He saw a flask there, of the sort that he'd expect alcohol to be kept in. Feeling a sudden flash of inspiration – rare for Vol – he strode towards it, as he tossed the rest of his clothes off.