48 Hours

Ten minutes after the battle, Thirteen had finally found somewhere relatively hidden and recluse to lay low. He'd rather have moved far further away from the scene of the battle, but for reasons he could not understand his body was exhausted.

His lifeforce was strong, and the injuries he received were nothing crucial. Even the poison on those arrowtips were successfully neutralized, though the arrows in question still remain embedded in his back.

As he had no answer for it, Thirteen was slightly worried, but he consciously stopped that from causing panic or affecting his decision making as much as possible.

"Ron, can you do me a favor?"

"...what?"

"I need you to pull the arrows out." Thirteen said as he took a set on a dead log.

Ron did not respond immediately, instead looking at the dozen or so arrows with trepidation as he stood a few feet behind Thirteen.

"They're only shallow. My body is tempered to counter exactly this. You don't need to cut them out, just pull."

Ron gulped a mouthful of saliva before nodding. Of course Thirteen couldn't actually see him nodding as the man was behind him, but took the sound of Ron approaching as a sign of confirmation.

"Thank you." He said softly, his voice trailing slightly.

God was he tired.

Thirteen could still maintain lifesense without any issue as his body seemed to be in fine condition, but he was too tired to focus on any of the details, rendering it mostly pointless in the face of a second attack.

He felt a shaky hand bump into, and then grasp one of the arrows shafts.

"There, now just pu– Ouch. Okay, there you go, just ten or so more."

Ron was amazed as he pulled the arrow out. Just as the man—no, child, he corrected himself—had said, the arrows had not pierced deeply at all. They were broadhead arrows but most, including this first one, did not even pierce the whole arrowhead through.

Even more incredible was the fact that immediately after Ron pulled out that arrow, the flesh on Thirteen's back began to heal rapidly. It took only a second for that shallow wound to vanish completely!

As he continued to pull out arrows, Ron thought back to the assassin who had stabbed at him with those strange spikes, before looking at his own shoulder wound. It was painful to move his left arm due to the wound, but the assassin behind him had been debilitated by that same spike. Why was that?

He would never find out, but that projectile spike had become caustic the moment it entered the assassin's body, and it was the pain that dropped him to the ground.

While Ron helped remove the arrows from his back, Thirteen considered the source of his sluggish condition. It had to be that anomaly when he struck at the daoist. That was the only circumstance that differed to the normal, aside from the creation of two simultaneous bloodbonds, but he kept the manipulation of them minimal.

When he had wanted so badly to reach that daoist, and to strike him, Thirteen's field of view changed immediately and he found himself standing behind the man. Was that some teleportation? Or high speed, untrackable movement, like Ten's Phase Step? He didn't know.

But he definitely felt something when that happened. A shifting of something within him, like qi or lifeforce, but neither of those. Thirteen turned his senses inward and looked for the source of that feeling but found nothing.

As his sluggish thoughts reached a dead end, he was startled with pain as a particularly deep arrow, one whose broadhead had completely pierced his flesh, had just been yanked out by Ron.

Thirteen clenched his teeth as he struggled through the pain caused by fresh cuts over old ones, and willed his body to heal that particularly nasty wound even faster than normal, before releasing a sigh of relief.

'What on earth am I going to do now?' He thought to himself.

That first fight had been near impossible to pull off while protecting Ron. In fact, even without Ron, if the three higher stage cultivators had targeted Thirteen at once, backed by almost two dozen archers seeking opportunities, he was certain he'd have faced a lot more trouble than he did.

But that was just day one. Mentor Fane said he had to ensure Ron's survival for 48 hours. Surely that meant there would be more, right?

His thoughts soon stilled as the pain became distant.

Thirteen caught his head dropping as his heavy eyes had closed themselves, and swiftly stood from the log beneath him, not allowing himself to drift off.

He turned to Ron to ask if he was done, only to find the man was sitting a distance away, huddled to endure the cold. A pile of bloody tipped arrows could be found on the ground, and Thirteen realised he did not "catch himself falling asleep."

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"An hour. There were sounds where we came from, but they disappeared."

Thirteen moved to Ron's side and sat down on the dirt next to him, rubbing his eyes with his left hand.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

��... Nedli."

Thirteen's brow rose. "Near the border?"

"Near enough."

Thirteen noticed Ron's tone was somewhat sour as he said that, and came to a conclusion, half based on gut feeling.

"Farmer's son?"

Ron paused before nodding.

"Ah, I see."

A moment of silence passed as Thirteen considered the struggle of a farmer living in border territory at war time. He could guess as to the reason for Ron's sour attitude.

"Why are you here Ron?" He asked softly.

Ron directed a sidelong glance at Thirteen, before rebuilding his walls and standing.

"Because your twisted elder thinks this is fun? Treating me like some sort of hunter's game? Just sit here and keep watch."

As he watched Ron walk away, Thirteen realised the man had remembered whom the authority lay with, and wished he had maintained a commanding attitude, not that it would do him any good if he was always dozing off.

'And I wanted to go look for some water too'. He thought wistfully.

The rest of the night passed peacefully, though slowly. Neither of the two slept, and the dawn sun appeared particularly harsh to their eyes.

Thirteen suggested they stay hidden where they were, given that no one else found them in the night. He assumed their pursuers would have moved to a larger area by now, and he wanted to conserve their energy.

This turned out to be a good call as hours passed after the breaking of dawn and they had still not been found.

But, eventually they needed to eat and drink, and so the two of them were forced to leave their little den in the dense foliage to find some running water. When they did, Thirteen shot down two birds from a nearby tree without alerting them and brought them to the bank.

After bleeding the birds for a few minutes, Thirteen drew a small knife and made an incision in the skin of one to peel it and begin processing it to cook.

Ron stared curiously at the process, and after a moment, Thirteen stopped to look at him.

"Do you want to do the other one? He asked as he handed his small knife to the man.

"Uh, sure."

"Do yo–"

"Yes, I know how. I did this a few times when I was a kid."

Thirteen nodded and drew his less suitable dagger to continue working on his own bird. He took it slow, and whenever Ron seemed to pause as if trying to remember or consider what to do next, Thirteen would use his own to provide "unintentional" examples.

Like this, the two worked in silence, cleaning the meat and tools with the running water as they went until the desired meats had been stripped from the birds, ready to cook.

Thirteen's exhaustion had only gotten worse, and his work was a bit sloppy, but it would be fine for now. He created a small fire, not willing to expend the energy to cook with his conjured flames, and left the rest of the work to Ron, who proved himself surprisingly useful for a runaway con artist.

After eating, the two once again found somewhere to hide and wait out the time, having no real goals to move towards. At one point Ron stepped on a snake that Thirteen had been too tired to warn him of, but managed to avoid its strike through purely panicked reactions, following which Thirteen skewered it.

The hours that followed felt hellish to Thirteen as nothing at all happened, but he was forced to remain alert. Like this, he continued to remain wary of every potential threat he could manage, always sticking close to Ron who no longer acted so rebelliously.

Night soon creeped upon the sky and Thirteen went without sleep once more, keeping watch after telling Ron to sleep no matter what.

When morning came again they moved once more, hunting and gathering as they went, never staying too close to spilled blood or the scent of bodies. As time passed in a blur for Thirteen, he did everything he could to ensure Ron did not endanger himself.

When afternoon creeped in, Thirteen's mind suddenly sobred and woke with a chilly feeling in response to his hairs standing on end. He had heard something. He was too tired to recognize what, or even remember the sound, but he knew there was something behind them.

In one swift motion, Thirteen spun and grabbed Ron, pulling the man behind him as he faced whatever was stalking them.

In slow, calm steps, an elderly man in fine black clothes walked out from the shadows of the dense trees, his appraising eyes taking in Thirteen's condition as well as that of Ron behind him.

It was Mentor Fane, he thought with grim realisation.

He would have to defend Ron from Fane himself? Thirteen tried to probe the man with Lifesense but found only a void of endless black, as the man looked him in the eye.

"Something interesting, Thirteen?"

"No sir" He replied with a stifled gulp. That was the first time Thirteen had been unable to investigate someone with lifesense. Even Nicholas could be read, as bright as his life appeared.

"Then congratulations." Fane said planely. "You have succeeded."

"...What?"

Thirteen could tell his eyes had gone wide, and for good reason, it was only… wait. How many days had passed? Was it already 48 hours?

Fane frowned. "And barely by the looks of things. Gather your wits boy."

Thirteen tried to shake himself out of it as he stood straighter than before. Ron behind him was taking slow steps backwards, but was stopped dead in his tracks by a bland stare from Mentor Fane.

"Eight-Thirteen, you have exhibited sufficient awareness and restraint in acting as this 'boy's' protector. You have proven that you atleast have the barest capabilities to do what is required of you.

"You may go."

"Sir?" Thirteen hesitated as he looked to Ron behind him.

"Do you have a question, Thirteen?"

He could tell by the look Fane was giving him that he wanted Thirteen to ignore Ron from this point forth, and so he stifled the question he actually wanted an answer to.

"Yes sir, the men and women that attacked us in the woods. Who were they?"

"No one of significance now." Fane dismissed.

"Now go back to the estate. I'm sure a man will wish to speak with you soon, and I suggest you make yourself rested in the meantime."

That just left Thirteen even more confused. Nevertheless, he had become quite used to interpreting the patience of instructors, and could tell that Fane was not at all on the tolerant end of things.

With a final look to Ron, Thirteen promptly decided to ignore the man as he returned. He wasn't sure why the man had been captured and used like this, but he truly hoped he would be allowed to live, however unlikely he knew that to be.

"Sigh… I'm tired."