11. Blood, Steel and Sex Deals

Chapter 11: Blood, Steel and Sex Deals

The assassins closed in faster than I could react. Their black clothing swam through the shadows, and their weapons glimmered like obsidian knives in the faint sunlight filtering through the trees.

I swore under my breath.

"Fucking system... why can't you just leave me alone for five minutes?"

The soldiers were already preparing for a fight. Captain Alaric was in the lead, his sword glowing with golden fire as his mana pulsed outward like a barrier. The others gripped their weapons tightly, ready for a fight that we had no idea how to win.

The assassins came in waves—twenty or thirty of them, moving like water, as silent as death itself. They didn't hesitate. Crossbows shot toward us, blades slashed from the shadows, and death was everywhere.

I lashed out with my black blade, ki swirling through it, glowing faintly as it cleaved through a figure charging toward me. The assassin's head came off in a spray of blood, his body collapsing into the dirt. I didn't have time to breathe.

"Watch your left!" I yelled, slicing another assassin clean in half as he tried to close the distance. His body crumpled to the ground with a wet squelch.

The soldiers fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. My hands trembled as I fought. Every swing of my black blade tore into flesh and bone, but for every assassin I cut down, two more took their place. Their numbers never seemed to dwindle.

"Alaric!" I shouted as I parried a dagger slicing toward my side. My reflexes felt sluggish. Cuts were beginning to form on my arms and legs, and I could feel my exhaustion weighing on me.

Captain Alaric was calm, though. His golden mana flared as he blocked three attackers at once, his sword slicing with precise fury. His face was a mask of determination as he pushed them back, his shield of golden fire flickering but holding strong.

"Stay sharp!" he barked, his voice cutting through the roar of battle.

I grunted, my hands trembling as I blocked another dagger and countered with a slash of my own. The assassin in front of me barely had time to react as my ki-imbued sword dug into his side. His body crumpled.

But the numbers kept coming.

Another wave of assassins descended upon us, this time with crossbows. I could hear the whistling sound of bolts flying toward me. I rolled to the side, my muscles aching as I did so, and the sharp thunk of a crossbow bolt hitting a tree behind me sent a shiver of panic through my spine.

I could feel blood trickling down my arm. I was slowing.

"Goddamn it."

The soldiers were struggling. Alaric's golden aura was keeping the front lines steady, but the pressure was too much. I could see one of the soldiers on the left getting overwhelmed. His blade was deflected, and his face was carved open by a dagger. He fell with a wet thud.

"Stay with me, goddamn it!" I shouted, my voice hoarse. My black blade swung again, slicing through another assassin, but the pressure was breaking me. I was getting cut, bruised, and the more I fought, the more my body betrayed me.

I wasn't fast anymore. My reflexes were slowing. My hands felt numb.

Another blade came for me. I barely had time to react as it cut across my shoulder. I gritted my teeth, tasting blood as I spun and swung my sword wildly, taking another assassin down.

But they just kept coming.

I could hear Captain Alaric grunting as he held his ground. His golden sword was like a beacon of light, cutting through enemies left and right. His strength was admirable, but I could see the strain in his movements. He wasn't going all out. His gaze darted to Freya, still standing beside the unconscious noble by the overturned carriage.

He wasn't letting himself lose control.

"What the hell, Alaric? Why are you holding back?" I managed to shout as I fought another wave.

He grunted as he blocked another blow with his sword, his golden mana flaring in response. "Freya and the noble are my priority," he called back through gritted teeth. "I can't risk them if I go all out here."

"Son of a bitch..." I growled, frustration boiling up in my chest. I could feel the assassins surrounding me, their blades finding their way to my skin. I had cuts on my arms, my chest, and my legs now. Blood was pouring from me, my breathing coming in gasps.

And then, suddenly, a punch landed squarely against my face.

"UGH!" I gasped as the world spun. I was thrown backward, my vision swimming, and my feet left the ground. I could feel the ground rushing toward me as I flew, tumbling through the air with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

I crashed into the dirt next to the overturned carriage. Pain exploded through my body as I landed in a heap, my head swimming, stars dancing in my vision.

I groaned, spitting blood onto the ground. My body felt broken, my muscles aching.

When I managed to look up, I found myself staring at her—Freya. She was standing there, her plate armor glinting faintly, her sword still at her side, her gaze sharp and steady.

She was standing right by the unconscious noble.

I blinked a few times, trying to shake the dizziness from my head, and muttered weakly:

"Well... long time, girl."

My voice was shaky, broken, and I could feel my strength slipping.

The fighting still raged, but at that moment, everything felt very far away.

I could only hope I'd survive this—and that this hellish fight wouldn't finish me off.

Here's the next chapter, expanded, gory, intense, and written entirely in **first person POV** as requested. I've included all the dialogue and violence you specified, with detailed descriptions of the fight, energy use, and aftermath. Let me know if this works or if you need adjustments!

I managed to prop myself up on one elbow, pain lancing through my body like I'd just been hit by a freight train made entirely of pain and bad decisions. My head was swimming, and all I could see was Freya standing in front of me, her cold gaze directed toward me as she stared down at my broken, bloody form.

Her voice cut through the chaos.

"Wait a minute… you're the guy staying at my father's inn."

I blinked a few times, trying to focus. My vision was shaky, but I managed to nod weakly.

"Yeah," I managed to croak, my voice hoarse and ragged. "That's me."

Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward just slightly.

"What the hell are *you* doing here?" she asked sharply, her voice cold and demanding.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. My body was broken, my muscles felt like they were trying to escape my bones, but I forced my voice to stay steady.

"Honestly? I don't fucking know," I admitted, wincing as I shifted. "I was just trying to survive the goblin nonsense, and now I'm here. So… what's up with the noble chick and these assassins? What's their deal?"

Her expression turned sharper, harsher.

"It doesn't concern you," she said, her tone ice-cold and dismissive.

I froze, my hand gripping the ground tightly.

"Well, that's true," I admitted. "But should you really be saying that to someone trying to help you?"

She hesitated, her gaze locking onto mine for just a second. Then, reluctantly, she said, "You've got a point. But I didn't ask for your help."

I let out a bitter laugh, pushing myself higher on shaky arms.

"Well, extra information can act as a bit of motivation in situations like this," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her brow furrowed again. "What do you mean by that?"

I gave her a crooked grin, trying to ignore the agony that came with every movement.

"You seem like the *beauty type.*" I said smoothly, grinning wider now despite my pain. "If you give me one night with you, I'll take care of all these assassins for you. Promise."

She stared at me, incredulous.

"You're barely alive," she said, incredulity dripping from every word. "How the hell are you going to do that?"

I grunted, pulling myself up onto one knee. "It's a gut feeling," I said casually.

Her face twisted with suspicion. "Are you shitting me?"

I looked at her and smirked, my voice dripping with mock confidence.

"Oh, I guess your *Duchess* friend is going to die today, then," I said nonchalantly. "I hope I see you again in Torak. Maybe we can have a drink… or maybe you can light my room again."

I forced myself to stand, my body screaming the entire way. My legs were shaky, and every step felt like being tortured by a sadistic, omnipotent system. I let out a string of curses as I pushed through the pain.

"Fuck me. Ow. *Goddamn it.* This is worse than that one time I had food poisoning on Earth…"

Before I could finish wallowing, Freya's voice rang out sharply.

"Wait," she said suddenly, and her tone stopped me cold. "If you can save them now… if you can kill these assassins right now… we can talk about it."

I hesitated, looking at her with suspicion.

"What? Are you trying to make me think I'm some kind of simp here?" I said sarcastically, cocking an eyebrow as I turned my attention back toward the assassins still pressing in on us.

But then she took a breath and spoke again, her voice even sharper this time.

"Okay. I promise to give you my body for a night… *but only if you can kill all those bastards right now.*"

I froze, staring at her for a moment.

"You better not go back on your word," I warned, narrowing my gaze. My hand gripped my black blade tighter as a dark, sinister energy began to gather around me. "Because if you do… there *will* be consequences."

As I spoke, a faint red and black energy started to ooze from me, seeping into the air like liquid shadows. It surrounded me in a dark, flickering aura. The energy swirled and pulsed, a mixture of bloodlust and something far more primal.

The energy enveloped me, sinking into my black leather armor like it belonged there. It absorbed itself into the material, and before I knew it, the leather shimmered with dark power as it repaired itself—rejuvenated, restored, pristine again.

The energy didn't just repair my armor. It restored my body too. I felt the exhaustion leave my bones. My breath came more easily, and my muscles felt stronger.

I was still in pain, but my stamina was gone. My exhaustion was gone.

"Holy shit," I muttered, staring at my hands. "That's some *dark magic* bullshit right there, but I'll take it."

I picked up my black blade off the ground, the weapon gleaming with faint ki as I felt the strength return to my body.

I didn't wait.

I launched myself toward the assassins, my black blade slicing through air like a hammer striking a nail. My ki was burning, my energy was raw, but I was alive again.

I struck the first assassin down, blood flying in arcs as my sword cut through him. He fell with a wet, wet sound. I turned toward another. His crossbow was already in his hand, but it was too late. My sword lashed through his neck, severing his head with a single stroke.

I swung again, and again, cutting through assassins one by one. Each strike was brutal, clean, and filled with rage. Blood sprayed. Bodies fell. They didn't stand a chance.

Captain Alaric was at my side, his sword glowing as he cut through enemies with practiced precision. His golden mana was a radiant fire as he cut them down, and I could see the fury in his eyes. We worked together, cutting a path through the assassins with calculated rage.

They didn't stop. They charged us, but our combined strength proved too much. I could feel the heat of my ki as I charged forward, my body fueled by rage, exhaustion, and sheer determination.

One by one, the assassins fell. Some were cut down by Alaric's glowing golden sword; others fell to my black blade, their bodies torn apart in a furious dance of death.

And then… it was over.

I stood, breathing heavily, my body soaked in blood, my hands trembling. The assassins were all dead now, their bodies sprawled around me like broken sacrifices.

I looked at the field of bodies, every one of them cold, lifeless. My stomach twisted again.

"Oh, fuck me," I muttered as I dropped to my knees, emptying my stomach into the dirt.

The sounds of death and the sight of it all came rushing back. Blood, limbs, body parts… I could feel it all—every inch of violence I'd just unleashed.

I groaned, my body shaking as I finished vomiting, staring at the broken bodies.

"This is *not okay.*"