When the scarred man became occupied with the chaos around him, with slaves scrambling after the scattered gold like starving crows, I saw my opportunity. Without hesitation, I sprinted toward the wounded young man while fumbling through my inventory mid-run.
My trembling fingers grabbed the first red potion bottle they touched. I uncorked it with my teeth and swallowed everything in one gulp.
Heat exploded through my body instantly. It spread from my throat down to my chest, then through my limbs like fire rushing across dry grass, and the exhaustion weighing on my muscles eased slightly. Next came the orange potion.
Its sweet, citrus taste flooded my tongue, strangely refreshing despite the situation. If fruit juice could punch someone in the face, it would probably taste like this.
The world around me suddenly sharpened. The flickering torchlight, the rustling trees, and the frantic breathing of terrified slaves all became clearer and faster.
[ Successfully consumed F-Rank potions. ]
[ Strength and Agility temporarily increased by 20 points for 30 minutes. ]
[ STRENGTH: 1 (+20) ]
[ AGILITY: 2 (+20) ]
[ Note: Additional consumption during the effect duration will not stack. ]
Dropping to my knees beside the young man, reality struck harder than expected. Up close, his condition looked horrifying. Bruises darkened his neck while smaller wounds covered his body, but none of them compared to the gaping injury in his stomach. Blood continued pouring steadily from the wound, soaking both the grass and the torn fabric beneath him.
The metallic scent hit me immediately, warm, thick, and far too much. Panic tightened around my chest.
"Hey… hey! Wake up!"
My voice came out rough and shaky while I lightly tapped his pale face. The coldness of his skin sent fear crawling beneath my own. For a horrible second, I thought he was already dead, but then I saw a weak rise and a faint fall. His chest was still moving.
'He's breathing.'
But not for long. Blood continued spilling from the wound far too quickly. As someone who only bothered learning things he actually cared about, first aid had never been one of my priorities. I only knew the basics from random videos and articles I had half-read out of boredom, and now, somehow, someone's life depended on that useless knowledge.
"Come on… don't do this to me…"
Using nothing but panic and instinct, I pressed both hands against the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. It did not work. The blade had pierced straight through him, and blood leaked between my fingers no matter how hard I pressed.
"Please…"
I shook him once, then twice, but there was no response. A suffocating weight settled onto my chest, turning my breath to lead as a terrifying thought took root.
'Am I doomed?'
No, absolutely not. There had to be something I could do. Desperation entirely overtook me, and with a sudden, sharp smack, my palm struck his cheek harder than intended, leaving behind a red mark stained with the blood from my hand.
Thankfully, his eyelashes twitched. His dull eyes slowly opened, unfocused and hazy beneath the moonlight.
"Boy, open your mouth. Now." My voice cracked from urgency, but he did not respond. He simply stared at me blankly, like someone already halfway gone from this world, like a broken doll that still remembered how to breathe.
Gritting my teeth, I pressed harder against his wound. A weak groan escaped his lips, and that was good enough. I immediately uncorked a health potion and shoved it against his mouth. "Drink. Drink it!"
Some of the liquid spilled from the corner of his lips, but eventually, he swallowed enough. The system window flickered before me.
[ Target successfully consumed E(+) Rank HP Potion. ]
[ HP increased by 500. ]
[ Target HP: 710 / 10,000 ]
[ Note: Additional consumption within 24 hours will have no effect. ]
"…Still too low," the words slipped out unconsciously. The numbers continued dropping slowly before my eyes.
[ Target HP: 708 / 10,000 ]
My stomach twisted. Even after the potion, the bleeding had not stopped, and his skin remained freezing cold. The wound continued leaking steadily beneath my trembling hands. Frustration burned inside me; if only I had brought higher-ranked potions. Instead, all I had were useless stat boosters and low-grade recovery items.
Thinking quickly, I tore the sleeves from both our clothes and wrapped them tightly around his torso, binding the wound as firmly as possible. The fabric immediately darkened with blood, but the bleeding slowed slightly.
"You're going to survive," I whispered quietly, though it sounded more like I was trying to convince myself. "You have to."
The young man coughed weakly. His cracked lips moved faintly, barely forming a sound, so I lowered my ear closer to him.
"…R-run…"
The whisper was so soft it almost vanished into the wind, yet the moment I heard it, an electric dread skittered across the nape of my neck. Something sharp suddenly pressed against my back. Cold steel. A knife.
Before I could react, an arm wrapped tightly around my throat and yanked me upright.
"I was wondering what your plan was after landing that cotton-like punch earlier." A raspy laugh brushed against my ear. "Heeh, pretty stupid, huh?"
My blood ran cold as realization struck instantly. That voice belonged to the crazed one. He was not unconscious at all. I had forgotten that in this world, I was not the person I used to be anymore.
The strength I once had outside this world meant nothing here. That pathetic punch earlier had not knocked him unconscious at all; he had only pretended to be down, toying with me. An F-Rank punch would never take down an E-Rank slaver. He was simply enjoying watching me struggle.
'Stu—'
The curse nearly escaped my mouth, but I swallowed it just in time. The knife pressed deeper into my back, and I braced instinctively for the pain, but none came.
A bluish system window appeared before my eyes.
[ Attack detected against the vessel. ]
[ Defense effect of the Cloak of Narda activated. ]
The crazy slaver blinked in confusion. "What the hell?" He stabbed again and again, but each strike stopped against an invisible force. There was no blood, no wound, and absolutely nothing broke through.
"Why can't I cut you?!" His voice finally cracked with panic.
I slowly grinned despite my racing heartbeat. "Bro," I said, trying my best to sound cool, "luck's just not on your side today."
His expression twisted in irritation, sweat soaking through the cloth tied around his forehead. Meanwhile, on the inside, I was screaming in absolute relief.
'THANK YOU, LEGENDARY MUD CLOAK.'
"Done yet?" I asked, pretending to stay calm.
The slaver grit his teeth. To him, this probably looked ridiculous: an F-Rank acting confident against someone stronger. Well, fake confidence was still confidence.
'My turn.'
I tightened my grip around the empty potion bottles still in my hand, then jammed them straight into his eyes.
With a sickening crack, the man shrieked instantly, clutching his face while collapsing onto the ground, screaming in agony. Honestly, he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum. If you were weak in a fight, you had to play dirty. That was the only way to survive.
Not wasting another second, I quickly lifted the young man into my arms and ran. Or at least, I tried to.
On my third step, a sudden force slammed against my chest, and my balance shattered. At the same time, the scarred man appeared directly before me like a shadow tearing through the darkness. He was fast, way too fast.
A sharp sting sliced across my cheek, and warm blood trickled down my skin. If I had not moved instinctively, the dagger twirling lazily between his fingers would have gone straight through my skull. My breath caught.
This time, the cloak had not completely blocked the attack, which meant his strength exceeded what the artifact could fully defend against. And the worst part? He was not even using his sword. He was only using a dagger.
"Where are you going?" he asked calmly, his voice sounding almost amused, like a cat watching an injured mouse limp away.
I forced myself not to look directly at him and instead glanced toward the captives behind him. My chest tightened as I saw the bodies lying scattered across the ground. Even the other slaver had collapsed.
The remaining torchlight flickered weakly across the scene, revealing strange purple particles floating through the air like glowing embers. It was not dust; something about them felt entirely wrong, and my skin crawled instinctively.
Squinting carefully, I noticed the purple particles drifting slowly back toward the scarred man before disappearing into the bandages wrapped around his arm, as if they were alive. I froze in place.
'That's what knocked them unconscious?'
Adjusting my grip around the wounded young man, I instinctively pulled him closer against my chest. I could not run, could not dodge, and could not fight properly. I had no weapon, no combat experience, and absolutely no idea what this monster in front of me actually was.
A sick feeling twisted in my stomach. 'Wait… did I even write someone like this?'
My mind raced through every character I had created, every ability, and every slaver, but nothing matched him. All the slavers in my story were originally simple enemies, mere fodder for Kaiser to defeat early on. But this man felt entirely different and terrifyingly dangerous.
"Interesting," the scarred man muttered, lightly tapping his dagger against his palm. "Your thoughts still wander even while standing at death's door."
The moment his purple eyes met mine, tension spread through the air like invisible threads tightening around my throat. Every muscle in my body stiffened instinctively.
"What the heck, big bro?!" the crazy slaver suddenly shouted, stumbling upright. His reddened eyes blinked wildly as he noticed everyone collapsed around him. "Why'd you use your power?! How're we supposed to deliver them to the boss if they're unconscious?!"
"Shut up," the scarred man said, his voice dropping coldly.
"But—"
Before he could even finish, the scarred man vanished, in a single kick slammed directly into the crazy slaver's face with a deafening boom.
The impact launched him across the forest like a broken ragdoll. He crashed violently through several trees before finally hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Silence followed, and the man did not move again. I stared blankly. Honestly, his twisted, unconscious face looked kind of pitiful now.
The scarred man lowered his leg slowly, showing no hesitation and no emotion, not even toward his own subordinate.
My gaze shifted toward the unconscious captives again as the crazy slaver's words echoed through my mind. 'Unconscious. So they were alive.' Relief loosened something tight inside my chest, but only slightly.
Because the scarred man was suddenly standing right in front of me again, close enough for me to see the faint cracks along his purple irises.
"So," he murmured softly, tapping my shoulder with the flat side of his dagger, "you don't fear death?"
'Was he blind? My entire body was shaking.'
He glanced toward the unconscious slaves before looking back at me. "Interesting," he said again. "You're still worried about others while standing this close to losing your head."
My throat tightened painfully. Those words did not sound like curiosity; they sounded like a warning.
'System… can I please use my remaining luck to summon Kaiser right now? Because I'm seriously running out of survival ideas here.'
As though answering my desperate prayer, the system window appeared once more.
[ < Sub-Stat > ]
[ Luck: 1 ]