---?- hav? w?ar?e?█y?u---

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  ******

  A clear night sky.

  The hazy light of a full moon illuminated the forest.

  The Mountain People and Infernal’s eyes glowed in the darkness.

  Even then, due to the full moon, the Grass Walkers were still able to see perfectly.

  The mercenaries tightened their formation, and stopped just outside Umbra’s range. They just stood there. They did not attack, even the archer and crossbowmen did not fire their weapons that often. They knew that darkness favored the sides with less numbers.

  Umbra crouched down, hoping to recover his stamina.

  The Grass Walker mercenaries lowered the stature and started to bother him, poking around with their weapons. The Mountain People on his side planted their spear, preparing if he was about to charge. The other side quickly put pressure to Tristia who jumped back, stumbling backward and leaning to him.

  Once again, Umbra was forced to stand up and block.

  Umbra felt that Tristia was leaning against him more and more. Her breathing labored and her posture shivered. Her body was running out of water.

  “Water…” she whispered, her voice strained and cracked, “I… need… water…”

  “I’ll cover… you…” he whispered.

  Umbra lashed out both his tails around, forcing the mercenaries to flinch, then his tails immediately covered Tristia.

  “What—Attack him!”

  The mercenaries rushed at them.

  Umbra blocked whatever he could with his sabers, but ended up being stabbed more.

  “It’s fuckin’ tough!”

  “Move!” a mercenary primed his poleaxe above his head.

  Umbra glanced at him and then whipped his tails when the poleaxe struck down, hitting the steel wedge with the stinger.

  “Fuck!” the concussion traveled to the mercenary’s own hands. “Fuck—”

  Tristia peeked between his tails, her crossbow was aiming at his head.

  The mercenary barely managed to shield his face with his palm.

  The bolt pierced straight through his gauntlet, arm, then bounced off his helmet.

  “Back to formation!” one shouted.

  “You! Get to the back!” they rotated the injured mercenary to the second layer.

  “You… good?” Umbra panted.

  “Aye…” she poured some water on top of his head as well.

  “I don’t need it… but thanks…” Umbra let out his long tongue and swiped any drops of water on his forehead.

  She leaned against him, trying to conserve any bit of energy she had, better yet if she could recover. While it was true that Tristia was no longer dehydrated, they were merely prolonging the inevitable.

  Seconds became a minute, and minutes became an hour. The hours eventually passed and soon, the sun was about to appear.

  The first ray of light revealed the true horror.

  Umbra hunched and leaned his failing body to his sabers. Every time he breathed, hot steam pumped out from his nose and mouth. What was left of his armor was tattered leather attached with the bolts and arrows riddling his body. Even then, the wounds that he received from the previous night was recovering. Even the spear stab wound on his torso had fused, forming a large scab.

  Tristia somehow managed to recovered her stamina even if barely. Even then, there was a bolt lodged on her left thigh. It did not seem like she was bleeding heavily as there was barely any blood seeping through her pants. However, the hydration from last night started to run dry. It would not be long before she needed more water.

  The mercenaries, on the other hand, looked fairly fresh. If they were exhausted, it might only be hinted by the brief movement of their shoulders every time they breathed. Yet, their eyes were still focus, their wounds were treated with herbs and alcohol, then bandaged. Except for the one mercenary who still had an arrow stuck in his eye socket, as no one dared to touch it.

  However, they, too lost their biggest strength. The archer and crossbowmen had run out of projectiles, forcing them to run around and pelt rocks at the two.

  As the visibility returned, the mercenaries looked at one another.

  Those who rested immediately stood, and joined in.

  However, they knew that they still had to be careful. If somehow, Umbra or Tristia discarded the act of self-preservation, they would have to prepared to lose at least one.

  Umbra, seeing that they were ready, straightened up his posture.

  The mercenaries instinctively held their position. As they took a closer look into his condition, fear started to to creep into their minds. They had cornered him, drained him of his stamina, yet… he was still able to stand up straight. Cold shiver ran down their spines.

  How was this man still alive? What made this beast not to scream with agony? What kind of terrifying will forced this monster to keep standing?

  Umbra sensed their fear. Did they truly adjusted their grips on their weapons? Was it him losing his own mind from exhaustion?

  Umbra lifted his right saber above his shoulder.

  That single change of stance alone made them hesitated. They looked back at the archers and crossbowmen who were scurrying around, trying to find more rocks.

  Umbra tested the water again. He changed his grip on his right saber to the loop guard instead of the hilt, rotating the sharp edge to the dull saber’s spine.

  The mercenaries flinched and looked at one another.

  He was sure.

  Umbra then tensed his left leg. He bit his own lips to silence his own grunting of pain. He could feel some of his wounds reopened as fresh blood trickled down from his legs.

  Tristia poked him with her elbows twice. She knew he wanted to try something.

  He looked around and noticed the mercenary who showed worried to the female Mountain People was to his left. If somehow, their feeling were true to one another… perhaps, he could use this.

  Umbra suddenly lowered his body and leaned his weight forward, like a runner was about to start, forcing a reaction to the mercenary in front of him.

  “Brace—”

  Umbra changed his weight immediately and lunged to the left, priming his right saber over his head.

  The mercenary he targeted took a brief step back and raised his guard. His instinct told him he had to block that attack. He tilted his head up, bracing his body.

  The others quickly cut around to the side.

  Tristia followed in, intercepting any attack as best as she could.

  As Umbra’s saber about to collide with the sword, the mercenary tilted his sword to the side, hoping that the saber would be redirected.

  However, Umbra let go of the saber right after it collided. His fist clenched to the side.

  The mercenary quickly guarded his left side and tucked his head to his shoulder. Would it be an overhead? Would it be a body shot? Or, would it be an uppercut? He simply had to see a brief twitch of Umbra’s shoulder.

  Umbra straightened his legs and snapped his neck upwards, faster that the mercenary could react.

  The horn skipped through the plate and impaled through the unprotected lower jaw, cutting through the helmet’s strap and into his skull.

  “NOOOO!” the female mercenary screamed in terror.

  “OY! Get your arse in—”

  The formation started to falter.

  Umbra ripped the body from his horn, its helmet tipped apart, revealing the mangled face as the horn cuts through his face from the inside.

  Seeds of panic started to spread.

  “DIE!” two mercenaries—one of them being the woman—passed through Tristia and aimed for him.

  Umbra threw the corpse at the other of the advancing mercenary, forcing him to dodge.

  The female mercenary managed to get in a good bite into his skin with a sword. Her emotion got the best of her and she didn’t realize that she was within his grappling distance.

  Umbra immediately grabbed the mercenary’s by her head. His giant hand almost covered her entire front helmet.

  “L-LET ME—”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  He pushed forward and slammed her head down. Her body was still twitching as her brain was scrambled by the massive blunt force trauma. Umbra, however, did not stop and slammed her helmet with his left saber’s pommel, caving in the entire helmet.

  “KILL HIM! QUICKLY!”

  They had to kill him as soon as possible.

  Tristia tried to block more attacks but ended up getting stabbed by another female mercenary in steel armor.

  “Stay down, you—”

  Umbra still managed to ram into the mercenary who stabbed Tristia. They both stumbled forward, Umbra on top of her with his elbow on her armor.

  “GH! Get off me!” in desperation, she threw more punches at him as her poleaxe would not do much in that range.

  Umbra kept pushing his entire weight to the chest of the mercenary.

  “KGH! Y-YOU!” the breastplate caved into the woman’s chest, “Fuck you…” her trembling hands tried to reach for his neck and choked him out.

  Umbra grunted, and lifted his body before ramming down into her chest again.

  “KGH!” The mercenary twitched as the pressure crushed through her chest, even breaking through her spine. The force bent the back of her breastplate into a concave. “Gh… kgh…” her hands weakened.

  “Grh…” Umbra’s neck twitched as a longsword stabbed his side, “Wait… your turn…” he growled and swatted the sword away.

  “Krgh… gh…” Tristia pulled out the sword on her stomach and wield it with her off-hand.

  The mercenaries were faltering—their formation was broken. Both Umbra and Tristia had more spaces to move around. Perhaps, they might have a chance.

  “ARCHERS! CROSSBOWS! GET YOUR FUCKIN’ ARROWS! OTHERS! SURROUND THEM!” an order ensued.

  Umbra and Tristia moved away from one another, forcing the mercenary to split up their manpower.

  However, that also gave some time for the archer and crossbowmen to move around and scavenge any used arrows or bolts.

  Some with the quickest mind quickly rushed Tristia. “Hold him off! Get the damn broad!”

  They knew if by chance she managed to draw her crossbow again, they might lose another mercenary.

  “Get the fuck away!”

  Tristia’s thigh was throbbing from the pain. She was not able to outpace her pursuers for long.

  She needed to get to Umbra for safety.

  The mercenaries actively blocked her route, forcing her to move even further from him.

  Umbra noticed that and quickly rammed his way to Tristia.

  “Brace!”

  One stood their ground in his path and stomped his rear leg.

  Umbra crashed against one of the mercenary as the mercenary caught him by his neck and tightened his grip, trying to choke him out by tightening the grip around his neck. He was dragged away along as the charge went slower. “Sleep you… fuckin… monster… just fuckin… sleep…” The mercenary managed to stop Umbra’s charge, and pushed his entire weight down to the Infernal, while putting more pressure to Umbra’s neck.

  “MOVE!” Umbra grabbed the mercenary by his stomach and lifted him up.

  “Fuck! FUCK! SHOOT HIM!” panicking, he repeatedly hit Umbra’s head with his elbow.

  “JUST SURROUND HIM! WHERE THE HELL ARE THE ARROWS?!”

  Umbra slammed the mercenary to his knee.

  “ARGH!”

  The steel chest plate bend, snapping his spine before Umbra threw him down.

  “YOU FUCK—NO! N—”

  With a single stomp, Umbra crushed through the man’s helmet and skull.

  However, it took so long that the mercenary managed to get into formation and surrounded Umbra, containing him once again.

  Moreover, the archer and crossbowmen had retrieved many of their ammunition.

  The battle favored towards the mercenaries.

  “Got her!” the archer shouted as he managed to follow up his shot and struck Tristia’s injured leg.

  “Fuckin—” she stumbled forward and crashed down.

  As Tristia about to stand, one of the mercenary quickly swung his sword, chopping through her trouser and leg cleanly. The sharp blade sliced through her leg almost like a butter. Even her bone did not even seem to halt the momentum.

  “AARGH! MY LEG! YOU FUCK! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

  Her stump swiveled inward, almost like bouncing back. The blood, instead of gushing out uncontrollably, just oozed out.

  Tristia snatched her belt from her pants, trying desperately to pull the belt. She then wrapped the belt around her leg and tied it up. “FUCK! YOU FUCKER!”

  One more mercenary approached her, he still had a heavy bolt sticking at his visor, blood dripped down his chin. He grabbed Tristia’s face, forcing her to look at the bolt in his eye socket, “See this, you bloody whore? You like your leg, huh? Let’s see if you fuckin like this!”

  “No! NO! What are—”

  He brought down his blade, chopping her remaining leg off.

  “AAARGGHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

  “Shut the fuck up!” he kicked her stomach.

  “FUCK YOU!” Tristia quickly tore her own quiver and used the strap to bind the other leg, dropping the heavy bolts all over, “FUCK! FUCK!”

  “Oy… focus, we have to kill that Infernal fuck…” one of the crossbowmen picked up Tristia’s crossbow and grabbed the dropped bolts. “Ain’t worth the Shells to keep him alive…”

  “Aye… it should almost fucking done… he’s gassed out…”

  “Give me a clear shot,” he reloaded Tristia’s crossbow.

  “Alright…”

  Ignoring the cry of pain of Tristia, they solely focused on Umbra.

  Umbra barely had any stamina left after that forced outburst of energy. He simply had enough to stumble back while parrying and making more distance. He did not even managed retrieve his main saber.

  That was a perfect opportunity for the archers to take aim at his right side.

  Once again, Umbra did not bother to block the bolts or arrows, but he looked around whenever he heard a cranking sound which was generated by Tristia’s crossbow.

  They looked to the mercenary wielding Tristia’s crossbow who was already aiming right at his chest.

  The crossbowman nodded.

  They then pressured Umbra further, forcing him to block their attack instead of focusing on the crossbowman.

  Just as the crossbowman got a clear unobstructed view, he pulled the trigger.

  Tristia, at her final struggle, bit the leg of the crossbowman.

  “FUCK! YOU DAMN WHORE!”

  She didn’t even let go as he lashed out, ripping the skin off his calf.

  “ARGH! FUCK! Fuck you, you fuckin’ whore!” he started to stomp Tristia repeatedly.

  She couldn’t fight back, except to just block whatever she could with her arms. She rolled to the side, hoping that her arms able to bear the brunt.

  The crossbowman primed up his leg and kick her chest with enough force to throw her away. He was about to approach her.

  “OY! Reload that bloody thing! Leave the fuckin’ broad!”

  He looked towards Umbra. Instead of lodging in his head, the heavy bolt struck his right arm and pierced through the muscle and into the bone.

  They quickly focused to his right arm, instead of his torso or head.

  Umbra shielded his arm with his tails and with his left saber, yet it was futile.

  The arm twitched with every strike, the flesh stretched thinner. His blood slowly dripped down even further down his arm. Eventually, it gave up.

  His right arm dangled, only held together by several pieces of muscle.

  Still, they did not relent.

  One more strike, the longsword sliced through.

  His bloodied arm fall off, leaving jagged bones and torn muscle as blood started to ooze out.

  Yet, he did not flinch, just a brief twitch at his mouth and eyes.

  The mercenaries knew that it was over.

  Umbra could still stand, but it was solely fueled by spite.

  But, they needed a decisive strike to bring him down. They noticed Umbra had put almost all his attention to the crossbowman who was holding Tristia’s crossbow.

  They might be able to use that.

  They cornered him even further, forcing him to block on every angle, breaking his sight to the crossbowman for more than five seconds.

  Through that five seconds, Umbra briefly heard hurried footsteps. He tried to track where they went, but before he managed to see through it, the footsteps ended.

  As he got his bearing back, he glanced to the side. He saw it.

  The same crossbowman just raised his crossbow and aimed at him.

  Umbra quickly shielded his head and heart with the saber just as the bolt exited the crossbow. He braced his feet, trying to ignore everything else as his body screamed for mercy.

  The bolt bounced against his saber.

  Umbra flinched. The concussion was light, too light even. His eyes widened: it was not the heavy bolt from Tristia’s crossbow.

  He scanned around in panic, even ignoring several more stabs to his torso. He turned his head to the left, then, he saw it: the heavy crossbow at another crossbowman, trigger already pulled.

  His head snapped backward before his body followed. He dropped down on his back, out cold, with the heavy bolt lodged in his forehead.

  The bolt was redirected by his horn. However, the flex made as the bolt hit the tough horn, forced the bolt into his forehead instead of being deflected by the angle of his forehead.

  Some quickly fall down, some just lay down, exhausted.

  “Fuck… finally…”

  “Good call… on switching crossbow,” the crossbowmen sighed, giving a thumb-up.

  “Aye… lucky bastard, don’t you think?”

  “Why… you say… that?” one mercenary panted.

  “He fuckin turned his head at the last moment… I aimed at his temple… it should pierce through his skull…”

  “No matter, he should still be dead…”

  Two mercenaries then repeatedly stomped at Umbra’s right leg, no movement except for a brief twitch of his leg. “Alright… he’s dead…”

  “Is that… a little… excessive?” one still panted.

  “He is an Infernal… just make sure he’s dead, eh?”

  They shrugged. “As you say…”

  “Ho… check his wrist or something… he got his eyes on it…”

  “This?”

  A broken one-piece rope necklace, including the oddly shaped liontin.

  “Trinket from Gambit, ain’t it?”

  “S’pose so… how about the broad…”

  Tristia laid unconscious, her stump barely oozed any more blood.

  One mercenary crouched down and checked her breath. “Alive… she lost quite some blood, but… we can still save her…”

  “Good, okay… now, let us—”

  A repeated clapping sound was heard. “Bravo… you managed to down them… and without too much casualties at that.”

  The mercenaries froze to see how much people were approaching.

  “Yet, I really doubt they both are bandits so…”

  A huge group of medium armored group, consisting of both male and female Grass Walkers. Their choice of blunt weapons for non-lethal fight and sparser metal plates with leather-based armor without any hindrance to mobility only meant one thing, “Are they… slave traders?”

  “R-Run…”

  “But our loots…”

  “FUCKING RUN!”

  “Get them, boys!”

  The leader of the slave traders whistled as she looked at Tristia.

  Ten of the other slave traders stayed behind, looting and trying to treat Tristia’s wound. “Crippled female Mountain People, huh? Should fetch some good price for some nobles…” Then, his gaze shifted to Umbra, “Why they have to shoot his head, huh?” he crouched down to Umbra, “Such a shame… Ice Infernal are bloody rare.” He grabbed Umbra’s head, brushing aside his hair, revealing more scarring, from deep gash to shallow cut, even his left ear was half cut. “Fuckin hell… some noble ladies like this scarred type.” He then opened Umbra’s eyes, revealing his pale green eyes with vertical slit. “Fuckin’ son of a whore…” he sighed.

  “What’s wrong, Boss?”

  “He got green eyes,” he stood.

  “Green? Like leaves or something?”

  “No, pale green… kinda yellow…” he grunted. “Fuck… he would worth a damn fortune.”

  “You think he should still be good, Boss?” one crouched down and put his fingers close to Umbra’s nostrils. “Still breathing…”

  “Well, remember they stomped his leg?”

  “Fuck… yeah…”

  “Salvage what we could, eh? Don’t be too greedy and lose both.”

  “Aye, aye, Boss.”

  They looted Umbra, stripping him of his armor, even his large boots.

  “What the fuck…”

  “What?”

  “Ain’t see Infernal foot, Boss… but ain’t that look like a beast’s foot?” just a single nail from his toe probably could gore through their neck.

  “Aye… what of it then?”

  “Well, just learn something new… I reckon…”

  Some slave traders quickly approached Tristia. They striped her of anything valuable and treated her stump to stop the bleeding.

  One slaver trader whistled as he lowered her hood, revealing her scarred face and short silver hair. “Seems a catch, Boss… a bit scarred, but still kinda easy on the eye.”

  There was burnt mark that went from her left lower face, neck, and left shoulder. Multiple scarring were also seen at her right temple, tearing through her right ear down to her lower cheek, marring her lips slightly. There were some balding spot because of the scarring.

  “Aye, some prefer the rough type,” the Boss grabbed her chin and stared at her face up and down. “Still should fetch a high price. Clean her up, then.”

  “Aye, Boss.”

  As the slave traders wiped off the blood and dirt of Tristia, they flinched, noticing that she probably would not even survive the trip. Even if she did, the treatment probably cost more than her value. “Uh, Boss?”

  “What is it?”

  They looked awkwardly. “I don’t think she would survive either…”

  “Why?” he approached them then noticed that her sternum was caved in. “Bloody fucking hell! Not only we lost the fuckin Infernal and now her too?! Fuckin’ piece of shit!” he kicked one of the dead mercenaries repeatedly, venting out his anger. “Fuck… fuck! Get those bastards bloody asses! I want them fuckin shackled!”

  “Aye, Boss!” they grabbed the remaining loots and left.

  For them, Umbra and Tristia might not even worth to be sold, not even as half-broken slaves.

  ******

  Research Log 3.

  Agent: Creep. Class: [REDACTED]

  Okay, since my name is redacted… so I assume this will not be any matter. To the simulation.

  As predicted in my previous note, the Subjects lost.

  (Sipping coffee)

  The machine works significantly better than we first anticipated. It does sound a bit game-y on the crossbow switch by the mercenaries. But, it is… somehow quite realistic.

  Also, as we hope, the simulator does not hold back even against the primary subjects. I do notice now that the simulator gives the nameless characters more emotions than our previous version, especially when the Mercenary 6 cut of Subject 1’s other leg just purely out of spite… not logical, of course, but… very humane.

  (Chair creaking)

  On to the slave traders’ arrival. This is a very wild occurrence… I do not notice this before, but it is in Session 2’s prompt and also in Session 3’s. ‘Generating Distant Actors’. Not just wildlife, the simulator also creates a whole ecosystem based on the closest settlement, which is… Gambit. This is more than we expect.

  I think this is promising enough for me to write a proposal to add more memory cards…

  (Sipping coffee)

  (Porcelain mug placed on the wooden desk.)

  Okay… combat.

  Subject 0’s ‘rage’ looks to be too long, however, if we consider his race model, it might be why.

  As expected, Subject 1’s rubbery biology is far superior to normal humans, but with some caveats. As their name implied, their rubbery bones do not fare well against sharp blade.

  For the next session, I assume we might change to another character’s point of view.

  However, let me see the damage first… oh… okay… very interesting.

  Subject 0 still shows significant brain activity despite the damage to the frontal lobe. If Subject 0 were a normal human… once again, the sole reason I do not like random characters as primary point of view… he would be dead instantly… but for a Demonoid? I expect his brain… or at least a part of it, to turn into mush in 24 hours time, a bit less perhaps…

  And, Subject 1. Legs condition? The blood vessels sealed themselves… as expected. Chest… squished organs but almost unharmed. Why do I even check? How about TBI? Okay, negligible... so, her brain is rubbery, too, huh?

  I will just run the simulator and program it to stop when one of them wakes up or both dies.

  (Paper scrapping)

  Update on the proposal. I am still waiting for the clearance to add new subjects.