You let them die.

  The blue gleam of the pristine blade shines against the green flesh. I pull Lugnir out of the troll's stomach and watch him stagger until he collapses, pathetic, onto the ground. Desperate, he tries to gather the organs leaking out of his body, but it's too late. I see the light fade from his treacherous eyes, and what was once concern becomes emptiness. Black and red blood mix in the brown mud beneath my feet.

  My heart pounds in my ears, my eyes burn from the irritating vapor created by the acid blood coming into contact with the ground. I wipe the red from my mouth with the gray of the gauntlet and catch my breath.

  Next.

  A weary warrior fights another troll. Creatures of irregular sizes, they could be half the height of an adult or twice that. Hair here and there on bulbous, oily skin, dry like their hair. Green, gray, or brown, their countenance is that of a savage, deformed, grotesque subhuman who behaves like a rat.

  I approach as a blur and Lugnir collides with the tribal creature's bone sword. With brute force and size, he uses his weight to knock me down in a charge, but I slide to the side and let the clumsy creature fall to the ground. I turn my body at the same moment he tries to get up and sever his head with a clean blow. Next.

  I dodge to the right to avoid a stone from a catapult, and spin on my axis to parry an attack against my back. The brown creature's curved blade dances momentarily against mine. It thrusts at my head and I, on guard, parry the attack and charge. The creature moves and takes the blow, blocked by metal and thick skin, then uses its proximity to strike me in the side.

  The pain burns and rises through my body, I feel something crack in my ribs. Thrown to the ground, I roll to my feet, inhale, and charge again as it prepares a heavy attack from above. The blades approach. I maximize the emission and see the sword pass close to my face, then hit the armor on my shoulder. It detaches from the rest.

  The impact makes my body shake, but it doesn't stop the attack from continuing. I pierce the troll's throat and see it fall dead to the ground. My shoulder throbs, but it's not broken.

  That's enough.

  Next.

  Wizards enchant, dance, and draw symbols in unison at the center of our formation. Multicolored barriers shine in the skies and deflect bursts of energy, hurricanes, and torrents of pressurized water.

  I charge at an unsuspecting troll and pierce its heart, then raise my shield and maximize its emission to block a cart that was thrown at me. Even together, the aura cannot filter everything.

  Still, I remain standing. The sun had not yet risen when we began the battle, and now it was beginning to set. Dozens and dozens of soldiers in small skirmishes to dominate points of interest, now fallen to the ground, more exhausted than wounded.

  Our numbers are dwindling, but an armada still advances ahead of the defense line. Men hardened by losing what they care about fight with their last breath. The gleam in their eyes is enough to remind me that victory was near: the monsters took my bait.

  Zherdos warned me that it was foolish, but he doesn't understand my duty. Dufae has been destroyed. Arlong is dead. I am next in line. I am the one who must lead the battalion that serves as bait to lure the monsters out of the camp. And yet, even if another battalion corners them in the rear, I will be the one to kill Organom.

  I pierce the eye of a small monster and drill through its skull before it can react. Next. I roll backward and leave an impact that shakes the ground, charge at the unprotected monster, and rip open its belly. Next. I explode forward to cut off a troll's hand before it can raise a club almost as big as its body, then I slit its throat. Next.

  On the horizon, the main tower of Organom Camp stretches out. Made of wood and reinforced at its base with irregular stones, the structure is decorated with mammoth and boar bones. It is empty, as its leader lies in front of it.

  The bear-man stands three meters tall and carries a large axe. One of his eyes is injured, one of his arms lacerated. Surrounded by soldiers, his chain mail is bloodied and his purple gambeson is already torn. He survives by sheer willpower.

  In a duel, it is common for warriors to save their mana so that they can explode with strength and speed at a crucial moment. Surprise and physical superiority over the opponent mean that even postures considered useless by humans can become excellent. Spins, for example, are a similar case. Without having to lower your guard, all that remains is the superior power of momentum.

  Trolls do not possess this knowledge. Creatures largely without consciousness, they have not mastered either swordplay or magic sufficiently. Beastfolk are different. More than that, he is different.

  Sweat drips down the side of my face. My hands tremble, my fists ache, and my knuckles turn from white to red as the tension spreads through the rest of my arm. I stagger as I watch other soldiers rush past me and prevent me from being impaled.

  The strategy worked. We won. We…

  Organom smashes his axe against a soldier's shield and breaks it. Thrown to the ground, the soldier screams in pain, his arm broken.

  I take a deep breath. Once, twice, three times.

  You let them die.

  My body moves on instinct. My speed increases, my legs burn. I rush forward and leave my comrades behind. I cut through the enemy's defenses like a knife through butter, Lugnir shining like lightning scarring the skies and piercing through metal.

  Behead. Next. Chop. Next. Slash. Next. Shred. Next. Crush. Next. Next. Next. Next. Next. Next. Again and again and again and again and again and again.

  Organom throws another soldier to the ground and wields his axe. I throw Lugnir from a distance, and the beast is forced to deflect the blade to avoid being decapitated. He stares at me, then braces himself for the impact. The ground shakes as my footsteps grow louder.

  Comrades fall dead in a black forest. Bodies pierced by wooden pillars burn while a fairy prays to demonic gods. Deafening screams from men who once fought alongside me.

  The world becomes a blur around me. I gather speed, impact, and strength; intensify density, weight, acceleration, and all attributes I can. I increase the emission until my body almost breaks under the pressure; grit my teeth, jump into the air, and punch the beast-man's axe.

  Pieces of metal fly through the air as my fist pierces the axe and punches the beast. The first tremor is heard when Organom is thrown against the wooden wall, the second is felt when it explodes with a bang.

  Terrified looks from beasts, trolls, and men turn towards the interior of the camp, now open. Stakes fly into the camp. Confused monsters. A blade glitters amid the wreckage, but it is impossible to retrieve it in the heat of battle. A blond-haired human feels his body give up, but he refuses to let that happen. I walk through the wreckage as the noise of battle fades behind me. All that exists is what is in front of me.

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  And there, Organom stretches out.

  The beast vomits blood as he leans on his tower, but he catches his breath and laughs.

  “Ah… This feeling… How long has it been since I felt so alive?” He cracks his body. “You… Who are you?”

  I inhale. “My name is Elron Ainsworth, eldest son of Arlong Ainsworth II. I am the chief of the village of Dufae. Repent and give up, or I will eliminate you.”

  “Arlong Ainsworth, eh? I see. You're that old bastard's son. That strength makes sense, then.” He says, then fixes his posture and inhales, apparently recovered. “He and I had a history. I always thought I would be the one to devour him. But I guess I'm too late, aren't I?”

  “…”

  The laughter deepens. “You don't look like him! Look at your face! You look like a well-groomed woman trying to pass herself off as a man! Tell me, heir, how exactly do you intend to kill me without that blue blade? Do you really think I'm going to let a princess beat me to death?!”

  I gather the phlegm and blood and spit. I walk over to Organom as he speaks.

  “Oh, what's that? Did Aldwyn eat your tongue too? He must have enjoyed eating your things. That's the only reason he would go after his father after eating your m-”

  I lunge forward. My fist sinks into the beast-man's flesh, making his eyes widen, then his teeth grind. A quick fist comes down on me, I dodge to the side and kick him in the kidney. He roars for a second and grabs me by the neck, his claws almost decapitating me.

  He prepares to tear me apart, but I bite one of his fingers and rip it off, along with part of his hand. With the pressure of his grip loosened, I grab the fist that tries to hit me with one hand and the one that surrounds me with the other.

  I headbutt the bear-man's nose and feel something crack in his skull, then in mine when he punches me. I am thrown to the ground, my nose bleeding.

  He brings both hands together and tries to crush me, but I roll to the right and narrowly avoid being hit. He kicks and hits my chest squarely, a burning sensation spreading as I hit my back against one of the pieces of wooden debris.

  The beast advances, I move my head and his hand goes through the wood where it was. I take advantage of the distance, capture the bear's arm with my legs, and use his uneven posture to throw him to the ground.

  Then I retreat. If I locked his arm, I could have broken it, but he would have torn my leg off. The trade doesn't seem good to me. He gets into position and I return to mine. Sweat drips from the corners of our faces.

  Silence spreads, our eyes meet before our bodies do. One second. Two.

  I bolt.

  Organom tears through with an overhead kick, I duck the attack, build up pressure, jump, and land a straight punch to his jaw. Another crack, the beast staggers. I charge while he's still recovering, spin, and land a low kick to his knee. His leg almost gives way, but the beast holds on and throws himself at me.

  Its weight crushes me, intensified. The ground shakes as I lift the knee pressing against my chest. I wait for an opening to escape and restart the fight, but it never comes.

  Organom grabs my leg.

  He sinks his claws into my limb, then spins his body and takes me with him. The beast throws me against the tower, my back piercing solid stone like papier-maché. I spit blood and fight for air just enough to throw myself up the stairs.

  Below, Organom charges and tramples the rubble I was standing on. I retreat to the upper floors as the monster tries to reach me, destroying wood with his fists and tearing stone with his claws.

  Wild and uncontrolled. I grab one of the doors amid the chaos and smash it against his head, then lunge forward and deliver a double kick to his chest. The beast falls down the destroyed stairs and I charge to punch it through another door.

  The pain would make me cry if I stopped to care about it. No. I can't afford that luxury. While mesmerized by the dance of blood and the music of breaking bones, I can keep fighting.

  Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.

  The ground shakes.

  I kick his kidney, and it pops, Organom punches me in the stomach and something inside me breaks. I roll to dodge a blow, get hit by another, and retreat until I find an opening and land another blow.

  The violence of punches and claws destroys the tower from the inside out, invading the rooms of former mercenaries and shaking the unstable structure. I punch your neck, my rib breaks, I headbutt your jaw, you tear my chest.

  We exchange blows until there are no more to exchange. At the top of the tower, the ground shakes for a second and final time.

  Tons of materials accumulated during invasions and collections collapse. Rocks throw clouds of dust into the air and shake the ground. The noise of battle is completely forgotten. Minutes pass slowly as the rubble finally ceases.

  Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

  My body is wrong.

  My heart is still beating, but I don't think it should be. I can't breathe. I force myself up, down, and sideways, pushing through the jagged pieces that pinned me to the ground. When I break free, I gasp for air. My ears ring. My vision blurs. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can no longer feel my arms. If it weren't for instinct, I wouldn't be able to get up.

  I stagger out of the wreckage. My nose bleeds. My chest bleeds. It's easier to say what isn't. Meters ahead, Organom clings to a piece of wreckage. One of his arms is torn off. The other is broken. Teeth are missing, his throat is destroyed, one eye is gouged out, and his thigh is pierced by a stake I drove into him.

  “Looks like you lost, Ainsworth.” He laughs, even though he spits blood in the process.

  Ba-dump.

  I look down.

  A stake pierces my stomach.

  “You already know…” He says, then pulls the stake out of his leg. “… You don't have much mana left. Regenerate and I'll kill you… Don't regenerate and you die. Either way, I'll make sure to swallow you before the sun goes down…”

  Dizziness. Memories invade my vision.

  Dead and devoured civilians. Flames burning houses. A creature from another world invades the village.

  A friend destroys what you loved most.

  I pull out the stake.

  I focus the intensification on regeneration. Open wounds burn, then heal. Some disappear. Cuts, bruises. Some, like the torn skin on my chest, remain. It doesn't matter. In my current state, the most I can do is delay the internal injuries from causing my body to collapse.

  My legs still shake. Hot skin against the cold rain. Rain. When did it start raining? Am I becoming like him?

  I inhale and punch my arm to stop it from shaking, then put both arms in front of me.

  “Come.”

  The beast lunges. I maximize my emission one last time and grab his wrists, one of his hands still raw from not being able to regenerate completely. Organom grits his teeth and his feet sink into the ground, trying to push me down.

  My muscles tremble. I hear tendons almost snap under the pressure, my feet digging into the ground. I feel something break inside my arms and spread through my chest.

  You let them die.

  But my body doesn't give in.

  A scream explodes from my throat. I pull the beast toward me with all my strength, its weight and pressure being used against it as I throw it to the ground. The ground erupts, stones flying along with bones. Organom rolls on the ground and roars in pain.

  I charge.

  A low kick finishes breaking his leg, a hook destroys his jaw. He dislocates my arm with a kick and throws me against a rock, I throw myself before lethargy reaches me. We fight on the ground, malformed claws tear the skin as my fists crush his skull against the rock.

  There is no more regeneration to glue the organs back together, to resist the injuries or ignore the pain. Chin, nose, jaw, throat, kidney. I push my body until I feel exhaustion give up on me, until my head gives up trying to make me stop. If the air runs out, I fight without it. If my hand breaks, I close it and use it anyway, until he swallows everything he said, until he cries, until he explodes from the inside out—

  You let them die.

  One punch. Two, three, four, five, six—

  You let them die.

  Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

  You let them die.

  Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—

  You let them die.

  Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—

  You let them die.

  You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve it. You—

  “Elron?”

  I turn toward the voice. Black hair, brown eyes.

  “...Cloud?” I say, then feel my throat burn from one of the cuts.

  I look around. Organom's body is unrecognizable. A destroyed tower crushes the camp, a dozen animalistic corpses surround me. Cold runs down my spine, as cold as the rain.

  Rain. It's raining. I forgot again.

  It weighs against my shoulder, the heat of my body finally subsiding. Pain. Pain burns through my chest, my hands, my arm. Every part of my body, every muscle. My legs buckle and I collapse to the ground, but Cloud stops me from crashing.

  “Hey, hey!” he says. “Calm down. Breathe. Come on, you…”

  He presses his hand against a bleeding wound on my stomach that I hadn't noticed. His eyes widen, and he looks around to see if anyone is nearby.

  “You can survive. You've done it before, haven't you? You've already…”

  He hesitates to say that I've survived worse things, then thinks of one or two phrases that I can no longer hear. I force myself to stand up.

  “We won…” I say. “Where is… everyone?”

  A few seconds pass before he answers. “We won. It's true, there's no one around. I'll drag you out of here, just… Just don't close your eyes, okay!?”

  A laugh escapes my mouth. Blood drips onto the floor next to it.

  “Come on, Elron,” Cloud says. “Don't leave me here alone. No—HEY! DON'T CLOSE YOUR—”