I stepped over his corpse without a second glance, my attention focused entirely on the remaining threats. Including Arlos, there were still four of these animals left to deal with.
"He's just a kid!" Arlos's voice cracked with panic as he screamed at his remaining men. "Kill him, you idiots! What are you waiting for?"
The three surviving bandits drew their weapons with trembling hands, their earlier confidence completely shattered.
But Arlos himself wasn't taking any chances. Instead of joining the fight, he grabbed Lisa roughly by the hair and pressed his dagger against her throat, using her as a human shield while his men advanced on me.
The first bandit—a burly man with arms like tree trunks—charged forward with a desperate war cry, swinging his sword in a wide arc aimed at my head. I swept my hand upward, and the earth responded to my call.
A wall of packed soil and stone erupted from the forest floor, rising between us with a sound like distant thunder. The bandit's sword bit deep into the earthen barrier, the blade sinking nearly to its hilt in the magically hardened dirt.
His eyes widened in shock as he realized his weapon was completely stuck. He tugged desperately at the grip, putting his full weight behind the effort, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to free his sword.
He was still struggling when my fist punched through the wall like it was made of paper.
The impact of my knuckles against his nose was sickeningly wet—a sound like breaking kindling mixed with the squelch of crushed cartilage. Blood exploded across his face as he stumbled backward, his hands flying up to cover his ruined features.
Before he could recover, I yanked his sword free from the earthen wall and stepped forward in one fluid motion. The blade slid between his ribs with surprising ease, finding the gap in his leather armor and piercing his heart. He let out a single, choked cry before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, his blood pooling in the fallen leaves beneath him.
Two down.
The remaining pair tried to flank me, coming at me from behind with their weapons raised. But the water that had killed their crossbow-wielding friend was still under my control, and it responded to my will like an extension of my own body.
A torrent of crystalline liquid erupted from the ground behind me, forming a protective barrier that caught their descending blades. The water didn't just stop their attack—it absorbed the force of their strikes, the magical construct rippling and undulating like a living thing.
Then it went on the offensive.
The water began swirling around both men with hypnotic grace, climbing up their legs and torsos like liquid serpents. They tried to back away, terror written across their faces, but the magical constructs followed them relentlessly.
"What is this?!" One of them screamed, dropping his sword to claw frantically at the water engulfing his chest. "Get it off! GET IT OFF!"
But there was no escape. The water forced its way into their mouths and noses in a relentless torrent, filling their lungs faster than they could expel it. Their eyes bulged with panic as they realized they were drowning while standing on dry land.
The pressure built within their bodies as more and more water forced its way inside, their flesh stretching and distending in ways that should have been impossible. Finally, their bodies simply couldn't contain any more.
They burst like overripe fruit.
Blood and viscera exploded outward in a crimson spray that painted the nearby trees and undergrowth. But none of it touched me—the water that had killed them formed a protective dome around me, deflecting every drop of gore before dissolving back into the earth.
Four down.
I turned around, expecting to face Arlos in a final confrontation, but the clearing was empty except for Lisa, who was struggling to get back to her feet. The coward had abandoned his men the moment the tide of battle turned, fleeing into the darkening forest like the vermin he was.
"Harold!" Lisa cried and rushed toward me.
The adrenaline that had been sustaining me finally began to fade, and I felt my legs give out beneath me. I collapsed to my knees just as she reached me, the wound in my stomach sending waves of fire through my entire body.
"Harold!" She dropped down beside me, her arms wrapping around me in a desperate embrace. When she pulled back to look at my face, her eyes were wide with concern and barely contained panic. "Oh god, you're bleeding so much..."
The pain was unlike anything I'd experienced in this new life—a deep, burning agony that seemed to radiate from my core to every nerve ending in my body. When was the last time I'd felt pain like this? Probably not since my final day as James. But I didn't care about the pain. All that mattered was that Lisa was safe.
I reached up with a trembling hand, my thumb gently brushing away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "Are you okay, Lisa?" I asked.
The question seemed to break something inside her. Her composure, which had held through the terror and violence, finally crumbled. She buried her face against my shoulder and sobbed—great, heaving cries that shook her entire body.
"You idiot!" She managed between sobs. "You stupid, reckless idiot! You could have died!"
I held her as tightly as my injured body would allow, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair and letting the warmth of her presence chase away the cold that had been creeping into my bones. In that moment, something crystallized in my mind—a realization that hit me with startling clarity.
I had never felt this way about anyone before. Not in this life, not in my previous existence as James. The women I had known on Earth—Ashley and the others I had manipulated and used—they would probably laugh themselves sick if they could see me now. Harold the seducer, Harold the player, brought to his knees by genuine love for one woman.
They wouldn't understand that this wasn't weakness. This was strength I had never known I possessed.
"Lisa," I said softly, my hand stroking her hair. "I need you to listen to me."
She lifted her head, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "What is it?"
"I need to keep healing this wound, but it's going to take time. The blade was enchanted—I can feel the magic fighting against my healing spells." I gestured weakly toward the abandoned cart. "While I'm recovering, you need to check those sacks. We need to know what we're dealing with here."
Lisa's face went pale as she followed my gaze to the weathered wagon. The three burlap sacks sat in the bed.
"You think they're..." She began, then stopped, unable to voice the terrible possibility.
"Bodies," I finished grimly. "Probably people they kidnapped from other attacks. We need to know how many, and we need to see if any of them are still alive."
Lisa nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Stay here and focus on healing. I'll... I'll check them."
As she stood and walked toward the cart, I closed my eyes and poured my remaining strength into the healing magic flowing through my palm. The golden light was dimmer now, my magical reserves dangerously depleted, but it was still working. Slowly, painfully, the torn flesh began to knit itself back together.
I should have killed that Arlos, damn it.
He knows us now.
What was the probability of him coming back for revenge or worse?
The sound of Lisa gasping interrupted my thoughts. I opened my eyes to see Lisa looking down at the opened sacks.
"Lisa?" I called out. "What is it?"
"Harold," Lisa looked at me. "They're... I think they are alive."
Her hand trembled as she reached toward the nearest sack, hesitating just inches away from the coarse burlap. "Hey, are you okay?" She called softly.
I pushed myself to my feet, letting out a slight groan of pain. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, but I forced them to hold.
"You should get them out of their sacks, Lisa," I said.
Lisa nodded without hesitation, her hunting knife already in her hand.
Lisa worked methodically, first freeing the bonds around the top of each sack before carefully lowering the three figures to the ground. They were unconscious but breathing – shallow, steady breaths that spoke of drugged sleep rather than mortal injury.
When I reached them I could finally get a clear look at them.
All three appeared younger than me. Two of them shared the same striking red hair – the kind of vibrant copper that caught light like flame. The resemblance was there: siblings, without doubt. The boy appeared to be perhaps my age or slightly younger, with the gangly frame of youth still transitioning to manhood. His sister looked to be maybe one or two years younger than her brother.
But it was the third captive who truly took my attention.
Her hair was a rich chestnut brown, the kind of lustrous locks that had clearly never known a day of neglect. Even disheveled from her ordeal, the strands caught the light with an almost ethereal quality, falling in soft waves around a face that belonged in a portrait rather than a bandit's sack. Her dress – though rumpled and stained with dirt – was cut from fabric so fine it seemed to shimmer. The deep blue silk was embroidered with silver thread in patterns that spoke of master craftsmen and coin enough to commission their work. Everything about her, from the soft pallor of her skin to the way her hands rested gracefully even in unconsciousness, screamed nobility.
That bastard Arlos surely caught himself a prize.
While I was lost in these dark considerations, Lisa had already retrieved her water pouch and begun the delicate work of rousing our unexpected charges. She sprinkled the cool liquid across their faces with the gentle touch of someone accustomed to tending wounded animals, murmuring soft encouragements under her breath.
The noble girl was the first to stir, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings before her eyes snapped open. They were the most extraordinary shade of green I had ever seen – not the muddy color of forest shadows, but bright and clear like spring leaves in morning sunlight. For a moment, those remarkable eyes simply stared up at the canopy above, confusion clouding their depths.
Then awareness crashed over her like a wave.
She gasped sharply and bolted upright only to immediately collide with the wooden handle of the cart with a thud.
"Ouch!" The cry escaped her lips before she could stop it, and tears of genuine pain gathered at the corners of those stunning eyes as she pressed both hands to her head.
Her pained exclamation acted like a catalyst, and the two redheaded siblings began to stir almost simultaneously. Their eyes opened more slowly, confusion giving way to dawning awareness and then to stark terror as they took in their surroundings – and us.
The brother's reaction was immediate and protective. He lunged toward his sister with surprising speed for someone just awakening from drugged sleep, his arm sweeping around her shoulders as he scrambled backwards across the forest floor. Leaves and twigs caught in their hair as they retreated, leaving a small trail of disturbed earth in their wake.
"L—Let us go!" He shouted as his arm tightened around his sister, and I could see the way his free hand searched frantically for any weapon within reach.
"Kyaa! Big brother Riley!" The girl let out a piercing scream that sent birds scattering from the trees above us.
"What is it, Zoey?!" Riley spun around, following his sister's horrified gaze, and that's when he saw what had captured her attention.
One of the bandits I had killed lay sprawled not ten feet away.
Riley's face went ashen, all the color draining from his features until he looked like a ghost himself. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and I thought he might be sick.
"Wha—what do you want?!" The noble girl had found her voice again, and though fear made it shake slightly, there was steel underlying her words. She had managed to push herself fully upright despite the obvious pain in her head, and she faced us with the kind of composure that spoke of high breeding and expensive education. Even disheveled and terrified, she carried herself with quite dignity. "My mother can give you all the money you want!"
Lisa stepped forward quickly, her hands raised in a peaceful gesture.
"Wait, there's been a misunderstanding. We were hunting when these bandits attacked us. We fought back in self-defense, and then we found you three in those sacks..." She gestured at the scattered bodies around us. "We're not with them. We're hunters, not bandits."
The three captives looked at each other with the kind of silent communication that spoke of shared trauma, their eyes darting between Lisa and me before taking in the carnage scattered around the clearing. I could see them processing the evidence: our hunting leathers, stained now with blood and dirt but clearly well-made and practical. The bow slung across Lisa's shoulder. My knife, obviously a hunter's weapon rather than a bandit's crude blade.
Slowly, very slowly, I saw understanding begin to dawn in their eyes. We didn't look like we belonged to the same group as the dead bandits.
Now who were they exactly?