“[Fireball]!” Jack shouted. A crackling sphere of flame shot from his left palm; the used spell scroll disintegrated after use.

  The [Fireball] struck the swordsman in the chest, igniting his leather armour and flesh in a roaring inferno.

  Jack lunged forward, dagger drawn, sliding against the hallway wall to avoid the collapsing steel blade. Vital points. Aim for vital points! He pictured multiple vital points in his mind. Neck, eyes, groin, armpits, heart, lungs…

  The swordsman’s guttural screams of agony filled the corridor as his leather armour, skin and hair charred and melted under the searing heat.

  Jack flinched at the heat, the smell of burning flesh, and the screaming swordsman. For a heartbeat, he was back home, slamming his shoulder against the flaming, locked door where his mother, sister, and brother burned.

  Their screams for help urged him to knock down the door and save them. “I have to save them!” he cried. The flames surged, and Jack was forced to crawl out of his burning home… without his family. He wanted to die, but his body refused to listen…

  Jack smashed into the smouldering swordsman, the heat still present. Still disorientated from the flashback, he slammed the dagger deep into the swordsman’s gut and tore it free. “I fucking hate you!” he screamed as he saw Greaves before him, his smug, grinning face, his wispy blond hair under the stupid top hat.

  The palm of Jack’s right hand itched.

  They tumbled into the narrow alleyway. The swordsman’s form slumped against the sandstone wall with Jack kneeling on him. The swordsman’s torso was a ruin of scraps of smoking leather and blackened flesh, his head a grotesque mass of red, hairless skin, his ears gone, his eyes melted shut.

  The swordsman’s hands flailed, catching Jack hard in the face. Stars danced before his eyes as blood dripped from his nose. He thrust the dagger at the swordsman’s neck, but missed, instead burying it deep in his shoulder as it scraped against a metal plate in smouldering leather armour.

  Jack’s palm itched more as he ripped the weapon free and slid the blade under the man’s jaw and deep into his brain. He twisted, causing bone to crunch, ensuring the swordsman’s end.

  As he withdrew the dagger, a surge of power coursed through his veins, his aching muscles from his earlier archery training soothed by the furious energy. Still kneeling, he glanced towards the alley’s corner. Linda and Sam stood there, wide-eyed and motionless, too shocked to act.

  Jack offered the two young women a crooked, wide-eyed grin and yelled, “Run, while you still can, girls!” He chuckled while taking his time to wipe the blade on the corpse’s remains.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The women exchanged a panicked look before sprinting back towards the Guild, shrieking!

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “Fuck! I can’t believe that worked.” His shoulders slumped from exhaustion. He looked at the bloody remains of the swordsman, feeling no guilt. The outcome of the fight was decided the moment the [Fireball] hit true. He grimaced at the mess the spell scroll had done to the man’s face.

  “Shouldn’t have taken my goblin ear,” Jack whispered. “You’d still have yours.” Recalling the goblin ear and rusty shortsword the swordsman had stolen from him, he cut the coin pouch from his still-smouldering corpse.

  “Now we’re even,” he said. He considered taking the greatsword, it would be worth over a gold, but thought better of it. He stumbled back into Ron’s Diner, grabbed his pack and ran back into the alleyway.

  He again looked at the greatsword. That could be worth 2 gold, he thought. “Fuck! I can’t carry that thing through the city.” It was taller than he was. He turned to leave, but stopped. He grabbed the greatsword and shoved it far under the industrial-sized bins.

  Having hidden the greatsword, he ran to the top of the alleyway as he heard the back door to Ron’s Diner opening. There was no one at the entrance of the alley, the two women long gone.

  “Call the guards,” a male voice called.

  Jack didn’t wait to hear the rest. Sheathing his dagger, he got the hell out of there while watching for anyone following him. He was wary that the rest of the adventurers’ party would attack him. With his hand on the hilt of his dagger, he walked through the city while trying not to draw attention to himself. Of course, he was splattered in blood… again!

  Turning a corner towards home, he saw a contingent of city guards heading his way. Six anubian guards marched along the cobbled street.

  “Fuck!” Turning on his heels, he headed back the other way. Once back around the corner, he ran before ducking into a shadowy alleyway where [Shadow Veil] drew him towards the darker shadows while Jack prayed it wasn’t another dead end. After running for a minute, he paused to listen. No sounds of guards’ heavy footsteps or shouts and [Assassin’s Intuition] was silent.

  “Shit! That was close,” he leaned against a wall, deep within the shadows, trembling as [Shadow Veil] made him harder to spot.

  Had they noticed his blood-splattered clothing, they’d have questioned him, and he’d have struggled to offer a believable explanation. In principle, he could’ve told them the truth, but it would’ve been his word against the two women, and he wasn’t prepared to take the risk. It would also raise suspicions about him regarding the missing rat-faced rogue, Kyle.

  He threaded a maze of back alleys, keeping to the shadows, until at last he recognised the familiar sight of his family’s home. I should carry a [Cleansing] spell scroll from now on, he resolved. Better than explaining why I’m always covered in blood. The [Cleansing] spell scroll, though frivolous considering the cost, would mean he wouldn’t be returning home covered in blood and other filth when things went wrong.

  Jack entered his home and dashed upstairs to his room before anyone saw him. After removing all his blood-splattered clothes and hiding them under the bed, he headed to the bathroom.

  “Hey, Mom,” Jack called as he was about to open the bathroom door, “Having a quick bath after archery practice. I stink like Polly’s socks.”

  He heard his mom and Zia giggling in the kitchen downstairs.

  “You want some lamb stew, Son?” his mom called back.

  Jack smiled. “I’m famished, that sounds great. Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” He closed the bathroom door and breathed a sigh of relief.

  After a relaxing bath and something to eat, he headed to his room.