The Scot kept fighting and was gradually beginning to push his enemies back. How he managed it was a mystery to me. Everything looked as if he already knew exactly where their attacks would go and what moves they’d make next. Every swing and feint was instantly seen through by him, and in return for their hasty actions, opponents received anything from a light cut to a deep stab wound.

  Bery stood nearby, still rubbing her arm. Her gaze remained fixed on the man who had just attacked them. She approached me and whispered:

  “I don’t think Greltz can bounce around the entire battlefield like a sunbeam. So we’re using you as bait. Stay behind. When he moves, you run straight to the twins—they’ll cover you.”

  After saying this, Bery smiled, pointed at the man in the coat, and shouted:

  “Grulz—or whatever your name is! You won’t be able to grab any of us anymore because we know your ability now. If you’d succeeded the first time, your chances of winning would’ve been much higher. Now you’re useless!”

  She spoke loudly enough for everyone in the forest to hear. The man’s face showed no reaction whatsoever. Bery stepped closer to the twins and positioned herself precisely between them. Droodul and Sem reengaged in combat, holding off the enemies. They neither killed nor even wounded their foes—but neither could the enemies harm them.

  Meanwhile, I found myself farther back than anyone else. Taking off my backpack, I set it on the ground and got ready to run if anyone attacked me. “I need to be fast—if I want any chance at all,” thoughts raced through my head. I tried to figure out what to do and which move might save me if the bait worked. “Sure, my body’s made of bones, and I’m already dead—but I’ve got no desire to die again.”

  Bery watched the uneven fight, and a smile began spreading across her lips. Raising her voice once more, she called out:

  “Scot! I think it’s time to finish them off. Get serious already. The Captain and Droodul aren’t immortal—their stamina isn’t endless.”

  The young man, who until then had held back in battle, took a few steps backward. He crouched down and gripped his spear with both hands. Immediately afterward, something changed in his aura—he suddenly seemed far more dangerous. If before Scot had appeared as a warrior wielding a spear, now he resembled nothing but a sharp, emotionless weapon. The tip of his spear changed color: from gray it darkened, then turned red, acquired orange hues, and finally became white-hot. The air surrounding the blade started trembling and distorting heavily.

  The warriors who had been fighting him stopped—but after exchanging glances, they began spreading out. They formed a much wider formation and readied themselves to act. Scot, however, didn’t move. For a couple of seconds, the space around them seemed frozen—until it was shattered by the warriors’ simultaneous shouts. Whether trying to overcome fear or gathering strength for their strike, their tactic worked: their movements synchronized perfectly, and six blades descended in a semicircle, like a hungry beast snapping its jaws shut.

  Cold steel closed in on the motionless Scot—and just as the swords were about to complete their strike, he made his move. The youth swung his spear, seemingly deflecting the blades. Or at least that’s what it looked like to me—but something else actually happened. The spearhead didn’t stop upon meeting the first sword; instead, it kept moving, slicing right through the blade. The glowing-hot tip passed through metal with impossible ease, encountering no resistance at all. It sliced cleanly through the remaining swords as well.

  The situation, which had seemed lost, completely reversed: now the group of warriors held only hilts and fragments of melted blades. Their faces wore expressions comically stunned and terrified. They stepped backward in perfect unison, just as they’d attacked moments earlier. An indescribable silence fell—not just between them, but across the entire battlefield.

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  “Show-off,” I heard Droodul mutter first. “He’ll whine again later about not wanting to do a damn thing.”

  I was about to relax and walk over to the twins and Bery with relief when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was yanked backward abruptly, and a forearm clamped down hard on my throat. Breathing wasn’t necessary for me, but that didn’t help much in this situation. I immediately realized this guy in the gray coat was far stronger than I was, so I decided to stay perfectly still.

  “Everyone stop!” Greltz shouted. “I didn’t expect you’d have an artifact of such power. All this trouble—and for such pay… Hey, spear boy—you, the one pretending to be a fool—come here and hand over your weapon.”

  “I don’t think he’s really pretending that much,” I thought to myself—but of course kept it silent.

  “Come slowly, and don’t even think about pulling any tricks,” Greltz commanded, his tone allowing no argument. “You understand my power. You know I can behead this kid and get away unharmed in less than a second. So don’t be stupid. Come here and give me the artifact!”

  Scot lowered his spear and glanced at Sem. The latter also halted his fight and, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded. The others reacted differently, but all remained on high alert. Scot started walking toward me—but paused briefly as he passed the twins and Bery.

  “Hurry up! Don’t provoke me,” Greltz spoke again. “I’m offering you a good way out: you give me the spear, and I release the hostage and let all of you leave this forest. The Baron doesn’t really care about beggars and adventurers. Everyone’s happy, everyone lives.”

  Scot resumed walking. When three steps remained between us, he stopped and turned the spear so its tip pointed toward himself. The other end—wrapped in layers of thin tape—now aimed directly at my chest, just ten centimeters away, within Greltz’s reach.

  “No tricks,” Greltz said, reaching out and grabbing the spear. “I get the spear, you get to live peacefully.”

  “You really want this spear?” A spark flashed in Scot’s eyes. “Then take it!”

  With a sudden, sharp thrust, he drove the spear forward. Greltz instinctively used me as a shield—choosing defense over evasion. But the spear didn’t slow down at all upon meeting my frail body. It easily sliced through my old, worn-out clothes. Immediately after came the crack of bones, followed by the sound of flesh being pierced. The thin, still-glowing blade emerged from Greltz’s back, staining his coat crimson. The bloodstain spread rapidly, growing larger. Both of us were now impaled on the spear—which, as it turned out, had blades on both ends.

  “What? Glurk…” the man tried to say, but blood gushed from his mouth, robbing him of speech and breath. Yet we didn’t fall: I could still stand, and Scot held the spear steady with his outstretched arm, supporting us both.

  “What the hell?!” one of Greltz’s warriors shouted. This man had just fought Sem, wasn’t wounded, and was among the first to witness what happened to their leader. Unlike those who’d faced Scot, he was still armed—but his hand began trembling. After his shout, he turned and ran. The others followed his example, scattering in different directions—though some, by nature, bunched together, hoping to survive. The trees and sparse bushes covering the bare ground soon hid their silhouettes.

  “You attacked us and think you can just run away? Are you completely stupid?!” Lerry was furious. “I won’t let you go that easily. I can hear every single beating heart of yours. Take this!”

  The girl nocked another arrow—but aimed strictly upward. She stood like that for about five seconds until the arrow began shimmering violet. Pulling the string tauter, she released the glowing arrow high into the air. At a certain height, it split into countless sparks, each flying in its own direction. Screams of pain followed immediately—from wherever the warriors had fled. Once the last cry faded, the girl looked utterly exhausted. Leaning against her brother, she sank to the ground and gasped for air.

  “Looks like we’ve dealt with this unexpected threat,” Bery said. “Though I do have a couple of questions for our helper, don’t I? Although maybe he has a few for us too…”

  She hadn’t moved away from the twins, but her gaze was fixed on me—still pinned by the spear. I had no intention of running; I understood there was no point. But now a thought struck me—one that should’ve occurred to me much earlier: Lerry hears heartbeats… and I have no heartbeat. Which means, according to their logic, I’m either hiding my pulse… or I’m simply a corpse. And if I can’t explain everything properly, this could end very badly for me.

  “Shall we talk?”