Lucas heard the sound of wind chimes.

  He opened his eyes with effort, his vision still blurred. A dark green haze surrounded him on all sides, and a blue window hovered to his left, lines of text glowing faintly across its surface.

  He forced his eyes to focus, trying to make out the words.

  […been inherited!]

  He caught only the last two words before the window vanished.

  “Wh…” he breathed, confused.

  He thought he was asleep. It had been more than fifteen years since he’d last seen such a vivid nightmare, but he still remembered how to wake himself from one. He pressed his eyes shut until colorful sparks flared behind his eyelids, then opened them again, expecting the vision to break apart.

  And in a way, it did. The green mist was no more.

  He was in an open meadow. On one side stretched a massive forest, dark and dense, and on the other an enormous plain field. The grass beneath him looked charred or maybe rotten. He was completely naked, and only now did he feel the morning chill bite at his skin. The sun had only just begun to rise, a golden half-circle peeking over the horizon.

  “What is that?” he whispered, squinting.

  Against the bright shape of the sun, a huge shadow was forming. It was rising toward the sky and growing larger by the second.

  Lucas felt a tingling in his chest, a strange but an oddly pleasant sensation he had never experienced before. But the tingling intensified quickly, turning into sharp heat that spread like fire across his abdomen. He clutched the spot with both hands, as though pressing down could stop what he felt. It was a futile attempt driven by sheer instinct rather than reason.

  The heat spread through him. His muscles trembled, and his knees buckled until he dropped onto one of them.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  His breath came unevenly, and his heart slammed against his ribs, pounding as though it was trying to escape.

  He heard the violent, guttural sound not only with his ears but through his entire body. As it vibrated through him, the pain began to ease. He wanted to look around, to find the source of the sound, but his body refused to obey. Even the thought of moving felt draining.

  Then the sound shifted. The growl broke into repeated knocks, rhythmic and heavy, each one louder than the last.

  Lucas forced himself to turn his head toward the noise. His limbs were still locked from the pain that had gripped him seconds earlier, but he pushed through it, raising his eyelids just enough to see.

  Dozens of soldiers were running toward him. They burst from the treeline in a scattered line, swords and spears in hand.

  Lucas tried to stand and run. He didn’t know what they intended, but a group of armed men sprinting at him while swinging their weapons did not look friendly.

  He pushed against his right knee and managed to lift his torso halfway.

  Then the guttural sound came, more intense this time, and his weakened body couldn’t endure the pain that followed. His vision blurred, the world tilted, and the colors smeared together.

  Then everything sank into darkness.

  <<<>>>

  The rough surface of the sunbaked earth scraped against Lucas’s feet. The makeshift boots of thin cloth offered little protection, and every step sent a fresh wave of pain up his heels.

  Still, he did not complain. As a prisoner in this strange place, he considered it a fortune to be given even that.

  He gulped, dryly, and squinted up at the sky, trying to see how long the sun would stay overhead, but the collar tightened around his throat the moment he tried to straighten fully. And as though it wasn’t enough, a sharp sting on his back stunned him. He tried to raise his hands, but once again the chains limited his movement.

  “$@&#$##$,” the guard hissed behind him, pressing the speartip harder.

  Lucas didn’t understand the words, but the cold metal pushing against his spine and the guard’s tone told him everything he needed to know.

  He quickened his pace to escape the steel still close to his back and quickly caught up with the prisoner walking in front of him.

  I can’t believe this is how it ends… all that work, saving money for a house, planning for a family. His thoughts drifted to his life on Earth. It already felt distant. Where are they even taking me?

  He studied the camp as he moved, his eyes narrowing against the harsh sunlight. Rows of tents cast short, crooked shadows across the ground. Training dummies stood in uneven lines, leaning slightly as though they had taken too many blows.

  Then his eyes reached the clearing at the edge of the camp, and he froze.

  There were dozens of wooden posts spaced a few steps apart. And on those posts were tied the corpses of people wearing the same sack-like clothing Lucas and the other prisoners wore.

  “Hahaha,” he heard behind him. The guard had noticed where Lucas was staring, and the sight seemed to amuse him.

  But the amusement didn’t last long. The same spear tip nudged sharply into Lucas’s back, forcing him to walk again.

  The camp was loud and restless. The deeper Lucas moved inside, the more certain he became that these soldiers had just returned from battle. Dirty, bloodied armor lay scattered in front of the tents, and men wrapped in crimson-stained bandages limped past. Groans and cries reached him from ahead, carried by the hot, dusty wind.

  They must think I’m on their enemy’s side, Lucas realized. But how can I make them understand? They don’t speak English…

  His thoughts shattered as the prisoner next to him saw an opening when a guard tipped his flask to drink. The prisoner slammed his shoulder into the man, staggering him, and snatched the guard's short sword.

  The guard didn’t fall, but he lost his balance and stumbled back. It was enough time for the prisoner to drive the blade into his gut. The guard stood motionless, disbelief written on his face as blood spilled from his abdomen.

  The other guards tensed, preparing their weapons, but the prisoners were first to react. They used the momentary confusion to attack the soldiers. Lucas didn’t.

  Before he could even realize what was happening, the guard next to him slammed the back of his spear into Lucas’s stomach, then, as he leaned forward from pain, pulled on the collar. The iron tightened around Lucas’s neck, choking him.

  “I didn’t... do anything... Let... me... go,” Lucas rasped as his lungs emptied. He tried to push the man away, but the chain linking his wrists to his ankles snapped tight before he could reach him.

  If I’m going to die anyway...

  The thought came without panic. It felt almost comforting. It gave him back a trace of control, even when he was close to losing consciousness.

  Whether from anger or a surge of adrenaline, Lucas forced his knees under him and surged upright.

  The collar slipped from the guard’s sweaty grip. The man stared in shock as Lucas lowered his shoulder and charged. He hit the soldier square in the gut, throwing his full weight forward. The man stumbled, and they both went down hard.

  As the man fell, he dropped his spear. It rolled across the ground and stopped a few steps away. Lucas landed on top, his legs locking around the guard’s torso as much as the chains allowed. He raised his hands to strike, accounting for the chain’s short length this time.

  He drove his full weight down, smashing the heavy iron cuffs into the man’s mouth.

  I’m going to die anyway. The thought replayed in his mind.

  The guard threw his hands up to defend himself, but Lucas didn’t stop. He summoned every bit of strength left for another strike.

  His arms had barely risen when someone yanked them back.

  Another guard grabbed him and threw him off. Unable to catch himself, he hit the back of his head against the packed earth. A high-pitched ring screamed in his ears, and his eyelids grew heavy.

  The guard scrambled up. The rebellion had been crushed. Aside from Lucas, only three prisoners were left alive. The guards raised their spears, ready to finish them.

  But the blow never came.

  Instead, a low, guttural growl vibrated through the air. It was a familiar sound, the same one he had heard in the meadow, that made Lucas’s entire body shiver. This time, the pain didn't follow, but his mind grew hazy.

  When Lucas opened his eyes, the guards were hauling him upright. Their grip was rough, but their faces were strangely pale. Even through the fog in his head, he understood.

  Something had happened. The guards were afraid.

  And then he saw why.

  The guards and soldiers had formed a corridor. A single figure in a dark blue robe stepped through the opening they had created. The fabric was marked with yellow symbols shaped like tongues of fire. His deep red hair was slicked back, and under the harsh sunlight it gleamed like copper.

  He spoke only a few words, but it was enough to silence the gathered people.

  The soldiers who had been eager to kill the remaining prisoners froze, color draining from their faces.

  Then the redhead lifted his right hand slightly. A faint light shimmered on the back of his palm, an outline that grew brighter with each passing moment. The shape burned crimson, pulsing like living fire.

  Lucas stared through his squinted eyes, trying to understand what he was seeing. The glow wasn’t sunlight or reflection. It came from beneath the man’s skin.

  That’s impossible… he thought.

  When the mark flared bright enough, the man raised his hand high, making sure it was facing the sky. The entire crowd stilled. Guards, soldiers, even prisoners turned their gazes upward.

  Lucas followed their eyes just in time to see it. Something vast moved above, the outline gliding down slowly.

  “What…” His voice disappeared into a gasp as the shape came fully into view.

  A dragon.

  Brown-scaled, its wings spread wide enough to cover the sun. Four legs swayed slowly in the air as it descended. The sheer force of its approach sent waves of wind rolling through the camp, threatening to tear the tents free from their support poles.

  Lucas wanted to run, but his legs didn’t obey. Then he noticed that the crowd wasn’t scared.

  No one screamed. No one moved. They only watched with reverence, their mouths slightly open. They had clearly seen it before, yet even to them the sight seemed rare.

  The creature glided toward the clearing, moving with the grace of something that knew it ruled every gaze upon it. When the dragon drew close enough, its eyes swept over the camp and settled briefly on Lucas.

  The moment its eyes touched him, his chest ached again. The same spot that had burned when he first heard that guttural growl tightened once more, a faint pulse that was brief but still painful.

  So it was this dragon I saw earlier, Lucas realized. Does its voice do this to everyone?

  “Doregin!” The red-haired man’s voice snapped Lucas out of his thoughts.

  The dragon let out a low, thunderous sound in response and quickened its descent. It passed over the crowd, wind howling as dust swept across the tents, before landing heavily in the clearing.

  The man walked toward the fence but paused. His upper body turned slowly, silver eyes locked first onto Lucas, then shifted to the guards beside him. Whatever command he gave was short. The guards stiffened, nodded, and shouted back something but the man was already walking away.

  Before Lucas could even make sense of what was happening or if he was still in danger, they grabbed him again. The chains at his legs rattled, the links dragging through the dirt as they pulled him forward.

  Fortunately, the tent they were dragging Lucas toward wasn’t far. It stood at the center of the camp - a massive structure of dark fabric supported by heavy wooden beams. Two soldiers stood at the entrance, each clad in a steel plate that glinted under the sun. They held long spears and short swords hung from their waists.

  They aren’t going to kill me. At least not yet… he sighed in relief when one of the guards entered the tent, and the other said something and gestured toward a crystal mounted on a small wooden stand beside the entrance. Whatever the red-haired man had said, it had saved his life.

  Lucas hesitated but still stepped forward. His fingertips hovered just above the deep green crystal for a moment, half-expecting pain. Both guards at the entrance tightened their grips on their spears, watching him closely. Then he quickly pressed his hand against the stone, closing his eyes in anticipation.

  Nothing happened.

  He ran his fingers along its smooth and cold surface as he opened his eyes. He was waiting for a spark, any reaction. Nothing.

  Is this some kind of ritual? Did I pass? He wondered as one of the guards shoved him lightly forward.

  Inside, the tent was brighter than he expected. The air smelled faintly of parchment and something sweet. At the far end, behind a long wooden table covered with papers, sat a man in a white robe. He looked up at Lucas through a pair of small glasses without raising his head. Then said something curt and gestured to the chair across from him.

  Lucas followed the motion, glancing sideways at the guards who had dragged him in. They stood still near the entrance, hands resting on their sword hilts, eyes fixed on him.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He lowered himself into the chair. The wood creaked, and the chains rattled around his wrists and ankles.

  He winced and groaned. His whole body trembled from pain and dehydration.

  He wanted to take in the surroundings, but the man in the white robe spoke again.

  “I don’t understand,” Lucas muttered, frustration slipping through his exhaustion.

  The man studied him, then gave a slight nod, as if confirming something. He reached under the table and pulled a small crystal - a pale white stone that seemed ordinary until he lifted his palm above it.

  Lucas eyed it warily. When he tried to reach for it, the chains tensed, stopping him short. He raised his bound hands slightly, rattling the links to show the limitation.

  The robed man said nothing. He simply brought his palm closer to the crystal. Light began to glow beneath his skin. The same light spread into the stone, filling the carved symbols along its surface until they shimmered.

  Lucas froze. First, he had seen a man with a glowing symbol on his hand. Then, a dragon descended from the clouds. And now, another man was channeling his energy into a crystal, making it glow.

  Is this… magic? The thought felt absurd even as it formed. Where am I?

  The man in the white robe watched him quietly, his palm still hovering over the softly glowing crystal. Then he finally spoke.

  “Can you understand me now?”

  Lucas went through another wave of shock as he realized it wasn’t the man’s spoken words he understood. He still heard the voice the same way as before, a string of sounds that meant nothing to him, random syllables he couldn’t grasp. But this time, the meaning slipped into his mind in a clear whisper that didn’t come from his ears at all.

  “Yes…” he muttered as the white-robed man gave him a meaningful look.

  “Splendid. I’m Heinrich,” the man said, offering a small smile. It looked fake, more professional than warm, yet meant or not, it was the first smile Lucas had been given in days. It felt strangely comforting. “And you are? What is your name?”

  “I’m Lucas. Lucas Brown,” he answered slowly, still half-lost in the daze.

  Heinrich’s eyes widened, then he laughed.

  “So you’ve got a last name, huh?” he tapped the table, then shook his head. “It’s been a very long day, so let’s not waste each other’s time. Not that you have anything else to do…”

  Lucas furrowed his brows, but he didn’t want to provoke the very first person who wasn’t hostile toward him in this new world.

  “Which kingdom are you from, Lucas?” Heinrich asked.

  “Kingdom?” Lucas blinked. “I’m sorry but there’s been a misunderstanding. I haven’t committed any crimes. I wasn’t even going to attack the guard; I was just defending myself. I’ll explain. After waking up in the meadow, I was immediately captured. I tried…”

  “That’s not what I’m asking,” Heinrich cut in coldly as a faint irritation slipped through his tone. “Which kingdom were you born in? Fine, let’s make this easier. Do you have a Lord’s mark? And just so you know, if you lie even once, you will die. That’s how this spell works.”

  “A spell?” Lucas murmured, his gaze following Heinrich’s pointing finger toward the crystal still shimmering on the table.

  I will die if I lie? What kind of ruthless world is this? He couldn’t help but frown. If I tell them I’m from another world, assuming that’s even what happened, it’s the same as asking for death. Or they might even experiment on me…

  He gulped. Hard.

  “As far as I know, I don’t have any Lord’s mark. I don’t know if I was born into any kingdom either. In fact, I don’t even know what the kingdoms are. My memory of what’s happening around me starts from the moment I woke up in the meadow and was captured.”

  Heinrich raised a brow and glanced at the crystal, suspicion written all over his face. But as the stone remained unchanged, the tension in his expression loosened.

  “Peculiar…” he muttered, then signaled one of the guards to come over. “Check both of his arms for marks, and also the back of his head.”

  He turned his attention back to Lucas.

  “Memory loss is common in our world, whether from a spell or an injury. But we must make sure your memories weren’t wiped intentionally, and that you’re not a spy from another kingdom without realizing it yourself.”

  Lucas nodded. He knew he didn’t belong to any kingdom, so he didn’t resist when the guard grabbed him and forced his head forward to check his back of the head and neck. After confirming there was no mark, the guard thoroughly examined Lucas’s hands and even his armpits.

  “Does this mean I’m free?” Lucas asked when the guard finished, reported to Heinrich, and returned to his place.

  Heinrich shook his head and smiled, as though he enjoyed the disappointment crossing Lucas’s face.

  “Even if you don’t belong to hostile kingdoms,” he said, “you were still caught in our territory, and you are not our citizen…”

  “But I don’t know how I got here, perhaps someone intentionally…” Lucas tried.

  “For such an important person who even has a last name, that could be a possibility,” Heinrich smirked, but then his expression hardened as he clasped his fingers together. “But the thing is, trespassing is a crime punishable by ten years of labor or one thousand silver.”

  One of the guards behind them sighed at the mention of money. Heinrich immediately glared at him, making the man shrug uncomfortably. That alone told Lucas how big a sum one thousand silver must have been.

  Ten years of labor is too much, they’ll likely force me to work like a slave. I’d rather pay them, but I have nothing… and I doubt I’ll manage to take a loan…

  “What if I become a citizen?” Lucas asked.

  Heinrich laughed again.

  “I like you, Lucas!” he said and began rummaging through a drawer. “Ah, there it is.”

  He placed a large yellowed parchment on the table, covered in symbols Lucas couldn’t read.

  “Usually, my role is recruitment,” Heinrich said. “But in this place, so close to the border, we mostly deal with traitors, criminals, spies… and even ambushes… I can’t even remember the last time I used this manuscript.”

  He took a deep breath and blew hard across the parchment. A cloud of dust rose and drifted straight into Lucas’s face. Lucas coughed instinctively, but then blinked in confusion when he realized he was completely fine.

  My allergies are gone?

  “Lucas, you are given this rare opportunity to enlist in the glorious army of His Majesty, Grand Prince Charles the First of His Name!” Heinrich’s voice grew elevated, slipping into a tone of flattery that seemed second nature to him. “Even the lowest ranking soldier in His Royalty’s army is paid twenty silver each month. You’ll be able to buy back your freedom in no time!”

  That’s slightly more than four years to earn 1000 silvers. Wait… I shouldn’t assume there are twelve months in a year in this place.

  “So how much would that be in a year?” Lucas asked, trying to act confused.

  “Two hundred silver!” Heinrich replied proudly.

  Ten months. Lucas noted. I need to think this through. Just because I’m tired and want these handcuffs off, I shouldn’t sell my life to someone I don’t even know…

  “What about the equipment and food?” he asked.

  “Grand Prince Charles is magnanimous,” Heinrich said, raising his head even higher. “You will be given all of that, and even a chance to earn more. In our glorious army, soldiers receive additional bounties for each kill.”

  It doesn’t sound too bad… there’s one problem though…

  “But I don’t know how to wield a sword or shoot a bow,” Lucas muttered. And more importantly, I don’t want to kill people.

  This last part he kept to himself, realizing it would automatically fail the negotiations.

  “We will teach you everything you need to know,” Heinrich replied without hesitation. “And you will not be deployed on the battlefield until your training is complete. It usually lasts six months, and you will be paid half of a soldier’s monthly salary during this time. You can also take part in a competition against the other trainees. The winner will receive rewards and might even earn patronage from high-ranking personnel.”

  “And what happens if I fail the training? What if I can’t learn either sword or bow?”

  “Then you will learn how to wield the shield,” Heinrich said, his tone turning cold.

  So I will become a meatshield unless I prove my skills. This is basically the same as the medieval times… at least based on the books I’ve read.

  “Is there an alternative?” Lucas asked.

  “Ten years of labor is the only alternative for those who cannot pay one thousand silver. Most people are not even given this chance to join His Highness Charles’s army.”

  Lucas nodded and fell silent.

  This world doesn’t seem peaceful or friendly to the weak. Just half an hour ago, I was nearly killed and that woman… if not for that man, I’d have definitely died. That man and the dragon.

  He clenched his hands and immediately winced. Now that he had been sitting for a while, every muscle and bone in his body ached.

  I have only two options. One is ten years of labor, which will most certainly drain the life out of me and I’ll likely be stuck in one place. The other is the army, which will probably lead me into near-death situations, if not certain death. Even if one lasts ten years and the other five, I would still choose labor and try to attract attention with my carpentry. But… if I do that I won’t be able to find a way home. I need the ability to roam freely and I also need strength to protect myself. That man with that dragon had it all. He must possess both freedom and power…

  A sharp tapping pulled him out of his thoughts. Heinrich’s finger drummed against the table, waiting for an answer.

  “I will join the army.”

  <<<>>>

  Later that day, Lucas stepped out of the shared bath the dozen tents used. The water had been murky enough to sting his nose with the smell of sweat, yet somehow it still felt cleaner than his own skin. Only now, with most of the grime washed off, did he realize how badly the rags he was wearing reeked.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been this filthy. Not even after carving twenty-four hours straight just because I was enjoying the project and wanted to see the figure take shape. The memory forced a faint smile out of him.

  “Lucas,” a voice called.

  He glanced up and saw the guard approaching, telling him to follow. It was the only word he understood in their language.

  The guard led him to a tent where a soldier in a steel plate stood at the entrance. The man growled something the moment his eyes fell on him. Lucas smiled in response and nodded, the best version of politeness a tired and irritated person could muster. He had already decided to stay on everyone’s good side whenever he could.

  The guard exchanged a few words with the armored soldier, then stepped inside the tent and motioned for Lucas to follow.

  A single candle burned inside a glass cover hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim, golden glow over the cramped interior. Packages lined the sides of the tent, all tied with thin leather strings.

  The guard picked one up and shoved it into Lucas’s hands before tapping two fingers against Lucas’s filthy rag.

  “You want me to change? Here?” Lucas asked, pulling at the leather string to see whether he’d understood correctly.

  The guard nodded and crossed arms, waiting.

  Lucas wasn’t given much: gray pants of rough fabric, a pair of leather shoes with surprisingly soft lining, a rough belt, and a simple tunic. He changed quickly, happy to finally wear clothes that didn’t smell like sweat and dust.

  The guard laughed hoarsely and tapped Lucas on the back. He then kicked the rags out of the tent with his foot and reached for a sheet of paper from the small wooden table in the corner.

  “Heinrich,” he said, pressing the page against Lucas’s chest.

  “Should I give this to Heinrich?” Lucas asked. As expected, he received nothing but another nod.

  “Fine, fine,” he sighed. “I hope this is the last errand for today. My feet are killing me.”

  His whole body ached, but his heels were in a category of suffering of their own. Every step felt like needles driving straight into his feet.

  Lucas followed the guard with a slight limp and soon noticed that most of the people in the camp were moving in the same direction.

  “That’s not where Heinrich’s tent is,” he said, but the guard didn’t react. He tried again. “Heinrich?” he asked, pointing toward the opposite side of the camp.

  The guard shook his head and grinned, revealing two missing teeth along his lower jaw. Lucas slowed for a moment, instincts warning him that wherever he was being taken, he wouldn’t enjoy it, but he dared not stop walking.

  If I make a wrong move, I’ll end up captured or worse. Getting a chance to join the army doesn’t mean I’m safe.

  He knew he was walking on a knife’s edge, and even one mistake could be fatal for him.

  As Lucas worried about where they were going, the area ahead opened into a scene he recognized immediately. It was the same clearing where he had nearly been killed, the same place where the dragon had landed. There was no dragon now. Instead, three prisoners stood tied to tall wooden poles, blindfolds covering their eyes.

  He recognized all three. They were the same men he had marched beside for the past three days.

  They’re going to be executed.

  He clenched his jaw. Hard.

  Wait… why was I brought here?

  An alarming thought pushed through the rest. Was he next? If so, why the bath? Why the clean clothes?

  He looked around, his entire body tensing in readiness to give whatever fight he could if anyone dared to step toward him. Hostile gazes followed him, but no one moved closer.

  Then he saw Heinrich.

  The man stood near the front, holding the shimmering crystal in his hand. Lucas noticed that, unlike before, only a single line of inscriptions was lit.

  “Lucas, come here,” Heinrich called, gesturing toward a wooden bucket filled with various weapons.

  “Why?” Lucas asked, though his feet were already carrying him forward.

  “Isn’t it obvious? You must prove your resolve,” Heinrich declared with a laugh, tilting his head toward the tied prisoners. “Usually, we’d have to wait until spies were captured. But you marched with them. How fortunate, haha.”

  Lucas said nothing. His gaze drifted to the grass near Heinrich’s feet. A small white flower grew there, and tiny hairs along the stem looked like they might sting if touched. Before ending up in this world, Lucas would have avoided it completely - his allergies would have flared instantly. But now, he didn’t feel repulsed at all.

  “Pick a weapon. The one you choose now will be the one you are taught to wield here, before you are taken to your regiment in two weeks.”

  Lucas barely heard the rest. The moment he realized he had to pick a weapon, everything fell into place. They expected him to kill the prisoners with whatever he chose.

  How can I take the life of someone who hasn’t wronged me?

  Lucas had served in mandatory military training, but that had only involved learning how to handle a gun and preparing for possible war. He had never harmed anyone, never even attempted to. The thought alone had always felt distant.

  “Lucas, if you fail now,” Heinrich’s cold voice cut into his thoughts, “we will have to reconsider our agreement.”

  Even if I don’t kill them, the others will. The only thing that changes is whether I’m the one holding the weapon… or tied beside them.

  It was the only reasoning he could find that offered even a sliver of comfort.

  “Is there a bow? I’d rather learn the bow first,” Lucas said. In truth, he wanted a bow so he wouldn’t feel a blade passing through human flesh with his own hands.

  “Oh, this is going to take long,” Heinrich laughed, then ordered one of the soldiers to fetch Lucas his preferred weapon.

  As a carpenter, he had carved many things. And among those many were bows as well. He had several back home, and whenever he had time, or had drunk one beer too many, he would step into his backyard and shoot at an old wooden log or line up beer cans. It had never been serious practice, just something to pass time and enjoy his creation.

  “I will try to make it as painless as I can,” he whispered, raising the bow and aiming at one prisoner’s chest.

  The bowstring felt far stronger than the ones he had made at home. It bit into his fingers, forcing him to pull harder just to reach full draw. Lucas never lacked strength, but the strain made his shoulders tremble. Sweat rolled down his temple and into his eye, the sting forcing him to blink. The arrow tip danced over the target, jumping with every twitch of his shaking hand, making it hard to aim.

  He exhaled and loosed.

  The first arrow missed entirely. It dropped short, hitting the ground several steps before the prisoners.

  The crowd behind him laughed. Some cheered, others shouted angrily.

  Lucas swallowed hard, lifted the bow again, and aimed higher this time. He released.

  The arrow whistled past the prisoners, grazing one man’s cheek before burying itself in the ground behind them.

  “You are getting closer,” Heinrich laughed, crossing his legs. He had already ordered a soldier to bring him a chair, clearly expecting Lucas to take his time.

  Enjoying the sight of people about to die… Lucas clenched his jaw, but kept silent. What was I thinking when I decided to join the army? As a soldier, I’ll have to kill people. Innocent people…

  Still, he drew another arrow, feeling the rough feathers brush against his knuckles, and took aim again. This time he forced his body still, ignoring the shaking in his arms and the noise behind him. He loosed.

  The arrow flew straighter and it struck one of the prisoners directly in the eye.

  Blood spilled instantly, running down the man’s cheek. A scream followed, deafening and desperate.

  The crowd behind Lucas exploded in laughter and cheers. This time, no one yelled at him.

  But Lucas didn’t hear them. His eyes were fixed on the prisoner, who writhed against the post he was tied to. His legs kicked wildly, heels digging into the dirt. He howled, gasped, and cried all at once, his entire body twisting in agony.

  “Shoot another one, faster. Even spies shouldn’t have to suffer this much,” Heinrich said with a yawn, as though bored.

  But Lucas didn’t ready the bow.

  He dropped it and stepped forward instead.

  He grabbed a longsword from the pile and charged toward the prisoners. His heart pounded hard. The blade dragged a faint line in the dirt as he ran. He targeted the wounded man first and slashed diagonally from left to right.

  The moment the tip of the blade entered flesh, Lucas felt the resistance. He had thrown all of his weight behind the swing, letting instinct and fear carry it through. The sword cut across muscle and bone, sliding through the man’s torso and into the ground, but the wound wasn’t deep enough. It was brutal, but not fatal.

  Lucas freed the blade with a grunt and swung again, this time from right to left. He screamed, the sound coming from his chest as the swing connected. The blade broke through the man’s shoulder bone and carved down almost to the chest.

  The prisoner’s cry ended. His body jerked once before going still.

  Lucas stared at his hands, stunned. Blood droplets stained his skin, red spattered across his fingers and wrists. Then the smell reached him. The sharp stench of raw guts, filth, and piss hit his nose all at once.

  His stomach turned violently. The pressure rose, and he vomited over his new leather boots.

  Then a faint sound followed, as though the wind chimes ringing had been carried by the wind. Lucas lifted his head slowly, dazed.

  Guards with unsheathed weapons had surrounded him.

  But his eyes were instead focused on the two blue windows hovering right in front of him.

  [You’ve gained 100 Experience Points!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]