Achilles pushed his way through the forest, forcing himself through thick bushes. His clothes kept catching on thorns, and his boots sank into the mud.
He had never fought in conditions like these and could hardly imagine that anyone could. In a place like this, every movement would be restricted, visibility would be poor, and even running would become much slower.
With every passing moment, the mission entrusted to him felt more dangerous and more poorly thought out.
According to the agreed plan, his companions were supposed to prepare an ambush somewhere near the campsite abandoned by the cultists and adventurers. Achilles' job was to find them, draw their attention, and lure them to the trap, while Kai and Grey, armed with bows, had volunteered to cover his retreat.
But the longer he thought about it, the more doubts filled his mind.
Ever since he had parted ways with the others, he had not sensed Grey or Kai's presence even once. It was as if they had vanished into thin air or had never intended to follow him in the first place.
The forest was so dense that Achilles couldn't believe an archer would be of any use here. Trees surrounded him on every side, so how were they supposed to cover him if they weren't close enough?
Achilles was speechless. Only one word echoed through his mind.
"Revenge."
He was convinced that even if the archers fired, the only thing they would accomplish was killing him instead of covering his retreat.
He clenched his teeth until he tasted blood and muttered,
"Maybe Grey wants to get rid of me while pretending it's for the good of everyone? At a time like this, when we're all in danger, isn't it reckless to throw away the strongest fighter we've got?"
Achilles recalled Grey's warm smile when he had suggested that he withdraw from the mission. Yet there had been nothing in that smile except complete indifference toward whether he lived or died.
But he couldn't back down. His brothers' lives were at stake.
He was their strongest fighter and had to shoulder the responsibility. Otherwise, someone else would have to take his place.
"We made the wrong choice, guys. We put our trust in a cripple who's never fought a real battle in his life, and this is the result. I'm being sent to my death on the very first mission. And why? Because he can't trust me?" Achilles felt both furious and bitter.
When he turned around once again to check where the archers were, only to find no sign of either Grey or Kai, it only reinforced his suspicions.
Suddenly, loud voices reached his ears, and he froze.
His mind went blank.
Three men came running toward him, shouting at the top of their lungs.
"Damn it. It's really one of the runaways. I told you I heard something moving nearby. If we hadn't checked, he would've gotten away for sure. Move! It's one of the escapees! Catch him, or you won't get a single copper."
"Relax, he's alone. Where's he going to run?"
"Exactly. Exactly. They can't survive in the desert, and we've searched the entire city, so where else could they be hiding? Your leader should send more people to search Thorn's Tabernacles."
"Shut up and move."
Only a single moment had passed, yet the three men had already closed the distance to within ten meters. Achilles had looked back for just a second, and the cultists were already upon him. He hadn't spotted them in time. It was too late to run now. All he would do was expose his back.
He had no choice but to fight.
Naturally, neither the two adventurers nor the cultist were ordinary mortals. The first two had reached the Legionary (2) stage, while the third was a Centurion (3), the same as Achilles.
At first glance, the difference in strength didn't seem that great, but that was a mistake.
Advancement increased the body's potential and boosted one's strength by several dozen percent.
It worked through multiplication rather than addition. If an adult already possessed great physical strength, the improvement would be far more noticeable than it would be for a teenager.
Of course, that didn't mean anyone should delay their own advancement.
As the years passed, breaking through to the next stage became increasingly difficult.
For example, the chance of successfully reaching the Saint stage decreased with every passing year. At forty, the odds were around fifty percent. By sixty, they dropped to only thirty percent. The same principle applied at every stage.
It was far better to break through as early as possible, while the body had not yet lost its "life force" and could continue maturing naturally. That way, one's youth lasted longer, strength accumulated over time, and potential was not wasted.
Even so, Achilles knew he was no match for his opponents.
He drew his Bronze-grade sword and prepared for his final stand.
The cultist met his strike without the slightest hesitation. He effortlessly blocked Achilles' attack with his broadsword and reached for his throat with his free hand.
Carried by the momentum, Achilles jumped back several steps and tried to run, only to be cut off by the two adventurers.
"Malaka! I'm going to die because of that little cripple's plan!"
Despair filled his heart when he heard the cultist of the Merciful Flame's Cult offering him a chance to surrender.
"You little bastard, you're pretty strong if you managed to block my attack. You must be the leader of those runaway teenagers. How about surrendering and taking us to your friends? If you do, the High Priest might grant you a quick death. That's better than slowly bleeding out, isn't it?"
"Go to hell," Achilles spat. "I'd rather die and drag you with me to meet Charon! I hope you've got your coins ready, you bastard."
"How dare you curse me, heretic. Even in death, I won't pay your false gods a single coin. I'll introduce you to the Merciful Flame."
At that very moment, Achilles caught a silver flash at the edge of his vision. It streaked through the air and buried itself in the adventurer's thigh.
"Argh!" the man cried out in pain.
A second flash followed. It was even faster and completely silent as it shot straight toward the cultist's heart.
The adult Centurion (3) heard his companion's scream and immediately raised his guard to the limit. He managed to twist aside just in time. The arrow pierced his shoulder and lodged there, but the wound was not fatal.
"RUN!!!" Grey shouted as he had already slung away his bow and was sprinting in the opposite direction alongside Kai.
Although Grey's aim was more accurate and he wielded a bow that was nearly Gold-grade, he had been farther away and was nothing more than an ordinary mortal. His arrow arrived a fraction too late, and he failed to eliminate the most dangerous enemy.
He didn't even try to fire a second shot. He simply ran without looking back.
Achilles instantly knocked aside the third man's attack. Distracted by his companions' screams, the man had hesitated for a moment. Achilles took that chance and dashed after Grey and Kai.
His heart pounded like mad, and his legs pumped as fast as they could.
He knew that his survival depended entirely on whether he could open enough distance before they caught him.
In the end, he managed to put only ten meters between them before the enraged cultist shouted, "After him! Useless vermin! He's not alone! We have to catch all of them!" Then he charged after Achilles.
The cultist didn't even bother warning his companions to watch out for arrows. Now that they were prepared and had both archers in sight, if they still couldn't dodge a shot, then they didn't deserve to live.
During those few moments, Achilles had managed to widen the gap by another seven or eight meters.
He no longer cared about the thorns snagging his clothes. He simply ran along the path they had cleared earlier.
Suddenly, he heard another whistle, this one much deeper.
At first, Achilles thought Grey had fired another arrow to help him. Then he realized the sound was coming from behind, accompanied by the mercenary's furious roar.
"GET DOWN!" a young voice warned.
Achilles didn't dare waste even a second thinking. He instantly threw himself flat onto the ground as if he had tripped, and watched a sword fly over the back of his head before slamming into a tree directly in front of him with a loud clang.
A cold sweat covered his back, but this wasn't the time to be afraid.
He sprang to his feet and ran even faster than before.
That last-second dodge, aided by gravity, had cost him several meters of distance.
The cultist was right behind him. If not for the advantage of his smaller stature, Achilles would have already been caught or killed.
Unlike him, the adults had a much harder time forcing their way through the dense forest. On top of that, two of them were wounded and couldn't maintain their top speed.
At last, Achilles spotted the familiar ambush site. It was close now, only a few dozen seconds away. Grey and Kai ran straight past it without the slightest intention of slowing down.
For a split second, Achilles wondered why. Had the plan changed again?
Then the answer came to him on its own.
The cultists were watching the archers' every move, afraid of missing another shot. So how could they fail to notice something suspicious if his friends suddenly stopped? Wouldn't that immediately reveal the location of the trap?
Deciding to stop filling his head with pointless thoughts, Achilles focused all his strength on his legs.
His magic core pulsed as mana surged through his body. He hurled a fireball at his pursuers, hoping to distract them for just one more second and buy himself a little more time.
Ten meters. Five meters. Three meters.
With every step, a ringing filled Achilles' ears. It felt as if the strongest cultist was already reaching for his collar.
He ducked and crossed the final few meters, but when he didn't hear his companions attack, he didn't dare slow down and kept running for several more steps.
The cultist was too enraged by his injury to notice Achilles' strange behavior.
At that moment, Grey spun around and drew his bowstring.
"KILL THEM!" he roared at the top of his lungs.
"KILL! KILL! KILL!" a chorus of voices echoed back from behind every bush, above every tree, and beneath every blade of grass.
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