Willow's stance remained alert, her breath labored and uneven, pain coursing through her body like a wildfire. Her eyes, once bright with cheerfulness, now burned with feral intensity, mirroring the mindless beasts strewn lifeless on the floor. The cloaked figure stood a short distance away, their gaze fixated on the injured girl nestled behind Willow's protective stance.

 

Raising her blood-stained sword in her right hand, Willow pointed it menacingly at the figure. There was no trace of her former jovial nature, only determination etched upon her features, less determined and more madness, a lust for voilence. The mana within her surged with anticipation, the final adversary awaiting her blade's embrace—the last obstacle standing between her and the girl's safety.

 

"Leave," Willow commanded, her voice devoid of any hint of compromise. The mana within her body swirled with an electric intensity, ready to unleash its power. This was her moment, her chance to succeed in protecting the girl.

 

The figure, cloaked and poised, maintained a refined demeanor as it responded, a hint of amusement lacing its words. "Yes, that is precisely what I intend to do. Give me the girl, and I shall take my leave." With a gentlemanly bow, the figure conveyed a false sense of civility. "Now, if you would be so kind..." it advanced. 

 

Willow's grip tightened on her sword as mana surged through it, bathing it in a crimson hue. "I said, LEAVE," she command. Every fiber of her being was prepared to lunge forward, to end the miserable existence of the cloaked figure in a single sweep.

 

The figure paused,  Willow could feel smirk beneath its mask. "Hey now, I have spoken with utmost patience and kindness. Perhaps it is time for you to behave in a similar manner, to display the grace of a human." The figure took a step back, assessing Willow's weakened state. 

 

"Let's be civilized about this. You know as well as I do that you are incapable of doing anything significant. Merely standing is a misery for you. Since you have entertained me, I have decided to spare you—provided you can find a cleric before your inevitable death. So let us part ways amicably. I shall take the girl, and you may continue living, for now."

 

Willow's blood boiled with every word spoken by the cloaked figure. "Entertainment for you? What is there to find entertaining in this carnage?" she shouted in disbelief, her emotions spiraling into chaos. She pointed her blood-stained sword to the piles of lifeless flesh surrounding her.

 

"No, their deaths are not for entertainment. I am not some vile savage who revels in bloodshed," Cloaked  figure said in amusement, "The entertainment lies in the torment you and your kind endured, the struggle of weakness against insurmountable odds. It is the sight of you crawling like insects to protect her, a lifeless body. The agonizing cries that bring you pleasure, the thrill of watching insects squirm in my web, oblivious to their impending doom," the cloaked figure spoke in a depraved manner, deriving sick pleasure from their own sadistic games. "Although I still fail to comprehend the reasoning behind your valiant but futile effort to save her. You clearly have never even met her before."

 

Nausea washed over Willow as she listened to the figure's words. "That she will tell me once I have saved her," Willow replied, her voice devoid of emotion. A coldness settled within her mind, as if ice, her thought became clearer and rage turning colder. The rage still burned within her, but it became colder, more focused. She could now direct her fury towards a specific target.

 

However, saving the injured girl remained her priority. Willow doubted her ability to defeat the well-trained guards surrounding the cloaked figure. They appeared to be skilled in fighting as a unit, unlike the mindless monsters she had dispatched earlier. Her sword remained pointed at the figure, who laughed derisively, as if she had made a joke.

 

the cloaked figure, who laughed derisively, as if Willow had made a joke.  "She, a lifeless body, will tell me? How is that possible?" the figure taunted. "There is no mana flowing within her, her heart has lost its power to beat, and her blood has turned cold. Tell me, dear warrior, how. will. a. dead. body. answer. you?"

 

Each word spoken by the cloaked figure carried a pause, emphasizing the stark reality of the situation.

 

"She is not dead," Willow replied simply,. The girl couldn't be dead, not after all the effort Willow had put into saving her. She refused to accept such a cruel outcome without giving herself a chance to fulfill her mission and receive the answers she sought.

 

"I see that you're in denial. Quite understandable, quite understandable," the cloaked figure responded, his tone dripping with condescension. "Regardless, I am feeling rather tired, so we shall be taking our leave. However, since you are so determined to stop us, I'm afraid I have no choice. Consider this your final warning."

 

Before Willow could react, a poisoned-looking arrow shot through the air and struck her right in the elbow of her injured hand. The arrow carried a spell, and Willow could sense the mana within it. She had become hyper sensitive to mana, She could even see Warding on each of the guards, and they were invisible to naked eye. 

 

Without batting an eye, Willow drove her sword beneath the tendons of her arm and swiftly severed it, not taking any chances. If the arrow carried a deadly poison or a spreading ailment, she couldn't afford to risk her life. Losing an arm was the better option. It stung for a brief moment, but she severed her connection to the wound. She did not how, but she could, and now, she did not feel anything. 

 

Her arm fell to the ground, turning black and brittle as if burned to cinders. She had made the right decision. She reassured herself..

 

The masked figure watched this display with fascination, intrigued by Willow's fluid and unwavering motion, as well as her lack of reaction to losing her arm. "Magnificent, truly magnificent," the figure applauded, its voice filled with a twisted sense of admiration. He gestured once again.

 

Willow's instincts took over, her mind consumed by the chilling coldness that fueled her every move. The world seemed to slow down as she turned towards the sound of approaching arrows, her heightened senses allowing her to perceive every detail. Mana surged through her veins like a raging river.

 

Five arrows raced through the air, aimed directly at her. Willow strengthened her grip on the sword, its crimson hue resembling flowing blood. With a swift thrust, she cleaved one arrow targeting her chest in half. In a wide arc, she swept her blade, redirecting three more arrows away from her body. She agilely moved her head just enough to evade the last arrow, which narrowly passed by her.

 

It all happened in the blink of an eye, her movements appearing as a blur of afterimages. The redirected arrows embedded themselves into the ground and a nearby tree.

 

"What was that?" the masked figure exclaimed in horror, his composure shaken for the first time. "Did you just mastered Focus by cutting off your arm? That makes no sense!" he uttered, panicked.

 

Willow seized this opportunity, the coldness in her mind growing ever more intense. She could hear even the slightest sounds, including the faintest rustle of the masked man's movements. Assuming a throwing position, she pointed her blade at the figure, channeling an overwhelming surge of mana into her hand and the sword. It was as if a pool of blood wrapped her hand.

 

"Stop moving," Willow commanded, her voice low. She needed to force a stalemate, she could nott kill him while still having to contend with the guards. Her actions were restricted by the leg injury, she could hardly move.

 

The cloaked figure observed her stance and let out a mocking laugh. "Oh, come now. Do you honestly believe the outcome will be any different this time?" he taunted, raising his hand as if to gesture once again.

 

"Are you truly willing to stake your life on whether someone can deflect this or not? Do you think I am the same person I was when I threw the sword back then? You wish to bet on whether I can throw my sword first or if their arrows will kill me?" Willow herself wasn't entirely certain if she was the same person she had been before. And in that moment, she sensed a flicker of uncertainty in the masked figure's mana, before he regained control.

 

The masked figure's laughter filled the air, a cacophony of mockery. It attempted to maintain an illusion of control, "A stalemate is what you desire. And what offer do you make?" the figure questioned, still trying to assert dominance.

 

"I take the girl, and you get to leave," Willow responded with confidence. "Alive," she added, as an after thought.

 

The masked figure erupted into hysterical laughter, but it made no move to escape, and its hand remained suspended in the air. "Oh, my, what a monster you are. You'll let me leave? Alive?" it taunted. "Do you think you're in control?!!" The figure bellowed, attempting to regain its composure.

 

Willow remained unperturbed by its outburst. She could sense that the figure was teetering on the edge of something. "Leave," she uttered, her breaths growing heavier with each passing moment. She struggled to maintain control over the flow of mana, even with the coldness in her mind. "I'm running thin on patience. I am no longer entertained by your antics. Decide now," she warned, her voice resonating with cold anger.

 

"You're running even thinner on life, my dear," the masked figure retorted. "But you're promising, and unbelievably entertaining. I shall let you live and play with your dead hope. Farewell."

 

Lowering its hand, the figure began to walk back toward the guards. "Gentlemen, we take our leave. It has been one entertaining expedition," the figure declared with a bow, and the guards followed in tow. Willow did not let them out of her sight, her blade still pointed at the figure's head. If it made any sudden move, She would rend the figure and guards along with it. Her focus wavered, and everything around her became a blur as their presence faded. No one was here, no one but the injured girl. 

 

Willow released the pent-up mana, watching it dissipate into the air like ethereal smoke. Her sword, once gleaming, now appeared rusty and brittle, its strength exhausted. She let it slip from her grasp, allowing it to fall to the ground with a resounding thud, shattering into ash except for a fragment of the hilt. 

 

Dragging her useless leg through the sea of lifeless bodies, she made her way to the edge of the blood-red pond where the injured girl lay. The girl was still alive, she told herself. Blood dripped from Willow’s severed hand, and the pain slowly seeping back into Willow's own body as the coldness in her mind receded.

 

With a trembling hand, Willow gripped the shirt on her right side and tore it away, buttons scattering in all directions. She loosely wrapped the fabric around the wound, hoping it would stem the bleeding. She could no longer muster the strength to weave wardings with her waning control on flow of mana. It was just a matter of time now. She was spent, running on fumes. But she had to hold on a little longer. The Witch would come searching for her soon. She had to believe that. Vivi, back home, would be worried sick by now. These thoughts fueled her hope as she reached the girl and knelt beside her.

 

"Hey," Willow called out, her voice feeble and ragged. "Hey," she tried again, but there was no immediate response. "You're alive, I know it. Answer me." The girl's eyes remained closed, dried blood staining her face. After what felt like an eternity, a faint breath finally escaped her lips. Willow felt a wave of relief wash over her.

 

"Wake up," Willow urged, shaking girl with her trembling hands. The girl's eyes snapped open, and she took a sharp intake of breath. However, her strength quickly waned, and weakness overcame her once more. She turned her gaze toward Willow and spoke, her voice soft and refined, albeit weakened. "What... have you become?"

 

"Nothing," Willow replied, her words laced with weariness. "You're safe now. I'll take you back to the city." She attempted to rise to her feet, but her entire being resisted her will. The toll of the battle weighed heavily upon hers.

 

"Leave... me. It's... too late... now. Save yourself," the girl weakly pleaded, considerate of Willow's own dire situation.

 

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!!" Willow roared at the girl's face, her anger flaring up once again, only to dissipate just as quickly, leaving her feeling weak and hollow. "Don't give me that crap. I didn't go through all of that just to hear this. Tell me you want to live, tell me to save you," Willow begged, her voice on the verge of tears.

 

"Tha... yo.. Plea... sa.. m..e. I...  li…," the girl managed to say before passing out again. Willow reassured herself that she had merely lost consciousness, not slipped away into death's embrace. Just weak and sleepy, she told herself.

 

Summoning every ounce of strength left within her, Willow rose to her feet once more. Her body shook uncontrollably, and she drew sharp breaths to steady herself. Just a little further, she whispered to herself. Just make it to the city, and then they would save her. She was sure the Witch could save her.

 

Bending down, Willow slid her only arm beneath the girl's back, careful of the bite mark on her stomach that had stopped bleeding. It wasn't too deep. She mustered enough strength to hoist the girl onto her shoulder, carrying her like a sack. Her balance wavered, and she fell to her knees. Determined, she tried again, this time managing to stay on her feet. 

 

Unsteadily, she dragged the girl toward the woods, hoping it was the correct path. Every single step took all the willpower she could summon, her one leg useless and her missing hand bleeding from every wound. She relied solely on the rush of mana-fueled adrenaline to keep going. 

 

Using the trunk of a darkwood tree for support, Willow slide to a seated position, her vision swimming. She could no longer muster the strength to take another step. "Just a moment of rest, and then I will continue," she whispered to herself, surrendering to the embrace of sleep. However, a sharp cry pierced the air, jolting her back to consciousness.

 

Her eyes looked up, witnessing a giant black bird flying toward her, with the Witch seated atop it. The bird landed before her, and the Witch dismounted, immediately kneeling in front of Willow's weary form.

 

"Willow," the Witch's voice carried a clear note of panic, and oddly enough, it brought a sense of joy to Willow's heart to see the Witch losing her composure. "What happened?"

 

"Save... her," Willow managed to say before she succumbed to darkness, her consciousness swallowed whole.