Now.
Lia shifted her grip on the axe to make sure she had a more secure hold on it. The blood was making the wood slippery.
Her breath escaped in long plumes of steam, the heat of her body seeping out into the cold, dark, night. Her shoulders ached. Her hair was grimy and slicked back with sweat. Blood slowly trickled from a cut over her eye where one of the goblins had snagged her with a rock, but most of the blood on her wasn't hers.
She knew these hunts would be good for her. They called it grinding, when you went out into some uncivilized area and looked for monsters to fight. After a couple of hours you'd feel...stronger. You could hit a little harder, fight a little longer, run a little faster. Sometimes, you could learn something new.
At first, she'd kept track of how long it took, noticing that it slowly took longer and longer each time to reach the threshold. Progress carried over from one day to the next, too, which was a little strange. Eventually, she stopped counting the hours.
It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of combat, once you drew enough enemies. She took a moment to settle herself and take a deep breath.
"BRING IT ON!" she yelled, the sound carrying through the woods. Her torch, which she'd stuck into the ground, cast a quivering circle of light against the night. It was the only one for miles around, and it, along with the noise she was making, would attract any nearby predators. So far she'd caught seven. Killed seven.
Of course it was killing. Call it what you want, but there was no hiding that. Dozens, maybe hundreds of monsters had fallen to her axe over these past three years. Their blood, no matter what shade, was on her hands. Not a drop of it was wasted.
But as strong as Lia was feeling, she knew she still couldn't compare to the average hero. The half elf in white had been quicker, smarter, and the giant man who'd bought out their shop had been...excitingly strong. And they seemed like they were better than most.
How many more would she have to kill before she became as strong as them? How many had they killed to be that strong? Thousands? Millions?
If she wanted even a chance of taking back what was hers, she knew she had to have an edge, a secret weapon.
And now, she'd found it. The black staff hummed from where it was strapped on her back, the red glow of the ruby, shifting and mingling with the fire's light. It was a terribly powerful and magical object. Of that, she was sure.
She just had to figure out how it worked.
She didn't have any talent for the Art- a childhood spent trying to trick her hands into shooting lightning hadn't produced any results, and while she'd swiped Lang's wizard textbooks a couple of times, she'd never been able to make sense of them.
But she knew that you didn't need to know magic to use a magic weapon. Plenty of heroes with legendary swords had been pretty dumb too. Behind her, something rustled.
"Start with what you know, I guess," Lia muttered, dropping the axe, and sliding the staff out of its harness.
From out of the woods scuttered a hairy spider the size of a housecat, its mandibles dripping with venom. Lia turned and swung the staff, hitting the spider with an audible crack. It sagged down to the ground, the shell around its midsection cracked open and oozing, but its legs still twitched, dragging it forward.
Her face twisting in disgust, Lia brought the end of the staff down onto the spider until what was left stopped moving. She looked at the staff critically. Whatever black wood it was made out of was undented, and still solid, but the metal wreaths and the ruby on top threw the weight off, making it harder to swing.
“Not a mace, then,” she said to herself.
To the left of her, a grey blur exploded out of the bushes. Lia turned to stab at it with the pointed end of the staff, but she was too slow, and the point only grazed off the things' side.
It slammed straight into her side, knocking the air out of her in a flurry of claws and teeth. Lia grunted, and tried to shake it off, but the creature growled, and dug deeper. She felt it start to cut through her leather jerkin, and pricking the soft skin underneath.
Frantic now, she threw the staff to the side and tried to swat the animal off, but instead, it crawled further up her body, intent on reaching her exposed throat. Gouging at all the parts of her face.
Lia shut her eyes, and slammed down onto the ground, pinning the enemy beneath the weight of her body, and effectively stunning it.
Now growling herself, she quickly rolled off of it, blindly reaching for her axe before the beast could recover. Her fingers closed on something cold and hard. In one savage motion, she plunged it down towards the bastard, pinning it to the ground.
The animal screamed, a high pitched shrieked that pierced her ears as it tried to struggle free. Lia screamed back. She drew her foot back, and stomped down, and then all was quiet, apart from the sound of the heart beating in her chest.
Lia fell back down onto the ground, exhausted.
Her shoulders shaking, she pointed her axe accusingly at the staff, where it stuck out of the ground.
"You," she said, panting, "make a terrible spear."
The staff said nothing, although the ruby seemed to pulse with a brighter red. Lia turned to her fallen foe to see what mighty beast it had been. A moment's silence passed before she snorted and laughed, the sound light and shuddering.
It was an owlbear. A young one too, by the size of it. They usually weren't that aggressive, but even so. That was it?
All her bravado, all of her training, and a baby woodling had come this close to taking her down.
All her sweat, all her tears, amounted to a fuzzy, furry thing not much bigger than a badger.
The laugh continued, lower and slower, hollowed out into a dull chuckle. That was it, wasn't it? Even the staff she'd thought was a way out of this stupid town turned out to be nothing more than a stupid ornament. Some edge it was.
Lia slowly became aware of a deep, sharp pain that fuzzed in at the edges of her senses and bloomed out into a fiery ache.
She looked at her hand and saw that she wasn't holding her axe. In fact, she'd grabbed on to something that looked like a short, flat, sharp piece of black stone. Sharp enough to cut to the bone where she'd gripped the edge.
"Oh," Lia said dully as she looked at the flesh of her palm. "Bad." Blood splattered down onto the ground in thick, heavy dollops.
To her right, some distance away, she heard something howl. And then, to her left, something else replied with another howl. And another one.
Her thoughts sliding into each other, Lia fumbled for the roll of cloth she kept in a belt at her side. Her slick fingers had trouble pulling it out, but after what seemed like an eternity, she found one end of the cloth.
She tucked it between her teeth and bit down to keep it secured as she wrapped the white cloth, now scarlet around the wound.
That business done, Lia grabbed her backpack open, spilling its contents onto the ground. She scanned them, hurriedly looking for something she could use for whatever was coming.
Rations, bedroll, hunting knife. Trinket. The necklace that Verona had given her, some money from the day's sale. Useless. Matches, candlewax.
Fire?
Did fire scare away wolves? Would what came for her even care? Stupid. Miles away from where anyone would even hear. She'd wanted it that way, but now she wasn't... Stupid.
The staff's ruby glowed an accusing red, the shade bright enough to swallow the orange and yellows of the torch. The staff. Two encounters in as many minutes, as soon as she'd tried to use it. Three, no four more enemies on the way.
Maybe a good thing, on a better day, in a better condition, but tonight it was going to be the end of her. It turned out it did have one edge, and it was pointed towards her. Stupid.
The torch. She looked at its steady flame, and then down at the axe, its steel edge bright and sharp.
She had to choose. And she always chose wrong. Her whole life had been nothing but bad choices.
If only she hadn't missed the fairy.
If only she'd been special, faster, stronger, smarter.
The rustling trees meant they were closing in on her.
If only she hadn't joined the army, hadn't--
Damned if she was going out like this.
Lia spat, and grabbed the axe, ignoring how its weight pulled at her open flesh.
She was going to face this standing up.
But here it came, the most bitter one of them all. She ground her teeth together and tried to choke down the wail growing inside her.
If only-
If only she still had both of her arms.
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