People react in different ways when they find themselves in danger. Some freeze in fear, which prevents them from making any movement or useful action. Others remain functional in a state of shock, where they do not think—only act. And others are capable of taking that feeling as a weapon and using it to push themselves out of the situation.
Uriel was the second type. Although his mind had not yet fully adapted to danger, he knew he could not remain still in front of it. He had to do something—anything—because if he did nothing, he would be at the mercy of whatever they wanted to do to him.
Resilient Skin, an extremely useful ability that allows you to protect yourself against 30% of incoming damage. While using it, Uriel discovered that he could apply it across his entire body or concentrate it to protect a specific point. Focusing it was useful, as it allowed him to reduce the feeling of exhaustion after using it.
But against an attack whose origin he could not predict, activating it across his entire body was undoubtedly the most logical choice. Such a massive improvement would come at the cost of his stamina, but when facing the unknown, the assurance of getting out alive was the best option… or at least that was what he thought in that fraction of a second.
Uriel's skin hardened at the same time he heard a whistling sound. It seemed to come from outside the house.
Uriel understood that there were far too many places from which someone could shoot. After all, he was not in good condition—an extremely kind way of referring to something completely wrecked.
They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. For Uriel, however, it felt as if his mind had become much faster and, at the same time, much slower. Faster because a flood of thoughts and regrets rushed into his mind. Slower because he could do nothing except endure the impact that was about to strike him. No matter what he did, the shot had already been fired, and he was not fast enough to do anything.
Then one of his eyes caught something. A point behind the point: a hooded figure with a drawn bow. That was undoubtedly the assassin, and what was flying straight toward his right eye was an arrow.
Ininise tried to run. If she had been closer, she might have been able to help somehow, but she had moved far enough away for that to be impossible.
The arrow was arriving, and in that moment, everything became, for a brief instant…
The next thing I perceived was the wet sound of something bursting.
Splat.
The sound of my eyeball being destroyed.
Uriel fell onto his knees. An unbearable pain tore through his head, but far from letting out the screams of agony his body begged him to release in order to relieve the stress he felt, he remained silent and clenched his teeth.
This required all his willpower.
If he could still feel pain, he was still alive. And if he was still alive, he would still have a chance. That was why he hoped his opponent would grow overconfident and approach him closely enough. Unlike him, the assassin did not know what class Uriel was. If a ranged class got close in melee combat, Uriel was certain he could end this quickly.
The only thing he hoped—the thing he needed most—was that Ininise would not panic and rush to help him right now. If that happened, his plan would be ruined. He regretted putting her through this situation, but Uriel knew this was the best opportunity to eliminate one of his pursuers.
If he had to sacrifice a part of his body—an eye, an arm, whatever it might be—he would gladly do it if it meant continuing forward. The Tower had already proven that it could heal his wounds, and although he was not certain whether that also applied to organs or limbs, he had faith that it would.
And if he had to experience a little pain, as long as it helped him keep climbing and live one more day, then pain was more than welcome. Uriel would turn it into the fuel to keep living.
Then footsteps echoed on the wooden floor. Thankfully, Ininise did not move to help him. The situation struck Uriel as somewhat strange: it caught his attention that the assassin had chosen to shoot him instead of Ininise. It was not that he was complaining—he was happy about it. But this had to be the dumbest assassin in the world to pass up the opportunity to kill his true target just to eliminate a mere secondary one like Uriel in this moment.
"Damn it, all of this is your fault. If it weren't for you, my brothers would still be alive."
The assassin's voice still sounded somewhat distant.
He didn't even pay attention to me, Uriel thought. He's probably certain that his shot killed me instantly.
The truth was that even Uriel himself did not quite understand how he was still alive, but the arrow had certainly landed in his eye. The pain was proof enough.
"Don't try to blame me for your own suffering. You're the ones who haven't stopped chasing me for a single day since I became an oracle."
Far from retreating into her usual shyness, Ininise sounded more than willing to confront the assassin with brave words.
"Blame you? Don't make me laugh. Your birth will condemn our world. If you had even a shred of mercy for us… for your own people! You would have killed yourself the moment the sixth finger grew on your hand."
The assassin's footsteps echoed once more as he approached.
Almost… he was almost within my reach. I just had to wait a little longer, and all of this would be over.
"Is it so evil that I simply want to live…?"
Ininise's words carried an indescribable sorrow.
The assassin stopped walking for a moment.
"If your existence means that we will die, then yes, oracle of the God of Duality. Your existence—your insistence on clinging to life—is an evil act in itself."
This time, Ininise did not respond.
He resumed walking, faster now, eager.
"Don't worry. I'll finish this quickly. I won't let you suffer too much."
Now his footsteps were right beside me.
This was the moment.