Chapter 22: Harold Fighting Bandits!
"Well, well," came a gravelly voice from behind us, and my heart stopped. "What do we have here?"
Lisa and I spun around to find a sixth bandit—one we hadn’t accounted for—standing just a few paces away with a crossbow trained directly on us.
"Looks like we’ve got ourselves some young lovers out for a romantic stroll," he called out to his companions. "Question is—do we kill them quick, or do we have ourselves a bit of fun first?"
My muscles tensed instinctively.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to assess our options, when I felt Lisa’s small hand squeeze mine—a gesture meant to stay calm.
The attack came without warning.
The bandit’s fist connected with my cheek like a sledgehammer, the impact sending stars exploding across my vision as I crashed to the forest floor. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and the world spun sickeningly around me. My ears rang, and through the haze of pain, I could hear Lisa crying out my name.
"Harold!"
I tried to push myself up, my hands scrabbling against the damp earth and fallen leaves, but my head felt like it was filled with cotton. Through my blurred vision, I could see Lisa struggling against one of the bandits who had grabbed her arm, her dark hair whipping around her face as she fought. But then she went perfectly still.
The man’s crossbow was aimed directly on my chest.
Ah... fuck.
Here I was, supposedly getting stronger, training harder, pushing this young body to its limits—and yet when it mattered most, I had hit the dirt within seconds. All the power in the world was useless without the experience to wield it effectively.