The bandit sneered at the woman from over the sides of the stolen merchant's wagon, watching as she slumped against a tree and glared at them with her one eye as they pulled away, her other hidden by a strange-looking eyepatch. Her face twisted into a frustrated scowl, like she wanted to help so badly and could do nothing but watch as they got away with their prize.

"Hey boss," the bandit said over his shoulder. "You think we should finish her off, boss? Put the poor thing out of her misery?"

"Nah. She ain't going to give us trouble, not bleedin' out like that," Vincent replied.

"Huh. If you say so."

The wagon's wheels hit another rock, and the bandit grabbed the side to steady himself.

"Hey!" he yelled back. "Watch where you're steering this thing!"

"You think I'm trying to get us killed? This thing's not easy to turn!" the driver replied. "It don't help that the beast at the front ain't in the mood to listen, either!"

At the front of the wagon, the horse whined in protest. The bandit ignored it, tearing his eyes away and back to the woman behind them.

When he looked back, he saw the woman push herself off the tree and collapse onto the road. It was a pathetic sight, watching her struggle to her feet, and as he watched, the bandit let his lips curl up into a smirk.

Vincent was right. There was nothing to worry about here.


Lucina's hand scrabbled for purchase on the tree branches. She could feel the blood oozing out of her injured leg, her body screaming at her that she could not go on. She pushed it down. And pulled herself up.

I've been through worse.

Her legs trembled. Weakened from all she'd been through. She hadn't eaten for an entire day, hadn't slept for a week. Her body felt like lead. A single step would be all it would take for her legs to break.

It's nothing I haven't felt before.

She was a survivor. She'd lived through the end of the world. The Fell Dragon had made her life a nightmare. His world had starved her, beaten her, stripped away almost everyone she'd loved. Like a hateful father, it had raised her bruised and broken. But it had still raised her. Despite how much the Fell Dragon's flames had burned away her skin, she still had her life.

When that was all the Fell Dragon was trying to take, that meant that she'd never lost to him. Not once.

"And that means... I won't lose..." she gritted out, "to a bunch of lousy bandits like you!"


Again, the woman pushed herself to her feet. She swayed, her legs shaking as blood dripped from the wound on her thigh. The bandit didn't think she would be able to take a single step without falling.

She stepped forward. When she didn't fall over, the bandit wasn't too worried. One step was lucky. She wouldn't be lucky enough to take another.

She took another step. Then another. And another. The flow of blood left a steady trail in her wake, something that should have left her weaker by the second, but her footfalls only grew faster. The woman's face scrunched in pain. It was clear that every step she took was a battle of its own, a battle she should have been losing.

But she wasn't.

"Uh... boss?" the bandit mumbled.

The woman's gait was hardly concerning. It was less a walk and more a confused shuffle toward them. She was still moving, though. For every foot they put between the woman, she gained back half and how in the Goddess' name was she still standing?

"Boss!" the bandit said again, louder this time. "Boss, she's coming after us!"

"What'd you say?" Vincent pushed him aside and followed his gaze. When he saw the woman stumbling toward him, he just scoffed. "That just means her cut ain't deep enough. It don't matter, anyhow. We'll lose her once we Braiden gets us goin'. Speaking of–" Scowling, he slammed a fist against the back of the driver's seat. "Hey Braiden? Why isn't we goin' yet?"

"Sorry, boss," the other bandit replied. "She ain't exactly listening to me yet!" As if to respond, their horse gave an angry neigh. The other bandit reached over to a whip hanging by the side and cracked it over the horse. "Shut up and go faster, horsey!"

The horse voiced its protest with a whine, but it still began to speed up. The bandit looked back. Already, the woman was beginning to fall rapidly behind. The wagon ran over a rock, throwing him from his place. He hissed. His hand grasped the side of the wagon and steadied him again. Behind him, he could hear their weapons rattle against each other.

Something bumped into his leg. He looked down to find the tied-up girl staring up at him with terrified eyes. He didn't hesitate to kick her back into the wagon, ignoring the muffled cry that followed.

The bandit glanced back at the woman. He met her gaze, expecting to see despair. Her eye just narrowed.


They were speeding up. That could not be allowed to happen.

Lucina leaned down. A mistake on her end. Her leg buckled under her. She stumbled. Her hand shot out before she hit the ground and caught her. She plucked a stone off the floor, and in one motion, she thrust herself forward, drew back her arm, and threw.

It wasn't her best throw. Heck, it was downright pathetic. The stone hit the floor before it could even reach the wagon. It skipped, bounced, and rolled between the wheels, missing them completely. But that had never been her goal in the first place.

Horses were sturdy creatures. They had to be, if they didn't want to collapse from all the muscle needed to go so fast. Their bones were built to hold their bodies up as they ran, and they were light enough to enable the horse to run as fast as possible.

But that came at a cost. Upright, they would hold, but apply force anywhere else and they would snap. Applying that force was just what she intended to do.

The rock bounced once, twice, and flew past the horse's legs. The horse gave a startled cry and swerved to avoid it. The bandits riding on top shouted in surprise. With them distracted, the wagon slowed.

Lucina took the chance to close the distance.


The wagon suddenly jerked to the side. The bandit hissed and grabbed onto it. He slammed into the right side of the wagon. Pain shot up his arm.

Again, the girl slammed into his side. Again, he kicked her away. The girl crashed into the side of the wagon with a cry. Apparently, it was enough to loosen the gag around her mouth, and the dirty rag slid off.

"Marth!" the girl cried. "Marth, help! Help me!"

"Dammit! That voice is so annoying!" Vincent said, scowling. A kick to the girl's ribs shut her up quick, and he gave her another for good measure. "Braiden! What do you think you're doin'?"

"It ain't my fault, boss," the other bandit snapped back. "Horsey here suddenly took a turn!" To the horse, he said, "Where do you think you're going, horsey? The road is this way!"

"It must've been something she did!" the bandit spoke up, and he pointed back to the woman.

She had already picked up another stone. She was running now, and with the horse slowing down, she was quickly gaining on them.

The bandit was sure he'd cut her leg. The line of blood in the dirt said that it was still there, still draining her strength with every step she took. She shouldn't have been able to stand, let alone run. So why hadn't she fallen down yet?

"P–please... help me..."

The bandit growled in annoyance. Vincent kicked her a second time to silence the girl, but to the bandit, it was one time too many.

"Hey boss," he said, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Is this brat worth it? You're already hurt, and this freak with the eyepatch don't look like she's gonna stop chasing us anytime soon. Why don't we just dump her off and ditch the crazy lady?"

"You're joking!" Vincent replied. "If we lose the brat, we ain't gonna get our worth in gold for our hard work. And my brother ain't ever gonna let me forget it either."

"So then what do we do?" The bandit turned back to the woman. He saw her draw back her arm for another throw. As she threw, her leg gave out under her. She caught herself on the ground as the wagon lurched again. The bandit thought for sure that there would be no recovering from that.

The woman just pushed off the ground and pressed on. Like she wasn't still leaving a trail of red in the dirt behind her.

She should have been the desperate one. The grimace stretched over her face clearly showed her struggle, but when the bandit met her gaze once more, all he found was certainty swimming in her one eye. She was absolutely certain she would win.

"Naga dammit! Why can't she just stay down!" the bandit hissed.

The wagon creaked as Vincent picked a bronze lance off the floor and handed it to the bandit. "What do you think we do? Me brother would say if you wanted her down, you need to do it yourself." He turned to the driver. "Oi! Braiden! Slow it down! There's a problem we need to take care of back here!"

"You got it, boss!"

The wagon slowed. That only seemed to redouble the woman's efforts. In a sudden burst of speed, she sprinted for the wagon.

The bandit didn't know if that was stupid or what. She had no weapon with her. She couldn't defend herself. All it would take was one thrust through the chest to end her.

She was closer now. Still running despite the wound in her leg. The wagon's wheels rolled over another rock. The bandit gripped the side with one hand to keep him steady. With his other hand, he aimed the lance at the woman.

Only a few feet away. The woman reached for the wagon. The bandit thrust his lance at her. She danced back. The bronze tip grazed the side of her hand.

A line of red split through her skin. The woman brushed it against her clothes like it was nothing and kept going. The bandit cursed. He'd been aiming for her heart.

"Miss Marth!"

The bandit almost jumped. His eyes flicked to the floor to find the girl wriggling next to him. When had she gotten there? He hadn't remembered seeing her move.

"Miss Marth! Help me!"

"Shut it!" the bandit growled. He kicked the side of her face. The girl cried out and slammed back against the wagon. Her cry satisfied him, only for panic to set in once again when he realized he'd taken his eyes off the woman.

He looked back just as she lunged. The bandit aimed his lance between her and the wagon. If she tried to climb on, he would intercept her and skewer her heart in one blow.

Except, she hadn't been reaching for the wagon.

Her arm snapped out. Her fingers brushed against the wooden shaft. The bandit swore and pulled it back.

The wench was trying to pull him overboard. He should have known she would try. It was always annoying ones who were the smartest.

"Hey, boss!" he shouted. "I need some help over here!"

Already, she was making a third attempt to reach them. Her arms stretched out to grab on. The bandit's lance forced her back. Her hands fumbled for his weapon. Another lance swiped her hands away. The bandit glanced over his shoulder to see the other bandit beside him. That must have meant Vincent was driving the wagon.

The woman snarled in frustration as she was forced to retreat. That gave the bandit a moment to catch his breath.

The wagon jerked forward. The bandit barely had time to grab onto the side to keep himself from falling out. His head turned over his shoulder, and sure enough, Vincent was at the front of the wagon, whipping the horse into a frenzy.

Vincent cracked the whip. The horse cried in pain, but it still sped up. The woman's eyes widened as the distance between them finally began to grow.

The bandit let out a sigh of relief. This battle was finished.

A cry tore from the woman's lips. "No!"

The woman sprinted toward them and lunged. The bandit cursed, fumbling to bring his spear back up to intercept her.

The other bandit was faster. His lance swung down. The woman caught the tip of his lance with her hand.

Metal ripped through flesh like paper and cut her hand down the middle.


Lucina held back a pained hiss.

It wasn't pretty. Pain hardly was. She could feel her muscles tearing apart from the attack. Her bones snapped. Her arm seized up. Blood splattered into her eye.

None of that was important. She'd finally had a hold on one of their lances.

With her other hand, Lucina reached up and grabbed the shaft. The bandit holding it gasped. He tried to pull it back out of her grasp. She would not give him the chance.

Lucina pulled down.


Shocked, the bandit watched as his companion crashed into the dirt. His gaze snapped back to the woman. With her other hand, she tore the lance out of her hand. Her blood sprayed all over the road. That didn't seem to bother her. Nothing did.

The other bandit had torn her hand open, and she hadn't even made a sound. Like she hadn't felt the pain at all. Like everything they had done had been nothing to her.

The bandit grit his teeth. This woman–this bitch–was a lunatic. Nothing they did could phase her, and for what? All for some brat?

The bandit shook his head. No. She had been chasing them for long enough. She had to die. She was going to die. She had a weapon now, but she was still bleeding out. He could kill her. He would kill her.

The woman thrust her lance forward. The bandit batted it away. For the third time, he met her gaze.

And stopped.

Looking into her one blue eye was like staring into an ocean. Light glinted off the surface with vicious triumph. Beneath them, he saw waves reaching out to take him and swallow him in darkness.

He would not let it.

"Die!" The bandit thrust his lance into her face. The woman raised her arm to block it. The lance stabbed through her. Blood splashed over her face.

"Die die die!" Again and again, the bandit tried to stab the woman in her stupid face. Again and again, the woman's arm was there to intercept. His lance cut her muscles to ribbons. Red ran down the sides of her head. Her eye twitched with every drop that came pouring into it.

And she still refused to falter.

"Dammit!" the bandit roared. "Why won't you die?!"

For the first time, she responded. "As long as I still draw breath, you will not escape!"

She jumped. Her lance streaked toward him. The bandit raised his own lance to stab her through her head.

Pain lanced through his leg. The bandit howled in pain. He looked down, only to find the girl from before, her teeth clamped down on his ankle. Somehow, she'd managed to wriggle over and take a bite out of him.

It only took a single motion to slam her against the wall. The girl cried out, releasing her grip on his leg. She'd distracted him, but only for a moment.

A moment was all it took.

The bandit swore. He drew back his arm and thrust his lance down. The woman's shoulder charged through it.

Bone snapped. Blood gushed free and painted the side of the wagon red. A pained grunt escaped her. With her arm wounded, her grip on the lance slackened. Her lance dropped out of her hand.

And into the spokes of the wagon's wheel.

The bandit paled. "Shit."

The guttural sound of wood bending and breaking was the only warning he received before the world flipped on its head. The sky hurled into the floor. The floor took to the sky. Bits of the wagon shattered and broke off, peppering him with splinters. The bandit crashed into the ground. All the air forced itself out of his lungs in a rush.

Dazed, he grasped at his eyes to keep them from rolling out of his head. It took a moment for the dizziness to settle. To his left, he could see the girl they'd kidnapped, lying limp beneath a pile of wood. To his right, the horse lay in a tangled bloodied mess of broken limbs, shrieking and whining for help. And above him–

"Wha–how?! How are you–" he gasped.

The woman didn't answer.

"What–what are you doing?"

The look in her eye made that clear enough.

"Stay away! Oh Naga, stay away from me!"

A shower of blood that burst forth as she yanked the lance free from her shoulder told him that wasn't an option. The bandit pushed himself back. His back hit the overturned wagon.

She wasn't just a lunatic. She wasn't even human. No woman could take so much and still be standing. Staring death down in the face, the man found himself drowning in terror.

"What–what do you want?" the bandit stuttered out. "You want the girl? You can have her! We don't need her!"

"So what? You can find another girl to sell?"

"N-no?" The bandit winced. The lie shone on his face, and he knew it. Her burning blue eye said she wouldn't have believed him anyway.

"I don't understand how you people live with yourself," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Selling children to make a living. We're all human. What makes you think you can reduce other people to a bag of gold? It could be the end of the world, and you people will still find ways to drag others down so you can stand at the top of a sinking ship."

Somehow hefting his lance in her bleeding hand, the woman raised it above her head.

Wood cracked behind her. The woman's head snapped around. She jumped to the side. A lance cut through where her head had been moments before.

"You bitch!" his companion snarled, stumbling back into the fight. He swung his lance around, poised to strike. "Don't think I'm letting you live after what you did!"

The woman replied with a wince, sliding her feet back in a combat stance.

It couldn't have been a fair fight. The woman was bleeding from all sorts of places, while the other bandit only had a few scratches from when he'd been thrown onto the dirt road. With one of her arms hanging off from her shoulder by a thin strip of flesh, the woman was forced to maintain a shaky hold on her own weapon with one hand. The other bandit had no such handicap.

And somehow, against all reason, the woman charged in for the first strike. She swung and swung, wielding the lance like a sword she could use to keep her opponent at bay. Her strikes were clumsy, but they were fast. The other bandit had no chance to step in and strike.

This should have been an easy victory for them. There was no way they could lose this. Could they?

Then the woman slipped. Her wounded leg buckled. The other bandit seized the chance and swung for her head. The woman caught it on the shaft of her lance. With a twist, she drove it into the ground.

The other bandit didn't miss a beat. Dropping the lance, he threw a punch at her. The woman caught it to the side of her face. She staggered away. Her foot caught on a wooden board. The woman dropped her weapon and tumbled to the floor. Snarling, she made to push herself up.

A heavy boot came down on her fingers. Small bones splintered apart with a hollow crack. The woman's face twisted in pain.

Standing above her, Vincent gave a satisfied sneer. "What was that you told me before? That you were gonna put me down?"

The woman opened her mouth to reply.

The other bandit smashed his leg into her stomach. Spit flew out of her mouth. Vincent's fist caught her on the other side. Her face snapped to the other side.

"Well? How are you gonna do that now, huh?" he taunted.

Through the blood oozing down her face, through the mess of blue hair falling over her eyes, the woman glared back. Vincent struck her again. Blood came out of her nose and splattered over the ground. Vincent lifted his boot off her hand, just as the other bandit cracked his fist over the side of her head. At last, the woman collapsed to the floor.

As the woman lay on the ground, dazed, Vincent turned to the bandit. "What are you doin' on the floor? Get up, so we can deal with this wench."

The bandit glanced at him, then over at the woman, broken and bleeding. Like she had been when they had pulled away.

That hadn't stopped her from putting up a vicious fight.

Shaking his head, the bandit said, "I think I'm gonna sit this one out, boss."

Vincent snorted. "Coward."

Slowly, the woman broke herself off the floor, only to find herself surrounded by a pair of bandits, both eager for her blood.

"You said you wanted to kill us?" Vincent said. "Still think you can fight us?"

"Fight you?" The woman coughed. Blood spurted from her wounds. Her arms trembled under the weight of her own body. And despite it, she smiled.

"I said I wouldn't let you escape. I've done just that, haven't I?"

"Lot of good that will do you if you're dead." Turning to the other bandit, Vincent said, "Braiden. Kill her."

"Sure thing, boss." The other bandit hoisted his spear above him. He thrust it toward her chest.

Red splattered over the woman's hair. The other bandit's lance crashed into the dirt beside her. The other bandit clutched his chest, a long javelin sticking out of his stomach. With a gasp, he collapsed to the ground.

With wide eyes, Vincent and the bandit glanced down the road. A group of men sprinted toward them in the distance, all of them bearing weapons and all of them looking more than ready to fight. The search party had finally come for the girl they'd kidnapped.

This must have been her plan from the start, the bandit realized.

"Boss! What do we–" The bandit turned to face Vincent, only to get a hand to the face.

Vincent shoved him forward, and as he stumbled back, the bandit leader turned tail and fled. "Take him!" he shouted, disappearing into the forest. "You ain't gonna catch me! I still gots lots to do!"

The search party was much closer now. Too close for him to pull any tricks, and with the only other lance in his dead companion's grasp, he couldn't hope to fight back.

Sighing, the bandit raised his hands in surrender. "I yield!"

He glanced back down at the woman, but she had already collapsed from her wounds again. The leader of the search party didn't seem to care. He brushed past her, already chasing after Vincent.

"Bandit! Come back at once! He must fight Gregor! He must pay for Gregor!"

"Gregor!" one of the men with him said, and he reached out to grab him. "Gregor, stop! We got the girl! We don't need to go any further!"

Incredulous, the party leader snapped to his companion. "Stop? We cannot stop! Bandit is close! He cannot be let to escape! We must kill him!"

"He's already gone! We have more important things to do!"

"What things?"

"We need to bring the girl back to her mother, and–" The man paused, and looked down. When he noticed the woman lying in a growing puddle of blood, he gasped. "Are you okay?" When she didn't respond, the man knelt down next to her and pressed a hand over her chest. "Thank Naga, she's still alive."

The party leader looked down, and when he saw her, he frowned. "This is–"

"You know her?"

"Well... Gregor knows this woman, but... is she alive?"

"She is, but she won't be for long if we don't get help. You'll help bring her back, won't you?"

"I..." The party leader threw a look down at the unconscious woman. Then he looked back at the forest, where Vincent had disappeared into. The choice seemed to pain him, but at last, he said, "Fine! Gregor will let him escape. But–" He raised his voice. "–let bandit know that Gregor will have his justice!"


You know what they say about the best laid plans and all that. One minute, you're saying you'll get another chapter out next week, the next minute you've turned a two-page chapter into seven pages. Writing this one chapter has been a lot like writing this story as a whole; I never thought it'd take as long as it would to get here, and every time I go back I think of bits and pieces that I think could make it all come together a bit more nicely.

Usually, I'd say something along the lines of "We'll now return to our regularly scheduled programming", but at this point is there even a schedule anymore? I suppose the most I can say now is that I'll try to get out an update as close to the two-week deadline as possible, but with how things can unfold and how motivation comes and goes, I can't say that's a guaruntee.

Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!