He is Questioned

It didn't take us long to get to Boris' cabin. It took about a day, but considering that my leg was broken and I was carrying a two hundred and fifty pound man on my back, it was really record timing. 

The place itself wasn't too shabby; it was about as big as you'd expect, fitting a bed, stove, and table with a decent amount of space between, but it was well-constructed, and the furniture was skillfully produced. Finally, after laying him down on the bed, the exhaustion that I'd built up from the fight, the injury, and the journey here all hit me at once. I collapsed on the ground, leaning up against the wall.

I took some deep breaths. Then, another fact crossed my mind. I'd been resurrected from death whenever I was killed by Kenji. If I died here, though… I doubted that, outside of the Black Box, resurrection would be possible for me. Was I being too risky? I barely scouted my target before striking. If I'd waited longer, I would've noticed that he wasn't who I was looking for, and could've avoided sustaining any damage to my leg. Now, if I encountered another risk, I would be at a disadvantage. 

How stupid. Despite all of the education that I'd been given, and the combat training from Kenji, I'd still yet to put any of it into practice in the real world. I thought that I'd been cautious, but really, I'd been overconfident. This was my first real fight with someone besides Kenji, and I would've been beaten if not for throwing an unexpected hail mary. If I were to fight him again, he'd be able to see it coming. 

I was still too weak to take on the god of this world. Of course I was- my power was young and weak. I'd have to develop it further. The problem was, they would surely be doing the same. Regardless of how much my power grew, I'd still have to find and exploit their weaknesses.

Ugh. What a fucking hassle. 

"Kid, go into that cabinet over there. Should be a tin. Bring me it,"

Boris seemed to have caught his breath. It wasn't exactly the smoothest ride for him, so he was probably in a lot of pain. I handed him the tin, and sat back down. He opened it, pulling out a couple big, leathery pieces of jerky. He tossed me one as he started to eat.

So, I partook too. I hadn't eaten in a couple of days, so I was pretty hard pressed for a meal, even if it was like eating a boot.

I could feel my teeth grinding in my skull as they tried their damndest to rip a piece of the jerky off. The taste wasn't anything to write home about, either. It was salty and bland. 

Boris chuckled as I struggled with the meat.

"So, a bounty hunter. Where from?"

Now he wanted to get chatty? The whole way back here all he could say was 'ugh… slow down… my hip…'

"Nunya bishnesh,"

I glared at him, mouth still full of unchewed jerky. This meat was seriously pissing me off. Did the animal he killed for it have muscles made of diamond?

"You're in my house, eating my food, after breaking my hip, kid. Least you could do is humor my questions."

Ugh. I finally choked down a piece of jerky. It didn't go down smooth; I pounded my chest as I forced it down my throat.

"Nowhere you've heard of,"

I answered, once my airway had been freed. 

"It's rare to see a swordsman so skilled as you; one wielding mana, for that matter,"

Are you seriously still talking?

"Well, I had a good teacher,"

Efficient may have been the better choice of word.

"Oh yeah? Who?"

He was certainly persistent in his line of questioning. Of course, I'd noticed that his hand was draped over the side of his bed that was facing the wall. His muscles were slightly tensed, so he seemed to be gripping something, probably a weapon.

Was he questioning me to find out if I was some sort of spy, or other malicious entity? I guess it was questionable that a skilled warrior using "mana" popped up out of nowhere. Besides, he'd said earlier something about not allowing traitors in his woods. It seemed like he was pretty loyal to the crown.

"No one you've heard of,"

It didn't really matter to me, though. I was already accumulating power in the case of an attack. I'd sacrifice another limb and kill him, if I had to. This wouldn't be a bad place to camp out.

"What're you doing in these parts, then?"

"Not sure yet,"

"You could join the royal guard with your skill,"

"Don't wanna,"

"You're awfully taciturn, kid,"

"Yep."

He just kept on going. In fact, he asked so many questions that I'd somehow finished my jerky by the time he was done.

"Kid, since you're being difficult, I'm just gonna ask. Are you with the crown, or the Hero?"

I could see his grip tighten. It was pretty obvious what he wanted me to say. Unfortunately, I hesitated for just a second. It seemed his suspicion was just enough that this was the final straw. He raised his arm, revealing a loaded crossbow, and without a moment of pause, fired it straight at my head. My focus skyrocketed. For the split second that the arrow was flying, I could see it moving towards me. I could see every divot in the metal point, every splinter in the shaft, and the way that every feather whipped through the wind in the fletching. My hand moved without thinking. The power that I'd gathered pushed it exactly where it needed to be. Before I even realized it, I could feel the skin of my palm breaking and getting raw as it clasped around the arrow, the friction making it bleed. The point was stopped only a centimeter from my forehead. I could practically feel the wind from it stopping brushing up against me. My instincts were as sharp as ever, at least. I crushed the shaft of the arrow in my hand.

"Clack! Clack!"

The pieces of the arrow struck the ground as I looked Boris straight in the eyes.

"The Crown."