Morning came and it was cold and gray.
Aron woke to the smell of smoke from the dying campfire. Israel was already up, moving around the camp with practiced efficiency. The driver stirred nearby, yawning.
They ate quickly. More dried meat, some bread that had gone slightly hard overnight. No one spoke much.
Within the hour, they'd packed everything and were back on the road.
The carriage rolled west through open countryside. Fields gave way to scattered trees, then denser forest. The road narrowed, rougher than it had been near the city.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, burning off the morning chill.
They passed through small villages. Clusters of houses with thatched roofs, smoke rising from chimneys. People stopped to watch the carriage go by, recognizing the Greyman crest painted on the side.
Late afternoon, they entered a larger village. A wooden sign at the entrance read: Aagis.
Aron looked out the window, his jaw tightening.
'Here. It happened around here.'
In the original story, Aron had died just outside this village. An assassination meant for someone else. A princess traveling the same road. Aron had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He needed to be ready.
"Stop at the market," Aron called out.
Israel glanced back. "Young Master?"
"I need supplies. Stop here."
The carriage pulled to the side of the road near a cluster of market stalls. Aron stepped out and walked to a vendor selling tools and basic goods. He found what he was looking for. A knife, small enough to conceal but sturdy. He paid for it with a few coins from his pouch and tucked it into his belt under his jacket.
When he returned to the carriage, Israel was watching him with a faint frown. "Young Master, is everything alright?"
"Fine. Let's keep moving."
They left Aagis behind. The road continued west, houses and farms disappearing as forest closed in on both sides.
A few minutes later, the path split.
"Halt," Aron called out.
The carriage stopped. Israel looked down from the driver's seat. "Young Master?"
Aron opened the door and stepped out.
The path diverged into two directions. The left route had a wooden sign planted beside it: CLIFF EDGE - PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
The right route looked clear. No signs. No warnings. The obvious choice.
Aron walked closer to the left path, studying the ground. There was fresh tracks in the dirt. Multiple sets of footprints leading that way. Disturbed earth near where the bushes grew thick, like someone had been waiting there recently.
'They're set up on the right path. Expecting us to take the safe route.'
He turned back to the carriage. "We're taking the left path."
Israel leaned forward. "Young Master, that leads near the cliff. The road there is dangerous."
"We're taking it anyway."
Israel's hands tightened on the reins. His jaw worked like he wanted to argue. "As you wish, Young Master."
The carriage turned onto the left path. Trees closed in immediately, branches forming a canopy overhead that blocked most of the sunlight. The road here was narrower, barely wide enough for the carriage. Through gaps in the trees on the left side, Aron could see open air. The cliff edge wasn't far.
They hadn't gone far when the carriage lurched to a stop.
Aron leaned out the window. "What is it?"
"Rocks blocking the path," the driver called back. "Big ones. We'll need to move them."
Aron climbed out, his hand instinctively checking that the knife was still at his belt. Large stones sat across the road, too heavy for the horses to pull over.
' Too Convenient.'
Israel jumped down, his expression tight. The driver followed, both men moving toward the rocks.
Aron stood near the carriage, his eyes scanning the trees. Bushes grew thick on both sides of the road. Perfect cover for an ambush.
'Any moment now.'
Suddenly
A scream cut through the forest.
A girl burst through the trees, running toward them. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Dark hair wild around her face. Her dress was torn and dirty, blood on her arms from scratches. She ran like death itself was chasing her.
"HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!"
Israel's hand went to his sword. "Get back, Young Master!"
The girl reached them, gasping for breath. She grabbed Aron's arm with both hands. "They're everywhere! They killed my guards! They're coming!"
Aron recognized her immediately. 'Princess Elara Velmora of Caldris. The assassination target from the story.'
Movement in the trees.
Six figures stepped out from the bushes, surrounding them completely. They wore dark clothes, faces covered with cloth wraps. Each held a weapon. Daggers, short swords. On their sleeves, partially visible, was a symbol stitched in black thread. A dagger crossed with a shadow.
'Shadow Assassins.'
Aron's chest tightened. Professional killers. The kind hired to eliminate problems that needed to disappear quietly.
Israel drew his sword. "Stay behind me!"
The driver grabbed a thick branch from the ground, his hands shaking.
Aron pulled the knife from his belt. His grip was uncertain, the weight was unfamiliar in his hand.
One of the assassins moved toward Israel, circling slowly. Israel shifted his stance, sword raised, his movements controlled and precise.
Two more assassins approached from the right. The girl pressed closer to Aron, her whole body shaking but her mouth still running.
"Do you know who i am ?" she spat at the nearest assassin. "I'm Princess Elara! My father Will have your head for this."
"Be quiet," Aron said.
She shut her mouth, though her eyes still blazed with anger.
The assassin lunged at them.
Aron grabbed the girl's shoulder and pulled her behind him, sidestepping at the same time. The blade cut through empty air where she'd been standing.
The assassin recovered quickly, raising his blade for another strike.
Aron moved to meet him, knife ready. But Israel was faster. He crashed into the assassin from the side, his sword driving clean through the man's ribs.
Thunk.
The assassin dropped, blood pooling beneath him.
Israel pulled his blade free and turned to face the next threat without missing a beat.
'He's protecting me. Still playing his role.'
Another assassin rushed Aron from the left. Aron stepped into the attack instead of away, getting inside the man's reach. The assassin's dagger came down but the angle was wrong now, striking Aron's shoulder instead of his throat.
Pain flared. Aron ignored it and drove his knife up under the assassin's chin. The blade punched through soft tissue and into the brain. The man's eyes went wide, then empty.
Aron pulled the knife free and shoved the body away.
'Thank God the instincts are still there. Different body, same survival reflex.'
The girl was screaming curses at another assassin who was trying to circle around to her. "Come on then! Try it! I'll gouge your eyes out, you piece of—"
'No wonder they're after her. She doesn't know when to shut the hell up.' Aron frowned.
The assassin made his move. The girl grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and threw it directly into his face.
Pff—
"Eat shit!" she yell.
He stumbled, clawing at his eyes, blind and disoriented.
Aron stepped in and slashed his knife across the man's throat. Blood sprayed hot across his hand and arm.
The body dropped.
Israel was fighting two at once now, his sword moving in controlled arcs. He caught one across the chest, opening a deep gash. The man fell screaming. The second assassin pressed the attack, forcing Israel back.
The driver swung his branch wildly at another assassin, keeping him at a distance. But he was panicking, his swings getting slower and more desperate.
The assassin got past his guard. The blade punched through the driver's stomach. He made a choking sound and dropped, the branch falling from his hands.
"NO!" the girl screamed.
Aron was already moving. He closed the distance and drove his knife into the assassin's back, angling up toward the heart. The man gasped and collapsed.
Israel finished his opponent with a brutal thrust through the heart. He spun, looking for the next threat.
One assassin remained. He looked at the bodies around him, at Israel's bloodied sword, at Aron holding the knife. His eyes went wide behind his mask.
He turned and ran into the trees.
Israel's hand moved. A throwing knife appeared from somewhere in his armor. He threw it.
Whip—thunk.
The blade caught the fleeing assassin between the shoulder blades. The man stumbled, fell, and didn't get back up.
"Bunch of amateurs".
Israel walked over and retrieved his knife, wiping it clean on the dead man's clothes.
Silence fell over the road except for their ragged breathing.
Six bodies lay scattered in the dirt and grass. The driver's corpse stared up at nothing, blood pooling beneath him.
The girl was shaking, her hands covering her mouth. "They're dead. They're actually dead. I can't believe—"
"You injured?" Aron interrupted.
"What? No. I don't think so. Maybe. I don't know." She looked at the bodies again. "This is insane. This is completely—"
"Stay by the carriage," Aron said. He turned toward Israel. "We need to move these rocks and—"
Then.
Pain exploded through his back.
Cold steel punched through his side, just below his ribs. Aron gasped, looking down. A blade protruded from his stomach, blood already soaking his shirt.
The blade pulled free. He stumbled forward, catching himself against the carriage. His legs wouldn't hold properly.
Israel's voice came from behind him. "Should've kept your mouth shut at dinner."
Aron turned slowly, pressing his hand against the wound. Blood poured between his fingers. Israel stood there, sword in hand. Blood dripped from the blade.
"Why?" Aron forced the word out.
"Lady Gisele's orders," Israel said. "You were to die on this road. An unfortunate casualty of the assassination attempt on the princess."
'Fuck. I let my guard down.'
Aron's mind raced despite the pain. The story had never mentioned this. Aron had just died in the ambush, not betrayed afterward.
'This is my fault. I provoked Gisele. Changed things. And she made sure I'd pay for it.'
"But it's not just her orders," Israel continued, his voice hardening. "You accused me in front of the Duke. Made me look like a liar. A predator. You think I'd forget that?"
The girl stood frozen by the carriage, her eyes wide with shock.
Aron's vision blurred slightly. He was losing too much blood. "Gisele paying you that much"
"It's not about money." Israel took a step closer. "It's about respect. And you have none."
Aron saw the girl move. She was edging around behind Israel, her movements slow and careful. He needed to keep Israel's attention.
"The Duke will know," Aron said, his voice weaker. "He'll find out what you did."
"Will he?" Israel smiled. "I'll tell him you died bravely. Fighting assassins. He'll probably give me a reward." He raised his sword. "Nothing personal, Young Master. Just business."
The girl grabbed a thick piece of broken branch from the ground. She swung with everything she had.
The branch connected with the back of Israel's head. The impact made a sound like snapping wood.
"FUCKING TRAITOR!" she screamed.
Israel's eyes went wide. He stumbled forward, his sword falling from his grip. He was too close to the cliff edge.
His foot found empty air.
For a moment, he teetered on the brink, arms windmilling. His expression shifted from shock to terror.
Then gravity took him.
Israel fell without a sound. Aron heard the impact seconds later, a distant crack of body hitting stone far below.
The girl dropped the branch, her chest heaving. "Piece of shit. I hope that hurt. I hope you felt every second of it."
Aron's legs gave out. He slid down the side of the carriage, leaving a red smear on the wood. The ground hit him hard.
The girl was beside him immediately, her hands hovering over the wound, not quite touching it. "Shit. There's so much blood. Don't die.Don't you dare die on me."
Aron tried to speak but his throat wasn't working right. His vision was darkening at the edges. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, each pulse weaker than the last.
"Don't die," the girl said, her voice breaking. "Please don't die. You saved me. You can't just die now."
Blue text appeared in his vision, floating impossibly in the air.
[Congratulations! Host has escaped death.]
[Quest update: Survive assassination attempt - Complete]
[Warning: Critical injury detected]
[Initiating emergency protocol—]
The text swam, becoming unreadable. His vision blurred completely.
The last thing he heard was the girl's voice, desperate and scared. "Stay with me. Please. I don't even know your name. Stay with me."
Then nothing.
Everything went dark.