Whoever had kidnapped me clearly underestimated how irritatingly resilient I could be.
And I fully intended to teach them exactly how costly that mistake was going to be.
Huddled behind damp barrels that reeked suspiciously of moldy cheese and stale ale, I realized something important. Being subtle was exhausting. Tiptoeing around corners, hiding in alcoves, whispering sarcastically to the system I was officially done with all of that.
If I was going down, it certainly wouldn't be quietly.
"You know what?" I muttered aloud, standing abruptly, ignoring the painful ache in my legs and shoulders. "Forget stealth."
[Wait—what?] the system spluttered incredulously in my mind. [What are you doing?]
"I'm improvising," I said cheerfully, stepping out boldly into the dimly lit corridor. Magic surged beneath my skin, warm, eager, and decidedly fed up with restraint. "I'm tired, hungry, cranky, and completely out of patience. I think it's time they remember who they kidnapped."
