Lior was alone.
Not just physically.
He was alone in his mind, alone in his pain, alone in a world that had abandoned him.
And he accepted it.
No… he clung to it.
He slowly raised his bow.
Then, without a word, he created ten arrows.
One by one.
With care. With hatred.
With every last ounce of mana he could still burn.
His hands were trembling. He had no strength left.
But he didn't care.
> — This isn't caution...
It's just to make sure…
That I didn't miss.
He knew there was only one ogre.
He had sensed it. Measured it.
But he still fired all ten arrows at once.
They cut through the air like a volley of muffled screams.
Nine missed.
Piercing walls, soil, shadows.
Only one found its target.
One single arrow slipped between the bony plates of the monster's neck.
It struck the right spot, just before the telluric trap closed shut.
The ogre's body collapsed with a heavy thud.
Lior fell to his knees.
He didn't smile. He didn't cry.
He was barely breathing.
> — Out of ten arrows… only one hit.
He paused, then in a breath barely louder than the wind:
> — But it was the right one.
And in the silence, he clenched his fists, facing the darkness ahead:
> — With my skills… I will survive.
And I will uncover the secrets of this world.