E.M. Dash Web Novels
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Chapter 045 Run, While You Still Can Girls
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 21:00:07 +0000 UTCDay 5. Monday 4:30pm.
Jack stepped out of the Adventurers Guild’s training area, fatigue tugging at his limbs, but in good spirits. No one had made disparaging remarks about how grotesque his face looked or how it was spoiling their meal!
He was having a good day. Smiling, he planned the rest of his day. Head home, have a bath, get something to eat, his stomach rumbled at the thought. Then spend a few hours crafting scrolls. He needed more coin to buy armour.
As he passed beneath the Guild’s stone archway, he spotted a towering swordsman bearing a greatsword, sheathed on his back at a slight angle. The seven-foot-long weapon protruded a couple of feet above his head. The swordsman was heading for the Adventurers Guild.
“Fuck,” Jack muttered, his steps faltering.
This was the leader of the adventurer party who had searched for him through the forest only yesterday. Beside the swordsman walked their healer, Linda, deep in conversation.
“We need a job,” the swordsman rumbled. “A few goblins a week ain’t even enough for ale.”
Linda nodded. “When that idiot Kyle turns up, we should do another dungeon raid. Do you think we’re ready for the second floor?”
A couple of paces behind them, another young woman followed with a slight limp. It was Sam, the woman who was injured by the goblin that Jack killed.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Jack thought as they approached. He considered turning back into the Guild, but that might draw their attention. I was covered in blood and dirt… they can’t recognise me. Can they? He gripped his dagger handle and started to consider options. Run, fight or scream for help.
It was now too late to turn around. The large swordsman and healer swept past him without a glance, their discussion focused on work prospects.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Gods they didn’t notice me.
Sam cast him a fleeting glance as she limped by… and a second look, and a… smile.
Jack stiffened and stared ahead, determined not to meet her gaze. He concentrated on a nearby brass fountain over a small pond. A handful of ducks floated on its surface. A young boy with his mom was throwing bread to the ducks. An old couple sat hand in hand on a bench nearby. A delivery drone, about the size of a cat, flitted by leaving a thin stream of spent aether-steam in its wake.
Jack and Sam passed.
He picked up the pace. That was too fucking close.
“Hey, you two,” Sam called.
There was no response.
Jack quickened his footsteps.
“Stop, you idiots,” she called again. “Ain’t that the kid Kyle chased?”
Damn! Jack kept walking, scanning the area for the best place to start running. Should I run now?
“What?” the swordsman barked.
The taste of metallic saliva coated Jack’s tongue as adrenaline coursed through his body. Should I run?
“Him there.” There was a short pause before Sam added, “Yeah, him. See the white bow?”
Fuck! The bow! Jack headed towards an alleyway where he’d be out of sight and could run.
“Hey! You!” the swordsman roared.
Jack kept walking. A few more seconds. Shit!
“You… with the white bow. Come here,” the swordsman called, his voice drawing nearer.
Jack swung into the narrow alleyway and bolted like a rabbit. A dozen paces and a quick left turn, two dozen more paces, and he skidded to a halt. Fuck, it’s a dead end! Before him loomed a twelve-foot-plus sandstone wall, smooth and unscalable, its summit crowned with broken glass. At its base sat a row of industrial-sized bins. To his left, a tall sandstone building with barred windows; to his right, another building with shuttered windows and a solitary door.
Could I scale the wall? I could use the bins… Jack clenched his fists. No way past the glass shards. He dashed to the door as the swordsman rounded the corner.
“It is you!” the swordsman said, drawing his enormous blade.
Jack gave him a single glance and tried the door. “Please be unlocked,” he muttered under his breath.
“There’s no escape, kid,” the swordsman growled. “Where’s Ky…”
Jack yanked the door open and darted into a short, well‑lit hallway. “Thank the Gods,” he murmured, slamming the door shut while scanning for a lock. “Shit… rune-encoded.” Without the key, he couldn’t secure it.
He searched the passageway for something to bar the door with. Fuck! There was nothing usable in the ten-foot corridor; it was almost empty. On the walls were a few notice boards and an aether-powered employee time punch device, used for clocking in and out of work. At the end of the short corridor was a single door.
Jack rifled through his pack. “Fuck! Where is it… where is it… got it.” He squinted at the heading on one of the notice boards. ‘Ron’s Diner Work Schedule’. He tried the other door. Fuck! Locked. He gave it a hard pull, hoping it would open. It didn’t budge.
The door he’d entered through swung open.
He glanced at the employee time punch device to the side of the door. He considered using one of the workers’ punch cards to unlock the door, but knew he’d need one of their passcodes.
The swordsman’s shadow spilt over the doorway. “Gotcha,” he snarled, holding the door open with his free hand. “Where the hell’s Kyle?”
Jack let his pack drop, maintaining a hand on his dagger and said, “Who the hell’s Kyle, and what the fuck do you think you’re doing entering my diner?” His pulse thundered in his temples. “Do I need to call the guards?”
The swordsman frowned while looking into the hallway. He didn’t enter.
“Well?” Jack repeated, taking a half-step forward. “Who are you and what are you doing in my diner? Get out!” He squared his shoulders, attempting to look confident, like he owned the place. Shit! Shit! Shit! He was trapped. He looked at the greatsword the swordsman was holding. It was taller than the door!
“Do you take me for a fool, kid?” The swordsman grinned. “This is Ron’s. And you ain’t no Ron.” He chuckled.
One of the women called something from the alleyway.
Jack’s chest tightened. Damn it!
The swordsman looked back up the alleyway. “I got him trapped,” he called. Looking back at Jack, he shouted again, “Where the fuck’s Kyle?!” He took a step into the doorway, blocking Jack’s exit. His only escape. “Last chance, boy.” He raised the blade to the ceiling.
“Never again,” Jack whispered. For my family.
“Fireball!” he shouted. A crackling sphere of flame shot from his left palm; the used spell scroll disintegrated after use.
The fireball struck the swordsman in the chest, igniting his leather armour and flesh in a roaring inferno.
Jack lunged forward, dagger drawn, sliding against the hallway wall to avoid the collapsing steel blade. Vital points. Aim for vital points! He pictured multiple vital points in his mind. Neck, eyes, groin, armpits, heart, lungs…
The swordsman’s guttural screams of agony filled the corridor as his leather armour, skin and hair charred and melted under the searing heat.
Jack flinched at the heat, the smell of burning flesh, and the screaming swordsman. For a heartbeat, he was back home, slamming his shoulder against the flaming, locked door where his mother, sister, and brother burned.
Their screams for help urged him to knock down the door and save them. “I have to save them!” he cried. The flames surged, and Jack was forced to crawl out of his burning home… without his family. He wanted to die, but his body refused to listen…
Jack smashed into the smouldering swordsman, the heat still present. Still disorientated from the flashback, he slammed the dagger deep into the swordsman’s gut and tore it free. “I fucking hate you!” he screamed as he saw Greaves before him, his smug, grinning face, his wispy blond hair under the stupid top hat.
The palm of Jack’s right hand itched.
They tumbled into the narrow alleyway. The swordsman’s form slumped against the sandstone wall with Jack kneeling on him. The swordsman’s torso was a ruin of scraps of smoking leather and blackened flesh, his head a grotesque mass of red, hairless skin, his ears gone, his eyes melted shut.
The swordsman’s hands flailed, catching Jack hard in the face. Stars danced before his eyes as blood dripped from his nose. He thrust the dagger at the swordsman’s neck, but missed, instead burying it deep in his shoulder. His palm itched more as he ripped the weapon free and slid the blade under the man’s jaw and deep into his brain. He twisted, causing bone to crunch, ensuring the swordsman’s end.
As he withdrew the dagger, a surge of power coursed through his veins, his aching muscles from his earlier archery training soothed by the furious energy. Still kneeling, he glanced towards the alley’s corner. Linda and Sam stood there, wide-eyed and motionless, too shocked to act.
Jack offered the two young women a crooked, wide-eyed grin and yelled, “Run, while you still can, girls!” He chuckled while taking his time to wipe the blade on the corpse’s remains.
The women exchanged a panicked look before sprinting back towards the Guild, shrieking!
Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “Fuck! I can’t believe that worked.” His shoulders slumped from exhaustion. He looked at the bloody remains of the swordsman, feeling no guilt. The outcome of the fight was decided the moment the fireball hit true. He grimaced at the mess the spell scroll had done to the man’s face.
“Shouldn’t have taken my goblin ear,” Jack whispered. “You’d still have yours.” Recalling the goblin ear and rusty shortsword the swordsman had stolen from him, he cut the coin pouch from his still-smouldering corpse.
“Now we’re even,” he said. He considered taking the greatsword, it would be worth over a gold, but thought better of it. He stumbled back into Ron’s Diner, grabbed his pack and ran back into the alleyway.
He again looked at the greatsword. That could be worth 2 gold, he thought. “Fuck! I can’t carry that thing through the city.” It was taller than he was. He turned to leave, but stopped. He grabbed the greatsword and shoved it far under the industrial-sized bins.
Having hidden the greatsword, he ran to the top of the alleyway as he heard the back door to Ron’s Diner opening. There was no one there, the two women long gone.
“Call the guards,” a male voice called.
Jack didn’t wait to hear the rest; he got the hell out of there.
Comments
E.M. Dash
He has his moments, which he'll struggle with. Didn't want to write the sort of MC that kills without remorse, but at the same time an MC who will kill when he has to. Most web novels I've read go down the route of the MC feels nothing from killing. Of course there are people like that, (I suspect I'd be like that) but if you've gone from a life of never killing to suddenly having to kill, it should have an impact psychologically.
ReaderofMany
He’s more murder happy than I thought he’d be, guess becoming magically well adjusted isn’t a benefit of dying
