A Drastic Change of Plan

A man dressed in gray hood drenched in blood appeared before us full of wounds. He collapsed by the tavern door after yelling out Tarte's name, causing panic to the entire building. Some men hurried to attend the fallen man's injuries.

"T-These wounds… how terrible…"

"He's been attacked. Q-Quick, get a cleric. A mere potion won't do the trick. Hurry—"

"It's no use, gentlemen."

Tarte already left her seat, now standing between the Samaritans with arms crossed.

"L-Lady Tarte, what are you saying?"

"…This poor soul is already dead."

"W-What?"

"Step aside."

Those people gave way for her. The vector crouched and inspected the badly wounded man in hood. His pooling blood wet the lower parts of her tunic and her shoes, but Tarte did not matter. Upon unveiling the man's hood, she discovered most part of his skin was scorched. His wounds looked like surface of lava.