"Perhaps sixty percent recovered after two days of rest. Enough to travel at enhanced vampire speed, though sustained running will deplete me." The vampire’s red eyes showed understanding of what Satou was planning. "You want all three of us moving at maximum possible pace."

Satou looked at both of them. "I know this is dangerous. I know we’re not fully recovered. But if we wait for proper healing, we’ll arrive after the battle is over. After our people are dead or enslaved and I don’t want that , we will try to reach the settlement tomorrow. I can make it if i run at maximum speed ."

Marcus and Elara had woken from the commotion, the elderly couple appearing in the doorway with sleep-confused expressions.

"You’re leaving?" Elara asked, immediately assessing Sylvara’s condition with healer’s eyes. "She’s not ready for travel. That wound needs at least another day to—"

"We don’t have another day." Satou’s voice carried desperate urgency. "The settlement is being attacked right now. If we don’t leave immediately, we won’t arrive in time to help."

Elara looked at Sylvara, at the partially healed wound, at the bandages she’d so carefully applied. Her healer’s instinct warred with her understanding of necessity.

"If that wound reopens, she could die from internal bleeding."

"If we wait here while the settlement falls, everyone we care about will definitely die." Satou met her eyes. "I know the risks. We all do. But staying isn’t an option."

Marcus stepped forward. "At least let us give you proper travel supplies. Food that can be eaten while moving, water, medical materials for emergency treatment."

"We’d be grateful." Satou turned to Sylvara. "Can you stand?"\

The dark elf pushed herself upright with visible effort, her face going pale from pain but her expression determined. "I can stand. And I support this decision completely. My wound is my problem, not a reason to let the settlement fall."

"I as well," Cassius added, his vampire pride showing through. "I’ve fought through worse conditions than ’merely’ depleted blood magic. If Lord Satou can carry extra weight, I can maintain vampire speed for three days."

Satou felt something tight in his chest loosen slightly. They understood. They weren’t arguing or trying to convince him to wait for proper recovery. They recognized the urgency and were willing to risk themselves to reach the settlement in time.

"Then we leave in ten minutes. Pack light—only essentials. Every extra ounce of weight slows us down."

The next ten minutes were controlled chaos as they prepared for immediate departure.

Marcus and Elara moved with surprising efficiency for their age, gathering travel rations that could be eaten on the move—dried meat, hard cheese, compressed fruit bars that provided concentrated calories. Water skins filled from their well. Basic medical supplies wrapped in waterproof cloth.

Sylvara stripped down to minimal gear—her assassination tools, a single change of clothes, her weapons. Everything else abandoned to reduce weight.

Cassius did the same, keeping only his rapier, his infiltration tools, essential items that couldn’t be replaced.

Eight minutes later, they stood at the door of the hut, fully equipped and ready to travel.

Elara approached Sylvara one final time, checking the bandages with expert hands. "These should hold for normal movement, but running and jostling will strain them. If you start bleeding through the bandages, you MUST tell Lord Satou immediately and stop to re-wrap. Internal bleeding kills quickly."

"I understand." Sylvara met the old healer’s eyes. "Thank you for saving my life. Twice now—once when you treated the wound, and again by not trying to stop us from leaving."

"Just survive this." Elara’s voice carried emotion the professional healer usually kept hidden. "All three of you. I don’t want to wonder if my patients died because they left my care too early."

Marcus handed Satou a final water skin. "The settlement you’re defending... is it worth dying for?"

Satou thought about everyone in the settlement , the goblins who’d found courage they never knew they had. The orcs who’d learned to build instead of just destroy. The serpentfolk who’d found community after lifetimes of isolation, Jessica, Lyra, Seraphina.

"Yes," he said simply. "It’s worth everything."

Marcus nodded, understanding in his weathered face. "Then go. Run fast. Fight well. Win."

Satou turned to Sylvara. "Ready?"

"As I’ll ever be." She positioned herself to be carried, her assassin’s training helping her find the most weight-efficient position—arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, body pressed close to minimize how much her weight would throw off his balance while running.

Satou lifted her with ease, his dragoblin strength making her slight frame feel almost weightless despite the weapons and gear she carried. "Comfortable enough for long-distance travel?"

"It’s undignified, but functional." A slight smile crossed her pain-tight face. "Don’t drop me."

"Wouldn’t dream of it." He looked at Cassius. "You set the pace initially. I’ll follow. When your stamina starts failing, tell me and I’ll take the lead."

Cassius nodded, his vampire pride showing in the set of his shoulders. "I’ll maintain speed for as long as possible. Let’s go."

They left the hut in the pre-dawn darkness, Marcus and Elara watching from the doorway as three figures disappeared into the forest—a vampire running with supernatural speed, a dragoblin carrying an injured assassin, all three moving with desperate urgency toward a battle happening hundreds of miles away.

—-------------------------

Few hours passed

Cassius set a brutal pace, his vampire speed allowing him to move faster than most humans could sprint even in short bursts, and he maintained it without apparent effort.

Behind him, Satou matched the speed despite carrying Sylvara, his dragoblin physiology and enhanced stamina making the burden manageable. His legs pumped with mechanical efficiency, his breathing controlled despite the exertion, his enhanced vision tracking Cassius’s path through the dark forest.

Sylvara kept her body as still as possible to avoid throwing off Satou’s balance, her arms locked around his neck, her face pressed against his shoulder. Every jarring step sent pain through her healing wound, but she bit down on any sounds of discomfort—complaining would only make Satou feel guilty, and guilt would slow him down.