I readied my bow, taking aim at the entrance. A support column provided me with cover, keeping me out of sight of the attackers. My dark armor, the low-light setting, and displaced bookshelves added to my cover. I could see the entrance and the narrow frame outside while the Jesters struggled to see past the doorframe inside.

Of course, the sight advantage I held paled in comparison to their numbers, power, and strategic positioning. I was trapped in the library. The Jesters weren't. And the one advantage I had was about to be made moot by a push of reanimated assassins. It didn't matter how well I fought if the death cultivator could keep sending in corpses. Palers were the worst.

I drew back an arrow, infusing it with all of my will and desire to strike down my target. It was almost as if energy pooled into the tip of the arrowhead. As the arrow flew, the air crackled and popped. It pierced into a tank's shield, penetrating halfway through. If the defender had any feeling, it would've shouted from shock or pain. The dead do not talk. They do, however, explode.

Just as my arrow came to a stop, the built-up energy it collected from my will, its flight, and precision released in a powerful explosion. The blast ripped a hole through the tanker's stomach and pushed them into the other two tanks.

Ding!

Perfect Shot Learned!

Perfect shot unlocked? That actually explained a lot. I knew I was taking a good shot. I didn't expect the results to be so explosive. In my mind's eye, the arrow was only going to pierce the shield, and then I would shoot it multiple times until it shattered. This was much better. I thanked Bower; my split mind focused on perfecting my bow skills and took aim.

Pale gray energy sunk into the damaged tank, bringing it back to fighting condition. At the same time, the other two tankers charged, throwing caution to the wind. I shot another arrow, repeating the same technique as before. This time, the arrow crackled through the air, reaching its target as it stepped through the door. I readied another arrow as my target dropped to the floor with a thud.

Just a step behind the second tanker, the third tanker entered the library. Just as the second fell, so did the third. It was as if its soul—or rather, mana—was ripped out of it. As the third tanker fell, my arrow pierced through its unprotected head. It exploded much like it did with my first shot, but with more gruesome results.

The turn of events brought me a bit of confidence. The runes prohibiting mana use in the library seemed to deactivate summons as well. And my bow skills were a bit deadlier than when we started the fight. If the Jesters wanted me so badly, they'd have to enter the library themselves.

Undeterred by the initial setbacks, the Jesters entered the library in full force. They used a shield as thick as a Bloodwood tree and tougher than iron to get through.

The massive shield barely fit through the doorway, and I suspected a giant of a cultivator was the only one strong enough to carry it. It might've been held by more than one person. My explosive arrows were useless against the shield. Once it blocked the entrance, seven Jesters entered and dispersed, each one carefully sneaking through the maze of shelves as they searched for me.

The Jesters weren't the only ones sneaking through my maze. As soon as the shield was used to block my shots, I repositioned. However, unlike the intruders in unfamiliar territory, the library had become a well-known setting to me thanks to my splits, Culter and Fender. The two minds had worked this exact scenario as if it were a puzzle several times now.

I knew every shadow, blind spot, and dead end. The seven Jesters thought they were hunting me. Little did they know that they'd stepped into my jungle, and I was the one on the prowl.

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I found my first target in the southwest corner of the library. The elf had chosen to use the wall as her guide in her hunt. As she passed by, I drew a mana pistol and fired. Once. Twice. Three times. The shots ripped into her body as her screams and their explosive echoes cut the silent tension.

"One," I yelled, pulling the attention of the other Jesters to my location. I tossed a smoke rune to cover the doorway as I sprinted to the north half of the library and found my next victim. Three more shots. Another dead assassin. The brute didn't scream. Not even a grunt. Just fell to the ground with a hollow thump.

I holstered the pistols, grabbing my bow. My next target was in sight, but I needed more range than what the mana pistols offered.

The assassin crept close to a shelf. He hunched low, and his steps were silent. The shots and shouting didn't deter him from his pursuit. Clearly, he had his own ideas of how he wanted this hunt to play out. Those ideas concluded as my arrow shot into his back and pierced his heart. I looked away as he exploded, falling back into the cover of a shadow to hunt for my next Jester.

My fingers trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer focus it took to hold this tempo. One mistake, one slip, and I'd be sent back to reset early. Memories lost. No progress made on resetting my body...

I couldn't let this life be wasted on a shopping trip.

As I headed to the northeast quadrant, I threw three explosive runes near the entrance, covering the space between my first and second kill during this hunting session. The fourth Jester had already found my barricade covering the patrons. The assassin couldn't see past the wall of shelves to see the people on the other side and was treating the makeshift wall like it could be a trap.

With a blade in hand and shield held ready, the assassin pushed on one of the walls. Or at least intended to. I shot him in the neck. No power. No flourish. Just precision. I barely caught his body as he fell to the ground. Number Four died without a sound.

I found Number Five in the back of the library near my original hiding spot. The massive brute of an elf was the size of an orc if not a bugbear. He must've been the one that carried the shield wall. The heavily armored elf showed great skill at stealth as he crept toward the northwest quadrant, where Number Two had died. As much as I wanted to shoot Five in the back, I didn't have confidence in my arrows to penetrate his armor, and I couldn't find any gaps in his protection.

Light's Edge was in my hand, and Snowpiercer was on my back. My steps were quick and silent. I gripped the sword with both hands as I ran past the tank and executed a perfect slice. Like Bower, Slasher and Tack had continuously practiced my cutting technique—perfecting my skill and looking for areas of improvement. The two dedicated splits filled me with confidence that my blade would strike true. As Number Five split in half, the last thing he saw was me running toward Number Six.

I changed weapons once more, switching sword for bow. Six was in the northwest quadrant. From my angle, it looked like the assassin was inspecting the body of Number Two. I didn't have a kill shot, but a couple of arrows sticking in the body was enough to take anyone out of a fight—especially if they didn't have healing power. As I slid to a stop, I took aim and fired twice. Two whistling arrows. Two thuds. One loud scream followed by a flurry of curses.

I ignored the injured Jester as much as I could, staying silently still and listening. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long to hear soft, rapid steps coming from the middle of the south half of the library. I slowly turned and peered around the support pillar. Movement and shadows gave away Number Seven's position. Sure enough, the assassin was making their way to the injured teammate.

Snowpiercer in hand with an arrow held at the ready, I stalked Number Seven, keeping a parallel distance between us. As they stepped, I stepped. It was as if I was their very own mirror. Shadows and shelves provided a comfortable cover.

My prey slowly made their way toward the injured assassin, alert and ready to strike—not knowing the dangerous grounds they tread upon. Each step taken brought them closer to the edge. Step. They held their long knives with practiced hands. All they needed was one window of opportunity to strike. Step. The killer was so confident in their skill. Death seemed to seep out of their aura. In their mind, the task was already completed. Ste—Thud.

Just like the rest of the Jesters, Number Seven had no idea the danger they were in. They walked through the darkened library, trusting their skill and training.

Six was struggling to crawl to safety. However, there was no safety in here. Number Six died just out of the reach of light, hand stretched out, three arrows in their back.

In less than three minutes, the seven Jesters that entered the library had been killed. The tables had somewhat turned. As I steadied my breathing, my splits worked on plans to escape.

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