DanMachi: It's destined to lose its self.

Garvin continued to look at his father with expectation and hope, but the older man remained silent. Shaking his head, Larsen spoke.

"You deceived me, and you will be punished for it. As for the drugs… don't forget, he has a theology, and most likely, a navac capable of resisting it. That's all."

"No, you're wrong."

"No, I'm not. Listen, Garvin," Larsen's tone rose, turning into a shout. "He couldn't even dodge your arrows, didn't sense our gazes! And most importantly, you know what, Garvin?" His father's voice became quieter. "He ran away. If he were strong, why would he run? He could have waited for us or set up an ambush. Do you see these tracks? Perhaps at the end of our path, he will be waiting and attack from the shadows. And that means he's not confident. To hesitate is to die. And I won't hesitate. Don't forget what I taught you all your childhood, Garvin. And that applies to you too," Larsen turned to Torvin and Elrik.

"We remember, Father."

"Yes, we never forgot," Torvin confirmed, supporting his brother.

Garvin lowered his hands, once again failing to persuade his father. "Father…" Garvin understood all his arguments but didn't want to admit them. He was simply afraid of the unknown, of what the Copy hid behind his mask of calm. But no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to convince his father, and there was no choice left. "Okay, Father. Forgive me for my foolishness and for deceiving you."

"We'll talk when we finish the job. We need to catch him. He couldn't have gone far. Let's go. We must find him before nightfall," Larsen paused for a moment and continued, "Let's hope he can give himself first aid so he doesn't die from blood loss. That's the only thing to hope for."

Walking along the drops of the Copy's blood, everyone was silent, no one started a conversation. But the further they advanced, the less blood there was, until it disappeared altogether.

"What are we going to do, Father? The blood trail ends. Perhaps he gave himself first aid here," Elrik fell silent, studying the ground, and continued: "Where do you think he's heading now?"

"He couldn't have gone far. Or maybe he's been allowing us to follow him all this time in order to set up an ambush. So, everyone be ready if my suspicions are correct."

"Yes, Father!" all three exclaimed.

The Copy could hear shouts, his head was spinning, and his eyes were blurry. He felt nothing but pain in his arm and leg. It was difficult for him to move his body.

"Why, why, why am I so unlucky?" the Copy thought, plummeting like a stone. A moment later, he hit the water, feeling the pain of the impact. But this pain gave him the ability to think clearly.

The Copy slowly sank to the bottom. He didn't want to die a pathetic death with such thoughts. "I must swim out, I must, I must, I must. Move, move," the Copy thought, repeating the same thing non-stop. Control over his body gradually returned, and the Copy felt hope.

Gathering his last strength, the Copy swam upward. The water burned his wounds, but he didn't stop. Every second felt like an eternity, there was almost no air left in his lungs, but he continued to paddle, reaching out towards the light breaking through the water. Finally, he surfaced, greedily gulping air. The Copy couldn't see well, but he managed to make out the outlines of trees and swam towards them.

"I will survive, I will survive at any cost," the Copy thought, swimming closer and closer to the shore. Finally, he was able to get out. The Copy immediately fell onto the cold ground, no longer having the strength to stand.

"Khah, khah, khah… Ahahahaha… I managed to survive!" But the Copy understood that this was only the beginning. The one who shot him wouldn't leave it at that. With trembling hands, the Copy took off his backpack and opened it, intending to get five recovery potions. But the Copy's hope collapsed - all the potions were broken in the fall.

"It can't be!" At least one should have remained intact. The longer he looked at the broken vials, the more he felt despair. He threw them out of his backpack into the lake. But then the Copy had an idea: he was missing all 4 caps. Where's the fifth? He remembered that to avoid rummaging through his backpack every time he was injured, he always kept one potion readily available.

The Copy reached for his hip pocket. Feeling around, he found an intact vial. The Copy's joy knew no bounds.

"It turns out luck hasn't completely turned away from me. Hahaha… Khah, khah…" He took out the vial of potion with trembling hands, brought it to his mouth, and drank it in one gulp.

He immediately felt relief. His vision refocused, and his body became more obedient. The Copy tried to stand up. He succeeded. He took the backpack and headed wherever his eyes led him. The wet clothes only slowed him down, but he couldn't do anything about it, he didn't want to waste time on it.

"Quickly… need… to go… Ah… Hah… Why do they need me? Who could they even be?" The further the Copy walked, the more he wanted to rest. "I need to rest… Ah, ha…" The pain in his leg and arm was the only thing keeping him conscious. The Copy decided to rest and take care of his wounds. He bit his shirt. "I can do it, yes, I can. I just need to focus." Taking an arrow in one hand, he broke it, and then with a sharp movement, he pulled it out of his body.

"Mmmm… It hurts so much…" The Copy immediately took out the bandage he had prepared and began to bandage his arm. "One down… Ah, ha…" he whispered, breathing heavily. He bit his shirt again and took hold of the arrow in his leg with trembling hands. "Come on, I managed the first time," the Copy thought. With a sharp movement, he pulled the arrow out of his leg. "Ah, ha… I did it." The Copy didn't waste time and bandaged his leg. He threw away the arrows. After resting a little, he continued on his way. He didn't know where he was going, the main thing was to get away from those who shot him. "Or maybe they didn't chase after me?" the Copy thought, stopping.

Speeding up again, he pushed these thoughts away. The Copy didn't want to believe it, it's better to be prepared for the worst. How did this even happen? How did he not notice the pursuit?

All his travels had been peaceful, and he relaxed. The Copy bit his lower lip in annoyance. He began to hate his luck - why can't everything be good? "Why?" looking at the sky, the Copy said into the void.

He stumbled over tree roots, caught on bushes, but continued to move forward. He knew that he couldn't stop. The pursuers might be close. The sun was setting, and the forest was filling with shadows. The Copy felt fatigue creeping in with every minute, but he drove it away.

Finding a small clearing, the Copy decided to rest. He leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath. The pain in his leg and arm reminded him that he was being hunted. "Where am I even going?" The Copy didn't want to take out the map, it wouldn't help yet. First, you need to get rid of the pursuers. He's been walking all day, he can't take it anymore. The Copy was just waiting for night to hide, if, of course, the pursuers hadn't given up. "After all, a whole day has passed. They might be tired of it, I'm not a bag of gold," the Copy smirked at his thoughts.

He was almost ordinary. The only thing he could boast of was his beauty. "It seems like no one holds a grudge against me." But then he remembered the faces of Gedo and Kanao. It dawned on the Copy: could it all be their doing? They found out that he survived and decided to finish what they started. The more the Copy thought about it, the more he was convinced that they had the best chance to do it.

"If that's true, then why didn't they attack earlier? For example, when I was sleeping. Or did they want me to suffer longer? Maybe my arguments are wrong. Maybe they're just bandits who decided to shoot for fun. Or someone hired them…" But the Copy immediately dismissed this thought.

The more he thought, the less he understood who could have attacked.