First Win

A pickle, was the most generous tag I could give to my present predicament. I had debated just running away, and saving my own hide. Yet when I contemplate it rationally, it was a choice that would only spell doom for myself. If this creature was similar to a leopard of my world, then it wouldn't be long before I ended up as its prey. 

That was when I noticed something, there was an object embedded in it. A rustic dagger which found its mark on it's back, perhaps belonging to the old man who might have swung it in desperate self-defence. A weapon.

Seize the element of surprise, or become a victim to it.

A voice in my head urged, an instinct I followed diligently. The old man had collapsed onto the ground, his grievously injured legs no longer possessing the strength to carry him any longer.

He tried to crawl away, it set its eyes on him, rearing its legs and pouncing upon him, intent on tearing him from limb to limb. 

This. This was the time to strike.

No sooner had it leapt than I surged forth, a renewed strength coursing through my veins as fire spewed exhumed out of my lungs, setting alight the rows of shrubs and grassy fur on the feline. Its trajectory seemed thrown off as it slammed into an adjacent tree, roaring in pain.

This was my chance, barely a breath passed before I found my hands gripped around the hilt of the knife. Dislodging it coarsely with a forceful tug, and just as I wondered how this measly blade might be effective, it seemed coated by some pungent green substance.

Without a second thought, I leapt onto the leopard, which immediately began thrashing aggressively to try and get me off it's back. I held on, grappling its skin with enough force to puncture into it's hide, a feat I had no idea would be possible by my hand.

Just as it roared again in pain, raising its hind off the ground to toss me ahead, I utilised the forward momentum to lodge the knife into the leopard's back, letting the forward momentum draw a sick gash across it's back as I was catapulted into a tree.

Something that should've broken a bone or two in my body, now barely felt akin to an irate itch. I rose up from my impact to see the bark I was flung unto, battered and bludgeoned by the impact. The leopard who flung me now had bloodshot eyes, it stumbled a moment or two, retching out blood in a sickly gag before collapsing. 

Once I could let the adrenaline wear down, I realised that I may have instinctually inflicted a disease upon the creature, an aspect of Sekhmet less known of, for she could cure and inflict a variety of maladies. One that I was infinitely grateful for, as I whispered a silent prayer to the Goddess, unknowing if she would ever even hear it.

As I walked over to the old man, I felt something else surge within me- Anima. I vaguely recalled the Voice telling me that any action of mine that altered the destiny of others in this world would accrue anima. Whilst not as much as the goblin, saving this old man certain accrued a respectable chunk. Did this mean I saved a lot of people, or- no, best not think of it.

Luckily, I wouldn't have to, as the quivering voice of the old man called out to me.

"T-thank you. Tyran watch over you boy-you saved my life! Gods be good to you!"

It took me a moment to process it, did they speak Japanese? Surely not. Or was I just able to understand their language now? Either way, conversation was valuable as I rushed over to him, inspecting his torn calf.

"Don't move oji-san you're badly injured! Let me look at your leg!" 

My mind began to point out various plants, herbs and even some shrubs that were on the dead leopard's back. Ones I swiftly took and crushed in my palm into a coarse past, rubbing it on the man's calf. 

The bleeding stopped, and for now it looked like he wouldn't get any worse. At least physically. The gaze he gave me was telling a different story, he seemed almost surprised as I leaned back over him. Waiting in silence for him to speak.

"Your holiness- I beg. I have only a few silver to my name. Please, I can't pay you. Forgive me, please!"

The man begged, and kept begging, clasping his hands together as tears flowed freely from his eyes. Even when I tried to assure him that I was not looking for money as payment, it only seemed to mortify the man even more. 

I could further conclude, rather unfortunately, that it seemed like the clergy were not of the benevolent kind in this society. His fear of non-monetary forms of payment indicated that there were worse things to lose than money to a cleric seeking compensation; not so far from many corrupt religious theocracies.

There was logically no way for me to calm him down, then again this was an opportunity. Perhaps I could use this man to my advantage a bit here, a little mutually beneficial deception. I could try my hand at healing him, and I could absorb all the knowledge he had. 

In a way, he reminded me of those bootlicking seniors at any firm, the ones who'd grown stale in their middle management roles and would lick the boots of every superior in the organization due to their inbuilt inferiority complex. 

I cleared my throat, loud enough to get his attention, and summoned my stern chiding voice, the one I loved using when I wanted to pressure a junior into doing something I wanted. 

"Stand up. I am on pilgrimage, halt your pitiful begging before I revoke my generosity. I desire to be taken to your village. Furthermore, I require food, fresh clothing and shelter for the next week. I wish to learn of this area, spare no detail, and I will spare you."