The wasteland wind carried the heavy, metallic scent of fresh blood, a perfume that the Bandit King inhaled with deep satisfaction.
He stood in the center of the carnage, his massive boots planted firmly in the red-stained dirt. Around him, the remains of a caravan lay scattered like broken toys.
Shields were shattered, horses lay collapsed with foam at their mouths, and the bodies of soldiers were strewn across the cracked earth.
The Bandit King laughed, a guttural sound that vibrated in his chest.
With a wet squelch, he twisted his greatsword free from the chest of a dead soldier.
The blade was huge, a slab of iron that would take two ordinary men to lift, yet he wielded it with one hand.
He was an Apprentice Swordsman. In these lawless lands, that title made him a god among insects.
"Boss! We found gold on this one!"
"Look at this armor! Pure iron!"
His men moved like vultures, stripping the corpses of valuables. The Bandit King ignored them. His eyes were fixed on the final survivor.
A single soldier, covered in dust and gripping a broken spear, tried to push himself up from the ground. His legs trembled violently.
His helmet was dented, blood trickling into his eyes, but he glared at the giant looming over him.
"You… you bandit scum!" the soldier screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Do you know whose carriage this is?"
The Bandit King stopped. A cruel smirk slowly stretched across his scarred face.
"Oh? Do enlighten me."
"This belongs to the Valdren House!" the soldier spat. "If they find out—"
"Hah!"
The Bandit King's laughter cut him off, booming across the battlefield like thunder.
"Valdren House? The Royal Family? It matters not." He stepped forward, the sheer pressure of his Strength attribute radiating off him like a heatwave.
"If the person inside that carriage was truly important," he sneered, looking down at the soldier with pitying eyes, "then the guards would not be ordinary trash like you."
The soldier's face went pale. "You..."
"Real power does not travel with weaklings," the Bandit King murmured. "Die knowing you were cheap."
He didn't even seem to swing. His arm merely blurred.
Swish.
The air split.
The soldier froze. A thin red line appeared on his neck. A heartbeat later, his head slid cleanly off his shoulders and landed in the dirt with a heavy thud.
The Bandit King stepped over the corpse without a second glance.
"Clear the bodies," he ordered lazily. "I want to see the prize."
Now that the nuisance was gone, silence fell over the road. The Bandit King surveyed his work with a nod. Clean, brutal, and efficient.
His gaze landed on the centerpiece of the caravan—a sleek, black carriage reinforced with gilded metal and precious dark wood.
It sat untouched amidst the destruction, radiating wealth.
He rubbed his calloused hands together.
"Finally," he whispered, greed glinting in his eyes. "Something worthy of my time."
It had to be an ousted prince. Or perhaps a runaway noble daughter carrying her jewelry box. Whoever was inside would make him rich.
He gestured to his subordinates. "Open it. Drag them out. But don't damage the carriage—I want to sell it."
"Hehe, leave it to us, Boss!"
Three of his bandits sheathed their weapons and approached the carriage door, grinning with lecherous intent.
The Bandit King folded his massive arms, waiting for the screams of terror.
The bandit in front reached for the handle and yanked the door open.
"Come out, little sheep!"
But there was no one inside.
Instead of a person, a small, black, round object rolled out from the darkness.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
It bounced gently down the wooden steps and rolled into the mud right at the bandits' feet.
The three men paused. They blinked, staring at the strange metal ball with confused expressions.
"What is this?" one of them asked, poking it with his boot. "An egg?"
The Bandit King frowned. A sudden chill spiked down his spine—the instinct of a warrior who had survived a hundred battles screaming at him to move.
"Back away!" he roared.
But it was too late.
BOOM.
A deafening blast shattered the air. Instantly, a massive cloud of thick, white smoke erupted from the ball, expanding with terrifying speed.
In the blink of an eye, the carriage, the bandits, and the road were swallowed by a blinding white fog.
"My eyes! I can't see!"
"What sorcery is this?!"
"Boss! Help!"
Chaos erupted. The bandits stumbled blindly, swinging their weapons at nothing.
The Bandit King stumbled back, coughing as the acrid smoke stung his nose. He gritted his teeth, his face twisting into a snarl.
"What cheap trick is this?"
Thwip.
A sharp whistle cut through the smoke.
"Argh!"
A scream cut short.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
The sounds were rhythmic. Precise. Terrifying.
"My eye! Something hit my eye!"
"Where are they coming from?!"
The Bandit King could see nothing but white, but he could hear his men falling.
Bodies hit the ground with heavy thuds. Every arrow found a mark. Every scream was one of agony.
It was a massacre.
"Coward!" the Bandit King bellowed, swinging his greatsword in a wide arc.
The wind pressure from his slash cleared a small circle of smoke around him. "Show yourself!"
Swish.
An arrow flew straight out of the fog, aimed directly at his left eye.
The Bandit King didn't panic. He sneered, his wrist twisting with lightning speed.
Clang.
His blade met the arrow mid-air, shattering the shaft and deflecting the metal tip.
"You think a toy like that can hurt me?"
He looked up, tracing the trajectory of the arrow.
Through the swirling white haze, atop the roof of the carriage, he saw a silhouette.
A slender, graceful figure stood perched on the edge of the roof of the carriage, her features obscured by the fog.
As he watched, she raised her hand, fingers curled until only the middle one stood straight.
"You bitch!" he screamed, rushing towards her.
Then from her hands, strange, jagged metal objects rained down, scattering across the ground where his remaining men were scrambling.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
All his men exploded into pieces.
"Aaahhhh! I will kill yoooou!" The Bandit King roared, his muscles swelling as he prepared to launch himself at the roof.
But the silhouette didn't stay. She simply backflipped off the carriage, vanishing into the dense white wall of smoke as if she had never existed.
"Come back here!" he screamed, slashing at the empty air as he felt his sight splitting into two, then three.