The massive, smoking breach in the earthen wall was Daemon's brutal invitation, and he charged through it without hesitation. The single Chokuto blade was drawn, held low and steady. Inside the village, the bandits were still reeling from the deafening, unnatural shockwave and blinded by the lingering white-hot flash of the explosion. They scrambled out of the nearest structures, grabbing crude magical focus staves or simple steel weapons, but they lacked any organization.
Daemon initiated his phase of the assault: the psychological warfare of the blade. He channeled his Fire Affinity, and the Mythril-Tungsten Chokuto instantly responded, turning an incandescent, vibrating white-hot. It radiated an immense, dry heat that warped the air around the edge of the blade.
The psychological effect on the bandits was immediate and devastating. They were accustomed to Fire mages, but they had never encountered heat like this. They saw their hardened steel weapons begin to wilt or smoke an inch from the Chokuto's edge. Daemon didn't waste energy parrying; he simply advanced, his terrifyingly hot blade cutting through swords, and bodies with equal, surgical ease. There was no blood on the blade, only the sizzle of cauterized flesh and the sharp smell of burnt cloth.
He was a whirlwind of precision. One bandit, a failed student with a weak Fire affinity, hurled a small, sputtering fireball. Daemon didn't dodge. He sliced straight through the incoming spell with his hot blade, the incandescent metal neutralizing the fireball's Aetheric structure and turning the attack into harmless smoke. The bandit's face crumbled in pure terror—Daemon had demonstrated a mastery of heat that rendered the bandit's own power useless. The bandit tried to flee, but Daemon was already closing the distance, the hot blade leaving a searing trail in the air before the fight ended abruptly. Daemon's mere presence, moving calmly and lethally through the chaos, became a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom for the defenders.
While Daemon drew the main thrust of the resistance with his terrifying one-man siege, his teammates found their rhythm in managing the secondary threats. Jonas took up a position near the breached wall, channeling his Earth Affinity to quickly manipulate the ground. He didn't waste time building elaborate defenses; instead, he created rapid, small obstructions—sudden sinkholes, localized upheavals, and thick mud patches—to trip up and slow the bandits trying to flank Daemon. He acted as the team's anchor, slowing the enemy's momentum.
Mikael, the most agile of the group, used his Wind Affinity to great effect, focusing entirely on disruption. He created localized, sudden gusts of air that sent dust, debris, and light weapons scattering, throwing off the focus of the spellcasters and disorienting the men trying to form defensive lines. He was quick and evasive, avoiding direct confrontation and focusing on sowing chaos, his efforts directly complementing Daemon's brute force.
Helga utilized her Telekinesis with a quiet, remarkable efficiency. Her power was subtle but highly disruptive and focused. She targeted the internal structure of the village: wrenching doors off hinges to block narrow alleyways, causing roof tiles to slide and smash onto heads, or, more lethally, she targeted the small, vital possessions of the enemy. She pried the steel from their hands, briefly held the arms of the mages to break their spell concentration, and snapped the shafts of focus staves.
Despite the students' focused skill, the sheer weight of numbers began to press their position. Daemon, seeing a dangerous mass of bandits gathering in the central plaza—likely forming a counterattack led by the few stronger mages they possessed—called for a temporary retreat and unleashed his next weapons.
Canister Two: Daemon pulled the second copper can and hurled it high over the rooftops, aiming for the center of the massed bandits in the plaza. When it exploded, the effect was designed to split the enemy. The deafening, crackling blast and blinding magnesium flare erupted directly above them, scattering them instantly and driving them into smaller, isolated groups—exactly what Daemon wanted for his team to handle.
Canister Three: A stubborn group of five Earth mages began channeling a heavy, protective dome to shield their position and organize. Recognizing the strategic threat of a fortified position, Daemon immediately pulled the third canister. He and Jonas suppressed the area with quick attacks long enough for Daemon to get close, and Daemon shoved the device into a crack in the already stressed earthen structure of a nearby building before igniting it. The resulting explosion was contained, but the concussive force, enhanced by the trapped pressure, was amplified tenfold. The building, along with the protective dome the mages were desperately casting, disintegrated in a torrent of pulverized rock and screaming shrapnel. The enemy was learning to adapt to the shock, but Daemon was adapting faster.
Canister Four: The final canister was used not for attack, but for area denial and retreat. The battle had devolved into chaotic, small-scale skirmishes, but the path out of the village needed to be secured. Daemon led his team to one of the village's main entrances, using the fourth canister to completely obliterate a wide section of a nearby wooden bridge and the dirt beneath it. The blast left the area impassable and smoking, ensuring that any reinforcements the bandits might have been expecting would be decisively delayed.
The coordinated attack—the inhumanly hot blade, the disruptive magic of his teammates, and the terrifying, unpredictable shockwaves of the non-magical black powder—had utterly broken the bandits' will. They were not fighting soldiers; they were fighting a calculated, unstoppable natural phenomenon.
The bandit leader, a heavily scarred man whose basic Earth affinity was utterly useless against Daemon's scorching presence, eventually emerged from the wreckage of a stable, covered in soot and blood, waving a pathetic white rag tied to a broken staff.
"Stop! Stop, we surrender!" he roared, his voice hoarse with fear.
The battle instantly ceased. Daemon, his hot blade now cooled and quickly sheathed, scanned the remaining men. The death toll was immense, a calculated massacre designed to send a clear message to the Empire about his efficiency. Out of the original fifty to eighty, only sixteen bandits remained—a pitiful, broken remnant of their former strength. They dropped their weapons, their faces pale with terror, staring at the cold, composed commoner who had brought hellfire without using a single spell circle.
Jonas, Mikael, and Helga, though exhausted and splattered with gore and dirt, watched Daemon with a mixture of horror, respect, and deep reliance. They had survived, but only because they had fought alongside a force of nature. The mission was a success, delivered with brutal, uncompromising efficiency. The coastal villages of Insbruck were safe, and the Imperial Academy had received its first taste of Daemon's service.