As a streak of light, Erick crossed the battlefield and, without thinking, his sword pierced one of the attackers. There was no fear or dread in his eyes; only the pure concentration of the synergy. With a quick movement, he split the attacker in half.
"What the hell—!" yelled another attacker.
With a quick jump, Erick appeared in front of that attacker. This one did react, positioning his sword to deflect Erick's attack, something that was useless as he watched his weapon cleanly cut through by Erick's blade, as if it were butter. With that, the second attacker died.
"Yes, let's go for more!" the sword shouted, with great joy.
[Master-Sword synergy increases to 6, new functions unlocked]
"Damn system! You only speak when it suits you!" the sword yelled, while feeling itself being used to run through another enemy, something that felt delicious at this point.
Firmly gripping the sword, Erick looked at his opponents. Joining his mind with his sword, he prepared to go even faster.
*¡Zas!*
With a gust of wind at his feet, Erick cut through five opponents in an instant. The sword was not hitting, it was dancing. It was almost a ballet of fatal precision. One cut for a torso, another for a throat, a third to sever a limb, without the blade stopping or losing its shine. The bandits fell almost in unison, their bodies showing impossible cuts.
Then, in the middle of the new dust cloud formed by Erick, one attacker stood up. This one carried no visible weapons, stretching his fists, he jumped in front of Erick.
The man was faster than the others. His first blow was aimed directly at Erick's face, a punch loaded with murderous intent. The impact almost connected; Erick had to tilt his head back, feeling the displacement of air. It was the first attack that forced him to react, not just act.
Without stopping, the attacker continued to throw another punch, but Erick, seeing it, prepared to respond immediately, involuntarily increasing the sword's brightness. Something the attacker couldn't care less about.
The bandit was a master of proximity. Shortening the distance and dodging Erick's wide slash, the attacker landed a dry blow on one of Erick's ribs.
The impact was strong and firm, managing to knock the air out of Erick's lungs. Upon feeling the hit, he couldn't help but stagger slightly.
Something the attacker did not miss. Continuing his assault, Erick's face became a fixed target. Since he got the sword, he had become accustomed to only moving his weapon and eliminating everything in his path. It had been a long time since he last felt someone getting the better of him.
*Pum*
Another blow connected, which, to no one's surprise, managed to break Erick's nose. Without stopping, the attacker continued punching and dodging Erick's clumsy slashes.
The unarmed bandit moved like sand in the wind, evading the Divine blade. Erick was disoriented, the combination of quick and accurate blows forced him onto the defensive. The illuminated blade moved in wide sweeps, trying to create distance.
With his ears ringing from the blows, Erick saw his enemy latch onto him again, leaving no room to dodge. He decided to take another blow, but this time, loosening his grip on his sword, Erick managed to grab his attacker with one of his hands.
The bandit, upon connecting the blow and feeling Erick's hand clamping down on his shoulder, stopped, surprised.
Erick held him firmly, ignoring the pain that was already healing. The young man's face, bruised and bleeding, twisted into a strange, savage, almost sick smile.
The bandit looked at him, and for the first time, there was a flash of fear in his eyes.
*¡ZAS!*
Without letting him process what happened, Erick used his free hand and ran his sword through his attacker, delivering a slash that eliminated him. The cut was clean and upward, piercing the man through the chest.
With the constant shimmering of the sword's glow, everyone looked at Erick. The boy, with a bloodied face but a savage and disturbing smile, stood in the middle of a massacre of bodies pierced by his sword.
Without waiting any longer, the attackers who were still alive mounted their giant rodents and fled at full speed across the dunes, leaving their fallen comrades behind and not looking back, with fear etched into their minds.
Erick, though he wanted to follow them, remained still. His badly injured body was already beginning to heal slowly. He stretched out the hand holding the sword.
Giving a clean slash to the air, he expelled all the blood stuck to the blade, revealing its undisturbed shine. The sword instantly returned to perfection. It was then that Erick concentrated and returned the sword to its Concealment state.
The leader of the robed men looked at the scene with a distressed face. Everything had happened so fast, but he knew one thing: the shirtless man in front of them had saved them, and that caused a calculating smile to appear on his face.
"Thank you very much, young man," the man said as he approached, revealing his red beard, something Erick hadn't been able to see clearly from the distance.
The leader, named Rómulo, stopped a few steps from Erick and looked at him better. He looked at his slender body and his sky-blue eyes along with his golden hair, although covered in dirt, blood, and sand. An idea was forming in his mind, and it was not an idea of simple gratitude.
"My name is Rómulo, and I am a... merchant," said the leader.
Erick, injured, returned his gaze. His already healing wounds allowed him to return the greeting kindly, despite the smell of metal and death floating in the air. He knew that a merchant's gratitude came with a very good price.
"My name is Erick, a pleasure," he replied calmly.