—"I want you to attack one of the merchants' caravans. Destroy it. Make people prefer to buy from me instead of from those bastards."—
The man narrowed his eyes. An act of sabotage. Something dirty and despicable.
—"And what do I get out of it? What's the reward?" —he asked in a low voice.
The man laughed mockingly and raised the hand that was holding the girl.
—"Her."—
Silence fell heavily.
The man felt a chill run down his spine. In his life, he had seen many things, but this… this was among the most repulsive he had ever witnessed.
—"Why offer a girl instead of money?" —he asked in a dangerous, distrustful tone.
The merchant snorted indifferently.
—"Money? Please. She's not worth even the rag she's wearing. She's an orphan on the brink of death, can't you see? She can barely stand. For any man deprived of certain pleasures, someone like her is nothing more than a simple toy, something worth more than the money I could offer you for this job."—
The man's blood boiled. His fists clenched so tightly that he felt his nails dig into his skin.
It was not his problem. He had no obligation to intervene. He could ignore it, walk away, and pretend he had never heard him. But something inside him, something deep and visceral, refused to let that girl suffer such a miserable fate.
The man took a deep breath, controlling the fury that threatened to explode and destroy the merchant who had made him the offer. When he regained his calm, he spoke in a firm voice:
—"I accept the job, but under my conditions. You'll pay me with money, and you'll also give me the girl."—
The merchant raised an eyebrow, surprised. Then his expression twisted into a grimace of contempt.
—"Who the hell do you think you are to make demands of me?"—
Without warning, he shoved him violently, making him stumble back a step.
—"Do you have any idea about the power of the classes? Know your place, vermin. Those below don't demand anything. They either accept or they die."—
The man stared at him without blinking, his unbreakable, threatening expression making the merchant step back.
—"Fine. I accept. After all… I trust you'll manage to do what I asked. Just don't die trying if you want your reward." —The merchant smiled maliciously.
The deal was made. But inside, the man had already decided something. He would not only complete the job. He would also make sure that man paid for his sins.
And he would do it in the cruelest way possible.
The path was narrow, surrounded by trees that cast ghostly shadows under the pale moonlight. The man hid among the brush, watching the carriage approach with the metallic creak of wheels against dry earth. Beside him, a group of beggars writhed with anxiety, some biting their nails, others gripping their rusty weapons with trembling hands.
He knew he should not trust them. Better than anyone, he knew the reward would only go to one of those about to attack the carriage. In the same way, he also knew that none of them would live long enough to claim it. No one but him would save that girl.
They were desperate men, willing to commit any atrocity for the sake of a reward. But for now, they served him, and they followed almost as if they knew he was the one meant to take command.
From his position, he waited for the exact moment. The horses advanced with heavy steps, the merchant in charge snapping the reins impatiently. Inside the carriage, two bodyguards watched carefully, ready to draw their weapons at the first sign of danger.
The man took a rock and threw it into the forest.
The impact echoed hollowly. The horses neighed, uneasy, and the merchant pulled hard on the reins.
—"Hey! Did you hear that?" —one of the bodyguards asked.
—"Relax. It was probably just an animal," —the other replied, though doubt colored his voice.
It was time. The carriage had stopped exactly as planned. With a snap of his fingers, the man gave the signal. A second later, the logs he had placed on the road fell with a dry crash, blocking the way.
—"Shit!" —the merchant exclaimed, yanking desperately on the reins, trying to turn around before things got worse.
The bodyguards jumped down from the carriage, swords drawn. That was when the traps were triggered.
One of the men stepped on a hidden snare, and in the blink of an eye, he was yanked into the air, left hanging upside down. Before he could scream, a stone struck his temple with executioner-like precision, knocking him unconscious instantly.
The other bodyguard tried to react, but the man was already on him. He moved like a shadow, dodging the attack and striking him in the chest with an open palm. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and before he could fall, a second blow to the back of the neck left him out cold.
Inside the carriage, the merchant began to hyperventilate.
—"No, please…!" —he murmured in desperation.
The beggars paid him no attention. They swarmed the carriage like starving beasts, tearing open crates, ripping fabrics, and devouring the fruit with sickening voracity.
The man sighed. He did not care about the looting. His job was done. He approached the merchant, who was trembling, his face soaked in sweat.
—"I won't kill you," —he said coldly. "But you'll need a good blow to forget this night."—
Before the merchant could answer, his fist struck his jaw with precision. His body collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
And then, true hell began.
When he turned to leave, he felt the presence behind him. The beggars were watching him with twisted smiles, gripping knives, razors, and improvised weapons.
One of them licked his lips.
—"Good fight, friend," —he said in a hoarse voice. "Now that we've finished this job, it's our turn to finish the other one we were told about, boys… remember, we were given a better offer."—
The man narrowed his eyes.
—"Offer?"—
Another beggar laughed, showing yellow, rotten teeth.
—"The merchant who hired us said that if we killed you, we'd get a better reward… and the girl."—
Silence became unbearable.
The man watched them with terrifying calm as they laughed like hyenas.
—"If you kill me, you'll kill each other to decide who gets the reward."—
—"Ha! That'll just make it more fun," —one of them replied, and they decided to attack.
Twenty men against one.
The first lunged with a rusty knife. The man dodged easily, grabbing his wrist and twisting it brutally. A dry crack, followed by a scream of agony. But the true nightmare began when the man's blood touched his skin.
A nauseating sound filled the air.
The vagrant's flesh began to melt. His eyes widened in horror as his skin bubbled, sliding off his bones like molten wax.
The others froze, watching their companion collapse to the ground, reduced to a mass of charred flesh.
—"W-what is this?" —one stammered, backing away.
But the man was already moving, drawing the bone weapon he had been given earlier.
He lunged at another enemy, coating the bone's edge with his own blood and striking the vagrant in the chest, carving a deep gash. His skin burned instantly, exposing his organs as a tearing scream escaped his throat.
Another tried to stab him, but the man caught the blade with his bare palm. The weapon melted in his hand, along with the fingers of his attacker, who collapsed writhing in pain.
Desperation spread among the beggars. Some tried to flee, but the man gave them no chance.
He slit one man's stomach, making his intestines spill onto the ground like a torn sack.
He smashed another's jaw with his fist, still soaked in his own blood from the earlier cut. When the blow landed, his flesh liquefied, and his skull was left exposed.
One more tried to escape, but the man grabbed him by the neck. The skin of his throat disintegrated in seconds, leaving him on the ground with an expression of eternal horror.
One by one, they fell.
Dark blood soaked the earth. The trees, the rocks, and the merchandise were covered in steaming viscera.
When the last beggar collapsed with his flesh still melting, the man stood in silence. His breathing was steady, his expression impassive.
It was over. He knew the power that had been granted to him was an excellent weapon, though it also affected him. Losing so much blood was not ideal in these situations.
Calmly, he collected the fallen men's weapons and stored them in a bag. He took what little food had survived and searched the corpses' pockets. He found more money than he had expected, including that of the merchant and the still-unconscious bodyguards.
Without hesitation, he lit a torch and threw it onto the carriage. The flames consumed it quickly, illuminating the massacre with a dancing, sinister light.
The job was done.
Without looking back, he walked toward the village. He still had unfinished business.
The girl was waiting for him.