Prince waited until the moon was high and the camp had fallen into deep silence. The fire had burned down to embers. Three of the four tents were closed, occupants presumably asleep.
Only one tent remained open. The rape tent. Where that trader had dragged the screaming girl hours ago.
He'd spent those hours hiding, watching, planning. System had shown him shop options. He'd considered buying a better weapon, but the good ones were expensive. In the end, he'd rely on what he had—the knife, the petrol, surprise, and a willingness to do terrible things.
[Current time: 3:47 AM,] System informed him. [Optimal window for infiltration. Human sleep cycles indicate deepest rest period occurs between 3:00 and 4:00 AM.]
Prince crept forward, moving as quietly as possible. Every step felt too loud. His heart hammered so hard he was convinced everyone could hear it.
But no one stirred.
He reached the open tent and forced himself to look inside.
The girl from before was lying on a thin mat, naked and covered in blood. Eyes closed. Not moving. Then he saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Unconscious.
The Slave trader was asleep on a proper bed, snoring softly, completely relaxed and at peace.
The sight filled Prince with rage so intense it burned. His hands shook as he pulled the knife from his belt.
He'd never deliberately killed anyone like this before. The first trader had been in chaos, pure adrenaline. This was different. Walking up to a sleeping man and deliberately ending his life.
But when he looked at that unconscious girl covered in blood, then back at the man who'd put her in that condition, Prince didn't feel conflicted at all.
He felt absolutely certain.
He moved to the bedside and drew the blade across the trader's throat in one smooth motion. The man's eyes opened, wide and terrified. He tried to scream but only managed wet, choking sounds. His hands came up to his throat, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
Prince watched him die. Forced himself to watch every second. The struggles got weaker. The blood pooled. His eyes went from terrified to empty.
[Target eliminated,] System announced. [First kill bonus already awarded. No additional points for subsequent kills unless they qualify as achievements.]
Prince waited for the guilt to hit. The horror of first kill.
It didn't come.
All he felt was grim satisfaction and determination to finish this.
"Well....i think i became cold-blooded after living for almost a hundred years."
He found a clean blanket and draped it over the unconscious girl. She didn't wake up.
Three more traders to go.
Prince moved to the next tent. The entrance was tied shut from inside. He pulled out the petrol from his Inventory and quietly worked his way around the tent, sprinkling it along the base where canvas met ground.
When he'd made a complete circle, he pulled out the flint and steel.
It took four tries before a spark caught and the petrol ignited with a soft *whoosh*. Flames raced around the base, climbing up the canvas with terrifying speed.
Inside, the man started screaming.
'Mistake,' Prince thought. 'Should have killed him silently first.'
The burning man burst out of his tent, clothes on fire, skin blistering. He rolled on the ground, still screaming. The captives were waking up, watching in horror.
And the two remaining traders emerged from their tents with weapons already in hand.
Both were bigger than Prince. Older. Scarred and hard-looking. One had a sword. The other had a spear and a knife.
Both stared at him with pure rage.
"Who are you?!" the sword-wielder bellowed. "What are you doing here?!"
Prince stood there in the firelight, holding his bloody knife. "I'm here to stop you."
The one with the sword laughed. "You? A kid?"
The burning man had stopped screaming. His body was still now. Two traders dead. Two more to go.
But these two were alert, armed, and radiating killing intent that made Prince's survival instincts scream at him to run.
But these two were alert, armed, and radiating killing intent that made Prince's survival instincts scream at him to run.
Prince took a step back without meaning to. There, tied to her post in the firelight, was the girl with the moon-face. Her eyes were locked on his, wider than ever, silently begging him not to run.
'I can't run,' he thought. 'Not now. Not after giving her hope.'
"System," he said quietly. "I need help. What can I buy that will keep me alive?"
[Analyzing combat scenario. Two experienced combatants with melee weapons. User possesses minimal combat training and inferior equipment. Survival probability without intervention: 3.7%.]
"I don't need the odds! I need a solution!"
The traders were advancing, spreading out to flank him.
[Available option: Old Model Pistol with single ammunition. Cost: 1,000 points. Effective at close range.]
A gun. In a world that probably didn't even have gunpowder yet.
"I have 11,000 points. Can I afford it?"
[Negative. Current balance: 950 points after automatic deduction for Inventory access and previous System functions. Insufficient funds for purchase.]
His stomach dropped. "What? You didn't tell me—"
[Standard operating costs are detailed in the user agreement accepted upon System integration. However, alternative funding option available: Loan system. Interest rate 200% of borrowed amount. Required repayment within 30 days or penalty fees apply.]
The traders were eight feet away.
"Fine! Give me the loan! Give me the gun!"
[Loan approved. 50 points borrowed at 200% interest. Total repayment: 100 points. Item purchased: Old Model Pistol with single ammunition. Transferring to Inventory now.]
The knife in his hand vanished, replaced by the cold weight of a pistol. Old and worn. Single-shot. But it was loaded and real and pointing at two men who had no idea what it was.
The sword-wielder charged forward, blade held high.
Prince pulled the trigger.
The sound was deafening. The recoil nearly knocked the gun from his hand. But the bullet flew true.
At less than a meter distance, it was impossible to miss. The bullet punched straight through the trader's chest. Blood erupted from the wound.
The trader's eyes went wide with shock. He looked down at the hole in his chest, then back at Prince, then at the strange weapon.
He fell forward, landing face-first in the dirt. Dead.
The spear-wielder stopped, staring at his fallen companion with absolute horror.
Prince pointed the empty gun at him, trying to keep his hand steady. "Come closer and you'll die too."
Complete bluff. The gun was empty. All he had was a useless piece of metal and hope.
The spear-wielder stared at the gun. At his dead companion. Calculating.
Then his eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip on his spear. He took one step forward, testing.
That's when someone screamed behind him.
The spear-wielder spun around just in time to see the moon-faced girl driving a spear straight through his back.
The blade erupted from his chest in a spray of blood. He gasped, dropped his weapon, and clawed at the shaft.
The girl twisted the spear and pulled it out. He collapsed, still trying to breathe.
She stabbed him again. And again. Until he stopped moving.
Then she stood there, covered in blood that wasn't hers for once, breathing hard, still holding the spear.
Prince lowered the empty gun and stared at her. At this girl who'd been tied up and helpless minutes ago, who'd somehow freed herself and killed a man to save him.
All four traders were dead. Throat slit. Burned alive. Shot. Stabbed.
It was over.
Prince let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His legs started to shake with the adrenaline crash.
The girl was still staring at him, spear trembling in her hands. Eyes fierce and terrified and grateful all at once.
"Who are you?" she asked, voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"
Prince tried to answer, but his throat was too dry. He swallowed hard. "I'm Prince. I escaped from pirates a few days ago. I've been hiding on this island."
She looked at the gun in his hand, expression a mixture of fear and fascination. "What is that thing?"
He glanced down at the pistol, then quickly stuffed it back into his Inventory where it vanished. "I... made it myself. It's complicated."
She studied him for a long moment. Then asked the most important question. "Are you a friend or an enemy?"
Prince looked around at the carnage they'd created together. At the burning tent, the dead bodies, the freed captives who were starting to realize they might actually survive.
"I just saved your lives," he said quietly. "What do you think?"
Her grip on the spear relaxed slightly. Not much. Just enough to show that maybe she was willing to trust him.
"Call me Kann," she said.
And despite everything—despite the blood and the death and the horror—Prince found himself smiling.
"Nice to meet you, Kann."
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