It was a spacious room, yet dim, for there were no windows to let in light.
The only illumination came from a few small magic lamps.
And as if to save fuel, they were kept at a very low brightness, glowing faintly like candles—just enough to keep the room from sinking into darkness.
In that hazy light, it was difficult to observe details.
Still, one could clearly see the walls lined with animal hides, keeping the room warm even in winter.
Inside sat a group of men—eight in total. Most looked rough and hardened, all armed.
"Damn it. Winter's here, and travelers are fewer. At this rate, we'll earn nothing."
A bearded man grumbled.
A sharp‑eyed fellow sneered:
"And merchants passing through now all move in large caravans, hiring plenty of mercenaries. Robbing them isn't easy."
A thin man added:
"They've grown cautious. They'll spend huge sums to hire big groups of guards."
The bald man beside the bearded one spoke:
"Merchants have strong information networks. If a few caravans are robbed, word spreads quickly."
Across from him, a scar‑faced man cursed:
"Damn, that last merchant hired over a dozen guards. One of them seemed to be at least C‑rank. Who knows how much profit he made to afford such extravagance?"
The bald man sighed:
"Seeing them throw money around makes me want to switch jobs and be a merchant myself."
A crooked‑toothed man mocked:
"With your math skills? Dream on, my son."
The one‑eyed man chuckled:
"Ever seen a pig fly?"
The room erupted in laughter. Embarrassed and angry, the bald man shouted:
"I'll kill you, bastards!"
The bearded man steered the talk back:
"Boss, what should we do next? Should we target adventurers instead?"
The one being asked—the leader of the group—was a man with a large, muscular build.
thick fur cloak draped over his shoulders, his posture straight and imposing, radiating authority and strength.
Across his face and bare arms were intricate tattoos, forming complex patterns.
These markings were not mere decoration, but magical arrays carved directly onto his body, enhancing his power.
"Change the target."
As soon as he spoke, the entire room fell silent to listen.
The leader pulled out a map, spread it across the floor, and continued speaking.
"There's a small village here. That will be our next mark."
"Rob a village? Do we have enough strength for that?" the bearded man asked, voicing the doubt of many.
The leader cast a glance at the thin‑framed man.
Catching that look, he immediately understood and spoke up to explain.
"I scouted it before. Fewer than a hundred people. Less than twenty able‑bodied men. Only one can use spiritual energy—the village chief."
"Only one? What level?"
The group leaned forward eagerly.
"I saw him hunting. He's about D‑rank."
Excitement filled the room.
The bearded man flattered:
"Perfect. He's no match for our leader."
The bald man added:
"Even without the boss, two or three of us could take him."
The scar‑faced man scoffed:
"Three against one of equal rank? Coward."
The bald man snapped back:
"Idiot, that's called caution. Or do you want to fight him alone?"
The crooked‑toothed man and the one‑eyed man stirred trouble:
"Good idea, let him solo."
"I'd like to see that."
A younger voice chimed in:
"Better yet, let the bald bastard and the scar‑faced bastard fight first to see which of them is tougher."
The sharp‑eyed man cut in:
"Forget it. What I care about is whether that village has young women."
The group laughed and pressed the thin man.
"Plenty. Enough for everyone."
Hearing the thin man's reply, the whole group grew even more excited.
Each face revealed a lecherous grin. With their bodies burning with desire, they grew restless, itching to set out and attack the village at once.
The sharp‑eyed man: "Boss, when will we act?"
The bearded man: "Do we need any further preparations, or can we strike immediately?"
The scar‑faced man: "What's there to prepare? That village has nothing to fear."
The bald man: "You idiot, you're not even thinking about transport for the loot or an escape plan afterward?"
The one‑eyed man: "Exactly. After such a big raid, we might even need to leave this area and lay low elsewhere."
The crooked‑toothed man: "Where do you think we should go then?"
The younger‑voiced man: "Why not slaughter the whole village to silence witnesses? Don't use blades—make it look like a Magical Beasts attack."
The bearded man recoiled in fear: "Damn, you bastard, that's vicious."
The sharp‑eyed man began pondering the plan's feasibility: "What about traces of looting—how do we hide them?"
The one‑eyed man suggested: "Burn it down?"
The crooked‑toothed man hesitated: "Then it has to look natural, not man‑made. That's tricky."
The bald man turned to ask: "Boss, what do you think?"
The room fell silent, all eyes on him. In the dim light, his face was hard to see, but his grave expression was unmistakable.
His eyes scanned the room carefully, as if searching every corner.
The bald man asked nervously: "Boss?"
"Increase the lamp's brightness."
The sudden order puzzled them, but they obeyed without question.
As the room brightened, they asked:
"What's wrong, boss?"
"Don't you notice anything strange?"
His eyes still roved, sharp and wary.
"Strange?" Confusion spread.
He asked: "Just now, excluding me—how many voices were speaking?"
Hearing that question, the group began recalling the earlier conversation one by one.
Then, as if realizing something, fear spread across their faces.
Sweat soaked their bodies, even though the room's temperature was far from hot.