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Chapter 109: Loren

The inn was eerily quiet now, the heavy stench of blood and death permeating the air. The bodies of the bandits lay strewn across the room, lifeless and cold, their mana dissipating into the ether. I sat in the middle of it all, cross-legged on the blood-soaked floor, my hands resting on my knees as I breathed in the death around me.

The flickering starlight that had once danced across my estoc was now dim, the purple glow fading into the shadows as the energy of those I'd killed began to seep into my body. It was subtle, but I could feel it—the mana of death, flowing like a river, coiling around my core and infusing my body with cold.

'It's different...'

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to focus on the sensation. Human death. It had a strange quality to it—stronger, richer than the death mana I'd absorbed from monsters in the past. It was almost intoxicating, this thick, potent energy that filled the room.

'Humans give off more death mana than most monsters... Why?'

It was a question that I noticed. What made humans so... potent in death compared to beasts?

Monsters were stronger in life, their mana often more vibrant and powerful, but in death... humans left behind something more substantial.

Was it fear? Emotion? Regret? All those human qualities that lingered even after life had left them? I wasn't sure, but I could feel it in the air—the echoes of their final moments. The terror, the pain, the desperation.

It clung to the death mana, making it heavier and richer.

But what about it made the difference?

'Maybe because I am a human, too?'

I meditated on that thought for a while, letting the death mana circulate through my core. Each breath pulled it deeper into my being, and with every passing second, I felt myself grow stronger. But no answer came. Nothing tangible I could grasp.

Before I could dwell on it further, Vitaliara's voice broke through the quiet. [Did you really have to kill everyone here?] she asked, her tone not accusatory but curious.

I opened my eyes slowly, glancing down at her. She sat beside me, her black fur sleek and untainted by the blood that surrounded us, her green eyes watching me intently.

"Did I?" I murmured, repeating her question aloud as I considered it. My gaze drifted back to the bodies lying in disarray around the inn. Men who had spent their lives taking what they wanted, killing for their own gain, and extorting the weak. And now, they had become part of the cycle of death.

Vitaliara's eyes narrowed slightly [I mean, I understand the reasoning... but was it necessary to kill every last one? Some of them could've been spared, couldn't they?]

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Spared? You know better than that, Vitaliara. The moment I let even one of them live, they would have spread the word about me. And you know how things work. It's not just about survival; it's about reputation.

These bandits... if I'd left any of them alive, I'd only be inviting trouble."

[So, it's about reputation?] she pressed. [You are not the one to care about such things.]

"Well….That's indeed not the reason." I admitted, my eyes falling on one of the lifeless faces nearby. "They chose this path….. They preyed on the weak, killed without mercy, and lived by a code of power. It's only fitting that they died by that same code."

[Hehe…Not bad.]

"Was that another test?"

[Just to see if you can survive for long.]

Vitaliara's voice lingered in my mind. [Those who act heroic and believe in second chances often don't get one themselves.]

I couldn't help but smile at that, nodding as I rose to my feet. "That rhymed well," I mused, brushing the dust from my coat. The death mana in the room had been fully absorbed, leaving a strange emptiness in the air where the life force had once lingered. The tavern now felt like a hollow shell, a graveyard for the souls that had once thrived on greed and violence.

As I started to walk toward the door, I glanced down at my estoc, its once gleaming surface now marred by new scratches and dull spots. The blade, which had once been a testament to precision and elegance, was beginning to show signs of wear from the skirmish.

"Tsk," I muttered under my breath, inspecting the blade with a critical eye. "Not my best work."

Vitaliara's voice chimed in with a teasing edge, [You played around quite a bit in there. If you hadn't toyed with them so much, your blade might've been in better shape.]

I sighed, flipping the estoc in my hand and sheathing it with a soft click. "True enough. I got a little carried away. But then again, it was entertaining."

[Entertaining for you, maybe,] she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. [But now look at your sword. You're going to have to deal with it before long, or else it'll fail you at the worst moment.]

"I know," I grumbled.

As I strolled through the quiet streets, I could feel their eyes on me. The people who dared to peek from behind windows or glance as I passed didn't hide their fear. It was in their quickened steps, the way they clutched their belongings tighter as if proximity to me might somehow taint them. A few whispers spread, but none dared to approach.

It was funny, in a way, watching how they recoiled as if I were some sort of beast—well, perhaps I was. After all, I had just beheaded a bunch of their local tormentors in cold blood. Even now, the faint scent of iron clung to my clothes, and some streaks of blood had dried on my sleeves. To them, I must have seemed like some kind of executioner.

'Hmph,' I mused, shaking my head with a small smile. 'I'm not here for their approval anyway.'

The fear in their eyes didn't discourage me; if anything, it was a sign that things were unfolding exactly as they should. Fear is the natural way of things—fear of the strong, fear of death, fear of the unknown. It kept people in line and made them understand the reality of this world. Whether they viewed me as a savior or a monster didn't matter. They wouldn't challenge me. And that was the point.

It was easy for them to forget that in the chaos of war, people like me were often the ones keeping them alive, whether by subduing threats or simply being someone too dangerous for others to attack. As long as I got the job done, their opinions meant nothing.

Vitaliara stirred atop my head, her soft fur brushing against my skin as she shifted. [They're looking at you like you're a monster,] she commented, though her tone was more amused than concerned.

"I wonder why," I replied dryly. "I only decapitated a few people right in front of them. People they hated, but people nonetheless."

[You seem to enjoy it, though,] she teased.

I shrugged. "Fear is a tool. Let them fear me. At least then they won't become a problem."

[Heh, and you wonder why they won't look you in the eye,] she snickered, her tail swishing lazily.

I smirked. "As long as they stay out of my way, I don't care what they think."

That was how things needed to happen anyway.

"But now, I need to move fast."

[They will eventually find out about this, won't they?]

"Indeed."

I glanced around at the fearful faces, knowing the clock was ticking. The bandits wouldn't stay in the dark for long. Word would spread, and Korvan's men would start sniffing around, trying to piece together what had happened. And when they did, the people here—innocent or not—could easily become targets.

The bandits might assume I'd done this to protect someone in town, that there was a connection they weren't aware of. That's how their minds worked—revenge through proxy, through the weak and vulnerable. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that these people could suffer for no reason at all.

[Vitaliara's tail flicked lazily as she perched atop my head.] [So, what's the plan?]

"The plan," I replied, my tone firm, "is to move fast. Before Korvan's men can regroup or retaliate. If they think someone here is responsible, they'll start picking off targets. Better to cut them down at the source before they get a chance."

The locations I had gotten from Roderick and some other bandits were invaluable. It gave me the freedom to move, to hit the bandits before they could organize any sort of counterattack. I knew that taking out Lothar and his crew was just the beginning, but with their network spread thin, I could exploit the gaps and gather even more information as I went.

'And not all the bandits know about the entire network,' I thought. While interrogating them, there were still some locations that were blank.

'But, this should be enough.'

Eventually, we would be getting there anyway.

That was what all mattered at the end.

Chapter 110: Loren (2)

The road was long and dusty, stretching out beneath the caravan's wheels as they rolled slowly along the worn path.

The caravan, modest in size, was made up of several wooden carts pulled by tired horses, each cart laden with burlap sacks and crates filled with agricultural goods—grain, dried fruits, and various crops.

The goods themselves weren't anything rare, but they were valuable now, given the scarcity in the region. Rackenshore and its surrounding villages had been plagued by bandit raids for weeks, making it difficult for any merchant to move goods safely.

At the front of the caravan sat a young merchant, his hands tightly gripping the reins of his horse. His name was Edrick. He was new to the trade, barely a year into his venture, but already he was feeling the crushing weight of the market's unforgiving demands. His face was tense, a mixture of worry and determination etched into his features.

This caravan, this load of goods, was his last gamble—a desperate play to save his business from collapsing.

Edrick glanced over his shoulder, watching the carts behind him with growing anxiety. The goods were cheaply bought from a city that had no choice but to sell at a low price, their coffers drained by bandit raids and the ongoing conflict in the region. The plan had seemed perfect at first—acquire the goods for next to nothing, transport them back, and sell them for a tidy profit to those in need.

But now, as he rode through the sparse countryside, the reality of the situation weighed on him heavily. He had barely any budget left after purchasing the goods, and that meant cutting costs where he could—including hiring protection. He had only managed to scrape together enough coins for a few guards, and even then, they weren't the most experienced.

The group of guards rode beside the carts, their eyes scanning the horizon nervously. They were well aware of the dangers that lurked on these roads. Bandit activity had surged in recent weeks, and the routes between towns had become treacherous. Every rustle of leaves, every distant sound, set them on edge.

Edrick bit his lip, his mind racing with thoughts of what could go wrong. If the caravan was attacked, his goods would be lost. Worse, if he failed to deliver them, his business would collapse entirely. Everything he had worked for would vanish.

"I can't fail," he muttered under his breath, trying to reassure himself. "I have to make this work. I have to."

The road ahead wound through a dense stretch of forest, and Edrick's stomach tightened as they approached it. The forest was known to be a prime spot for ambushes, a place where bandits could hide and strike without warning. He glanced at the lead guard, a gruff man named Garvin, who met his gaze with a stern nod. They both knew this was the riskiest part of the journey.

As the caravan entered the shadowed path between the trees, the tension grew thicker. Edrick could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he kept a close watch on the treeline, his hand never far from the small dagger at his waist. He prayed they would make it through unscathed, but deep down, he knew that this gamble might cost him everything.

The wind rustled the branches, and for a moment, all was quiet. Too quiet.

The silence before the storm.

Just as the caravan moved deeper into the forest, the unsettling silence was broken by a sharp whistle from the treetops. In an instant, shadows shifted among the foliage, and before Edrick could fully grasp what was happening, bandits poured out from both sides of the path, weapons glinting in the dappled sunlight.

They moved quickly and with practiced precision, surrounding the caravan in a deadly semicircle.

"Bandits!" one of the guards shouted, drawing his sword as the others readied themselves for battle. Edrick's heart raced, panic clawing at his throat. This was exactly what he had feared.

Garvin, the lead guard, snarled as he raised his weapon. "Stay back, Edrick. We'll handle this!"

For a brief moment, hope flickered in Edrick's chest as the guards charged toward the approaching bandits. Steel clashed against steel, and the forest erupted into the chaotic sounds of battle. But something about it felt… off.

Then it happened.

Garvin, instead of striking down the nearest bandit, lowered his sword with a cold smirk. The other guards followed suit, stepping back as the bandits closed in around Edrick. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

They weren't fighting. They were part of the attack.

"You really thought we'd risk our necks for the pocket change you offered?" Garvin sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're dumber than I thought, Edrick. No one takes on a suicide job like this without a better offer on the table."

The other guards laughed, their eyes glinting with mockery as they dropped all pretense of loyalty. One of them, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, casually strolled over to one of the carts, kicking a sack of grain over as if it was worthless.

Edrick's mouth went dry. "You... you were with them all along?" he stammered, his mind spinning as the full weight of the betrayal sank in.

Garvin chuckled darkly, wiping the blade of his sword on his sleeve as he looked down at the terrified merchant. "Of course we were. You made it easy for us. Desperate, green, and too eager to believe you had a chance."

One of the bandits, a hulking brute with a wild beard, stepped forward, grinning. "Thanks for doing all the hard work for us, Mister Edrick."

Edrick's knees buckled as fear coursed through him. Everything he had worked for—all the risk, all the planning—was slipping away right before his eyes. He tried to muster some sort of response, but his voice failed him, the enormity of the situation paralyzing him.

"Don't look so sad," Garvin jeered, stepping closer. "You're not the first merchant we've bled dry, and you won't be the last. You were just easier than most."

The bandits closed in on the caravan, laughing and jeering as they began to ransack the goods, tossing crates and sacks onto their own carts. Edrick could only watch helplessly, his last gamble crumbling before him as the reality of his doomed venture became all too clear.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Just as the bandits began ransacking the goods, their laughter and jeers filling the air, a sudden gust of wind blew through the trees. It was subtle at first, but then came the soft sound of footsteps—too soft, too deliberate. Garvin paused mid-laugh, his senses prickling as if something was off. He turned his head toward the treeline just in time to see a shadowy figure step into the clearing.

The young man with the scar on his right eye.

Before anyone could react, he moved with a speed that defied reason. In one fluid motion, his blade flashed, catching the sunlight for the briefest of moments before it descended.

SLASH!

The first bandit's body was bisected cleanly, his expression frozen in shock as his torso slid apart from his legs. Blood sprayed across the ground as the young man moved like a specter through the clearing, his long, thin estoc cutting down the remaining bandits with surgical precision.

SWOOSH!

Another bandit's head rolled to the ground, followed by the sickening sound of bodies crumpling. The chaos lasted mere seconds—one breath and it was over. Where there had been a jeering gang of bandits, now only a few twitching corpses remained, their blood pooling on the dirt road.

The young man stood in the middle of the slaughter, his expression calm, as if none of it had required any effort. His eyes scanned the clearing, cold and calculating, before locking onto the one bandit he had deliberately left alive. It was Garvin, who had fallen back in sheer terror, his face drained of color as he stared up at the young man with wide, trembling eyes.

The young man took a step closer, his blade still dripping with blood, and tilted his head ever so slightly. "Where is Loren?" His voice was low and cold, every word laced with dangerous intent.

Garvin's lips quivered, but despite the terror coursing through him, he remained silent. His loyalty, misplaced as it may have been, kept him from betraying his leader. He looked like a cornered animal, too scared to move yet too stubborn to answer.

The young man let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head in mild frustration. "Why are you all so loyal to someone like him?" he muttered, almost to himself. "It's a shame."

He raised his estoc, preparing to finish Garvin, the blade gleaming with lethal precision.

But just as he was about to strike, an axe came hurtling through the air. It flew with incredible speed, cutting through the space where his head had been only moments before. The young man tilted his head slightly to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade as it whizzed past him, embedding itself in a tree behind.

The young man's eyes narrowed slightly, turning in the direction from which the axe had been thrown. His calm demeanor remained intact, but there was a faint spark of intrigue in his gaze.

"Well," he murmured, "it seems I do not need to wait for too long."

Chapter 111: Loren (3)

"Well. It seems I do not need to wait for too long."

As the young man turned his gaze in the direction from which the axe had been thrown, he saw the newcomer emerging from the shadows of the trees.

A rough-looking man with beaded hair, his face weathered from countless battles, stepped forward with heavy, confident strides. His muscular arms were inked with intricate tattoos, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce, animalistic intensity.

PITU!

He spat onto the ground, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent clearing.

The man's lips curled into a sneer as he locked eyes with the young swordsman. "You lookin' for me, boy?" he growled, his voice thick with an accent that hinted at northern roots.

The young man smiled, tilting his head slightly, intrigued. "You are Loren, then?" His voice was calm, carrying none of the arrogance or bravado that the other man exuded.

Loren let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his chest shaking with the sound. "Aye, that's me," he replied, his grin widening. He raised his chin proudly as if savoring the moment. "Loren, son of the north. Known by the wolves as 'Raven-Wolf,' breaker of clans, and the terror of the ice-lands."

He spoke his titles with an almost theatrical arrogance, his posture radiating confidence as if he expected his name alone to strike fear into the young man before him.

"Raven-Wolf," the young man repeated, his smile widening as he absorbed the information. His gaze flickered with amusement. "Quite the titles, I must say."

Loren's chest puffed out as he stepped forward, his posture exuding arrogance. "Of course," he growled, his voice filled with pride. "I've fought in countless battles. Crossed blades with warriors from the northern ice-lands to the desert sands. I'm no mere bandit, boy—I'm a conqueror."

The young man, however, threw his head back and laughed heartily, the sound rich with mocking amusement. His eyes sparkled with disdain as he looked Loren up and down, clearly unimpressed. "A conqueror, you say?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "You speak quite highly for someone who's nothing more than a bandit on the edge of some forgotten border. Especially considering you've been running.

Escaping like a rat from the mess you've made."

Loren's eyes flared with fury, his teeth grinding together. "Escaping?" he spat, his voice rising with indignation. "I didn't escape, I came here to conquer these lands, to make them mine!"

The young man's mocking smile didn't waver. He shrugged casually. "Ah, so it's true. I was just trying to provoke you, but I didn't think you'd actually confirm it."

That last jab hit its mark. Loren's face flushed with rage, his pride and anger bubbling over. His hand shot to the axe at his side, and with a roar, he swung it toward the young man with all the force he could muster. "Enough of your mouth! I'll cut you down!"

Loren's roar echoed through the clearing as his twin axes came crashing down, lightning sparking wildly from the blades. The force of his strike sent ripples of energy through the air, crackling arcs of lightning lashing out, scorching the earth around them.

The power of his inner mana accumulation art—the Lightning Wolf Art—pulsed through his body, enhancing his movements with a terrifying ferocity.

CRACK!

The ground beneath them trembled with each of Loren's strikes, and the air hummed with electricity. His axes blurred with speed as he swung relentlessly at Lucavion, each attack leaving a trail of lightning in its wake. Loren's eyes gleamed with savage joy, his strength on full display as he tried to overwhelm his opponent.

But Lucavion was not so easily swayed.

With a calm, precise movement, Lucavion drew his estoc. The long, thin blade gleamed with starlight mana as it hummed to life in his hand.

He moved with an eerie grace, each step measured, his eyes locked onto Loren's movements with deadly focus.

His face, once playful and mocking, was now cold and serious, reflecting the intense concentration.

Watching the scene, Vitaliara could confirm.

'He is paying attention to it now.'

Lucavion was changing. Slightly, but better.

CLANG!

Loren's axe came down again, but Lucavion met it with his estoc, parrying the blow effortlessly. The force of the strike sent sparks flying, but Lucavion's blade held firm. He pivoted smoothly, allowing the electricity from Loren's attack to pass harmlessly around him.

CLANG!

Another strike, and again Lucavion deflected it, his movements fluid and precise. His eyes remained focused, the purple glow of starlight mana swirling around his body as he calmly withstood the onslaught.

His estoc, though thinner and lighter than Loren's axes, moved with such precision that it seemed to cut through the air itself, meeting each blow with deadly accuracy.

Loren snarled, frustration creeping into his expression. "Stop dodging and fight me, you coward!" he bellowed, his axes crackling with lightning as he unleashed another flurry of brutal attacks.

Lucavion's eyes narrowed, his expression unchanging. He shifted his stance, the starlight mana covering his blade growing more intense.

His estoc began to shimmer, glowing with a soft purple light as he prepared to counter.

SWISH!

Loren brought both axes down in a powerful double strike, arcs of lightning surging toward Lucavion. But just as the axes were about to connect, Lucavion's form blurred, his body twisting with inhuman speed as he sidestepped the attack. In one swift motion, he spun behind Loren, his estoc flashing with starlight mana.

SLASH!

The blade cut through the air with lethal precision, its tip grazing Loren's side, sending a thin spray of blood into the air. Loren growled in pain, but his anger only fueled him further. He turned on Lucavion with another wild swing, lightning surging through the space between them.

Lucavion parried once more, his estoc meeting Loren's axe with a sharp clang, but this time, there was a shift in his stance. His blade, coated in starlight mana, seemed to hum with anticipation as he prepared his next move.

"Void Starfall Blade," Lucavion whispered under his breath, his eyes locking onto Loren's enraged expression. The stars seemed to shimmer in the dim light as his mana surged.

Loren, undeterred by the growing power in Lucavion's blade, lunged forward, lightning crackling around his axes. "I'll tear you apart!" he snarled, swinging with all his might.

Lucavion smiled, his starlight-coated blade moving faster than the eye could see.

CLANG!

「Void Starfall Blade, Altered Starsurge.」

Lucavion's movements were fluid, his body moving with an almost unnatural grace as he twirled his estoc, the blade glowing with starlight mana.

CLANK!

As Loren's axes came crashing down, crackling with the violent energy of his lightning-charged strike, Lucavion's sword met the first axe with a sharp clang, but instead of simply blocking the blow, he twisted his wrist ever so slightly.

The Void Starfall Blade: The Starsurge technique was a precise, swift strike that would instantly overwhelm the enemy with a trail of stars.

However, Lucavion altered the stance slightly just to fit the way Loren fought. It was instinctual, something that he did naturally, to disrupt the flow of an opponent's attack in the subtlest of ways. Lucavion's blade didn't just parry the axe—it altered its trajectory by a hair's breadth. But that minuscule shift in momentum was all it took.

Loren, already preparing for his follow-up strike with the second axe, found himself momentarily off balance. His eyes widened in surprise as his body lurched forward, the momentum of his heavy swing thrown off-kilter by the unexpected deflection. He tried to recover, but it was too late.

The lightning mana that had been building in both axes, intended to converge into a devastating blow, was now misdirected. Instead of surging toward Lucavion, the crackling energy burst outward wildly, arcing harmlessly beside him, missing its target entirely.

Lucavion's eyes gleamed as he saw the opening.

SWOOSH!

In a flash, Lucavion's estoc shot forward, its starlight-coated blade cutting a lethal arc across Loren's chest. The tip of the blade traced a glowing line of energy, cutting through flesh and armor as if they were nothing more than air.

The trail of starlight mana that followed the strike shimmered brightly for a brief moment before it detonated with a resounding BOOM!.

The force of the explosion sent Loren hurtling backward, his body crashing into the ground with a heavy thud, blood spraying from the deep gash in his chest. The scent of burnt ozone from his own misfired lightning attack hung in the air, mixing with the smoke from the starlight explosion.

Loren gasped, his hand instinctively reaching for his wound, his vision blurring from the shock. He struggled to push himself up, but his limbs felt heavy, the power of Lucavion's strike leaving him disoriented and weakened.

Lucavion stood where he was, his estoc still glowing with residual starlight mana, his expression calm and unbothered, as if the fight had never truly been a challenge for him.

"You... bastard..." Loren wheezed, his voice barely a rasp, as blood dripped from his lips.

Lucavion simply smiled, watching as Loren's once-mighty presence crumbled under the weight of his own arrogance and the fatal precision of Lucavion's blade.

He looked down to see the marks on the blade.

"Not bad."

He was getting better.

Chapter 112: Consequence

The hideout was tucked deep in the jagged mountains, surrounded by towering cliffs and dense forests that kept it well hidden from any prying eyes. Inside, however, the atmosphere was anything but harsh.

The room was filled with the warmth of crackling fires, the scent of spiced wine, and the soft laughter of women. Luxurious tapestries adorned the stone walls, and a large table was covered in half-empty bottles, scattered food, and discarded clothes.

In the center of it all sat the leader of the bandits, though his name was not spoken immediately. He lounged in a plush chair, his broad shoulders relaxed, a gleaming goblet in one hand, and a woman draped across his lap.

His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his eyes gleamed with self-indulgence as he kissed her, his free hand playing with her hair as he whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

"You're too beautiful to resist," he muttered, his voice a low, rough growl full of charm and confidence. The woman smiled, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as he leaned in for another kiss.

The door to his chambers, heavy and reinforced with iron, suddenly creaked open. The soft laughter died instantly, the pleasant hum of the room replaced with an awkward silence.

The man, still kissing the woman, paused, his lips curling into a snarl of annoyance. He didn't turn to look at the intruder, his mood visibly souring. "Didn't I give orders that no one is to enter this room at this time?" he growled, his voice dripping with venom. He shifted slightly, his back still turned to the doorway.

The figure at the door stood calm.

While he knew the consequences of interrupting the leader's "private time," it looked like he did not care at all.

"Leader," the man stammered, bowing his head quickly in a gesture of submission, "I know your orders, and I would never dare disturb you like this... but... Lothar and Loren are dead."

At those words, the leader froze. His hand, which had been casually running through the woman's hair, stopped. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't turn around just yet.

"Dead?" His voice was low, almost too calm. "There is no room for such jokes, especially not now."

"You know I don't make jokes, Leader."

The man standing in the doorway, unbothered by Korvan's growing rage, was none other than Alric, Korvan's right-hand man. Alric was known for his cold, calculating demeanor, always several steps ahead in the game of banditry. His reputation for devising intricate plans had earned him Korvan's trust, though many in the group feared him for his devious nature.

He rarely let emotions cloud his judgment, and today was no exception.

Korvan's fingers twitched, but he hadn't fully turned to face Alric yet. He spat the name like a curse. "Alric..." His tone was filled with suspicion. "How can you be so sure?"

Alric took a slow, deliberate step forward, his expression as sharp as ever, not a trace of hesitation in his voice. "My men found both of their bodies earlier today after I received no word from Lothar or Loren at this week's meeting." He spoke evenly, his gaze never wavering from Korvan's back. "They were supposed to report in, but they didn't."

Korvan's jaw clenched as Alric continued, his words biting into the growing silence in the room. "I sent scouts to investigate. What they found wasn't pretty. Lothar and Loren... butchered. Someone went through them and their men like they were nothing."

The woman, still on Korvan's lap, slowly began to pull away, sensing the dark shift in the room's atmosphere. But Korvan's arm held her firmly in place as he finally turned, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Alric's face. The dangerous calm had turned to icy anger.

"You've seen their bodies?" Korvan asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Alric nodded. "Yes. Their deaths weren't quick either. Whoever did it they weren't just strong—they were efficient. Lothar and Loren didn't stand a chance."

Korvan's gaze bore into Alric for a long moment, his mind working through the information. Lothar and Loren were two of his strongest lieutenants, each leading formidable groups. For them to be wiped out so quickly...

"And you didn't think to mention this sooner?" Korvan asked, his voice deadly quiet, the tension rising with each word.

Alric met Korvan's glare without flinching. "I wanted to be sure. The bodies were discovered only a few hours ago, and I had to confirm it wasn't a ploy to lure us out."

Korvan's lips twitched, his rage simmering beneath the surface. Alric's words were always calculated, and Korvan knew his right-hand man didn't speak carelessly. But to lose both Lothar and Loren in one fell swoop? It stung his pride more than anything.

Korvan finally let go of the woman, who hastily retreated to the far corner of the room, her presence forgotten. His full attention was now on Alric, and the storm brewing behind his eyes was unmistakable.

"Who did it?" Korvan demanded, his fists clenching as the need for revenge burned inside him.

"I don't know, but it can only be those Rackenshore."

Korvan's eyes flared with fury at the mention of the town. Rackenshore had always been a thorn in his side, a seemingly insignificant town that had somehow managed to survive his relentless raids. But for them to hire someone strong enough to take out both Lothar and Loren? That was more than just defiance—it was a direct challenge to his authority.

Without warning, Korvan's rage exploded. He slammed his fist down onto the handle of his plush chair with such force that the wood splintered beneath his grip. The sound echoed through the chamber, and the woman still perched on his lap flinched, her body trembling in fear.

Korvan's eyes, now wild with anger, flicked toward her. Her sudden movement only seemed to irritate him further, as though her fear was a reflection of his own humiliation. Without a second thought, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and hurled her to the ground. She hit the cold stone floor with a yelp, scrambling to get as far from him as possible, tears welling in her eyes.

"Useless!" Korvan spat, standing from his chair and towering over the cowering woman. He didn't even spare her a second glance as he turned his focus back to Alric, his mind entirely consumed by thoughts of revenge.

"Rackenshore..." Korvan growled, pacing now, his hands flexing as though ready to strangle the life out of someone. "They dare to hire someone like that? They think they can stand against me?"

Alric, calm as ever despite Korvan's outburst, nodded slightly. "It's the only logical explanation. Rackenshore has been desperate for protection, especially with the recent raids. It seems they've pooled their resources to bring in someone capable of dealing with us."

Korvan's fists clenched even tighter, his knuckles turning white. "I should have crushed them when I had the chance," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with rage. "Now they think they can fight back? Against me?"

Alric's cold gaze never wavered. "It appears they've hired someone who isn't just capable. Whoever did this was skilled. Lothar and Loren didn't stand a chance, meaning we are dealing with more than just some mercenary."

"Those bastards from the capital!" Korvan roared, his fury intensifying. He slammed his fist into the stone wall, the impact sending a fresh cascade of cracks running through the already damaged surface. "We've been paying them, bribing them! They were supposed to inform us if anything like this happened! And now they're not even doing their job properly?"

Alric, standing with his usual calm demeanor, watched Korvan's outburst without a flicker of emotion. "Leader," he said, his voice cool and measured, "I contacted the capital. None of the officials or adventurers we bribed were involved in this. They confirmed no one has been dispatched from the capital to Rackenshore."

Korvan, mid-step, froze. His eyes narrowed, the rage in them burning hotter. "Then who is this motherfucker?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Alric's lips curled slightly at the edges, a faint hint of something devious in his expression. "Likely some newly rising nobody," he replied smoothly. "Someone who thinks they're a hero, probably. Skilled, yes, but there are still clear signs of a battle. Whoever it was, they weren't a 4-star."

Korvan's face twisted with a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Not a 4-star?" he repeated, his voice rising in fury. "You're telling me that some random 3-star warrior—without a name, without any reputation—took down Lothar and Loren? What the hell were those bastards doing?" His fists trembled, his knuckles cracking under the strain of his clenched fists.

Alric remained calm, though the glint in his eyes grew sharper. "It seems that while this person was skilled, Lothar and Loren underestimated them. And you know how arrogance can lead to one's downfall."

Korvan's rage simmered, but as he glared at Alric, something shifted. He knew Alric well enough to recognize the look on his face—the one he wore when he had a plan brewing, something devious and underhanded. "You've got something in mind, don't you, Alric?" Korvan asked, his voice a little calmer now, though the anger still boiled underneath.

Alric's small smile widened, though it remained as cold as ever. "Indeed. This individual may be skilled, but they're not invincible. I've already been working on something that will ensure we handle this threat... and make sure Rackenshore never dares to challenge us again."

Korvan's interest was piqued. He knew when Alric was plotting something; it usually ended in blood—and results. "So, what's your plan?"

Alric stepped closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "We need to lure them out. Set a trap. I've already begun laying the groundwork. We'll make them come to us, and when they do..." His eyes gleamed darkly. "We'll make sure they don't leave."

*********

And on tomorrow night, something had happened in the house of Rackenshore Town's mayor.

"RON! MY SON!"

His voice rambled through the whole mansion.

Chapter 113: Consequence (2)

The grand halls of the Rackenshore Town's mayoral mansion were filled with the echo of frantic footsteps and the desperate shouts of Baron Edris Wyndhall. His voice, filled with panic and fear, rang through every corridor, calling for his son.

"RON! MY SON!" Baron Edris bellowed, his face flushed with worry, as he rushed down the hallway toward his son's chambers. The grand house, usually quiet and dignified, was now alive with chaos. Servants scrambled in every direction, their faces pale as they whispered among themselves.

The door to Ron's room stood wide open, and the baron stormed inside, his heart racing in his chest. His eyes swept over the empty bed, the open window, and the scattered belongings. It was as if Ron had vanished into thin air. But what caught Edris' attention—and sent a cold chill down his spine—was the letter left conspicuously on his son's desk.

Baron Edris rushed over to the desk, snatching up the letter with trembling hands. His eyes scanned the parchment, his face darkening with every word he read.

"Baron Wyndhall, you've dared to meddle in our affairs, fully aware of the consequences. Now you face them. Your son, Ron, is with us. If you wish to see him alive again, you will cease your interference and comply with our demands. You've made your choice; now live with it."

His brow furrowed in confusion. Meddle in their affairs? Baron Edris had no idea what this letter was referring to. He hadn't been involved in any deal or taken any action against the bandits beyond the usual town defenses. His fists clenched, the letter crumpling in his grip.

The idea that these criminals had been able to capture his son from under his very nose without him even knowing and without anyone in his mansion noticing ignited a fury in him. The fact that someone had acted in his name or perhaps been mistaken for him made it even worse.

He threw the letter down, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. "What is this madness?!" Edris roared, slamming his fist on the desk. "Who in the world is meddling with these bastards in my name?"

The baron stormed out of the room, his rage boiling over as he shouted for his household staff. Servants hurried in, eyes wide with fear as they saw the baron's state.

"Gather everyone! Now! Every member of this household, all the personnel!" he barked, his voice echoing through the mansion. "Someone knows something, or worse—someone has betrayed us. We'll find out who's behind this!"

As the staff scrambled to comply, Baron Edris began to pace, his mind racing. How could someone take his son without anyone noticing? And who in his household could be missing? As each servant and guard was accounted for, the absence of several key personnel quickly became apparent.

A few guards who had been posted near Ron's chambers were nowhere to be found, and neither was one of the household aides who had recently joined the staff.

His anger grew even fiercer at the realization. "Traitors... right under my own roof," he growled.

Without wasting a moment, Baron Edris summoned two of the most trusted figures in Rackenshore: the knight of the household and leader of the city guard, Roderick. The knight, a grizzled veteran named Garret, entered the room first, his expression grim as always. Roderick followed shortly after, his brow furrowed in concern though he maintained his usual calm demeanor.

Baron Edris wasted no time, thrusting the crumpled letter into Roderick's hand. "Read it," he ordered, his voice low but seething with barely contained rage. "My son's been taken, and I want answers. Now."

Roderick's grip tightened on the letter as he read it, his eyes narrowing with each word. 'Fuck... out of all those things...' he cursed internally, feeling a wave of unease settle over him. His usually stoic expression faltered for just a brief second as the realization hit him like a hammer—this was connected to his deal with Lucavion.

His mind raced. 'Lucavion... that reckless bastard.' Roderick hadn't expected things to escalate to this point. He had made a quiet arrangement with Lucavion to deal with the bandits and clean up the outskirts without drawing too much attention. But now, it seemed that the bandits had retaliated in a way no one could have predicted.

As Roderick finished reading, he felt a bead of sweat form on his brow. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure, but his eyebrows twitched involuntarily. He cursed both himself and Lucavion, knowing that this situation was spiraling out of control faster than he could have anticipated.

"Roderick, what is it?" Garret, the household knight, asked, his keen eyes caught the slight change in Roderick's expression. "You look... troubled. Do you know something?"

Roderick felt Garret's gaze boring into him, and for a brief moment, he considered coming clean. But then he shook his head, swallowing his frustration. "No, nothing," he said curtly, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. "It's just the gravity of the situation. We need to be careful how we proceed."

Baron Edris, still pacing furiously, caught the tail end of their conversation. "What do you mean 'careful'?" he barked, his voice filled with impatience. "My son has been taken, Roderick! I need to know what you're thinking! If you know anything about this—"

Roderick held Baron Edris's gaze for a long moment, then sighed deeply, trying to rein in his own frustration. He knew that keeping his composure in front of the baron was crucial now. "Sir Edris," Roderick began carefully, "there's no reason to trust the words of bandits.

They're liars by nature, and even if someone has stirred up trouble for them, at the end of the day, they are the ones who've kidnapped your son. Rather than focusing on who may or may not have provoked them, it's wiser to tread carefully and deal with the bandits directly."

Baron Edris stopped pacing, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface, but Roderick's words had started to get through to him. The baron's eyes narrowed slightly, his chest heaving with controlled breaths as he listened.

"There's more," Roderick added, his voice measured. "Two of Korvan's subordinates—Loren and Lothar—have already been dealt with. Both are dead."

The baron blinked in surprise, his face momentarily flashing with confusion. "Lothar and Loren? Those bastards are dead?" Baron Edris was well aware of Korvan's operations and knew the strength of his lieutenants. He was no stranger to the name Korvan, the leader of the bandit group terrorizing Rackenshore and the surrounding regions. "Who... how?" he stammered, trying to make sense of the situation.

Roderick chose his next words carefully. "It seems someone has already made a move against Korvan's forces. That might be why they retaliated by kidnapping your son. However, the deaths of Loren and Lothar have weakened Korvan significantly. It's the best time to strike."

Baron Edris took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to regain control of his emotions. The shock of hearing about the deaths of two of Korvan's key men had begun to shift his focus away from the panic of his son's abduction.

"You're right," the baron said after a moment, his voice quieter, more controlled. "I've been too reckless. They kidnapped Ron, and I let my emotions cloud my judgment." He swallowed hard, his eyes hardening with resolve. "I'm sorry, Roderick. You're right—there's no reason to trust the words of these bandits."

Roderick gave a brief nod, glad that the baron had calmed down somewhat. "We need to act swiftly but carefully. With two of Korvan's lieutenants gone, his forces will be disorganized. We have an opportunity, but it won't last long. We should strike while they're vulnerable."

Roderick's eyes gleamed with quiet determination as he continued, his voice steady.

'This should also satisfy him.'

He had been serving Baron Edris and his household from the moment when he was drafted. That is why he was feeling attached, and he knew that if that young man was able to deal with Loren and Lothar on the same day, that would mean he was strong just as he looked confident.

That is why, by issuing such a reward, he could make connections with such a man and could even possibly build a safety net for the young master Ron in the future.

'My hunch…..It was not wrong this time either.'

That is why he opened his mouth.

"There's something else we should consider, Baron. We need to offer a bounty not just to our soldiers but to anyone capable. Someone already dealt with Lothar and Loren—whoever they are, they're powerful, and they might be interested in taking down Korvan as well. If we offer a sizable reward, we'll attract more manpower and perhaps draw this person out. They've already proven themselves effective."

Baron Edris considered Roderick's suggestion, rubbing his chin as he mulled over the idea. "A bounty... Yes, that could work," he said, his tone shifting to one of resolve. "It will send a clear message. Not only will we be calling on the best fighters, but it will also show the people of Rackenshore that I'm serious about ending this bandit threat once and for all.

And if this mystery fighter takes the bait, we'll have a valuable ally."

Roderick nodded in agreement. "We can deal with these annoying pests ourselves, but the added help could be the key to finding Ron and finishing Korvan's reign of terror. Offering a reward will turn the tide in our favor."

Baron Edris straightened, his posture firm with renewed confidence. "Then it's settled. I'll issue the decree tomorrow morning. Anyone who can bring back my son and take Korvan's head will be handsomely rewarded. We'll offer gold and land to anyone who aids us in this fight. No one will ignore such an offer."

Roderick smiled faintly. "It will get the attention of every fighter within the region—and possibly beyond."

Edris took another deep breath, the tension in his body easing as a plan finally began to form. "We'll make sure no stone is left unturned. If this person is as skilled as we believe, they will take interest. And Korvan… will fall."

"Indeed," Roderick agreed. "With the right preparation, we can end this threat once and for all."

Baron Edris clenched his fist, determination etched across his face. "By tomorrow, the decree will be public. Let the hunt for Korvan begin."

Roderick bowed slightly, concealing his inner thoughts. While the baron's plan was sound, Roderick couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension. Lucavion, he thought, you'll be drawn into this mess even further, whether you want it or not.