When the bandit leader appeared, Adam frowned as he recognized the energy emanating from him.
It was... demonic energy.
Adam couldn’t understand how a re bandit could give off sothing like that... until his eyes fell on his hand.
A dark ring.
The gem embedded in it seed to absorb the light around it, slowly devouring it, like a small abyss contained within tal.
There was the answer.
The bandit leader stepped forward. The sole of his boot crunched on the damp earth. His voice bood out again, deeper, heavier, as if he were dragging sothing dark with every word.
"Don’t hesitate. If you do... I’ll kill you myself."
Adam watched as the bandits tensed.
So swallowed hard. Others tightened their grip on their weapons. The doubt that had clouded their faces shattered into silence, replaced by sothing more raw.
Their muscles tensed. Their hands clenched around bloodstained swords, axes, and spears. The sound of tal being squeezed rang out in the tense air.
The fear had not disappeared.
It had changed form.
Now it was rage.
And then they began. The sound beca collective, a harsh chorus that vibrated through the air like the prelude to violence.
"We are the damned of pain! We seek neither gold nor honor!"
The voices rose, harsh, disordered... but filled with savage ferocity.
"Blood is our soap... and gold, our reward!"
Adam’s lips twisted as he heard that chant, watching the bandits rush at him like a stampede of pigs.
He responded in kind.
His sword danced, cutting rcilessly, and the air turned red with the blood of those who fell before him.
But the chant of the bandits, imbued with demonic energy, did not cease.
On the contrary, it grew louder.
A collective roar that seed intent on drowning out even the agonized screams of their own comrades.
The attacks ca thick and fast, but Adam moved with lightning speed.
From his perspective, everything slowed down.
He looked like a dancer in the midst of the carnage.
He dodged the blows with ease, and with every counterattack, his sword took on a new life: heads split in two, stomachs ripped open, entrails spilling onto the ground.
Adam leaped back twice.
With a precise movent, he unleashed two mana slashes that materialized as crows.
The crows lunged forward, roaring and wreaking havoc in their wake.
The bandits fell, torn to pieces.
But even in death... the chant did not cease.
In fact, the sound grew even louder.
The echo of those voices, tinged with blood and madness, made even Adam frown slightly.
He continued to slash.
With increasing pressure.
With ever-growing coldness.
The corpses piled up at his feet, the ground turned into a thick, reddish pool, and the tallic stench of blood perated the air.
Amid that grotesque spectacle, the bandits’ chant was the only thing dominating the scene.
Applause. Applause. Applause.
The sound burst in suddenly, breaking the symphony of the chant.
Adam looked up slightly.
He was applauding himself.
With the sword of coins tucked under his arm.
He did so calmly, as if he were in the middle of a theatrical performance and not on a battlefield.
"You really are one of a kind..."
His voice rose in a mocking, wicked tone.
Everything about him was an act.
"Even though you were dying like pigs, you kept fighting. Splendid."
The bandits didn’t hesitate, unlike during the first attack.
Adam watched them charge all at once, storming through the blood-soaked mud as their boots splattered dark red with every step. They sang with a ferocity bordering on madness, their harsh voices tearing through the air.
Their throats were filled with song, even as his sword rcilessly took their lives.
So died quickly, with a clean cut to the throat or heart. Their bodies fell heavily, hitting the damp ground with a dull thud.
Others, however, suffered more grueso deaths: bodies pierced, lungs choked with blood, severed limbs spinning through the air before sinking into the mud.
The tallic stench grew thicker.
Adam, covered in blood, did not stop.
The sticky heat clung to his skin, but his mind remained cold.
He advanced without hesitation, his sword slicing through the air as if cutting through the very fabric of the world. Every movent was precise, clean... inevitable.
The screams began to fade.
First one.
Then several.
Until the voices faded away completely.
Only the heavy silence of the dead remained.
The sound of the river lapping against the boat filled the void, constant, indifferent... as if none of it mattered.
Adam stood in the middle of a field littered with corpses, blood dripping slowly from his sword.
...
The bandit leader, seeing all his n dead, let out a long sigh.
Adam watched him in silence.
The wind carried the tallic scent of blood across the field, mingling with the dampness of the nearby river. The still-warm bodies lay all around them, so still twitching in their final spasms.
The leader stood motionless for a full minute, as if praying for those fallen n whom he himself had ordered to be sent to certain death.
Adam didn’t let his guard down.
He didn’t look away.
When the minute had passed, the leader slowly raised his head. His eyes fixed on Adam with absolute coldness, like the edge of a sword about to strike.
Without hesitation, he drew his curved sword.
The tal glinted for a mont before the intense, pulsing mana began to envelop the blade. The air around him seed to distort slightly, as if heat were emanating from the energy itself.
Adam responded imdiately.
In that brief mont, he had regained so of the mana he had expended. A dense, black energy surged from his body, enveloping him like a living shadow. The ground beneath his feet tensed slightly, as if reacting to his presence.
They stared intently at each other.
Adam could feel the steady, controlled beat of his own heart. The sll of blood still perated the air, filling his senses and leaving no room for anything else.
And then...
In the blink of an eye...
They both vanished.
CLANG!
The tallic clang rang out, shattering the silence like thunder and signaling the start of the fight.
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