As the rumble of approaching engines filled the night air, Shinon swiftly donned a mask to conceal his identity.
The bandit camp, still engulfed in flas, beca a battleground of shadows and uncertainty. He adjusted the mask, ensuring it obscured his face completely, leaving only his piercing eyes visible.
Drake, his hands bound tightly, watched Shinon’s preparations with weakness overwhelming him. "You think that flimsy mask will... protect your identity?" he sneered. "They probably already know who you are. You’re just wasting... your ti."
Shinon’s gaze hardened beneath the mask, his voice calm and determined. "Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing my face. And as for you..."
He trailed off, a glint of darkness flickering in his eyes. Without a word, Shinon summoned his shadowy companions, the tendrils of darkness slithering silently across the ground toward Drake.
Drake’s eyes widened with realisation, his struggles becoming futile as the shadows ensnared him, muffling any noise he might have made as Shinon slashed his torso in half without a second thought.
[D-Grade human killed! Domination 25.]
Ignoring the system’s alert, Shinon went ahead with his plan.
~~~
The bandits, alerted by Drake’s desperate call for reinforcents, raced toward the camp, their headlights piercing through the darkness like fiery eyes.
Cars and motorcycles thundered into the clearing, screeching to a halt as the bandits took in the sight that awaited them. The once-thriving camp now lay in ruins, consud by flas and shadow. Smoke billowed into the sky, mingling with the night air, as the remnants of structures crumbled and smouldered.
Confusion washed over the faces of the bandits as they dismounted their vehicles, their eyes widening at the devastation surrounding them. The stench of charred wood and burning flesh assaulted their senses, mingling with the acrid sll of gunpowder.
"What in the devil’s na happened here?" one bandit exclaid, his voice filled with disbelief.
Another bandit, his eyes darting from one decimated structure to another, spoke up, his tone laced with fear. "It’s as if a storm swept through here. Look at the bodies... Those damned Phoenixes... I’mma fuck them up real good!"
"Drake better have a damn good explanation for all of this." Yet another one chid in.
The bandits exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the situation pressing upon them. Their supposed stronghold had been reduced to a graveyard, a testant to the power and ruthlessness of their unseen assailant.
The questions and murmurs echoed through the night, threatening to dissolve into chaos. Sensing the growing panic, a figure stepped forward, his presence commanding attention.
It was Stephen, the Captain, and the one Drake reported to. Stephen was a hardened veteran with a clean, fair complexion and a gaze that held a flicker of lust for strength.
"Enough!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the disarray. The bandits turned their attention to him, their expressions a mix of confusion and apprehension.
Stephen continued, "Search the area! Find Drake! We must know what happened here and who is responsible for this massacre. Now, spread out and search for any survivors. We need to regroup and find out who’s responsible for this."
His words hung heavy, commanding obedience amidst the chaotic aftermath. The bandits, their initial shock giving way to a begrudging determination, fanned out through the camp. They navigated cautiously through the wreckage, their eyes scanning the surroundings for signs of life.
As they moved among the fallen bodies, the bandits couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease and vulnerability. The familiarity of their once formidable camp had been shattered, replaced by an unsettling reminder of what they had done to those Spiders that tried to attack them a couple of days ago.
Voices echoed through the night, calling out Drake’s na, hoping for a response, but only silence greeted their efforts. Each step brought them closer to the truth, and uncertainty gnawed at their resolve.
"He’s not here," one bandit called out, his voice tinged with both relief and confusion. "Drake... he’s nowhere to be found."
Suddenly, soone yelled from s distance, "Captain! I found him! Or at least half of him..."
Everyone rushed to where the voice had co from, Stephen ahead of everyone. The sight sent chills down their spine.
Drake lay in front of them. The lower half of his body hung on the tree over him, while what remained of his torso was in shambles, with an eye and a hand missing.
It was evident so sadistic bastard had taken their ti creating such a masterpiece for the Bandits’ arrival.
Amidst the chaos, Stephen beca the epicentre of everyone’s attention. It was a known fact that although Stephen was Drake’s superior, he had always treated him like a younger brother, and to see him in such a tragic state filled him with rage.
Stephen knelt beside a fallen comrade, his hand gently touching Drake’s lifeless face. "Drake," he whispered, his voice heavy with grief and determination. "We will avenge you, my friend. I swear on it."
Hidden amidst the shadows, Shinon carefully watched the bandits. As the person Shinon assud was leading the bandits paid his respect to his fallen comrade, the rest of the bandits, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief, surveyed the destruction that had befallen their camp.
Hidden in the darkness, Shinon observed their every move, his heart pounding as adrenaline filled his veins. He knew he had to remain patient, biding his ti until the perfect mont to strike.
The camp was in disarray, their defences weakened, and their spirits shaken. It was the opportune mont to dismantle their ranks and save Selena.
Stephen stood up to rally the bandits, and his voice resonated with anger and determination. "We will avenge Drake’s death! We will hunt down this intruder and make him pay for what he’s done!"
But before they could do anything, a sudden howl echoed through the night, piercing the silence and chilling the air. Shinon’s eyes widened as the distant sound reached his ears.
It was a haunting cry, a call that signalled the approach of a far more formidable enemy. The zombies, drawn by the scent of burning flesh and the chaos of battle, were on their way.
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