****(POV)

Keep calm, right now with all the organizations at war it is harder to trade slaves.

In a time of peace with all the troops at their base, it doesn't really matter. But with frequent outings…a slave escape could easily become catastrophic. Thus the quality control on slaves has increased by a lot. Not as many random ones are bought.

Another good point is that we are obviously poor. I simply need to find a way to make them believe their losses would be heavy should they attack us. Wait, I think I may have an idea.

I turn to my companions. On the journey, they have been drinking some kind of extremely low-quality wine. Why? Well, they are as poor as I am. It is the kind that is extremely pungent and DISGUSTING.

For me to drink it, someone would have to pay me. They apparently got that for free from some weird guy. He was calling himself the number one brewer or something while saying stuff about reviving some kind of drunken fish.

He barely stopped in the City of Freedom, but he created enough ruckus to be noticed. For some time there was a legend about him, all infamy.

People were saying that he was a resentful ghost haunting the living. Since his death, he couldn't drink anymore and he was pushing this horrible drink to the livings to quell his frustration.

"You guys, I have an idea. Get that wine out. Then once they come nearby, slowly and visibly coat your axes with it. I'm pretty sure it can and will be misunderstood as poison!"

"What?! What will we drink afterward?!"

"If we all die there won't be any drinking anymore!"

"*Sigh* She's right, brothers. Sometimes one must do sacrifices. Remember our mentor? He was humble enough to eat the same dirty and trashy food as us without complaining. If someone as great as him is able to do this, why should we care about some alcohol?"

I see all of them nodding. I swear, they always have a way to make it about that guy. Whatever, it's good if it helps me convince them.

A few minutes later, the bandits are right in front of us. They look rough, clearly haven't showered in a while, are loud, have clearly killed before, I can see dried blood on some of their leather armors, fuck one is even looking at me while licking his lips!

My companions proceed as planned. They start coating their weapons with pungent liquid. That gets a reaction out of our opponents.

"Poison! What?! These guys are lumberjacks, no?! how do they have such a thing?! We should probably avoid this fight and…"

Nice, this is totally going to …

"No, look carefully this is that disgusting stuff that one guy wanted to give us."

"Ah, you're right! Trying to trick us?! Do you guys think we are dumb? Now, hand over all your possessions and the girl haha!"

No! They met the vengeful brewing ghost! Our luck is bad. It almost worked out too. No, it's not over I still have a card up my sleeve. I need to show extreme confidence now. I steadily smile at them and make sure my voice is playful and strong.

"Poison? Hehe, have you tried having this horrible stuff in your bloodstream? It makes any wound fester and makes it impossible to heal oneself. Do you want to place a bet? How many of you will die trying to rob us? 10-20-30? All of you perhaps?"

The bandits look at each other. I can see some unease. They are wondering why I'm not afraid in the least. But their leader intervenes.

"Hahaha, nice bluff! If you had such strength in the first place there would have been no need for the whole wine bullshit earlier. Now boys, shall we kill a few of them to teach them a lesson? We should teach them the meaning of fear!"

Fuck, fuck! That is when they charge at us. I grip my dagger tightly. I think I should be able to kill about 20 before I succumb. That will leave 30 for 24 companions. This is a lost cause but as long as we don't despair there is a chance.

We simply need to show them our might and intimidate them. Sometimes it is not the strongest that wins a fight, but the one that has the least to lose. Madness is particularly scary to the sane.

I find myself thinking back to that man. He was chased by the entirety of Eaglevein at some point. I simply need to show the same courage in facing my enemies. I shout!

"Bring it on bitches! We'll cut you down as the many trees that once surrounded us!"

Okay, this isn't my best warcry. At least I am not cowering. My final moments will be heroic, talk about a failure for an assassin! *Sigh*

That is when I hear a low murmur, but one said by 24 people at once. It merges together into a low humming sound. My companions keep repeating the same thing: "They are trees…"

What is up with them?! Just as I'm wondering, I somehow notice something. Their entire aura changes! From weak and normal guy auras it becomes…. sharp ones?! What is happening?!

Meanwhile, the bandits are making initial contact. Their blade aimed straight at the vitals, a clear promise of death.

That is when it happens.

*CHOP!*

Blood spurts, there is the sound of flesh getting cleaved. There is a moment where the entire world stops, then it resumes. With every chop: limbs are sent flying, corpses start to pile up. The bandits are getting decimated?!

Instead of falling back, they become angry.

"How dare you! Kill them all!"

I dive into their midst. Carefully evading all their attacks. Trying my best to disrupt their flow. Backstab! Tripping them! Dagger to the neck! But no matter the might my companions are showing, they are outnumbered and not used to fighting.

They are slowly getting killed. I need to do something! Finally, I see an opportunity to reach their leader! I rush to him and plunge my dagger into his chest, or try. He somehow manages to block.

"You bitch! What is up with all of you fuckers?!"

"Just fucking die!"

We are having a duel while the fight in the back progresses. That's when my opponent's face change. All the other bandits are dead somehow!

He starts running away extremely fast. Crap there is no way we will be able to catch him, this sucks! That is when I hear….

"Cut ALL the trees!"

A woodcutter almost seems to be teleporting behind him and beheads the target. How?!

Out of the 24, 13 survived. The others are all dead. This is still insane! 11 untrained woodcutters casualties for killing 50 bandits!

How?!

I see them slowly wake up from that special state of theirs.

"*Sigh* They perished doing what they loved: Felling trees, moving fleshy trees. May you rest in peace, my brothers."

What kind of eulogy is that?!