The masked men had formed a loose ring around the people of the town as they filtered them into carts. Hirrus hit the nearest of them before any of them noticed him. His hooked sword sliced across his back, cutting a deep critical hit into the man for almost exactly six thousand damage. The stack of Crushing Blade from the critical hit meant that when his icy greataxe hit the man, it was for over five thousand damage. Whether by chance or by the power of his rage, he got a double strike proc on the attack, and another three thousand five hundred damage slammed into the man.

He was dead before he could scream to alert his companions they were under attack. Fortunately for them, Hirrus obliged with a bellow of challenge, drawing all eyes to him.

“Fuck,” someone nearby hissed. “It’s him!”

It was the only thing anyone said clearly in the moment of stillness that followed Hirrus’ shout.

Immediately after, the whole place erupted in chaos. The nearest of the masked men scrambled to back away from him, obviously recognizing that they were about to be next on the very literal chopping block. Those who were farther away were trying to surge towards him, seeming to believe that this was their moment to die in an explosive display of machismo.

The crowd of innocent citizens were scared and confused. From those nearest to Hirrus, he could see the glimmer of hope in their eyes that they might be free, but those who couldn’t see him sounded terrified that they were under attack by monsters amidst the calamity already underway. Despite the uncertainty, as the line of people penning them in crumbled in the confusion, they seemed ready to make their own move.

“This way!” Alric yelled from behind Hirrus. “Over here! Over here! Get out of the way and this guy is gonna fuckin’ kill them all!”

Somehow he got through the chaos. Hirrus would have to ask if it was an Arcana that let his voice carry over all the other screaming. But for now, he stepped aside and let people stream past him back up the Hari Path, away from the fires and destruction.

There was a wordless protest from one of the masked figures that was charging forward to challenge Hirrus. They raised a hand to fling some Arcana into the crowd, but Hirrus stepped up and put a stop to that. His foot lashed out delivering his Hiden Sokyaku Arcana into their chest for over six thousand damage, interrupting their Arcana and sending them tumbling backwards from the knockback. Hirrus could see inside the carts there were masked figures restraining the people who had already been loaded up, and he made a note that once the larger crowd was clear of the fight, he would have to deal with the carts in short order.

As much as he could feel the driving rage vibrating in his chest, he was here to save lives. He wouldn’t forget that even as the group of masked figures closed in around him. Only a handcount of them were approaching - most of the others had made their choice to break and run. Hirrus didn’t anticipate this taking long.

Adventurers didn’t scare Hirrus anymore. Even less so when they were obviously nowhere near the level of those he’d destroyed already. He was stronger now than he had been when facing down Fidelis and his officers. Without the systems of greed and favoritism that had fed those adventurers their power, it seemed a stretch to compare his greatest challenge to what was now arrayed against him. This was a scattered bunch of peons. They were no more threat to him than the boars and crickets in the forest.

Just the same, it wasn’t in him to hold back. A few moments of thought and the power of his Pumped Kicks and Iron Typhoon empowered his speed, along with Penitent Shell to supplement his defenses. He wished to use Going Ape as well, but he’d let them get too close now. He was going to have to make some space before engaging more Arcana.

The hooked blade eviscerated the nearest of them. It was the one he’d kicked before, and as soon as the icy greataxe came down on their shoulder, they hit the ground in two pieces.

A mace impacted with Hirrus’ back, but it did barely over a thousand damage. His hooked sword backhanded into the man who had struck him, scoring a double strike and sending the ambitious assailant stumbling back under a total of over six thousand damage between the two strikes. Another overhead strike from the icy greataxe smashed the man’s ribcage to bony splinters, slamming him into the ground. He didn’t get up again.

Despite the brutal efficiency with which he’d just dispatched two of their fellows, the other three didn’t back off. One tried to outrange him with a spear while another grunted with effort to swing a heavy greatsword in at Hirrus in an impossibly clumsy strike. The third had an unusually long rapier, and was bringing it to bear against him on his greataxe side, obviously intending to outmaneuver his weapon.

It was childishly easy to weave out of the way of the greatsword swipe. The weapon’s design was unbalanced and top-heavy, and its poor design was reflected in the poor swing. It was so bad that it also fouled the attack of the spear-wielding man beside him. Hirrus thought it too terrible a weapon to be worth bringing to battle, but he quickly reasoned that that was the point. This person’s whole week was devoted to this moment of suicide. They knew they were about to die, and so they didn’t want to lose an actually good weapon for it.

Hirrus didn’t want to disappoint. His hooked blade whipped up, slashing open the clumsy man’s side through his boiled leather armor. It was another critical strike, dealing exactly six thousand nine hundred damage and offering another stack of Crushing Blade.

The attacker with the long rapier lunged for Hirrus, and so he stepped back, maintaining his spacing. He stepped in close to the wounded man with the greatsword, and his much-enhanced attack speed let him drag the hooked blade across the man’s shoulder as he went. This was no critical strike, but another four thousand damage was still significant. The unwieldy greatsword hit the ground as the man fell to his knees with a yelp, grabbing at his wounds.

Hirrus moved to finish him off with a killing blow, but as soon as he hit the ground the head of a spear lunged at him over the downed man, forcing him back unless he wanted to lose an eye. As soon as the thrusting spear withdrew for its second strike, Hirrus stepped around the downed foe and swept his greataxe in a wide arc. It was a feint, intending to cover his hooked blade coming in from the other side, but the spear-wielding fighter overthought it for a second too long. They saw through the feint, and then chose instead to whip their spear around to watch for the swing of the sword.

Upon seeing that, Hirrus instead decided to follow-through with the icy battleaxe.

The weapon crashed into their undefended side. The strike did nearly five thousand five hundred damage, and a double strike hit slammed into them right on the heel of that impact for another three thousand eight hundred damage. They gasped in pain at the damage, and Hirrus’ hooked sword opened their throat for another four thousand, sending them flat on their back in the dirt.

“Stop ignoring me!” the masked man with the rapier demanded, stepping up in an exaggerated duelist’s stance. The tip of the long weapon darted in at Hirrus’ face, drawing a streak of blood along his jawline for just over nine hundred damage.

“As you wish,” Hirrus said, drawing himself up to his full height.

The man flinched back, arranging himself such that his rapier could intercept any attack Hirrus could launch with his two weapons. Instead, Hirrus unleashed an Arcana. Orange-brown dust erupted from his throat, engulfing the man in a storm of dirt. Gritted Breath dealt a staggering nine thousand damage, applying the Rasp debuff. In addition to the minor TEN reduction, the debuff started to rip through their remaining hit points. He had just enough time to recognize that he literally asked for this before he dropped to the ground.

“Shit,” the downed man muttered, struggling to heft his greatsword one-handed while trying to hold his wounds closed. “I thought we could buy more time.”

“Ask the Last of the Strong how I react to bargaining,” Hirrus said, leveling his hooked blade at the man. “Though I appreciate that your attempt was at least in the same language of violence I came to speak.”

There was an earth-shaking roar from the smoke of the burning town behind him, and Hirrus whirled quickly, weapons ready.

“It was enough?” the man asked, letting out a satisfied chuckle. “Shit, I distracted the great and powerful Merciless long enough for them to kill him. When they write this event down in the wiki, I’ll get my name on the page.”

A swipe of Hirrus’ greataxe put an end to the feeble gloating, but it didn’t change the realization that the masked folk who had run weren’t saving their own hides. They were part of a larger plan. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that Alric was busily guiding the civilians of the town farther down the Hari Path, where they would be out of range of whatever carnage was to come. Hirrus was going to have to deal with this new threat all by himself, but he was grateful he didn’t have to worry about senseless casualties.

Despite all his power and preparation, Hirrus still felt a chill down his spine at what emerged from the smoke.