Chest burning, limbs heavy like he was submerged in quicksand, and head aching like it was hit by a brick. Symptoms that he has exhausted both his Mana reserve and Stamina. Drenched with both blood and sweat, Artreus was barely standing, he feels little strength left to his limbs as he tries his best not to show that his arms and legs are shaking from exhaustion.

'Shit. That was stupid of me to let myself drown in the flow of battle. I thought that this is just a small band, but they keep on coming like cockroaches. If I knew that they are this numerous, I could've budgeted my energy expenditure carefully.' Artreus scolds himself. He no longer has the stamina and Mana capacity that he had before, and without his equipment and accessories, the duration where he could fight in his current strongest capability was greatly reduced. 'What a blunder. To lose myself in anger and make such a novice mistake, Moira will surely give me an earful if she sees me in this state.' He continued to scold himself. He lost his sight of his mission. What good is killing a bunch of bandits if he died in the process? He must train his mind more and not let his emotions control him.

The bandits were visibly shaken, seeing their comrades brutally slaughtered in front of them, and before them was the butcher. The sight of Artreus coated with the blood and guts of their fellow bandits made them freeze in fear. Finally, after a few seconds, someone was able to find their nerve. "Where is the Chief? We can't hold him off for much longer!" One of the terrified bandit shouts.

Yes, they have been always like this. Acting like they own the world, not even thinking twice at inflicting pain and misery to others much weaker to them. But when they face someone stronger, they shout for help and mercy from the strong. How dare they?! When the weak ask for mercy they didn't even bat an eye. No. They don't deserve it. They must be erased from this world! Artreus could feel his rage start to fire up anew, but when he tried to summon his strength, he felt his body buckle from pain.

Damn this body! How could I protect this world if I am these weak? Artreus thought before a momery float in his mind.

He was woken up by the sound of thunderous crash echoed in the empty plains. Grabbing his weapon, he went to investigate what caused it. Then, there they were. Grisha was sparring with someone, swinging her pole arm, each blows seen to be able to end a life as it carved through rocks and boulders like they were butter. But even with the whirlwind of metal and debris flying about, her opponent was still untouched. It was her friend, Moira. With her slender sword, she brushed away an attack that was strong enough to reduce boulders into tiny pebbles, guiding it with the point of her sword like an artist painting a picture. It was joked around the camp that before she came to the Order, she escaped from her family who was going to marry her to a Greater Noble, that she wanted to become a painter.

Well, she did become one. The battlefield is her canvas, her rapier was her brush and the blood of her enemies were her paint.

Grisha lost in that sparring, and every sparring that they had ever since. Not because Moira's dueling skill is top notch. Artreus remembered the times that he was training under her, how she scolds him for using too much strength, or having so much wasted movements. They fought side by side against the hordes of demons. Even when she tries to be cold, she always looks after his wounds when he gets wounded in battle. Sometimes…

Artreus let a small smile slip his lips as he remembered those days. Those memories were his most precious treasure.

Seeing that Artreus was just stnding, doing nothing, the bandits began to stir. One of them whispered. "Hey. He isn't moving. Shouldn't we use this chance to escape?"

The bandits looked carefully at the statuesque figure of Artreus from the distance. He still wasn't moving. "Do you think he���s unconscious?" Asked another bandit.

"Maybe. He lost too much blood from his wounds earlier. It is a miracle he is alive." Answered another.

They continued to whisper with one another, unsure on what to do. This is the perfect time to retreat but doing so will earn them the Chieftain's ire. But if they move forward, they might wake up a sleeping beast. "Heh! Bunch of cowards! If no one is stepping up, then I will. Indeed, it is a miracle that he still lives after getting stabbed and slashed multiple times. Then I am ending that miracle with my own hands." Arrogantly walking towards the still figure of Artreus, the bandit smirked as he slowly circles around him. After seeing no reaction from the man, he started speaking. "You think you're so tough eh, you bastard. Coming here like you are some hot shit. Look at you now." Stopping in front of Artreus, he slowly swing his sword. Playfully twirling the blade in his hand as if to show off. Stopping his blade upon Artreus' neck, he drew close and spoke loudly at his ear. "You are now match for the Reavers! Now watch as I, Carson the terrible, slit your fucking throat and watch you die as you. Urk" The bandit's monologue was cut as he fall to the ground, gurgling and drowning in his own blood as his throat was slashed open.

"Your bad breath disturbed me while I was reminiscing on precious memories. Your life is not enough to pay for such transgression." Artreus says while stepping on the bandit's head. Holding the scoundrel's sword on his hand, his cold gaze made the remaining bandit's flinch.

The bandits started to slowly back away from fear, but after seeing that Artreus is not charging at them like he did before, one of them riled his companions up. "Look! He is tired. If we charge at him together, we will surely win!" Upon hearing this, one of the other bandits whispered in agreement. Then another, then another more, until all the bandits remaining let out a shout and together, they charged at Artreus.

Seeing this, Artreus laughed. "You bastards finally got the balls to charge at me eh?!" He shouted as the first bandit entered his range. The bandit swung her sword but with a single side-step, Artreus dodged the attack easily, then with a flick of his wrist, the bandit collapsed as her throat was slashed. "Good! I am too tired to walk. Come at me bastards so I can cut you all down." He dodged and parried each attacks using the least movement possible, he continued to cut down the bandits coming at him while receiving only shallow wounds. As he used his footwork to use the body of the bandits to block the others, in an effort to avoid getting surrounded. He whispered a silent prayer of apology to his dead companion. I am sorry Moira if I often disregard your teachings since I thought that it was ineffective in fighting against demons. I guess I was idolizing Devin and the Captain's strength too much. But I see it now. There are other monsters to fight, not only demons. Please forgive me. Now I will show you that your teachings were not in vain!

On and on, the melee continued. The cacophony of metal hitting with metal and the cries of the dying filled the cave as slowly but surely, the bandits are being whittled down. Standing in the eye of the storm was Artreus, using simple but effective steps to dodge and position himself to attack, he was able to create a circle where not a single bandit was able to step inside without getting cut down. This was his zone. Like flowing water, he redirected the trajectory of the attacks away from him and towards the other attacks, effectively blocking more than 3 attacks at the same time. Then using the momentum, he ended his enemies' lives with a single slash or stab. Grabbing his fallen enemies' weapon after stabbing him, he then used it to cut the neck of another. The bandits started to fall back once more after their numbers were reduced to measly four from fifteen just a few minutes ago. Their fear of the invader was renewed, as the wild beast from before was gone, only to be replaced by a cold flame that swallows anything that comes too close to it.

"What? Is it over already? Come on and attack. I am too tired you see? I can barely stand. This is your chance to kill me." Artreus goaded the bandits. His body is covered with shallow wounds. He wanted to use a healing spell but he chose not to. He senses that his remaining mana is enough for a single spell and he might need it later. 'Damn. I was doing my best, but these bastards were still able to wound me by this much. I need to practice more if I want to survive a greater threat in the future.' Artreus thought as he watches the retreating bandits. "Hey! Where are you going? We're not done yet!" He shouted as the bandits started to flee in fear, their silhouette vanishing into the darkness of the cave.

Artreus was finally able to breathe in relief. Some of the bandits were still alive, and as much as he wanted to run after them and slaughter them to the last man, with the current state of his body, there was nothing he could do but watch them flee. He started to move slowly, walking over the pile of dead bodies scattered about, and lean against the cave wall. He closed his eyes and did something that he hasn't done for a long time.

Meditate.

With eyes closed, he focused his senses at the ambient Mana lingering in his surroundings. It was thin but it will do to replenish his meager supply. Like a dry sponge thrown into a bucket of water, he started absorbing as much as he could. While he was doing this, he also looked inside him. His life energy, or Ki according to Captain Marius, was drained from over using of Aura, depleting his stamina in the process. Stretching his arms and legs so that he could relax for the first time since the fight started, he drew what was left of his Ki and let it circulate around his body. Going from core, which is around his stomach, to his head, then travelling towards his limbs, until it goes back to his core once more, he continued to squeeze through his remaining Ki throughout his body in a steady rate, not rushing things and risk injuring himself, but is also not too slow as too recover too little. Doing this practice not only help recovering lost Ki, but it also strengthens a person's core and body. He continued to take deep breaths, filling his nose with the stench of blood, piss, and shit of the dead bodies around him. He wanted to move away to a cleaner part of the cave, to purify the filth from his body. But there was no time for that. He needs to regain as much Mana and stamina fast. For his gut is screaming that something was coming.

And he was right, for not even 5 minutes passed when he heard a loud shriek, followed by a snap. Artreus sighed and opened his eyes. Grabbing a weathered sword near him, he stood in ready at the middle of the cave, waiting for whatever is coming towards him. Then from the darkness, a figure of a large burly man, appeared.

This must be their chief. Artreus thought.

The bandit chief was tall, towering over Artreus who was 180 cm tall. He estimated that this man was even taller than Drogo who was a head taller than him. His whole body was full of scars, telling the story that he went and survived multiple battles. The bandit's arms were as thick as Artreus' legs, and his legs were double of that. His bulging muscles were draped around by the hide of a bear, making it look like a beast was towering over him.

The bandit chief eyed Artreus with his big, bloodshot eye. Then after giving him a quick scan, the burly man smiled, revealing his black, crooked teeth.

Seeing the bastard acting all smug, Artreus chuckled. He must think that I am weak. Well, looking at the sorry state I am in, I don't blame him. He thought.

Studying the boss bandit closer, Artreus noticed that he is carrying a person with each arm. One he held by the head with his meaty hand. Looking carefully, it was one of the bandits who ran away earlier. His head was crushed by the strength of the bandit chief's grip. Artreus just shrug at the sight, if the bandit was thinking that the sight will scare him, he was terribly mistaken. Instead, he would even thank him for doing his job for him. Before he kills him too at least. No. What bothered him most was the other person that the bandit was carrying. Focusing on the other figure held by the brute, he noticed that the figure wearing torn up rags was a woman. Her body was filled with bruises and blood was running from between her legs.

Upon realizing what he is looking at, the flame of anger that he had been pushing back flared back, even hotter than before. THIS FUCKING BASTARD! I WILL DEFINITELY MURDER YOU!