"And there you have it," he murmured, the undertone of his voice layered with wry sarcasm. Everything had been going alright since they departed from the town. Following the en route to Kraasea, they had stopped for awhile to let their horses graze before resuming their journey. He was starting to believe his suspicions regarding the merchant's request were unwarranted, but—

“Stay where you are,” boomed out an unfamiliar voice. “Unless you want to be filled with bow arrows.” Arrows hissed through the air and stuck quivering in the earth in front of the hooves of the horses. He immediately put down the horses' anxiety by pulling onto their reins tightly.

Looking to his side, he laid his eyes upon the man who had commanded them to not move. With a hideous face covered in battle scars, the man reeked of malice and hostility."We want no trouble with you, adventurers, just handover that merchant to us and we'll go our separate ways." The man's ugly face twisted into a crooked expression. Perhaps he was trying to smile?

After studying the man for a moment, Malazan smiled to himself. Underneath that false bravado, anxiety mostly occupied his emotions. The man was clearly apprehensive of breaking out with them. Moving his eyes away from him, Malazan tried to look for the source of the arrows.

To the slope to his right, he sensed slight trembles from trees situated upon it. The archers must be hiding there, their bows fully loaded, waiting for the order to attack them for real this time.

"I hate to break it to you, but we'd have to disappoint you," Malazan succinctly replied, not mincing with words. The others nodded in agreement. All of them had already received half of the commission in advance, not to mention, their duty as the merchant's bodyguards obligated them to see their mission to the end.

As if expecting their response, the man shook his head disappointingly, "I see, what a pity. I guess there's no helping it." Right after finishing his sentence, he raised his left hand up in the air, his fingers forming a 'V' sign.

"Shihle, cast the barrier!" The Spell-Caster immediately infused mana into the scroll she was clutching. The rolled-up piece of parchment instaniously burned into ashes. Like a translucent dome appearing out of thin air, a magic barrier shielded them from the rain of arrows that came bearing down on them from above. The nieghed in fear and trepidation.

'Protect the merchant…but don't overdo it. Go!' He ordered Cloven. Following his command, Cloven darted towards the carriage. With a jump that defied gravity, he vaulted over one of the ten men who had come out of the nearby forest and made a half circle around the carriage. They were all outfitted differently. Not all their equipment was well made, but it wasn’t shoddy, either.

Cloven's body landed on an other man, throwing the latter off balance. The bandit staggered back several steps, before running toward Cloven with his mace swinging wildly. A sidestep was all it took for Cloven to evade the attack. Taking the advantage of the man's accelerating momentum, Cloven slammed him forward. The bandit's momentum carried him on and he crashed into another man. They tumbled to the ground.

From within his robe Cloven quickly produced a grooved dagger, and swiftly dispatched an approaching man by flinging it, aimed at the man's neck. The dagger whizzed as it cut through the air. The force behind the hurl was overwhelming, that the dagger pierced right through the man's throat, leaving behind a gaping hole. The man stood still in disbelief as showers of blood gushed out of the hole, before dropping to the ground.

The other men’s will to fight shrank visibly.

By Hictoria, when will this man obey the order. You don't present your display of strength so early on, else how are they going to muster up the courage to foolishly charge against you?

He turned to look at three men who had appeared and surrounded him. "My apologies for making you wait, gentlemen. Let us get on with this," he bowed graceful toward them with proper noble etiquette. He thought it was pretty smooth bow, but the men looked confused.

The men exchanged looks with each other, evidently unable to figure out his actions.

"Hmm? Do you want to come or not? I'd personally like if you hurry up, as I have more pressing matters to attend to."

After hesitating for a fraction of a second, they cast aside their reluctance and recklessly charged forward.

"『 Dragon Persistence 』" he gently whispered the name of a martial art skill. His muscles bulged as an unknown power surged through them. His right foot took a step back, and he brandished his sword in a forward stance and charged forth like a ferocious wind. Reflexively Malazan ducked beneath a man's arm, as his halbard swayed past Malazan's head, its hook forcing the wind to blow his hair. Turning back, he kicked the wielder of the halberd on his knees. The beautiful sound of snapping bones reached his ears. The man dropped to the ground with a groan. He kept screaming and rolling around in pain while holding onto his fractured knee firmly. With a backhand slash, Malazan drilled his sword through the man's heart, putting an end to his misery.

He parried the blows of other two men by launching a flurry of sword strikes of his own. "Too slow!" He laughed boisterously. With trained movements, he fended off an axe strike and turned to launch an upward thunder kick into the greasy-haired man's diaphragm, wind seemingly trailing alongside his foot. The attack seemed to have knocked all the breath out of his lungs. The man spat a huge gob of phlegm onto the ground and promptly fell to his knees.

Malazan leapt to one side as a spear lashed out at him. He parried another spear strike by twisting his sword midway and making a straight jab that jerked the spear from the spear bearer's hand, disarming him. Giving him no time to retrieve it, Malazan closed in. Once within striking distance he lashed out with his sword, splitting the astonished bandit's skull like a melon. He cast a glimpse back over his shoulder and saw the remaining man reaching out for his axe.

"Why must you continue to struggle after realizing the gulf that separates the two of us?" He whispered slowly in a voice that only he could hear. He turned around, momentarily lifted his foot above the ground, before bringing it down with a crunch. He broke the struggling man's right hand's wrist. His struggling ceased, but Malazan didn't think it was the pain, though he made sure there was plenty of that. It was the sound. The crack of bonesx as they shattered. A sound that let one knew they were never going to rise again. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword—And brought it down in a blurring arc that decapitated his last opponent. Smell of blood thickened in the air.

Phew, nearly crossed the line there. Malazan chuckled to himself. In less than two minutes, he had finished off all three of his opponents with only minimum amount of strength.『 Dragon Persistence 』was mostly an offensive martial art skill that focused on overpowering your opponent through very precise and well-timed strikes. The primary focus lied on both sword and knee strikes and it often relied on the endurance and flexibility of the defender.

The biggest strength of『 Dragon Persistence 』 was its brutality. It was fierce and contained illegal moves that most Knights and Paladins would find beneath themselves to resort to. It was one of many offensive martial art skills he had learned after going through brutal training and experiencing several trails and errors.

However, he still wasn't able to unleash the skill's full potential, because—

He glanced down on his hands and found them to be trembling and juddering with great intensity. He fought hard to stop the trembling. Seconds passed and the shaking finally ceased.

I am still unable to overcome them, huh?

He smiled bitterly at the upsetting realisation. Memories and events he wanted to forget resurfaced. Those screams, shouts and howls of agony and hate. They called out his name, but all he could do was stare at them.

No more, he shook his head and cleared his thoughts.

Averting his eyes from Cloven who showed no visible difficulty defeating opponents, he turned to see how the others were faring.

"Back me up here, Alcot!" Zaron barked an order, while exchanging blows with two men. One man carried a sharp, curved scimitar whilst the other flourished a club. With his silver sword gleaming in the sunlight, Zaron leapt first with a roar, his sword towering in the air. Closing in, he swinged it in a diagonal slash. Sparks were produced as sword and scimitar clashed, steel against steel. Both men then jumped away to create some distance. As Zaron did so, the other man wielding the club leapt at him from behind. However—before his attack could make contact—a crossbow bolt whistled through air and pierced deep into the man's heart, robbing him of his life. His companion eyes went wide with fear and hesitation after witnessing the death of his partner. Zaron, seizing that moment of distraction, pounced at the man with a loud bawl. Although the man tried to defend, it was already too late. Before he knew it, Zaron's sword was already upon him. The sword penetrated into his body, ribs cracking, and jutted out from the other end. The man fell with a thud after Zaron yanked his sword back.

Zaron turned to nod his head at Alcot, gratitude visible in his eyes.

"I'd also appreciate a bit of help! These fucking bolts are driving me insane," cried Globrom, exasperation plainly evident in his voice. His and Darkeye's backs were facing each other as they tussled with the leader and his two lackeys. They were constantly being perturbed by arrows that would fitfully disturb their fight. Needless to say, defending against them at the same took a fair share of their attention.

"Can you do something about those archers?" Darkeye shouted.

The adventurers shifted their gazes toward the only two spellcasters, Shihle and Hiver, who was dressed in extravagant blue robes. They were not sure whether they could approach the slope without getting pinned to the ground with arrows, to say nothing of actually getting rid of the archers. Argency obligated them to turn towards the spellcasters for help.

The two hesitated for awhile before nodding their heads.

"『 Fly 』" The two casted a tier-three transmutation spell in unison, a spell that violated the laws of gravity. Both of them ascended in the air until they were 60 feet aloft. Even the arrows found it difficult to reach them at such a height.

Everyone, including the bandits, had stopped fighting and were looking at the two individuals in dumbfounding astonishmeant. Although reason told them to stop the two spellcasters from completing their spell, somewhere—in a detached corner of their brain—curiousity told them to see what the spellcasters were about to do.

After making sure of the archers hiding spot, Hiver and Shihle exchanged a glance, solemnity covering their faces. Hiver took a deep breath before casting an evocation spell, "『 Combination Spell: First Stage: Toxic Wind』"

Everyone hiding in the woods soon felt it. A gentle gust of wind swirling through the trees, making the leaves rustle. However, that was it. Surprise turned to ridicule. Sound of mocking laughter echoed.

—Yet, their jeering was short-lived.

Shihle raised her hands in the air. She gave the impression of surrendering herself to a goddess above, but the pespiration dampening her features expressed something else entirely: "『 Combination Spell: Second Stage: Fireball』"

From her right hand a bright streak flashed and blossomed into a ball of small fire, looking like at any moment it would be blown out, it floated towards the woods. The dim ball of fire looked almost laughable I comparison to the giant trees, but—

Like a thunderbolt that came straight from heaven, the air exploded in a resounding roar. Gruesome screams soon followed. The trees caught fire one after another. In addition, the whole scene appeared to have come out from hell, as bodies of men were charred like autumn leaves, their ashes proving to be nutrious fertilizer for the soil.

Minutes passed, but aside from the clinking noise of weapons dropping to the ground, nothing else could be heard. The opponents will to fight had been completely extinguished after witnessing their comrades dying such dreadful deaths. The adventurers soon snapped out of their reverie and rushed to apprehend their foes who no longer offered any sort of resistance.

"That was nicely done!" Malazan went forward to congratulate the spellcasters with a smile. Both of them were covered in sweat and their shoulders heaved fiercely. Others also came forward to compliment them.

"Hey, what did you guys do back there? It was amazing!" Globrom slapped Hiver on his shoulders. The later winced in pain.

"It…was a combination spell that fused…our two spells into one...we honestly weren't expecting it to…work out,", Shihle answered while being short on breath.

"How many times can you two use it?" Darkeye asked in anticipation.

Shihle looked at Hiver, taking the cue, the latter replied: "Only once. Using it a second time would be honestly...impossible. Casting it even once consumes most of our mana, hence leaving us in such a ragged state. There's also the fact we'd become vulnerable after casting it," he stated. "Needless to say, the two spells in question need to compliment each other. For example, my spell, Toxic Wind, had a property of ignition when it made contact with fire. I can only say we happened to be quite lucky in this case." Dejection could be felt in his voice. How great would it be if they could use the spell twice in row? Maybe even thrice in succession?

Hearing this, the enthusiasm in everyone's eyes dimmed by a great deal. As expected, such a destructive spell had its limitations.

"Well, you can't have everything you want," Zaron remarked.

"Still, you guys did a great job there!" Blen said in a cheerful voice.

"Yeah, you two saved my ass back there!"

"Indeed. Thanks for saving us."

Ohers showered them with praises. It went without saying that the two spellcasters played a major role in this battle.

In the meanwhile, Malazan's attention was concentrated on someone else. His eyes had never strayed from the leader of the bandits, who had been standing still since the two spellcasters casted their spell. Others thought that he had given up, but Malazan didn't think so. A cunning gleam still flickered across the man's narrow eyes, showing no signs of surrender.

Malazan furrowed his brows.

To be a able to organise such a large gang of men to attack them indicated the man's confidence in carrying out the ambush. But, an ambush was effective because it was hidden. If it was revealed, all it did was diffuse their muscle. Their leader should surely know that, yet he showed no signs of surrendering. Such behavior only made sense if the man had something to rely upon.

Come on. Pull out whatever move you have hidden up your sleeve.

As if answering his wish, Malazan saw the man pulling out a crystal out of his breast pocket. Malazan's eyes suddenly went wide with astoundment.

…I'd be damned.

☯☯☯☯☯☯

Dorn's hands were wet with sweat.

He had grossly underestimated these adventurers. At first, he had thought he could easily stall them long enough for one of his men to feel with the merchant. However, reality had smacked him with a harsh truth—They were no match for the adventurers, especially the spellcasters. Although only two in number, this contemptibly little pair had turned his men to dust. He didn't want to admit, but high-ranking spellcasters were indeed deserving of their fame. He hated their ability to cast spells. They didn't have to go through any sort of intense muscle training, unlike fighters. Just by studying, they were able to learn new spells that gave them an edge over those of different classes of the same realm.

Inspite of their defeat, he didn't lose hope. Those people had given him an artifact, telling him to use it in case something like this occurred. Remembering his encounter with those bloodthirsty monsters and what they'd do to him if he didn't bring back the merchant with him, a chill ran down his spine. Defeat was not an option.

Inserting his hand in his breast pocket, he took out a scarlet-colored crystal. Coldness emitted from it that seemed to drouse all his worries. They had called it a magic-sealing crystal, which contained a very high-tier magic. To unseal the magic contained within it, according to them, it was neccessary for blood to make contact with it.

He bit his thumb and red blood trickled down. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the prickling sensation, and he let a drop of his blood fall on it.

The crystal glowed with a scarlet flash—and everything went blank.

☯☯☯☯☯☯

It's over.

He thought to himself as he carefully put down the magical binoculars he had been using to monitor the battle. It had been a hard-fought battle. That clown had been unable to recover the artifact from the merchant. The magic crystal finally ended up getting wasted on those adventurers as a result. That said, the mission could be considered an overall success. Dead men tell no tales, he repeated the motto of his organization.

Thinking that it was about time he reported to Sir Viper, he casted the communication spell,『 Message』.

"…who is this?" A calm voice echoed in his head.

"It is me, Wolf," he uttered his station. Members of their organization had no real names, only ranks or aliases by which they called each other.

"Which one?"

"Agent 73," this time his ranking was what he spoke.

"I see, you were the one who was assigned to monitor the activity of that merchant, right?"

"That is correct, Sir Viper."

"And?"

"The party we dispatched ended up using the magic-sealing crystal to annihilate them."

There was a slight pause, before the man continued: "I see, that can't be helped. We could not afford to expose our involvement in this," he acknowledged. "Anything else you'd like to report, Wolf?"

He pondered over the question. Aside from a certain pair of men whose skill had managed to surprise him a little, he didn't find any detail worth reporting. "No, Sir Viper."

"The Fenérious is your family," the voice declared.

"You watch out for it, and it watches out for you," he replied, and the connection was cut.

"Done talkin'?" A stranger's voice reached his ears. Turning around, he saw a man composedly sitting on a nearby boulder. He was nonchalantly chewing up a blade of grass.

"What is an half-orc like you doing here? When did you get here?" He narrowed his eyes, bewildered.

The half-orc stood up with a grimace. "I really fucking hate people like ya, always asking dumb questions. Do ya have any idea how much my butt hurts sitting on this piece of rock as I waited for ya to end your fucking conversation?" .Out of nowhere, the half-orc summoned a crimson sickle. A wicked grin hung on his face as he leisurely made his way toward him.

Wolf's heart went cold and his body stiffened. Dread crawled up from his stomach all the way to his face. His intuition told him to escape, to go somewhere far away before this beast unleashed his fangs.

He sensed it. The air of death and malice that surrounded the half-orc in front of him.

Like projectiles launched from two cannons, the two of them leapt at each other, whipping up dirt in their wake.

"Time to die!" Maniacal laughter reverberated.