Chapter 7 - Stake Out

Kuro’s Village - Dusk

Simon quickly arrived in the center of the village. Behind him, Kuro screamed at the top of his lungs for the villagers to get to the mess hall.

Apparently, in times of crisis, the mess hall served as a gathering point and shelter, the only building large enough in the village to house everyone.

I’m honestly not sure if gathering everyone in the mess hall is a good idea. He thought, while staring off into the distance at a rapidly glowing flame. If one of those torches hits the roof, it’s all over.

“Best not let them,” Simon said, walking over to a barrel filled with wooden fencing stakes while examining his gear.

He was no longer clad solely in the off-white tablecloth, much to the disappointment of several of the elderly women in the village.

They had taken quite a liking to seeing his bare, muscular figure walking around the village in between study sessions. Honestly, it wouldn’t be that bad if Kayae hadn’t started taking an interest in my appearance as well. Simon thought with a sigh.

Unfortunately, Kayae, the young girl Simon had performed surgery on earlier, had also enjoyed his improvised attire and had pouted profusely once he started wearing his new attire.

Instead of the impromptu loin cloth, Simon now wore a set of armor collected from the bandits’ remains and repaired by the villagers. Unfortunately, much of the equipment recovered was far too damaged to be feasibly repaired, so Simon’s equipment was an unsightly mixture of light, medium, and heavy armor.

The boots he was currently fastening comprised a hard black metallic shell covering the outside, while a thick leather sole resided underneath. Each toe capped with a solid lump of the same black material covering the rest of the boot.

During his previous inspection, he had noticed that someone had inserted a thick metal plate beneath the padding, most likely to stop any stray fragments of metal from piercing into the wearer’s foot.

Satisfied that the boots were sufficiently fastened, He moved on towards the next piece of equipment, a pair of thick leather pants that rode uncomfortably high in the crotch area.

When he first put the pants on and noticed the prominent bulge, Simon’s unamused expression caused several of the elderly women present to shriek with delight. In contrast, the elderly men present sent him varying degrees of death glares.

For some reason, Kayae had also been present and was sneaking peeks between her fingers, covering her eyes. She was quickly shooed out by the icy glare Kuro had given her from the corner of the room. The pants themselves had pieces of the same black metal woven within in a diamond shape pattern. An aftermarket addition that was added by Kirssa, the woman he had borrowed a needle from prior.

Giving the riding pants a quick tug down with a sigh, Simon focused his attention on the breastplate-long coat hybrid. The armored chest portion comprised a large-shaped metallic plate on the front and the back, while the sides had the same metallic and leather pattern as his pants.

The overcoat itself was made from the skin of a giant monster that lived within the northern mountains. A rare and dangerously powerful monster at that.

None of the villagers could explain what an item like that was doing this far south, but they decided against looking a gift horse in the mouth. Aside from being highly resistant to slashing and puncturing attacks, the material was apparently highly resistant to fire, while also insulating from the cold and impervious to the rain.

All in all, it was his favorite piece of the set. The only downside was the smell it shared with the rest of the armor.

Apparently, the leather and cloth portions of the armor had been initially light in color. However, during the previous confrontation, the items had been stained with so much blood that the villagers in charge of cleaning it had decided that it would be better to submerge the entire thing in blood. To at least give the pieces a unified color instead of attempting to remove the stains.

Originally, they had tried to hide this grizzly fact. Unfortunately for them, no matter how hard they tried to fragrance the items, they never would have been able to cover up that unmistakable odor from his augmented sense of smell.

At first, he had tried to respectfully turn down the villagers’ offer and instead requested a decent set of clothes to wear, after having previously discovered that none of the bandit’s weapons could even scratch his skin.

Unfortunately, the set of clothes that was presented to him as a replacement was in even worse shape than the set of armor, having apparently been shat in, multiple times at that.

Undoubtedly, the villagers had presented the worst set of clothes they could find, hoping he would instead choose to accept the set of armor out of a misplaced sense of worry about his safety. Left with no other actual choice, Simon relented and accepted the blood-soaked suit of armor.

“Simon!”

A small voice cried out behind him as he turned around, “Kayae, what are you doing out here? Go to the mess hall with the rest of the villagers.”

“I will, but you forgot these!” Kayae replied cheerfully.

Simon’s expression momentarily shifted to one of disgust, much to Kayae’s delight, as she presented the set of black metallic gauntlets.

“I didn’t forget them.” He muttered to himself before regretfully accepting the gauntlets and sending Kayae on her way.

The gauntlets themselves weren’t in awful shape. In fact, they were in perfect condition aside from the odor. Smooth interlocking plates covered its exterior entirely. Each finger was individually articulated and capped with a thin, sharp blade, no longer than a fingernail. It was most likely added to serve as an emergency backup weapon or to handle small objects without removing the finely crafted gauntlets.

Outwardly, they appeared to be a set of mundane but well-crafted gauntlets. However, he knew something that no one else in the village did. The gloves had a dark secret. Simon had discovered the secret the morning after receiving these gauntlets when he had analyzed them before Kuro arrived to teach him writing.

The interior lining of the gloves was made of leather. However, it was the source of the leather that was the problem. It was Beastmen leather. Unable to contain his disgust, Simon spat on the dirt while fastening the gauntlets and quickly shifted his thoughts.

The first time Kuro had seen Simon wearing the complete set, he could not suppress his smile. When the old soldier eventually asked what was so funny, Kuro quietly replied that even though he knew Simon wasn’t a bandit, that outfit certainly made arguing that point... difficult, to say the least.

Kuro quickly left after the temperature in the room dropped several degrees from the cold stare that Simon gave him for the comment. Incidentally, none of the weapons the villagers had salvaged could withstand Simon’s immense strength, so instead, he opted to improvise for the moment.

By this point, the bandits appeared to be roughly two hundred meters away from the center of the village. Simon quietly walked over towards one of the nearby barrels filled with rotten potatoes and casually hoisted it over his shoulder. By his estimation, the barrel weighed roughly fifty kilos.

Actually hitting them with this might be difficult. Simon thought to himself, while eyeing the distance and glancing at the nearby stakes. Might be able to use the barrels to dismount them.

With a grimace, he sighed, getting into his best pitching stance, barrel in hand. “This is going to smell.” Simon said, throwing the barrel.

“Oi, Tirian, why’d the Cap’in send us again? Last I heard, the shitty little village we’re headin’ to was full of nothin’ but elderly Wolfen and children?”

The man beside him sighed, “Because, Dunce, three days ago, Hedley’s team went out to that ‘shitty little village’ as you so adequately put it and never returned.”

Dunce simply rolled his, spitting on the ground, “So? Hedley probably found somethin’ good and ditched us. Wouldn’t be the first time a group split off it out on their own.”

Tirian pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly while shaking his head, “No, it wouldn’t have been the first time. However, the scout sent out to investigate found their wagon hidden beneath the tree line. Supplies and all. They even still had their damned horses tied to a tree.”

Dunce’s expression shifted along with his demeanor. “Who’d they send? They investigate the village?”

“Barns, and maybe. He never came back.” Tirian said with a grimace.

Dunce’s eyes darkened, “Shit. Barns is a Level 95 ranger. If something really took them out…”

Tirian finished for him, “Then we’ve got a problem. Hence, sending in the literal cavalry.”

“You think something actually got Barns? I’ve seen that bastard in action. Guy runs at the first sign of trouble and is fast as hell. If somethin’ actually managed to catch him, I don’t like our odds…” Dunce said, finishing with a shiver.

“Calm down, you idiot. That’s why there’s thirty of us rather than just ten. Even a 150 would have trouble dealing with this many 80s at once. Besides we’ve got Vox with us. That monster will be able to hold whatever got them long enough for us to kill it.”

“A-aye. You’re probo- " Dunce’s head turned to the side, “The hell is that sou-”

The man’s words cut off as a horse exploded in front of them, bits of gore and some other liquid spraying all over them.

“Vox is dead!” One man cried out while frantically trying to rein in his horse.

“V-Vox died in one hit?” Dunce muttered at Tirian, still shell-shocked. “T-that’s a joke, right?” Dunce found himself thrown to the ground as a second barrel exploded nearby. He looked up, spotting Tirian above him with a chilling gaze. Several cracks rang out as more and more wooden stakes impaled themselves into the fleeing men. Some even pinning the rider on their horse.

“No time. We need to get the fuck out of here.” Tirian said, half dragging Dunce behind him. “Stay low and pray we don’t get trampl- “

Another stake landed nearby, throwing a man off his horse. Tirian watched life drain from the man’s eyes without stopping. Screams of agony echoed around him from those unfortunate enough to have survived their respective impacts.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted Samuel, their leader, clawing at the dead carcass of his horse, desperately trying to free his legs while vomiting from the stench. His mount had taken a direct hit, shattering its skull and trapping him beneath its considerable weight.

Tirian attempted to tune out the smell, more focused on making it to the treeline, where they at least had a chance. He swallowed down his bile and continued on silently, dragging Dunce behind him.

He crawled for hours, never looking back, even after the cries had stopped, and the sun had risen. Behind him was death, and he dared not look back. Only after he had made his way to the treeline did the man let out a sigh of relief.

“We made it,” Tirian said, looking up at the canopy above him like it was a gift from the gods. “We should be safe for now, Dunce, we need to get back to cam- “

The man turned around, confused by how quiet his normally mouthy companion was being, and found himself alone. But I… I dragged him the whole way? He thought before glancing down at the cold disembodied arm clutched in his hand.

He dropped it with a shriek before quickly covering his mouth with both hands. M-maybe he’s still out there. Tirian thought as he peeked out from behind the treeline, back into the plains he had come from. No trace of his friend remained.

“H-How long?” Tirian said, collapsing to his knees while staring at the arm. “I-I tried, Dunce, I tried. I-I’m sorry…”

A stick snapped beneath the rustling of the leaves, bringing him back to reality, “D-dunce? I-is that you?” he muttered before a blade pressed against his neck. Reflexively, Tirian raised his hands in surrender as an elderly Wolfen man came into view.

“My, my. When I saw the fire I came running as fast as I could, but I’ll be honest, I never expected to find a Redmon here, of all places, let alone the heir.” The man said before shrugging, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. Anyway, any last words, boy?”

Tirian’s eyes went wide, “Y-you’re the Butcher…” he muttered, causing the Beastmen to shrug.

“Eh, that’s what your people call me. I prefer Kurtin, though. Anyway, say hi to daddy for me. Oh, and tell him Clarissa will join ya’ll soon.” Kurtin said with a grizzly smile.

Tirian tried to speak, to plead, to scream, to do anything, but he found himself disoriented as he impacted the ground. He stares wide-eyed at his now headless body falling to the ground as his vision faded.