Sniffing the air in search of the last man's scent, Dink detected a familiar odour. He clenched his jaw while inspecting the men close to him. What he discovered confirmed his suspicion and twisted his stomach in revulsion.

Insipid addicts. They have all the tell-tale signs. Scaly fingernails. White pock-marked skin. Too white eyes. With the amount I can smell, it must be the cargo the merchant was hauling. For fuck sake, addicts are always a pain in the ass to deal with. They feel no pain or fear and can match the physical capabilities of a journeyman Attuned for a limited amount of time.

Insipid is a kind of spore from the expanding woods that arena managers would often secretly feed to their combatants. It would give them an unfair advantage in battle and was too valuable to waste on Goblins.

If a combatant used it too often, the fungus would spread through their veins, resulting in their blood becoming an iridescent colour. The blood of slain combatants would then be processed into low-quality Insipid to be peddled to Nyre's most impoverished citizens. Dink realised he hadn't been paying attention to what the bandits had been discussing.

"It could be weeks for a search party to be sent out. This much Insipid will certainly piss off a lot of people. It's an absolute gold mine. Who would care about two women going missing in comparison?" The sentry was saying.

"Williard's right, Rex. That cart does look pretty rundown. We could have a lot of fun with those girls. You can have the first pick, it'll help you get over Jodi. I know how cut up you were about lopping off her pinky as punishment. What do you say, take your mind off it?" Clarence added.

"I don't know. They look like prime specimens. Something just doesn't feel right. Look at the horses, they're spooked," Rex replied, suspiciously looking around.

Behind them, Dink caught a glimpse of Riva pulling something from her coat. Tingles ran down the back of Dink's neck as she raised the mysterious object at an unseen target in the direction of the woods. At the edge of Dink's superior hearing, he could hear the whirring of a mechanism being activated. The object unfurled right before his eyes.

A mana crossbow! I haven't seen one of those in centuries. Has technology advanced this much in that time? I never even realised Riva had it concealed on her. Judging by the symbols along the sides, it's an Attuned's focus that doubles as firing mana bolts. Unbelievable. She really is full of surprises. I can't sit around waiting any longer, I trust that she can deal with the last bandit on her own.

"Enough of this…" Dink stood from the grass and began to speak.

He was immediately interrupted by an ear-shattering lion's roar. He watched agape as Axion leapt from the grass clutching the enormous battleaxe in both hands. Before anyone could react, he had already bisected Williard at the waist in a shower of rancid white blood. It splattered equally among the stunned onlookers.

Dink tentatively reached up to touch his face, looking down at his fingers to investigate. Williard's upper body attempted to claw himself away across the ground while his severed legs convulsed behind him.

"Really, Axion? Couldn't you have at least waited for me to finish my sentence?" Dink asked.

"What? You were taking so bloody long that we'd be here all fucking day," Axion impatiently retorted.

"Just to let you know, they're Insipid addicts. So well done, mate. Murkuk, deal with it, please," Dink tersely said, tucking his bastard sword under one arm to sarcastically clap.

"Now you tell me. It's going to take me hours to properly clean my axe after this," Axion complained.

"A pair of fucking Goblins and a beastman. Where are we, the blasted expanding woods?" Rex exclaimed, leaping back while drawing the sword at his waist. Clarence mirrored his actions a moment later.

Murkuk murderously chuckled while raising his bang stick. The gravelly sound of his laughter grated against the bandit's ears, causing them to flinch. Dink felt the familiar itch of a spell being cast. Flames rushed to form at the tip of the staff aimed at Williard, gathering in heat and intensity until he unleashed it in a torrent of fire.

Williard continued to crawl while the smell of roasting man meat pervaded the air, his expression remaining indifferent to pain. Dink watched the grotesque display with revulsion until Williard finally succumbed to the onslaught. His flesh was charred from his bones, leaving behind the horrific scene of his burning skull.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys," Dink morbidly joked, turning away in disgust.

Immediately after, he raised his sword to deflect a sneak attack from Clarence. The man's expression changed to surprise, his mind couldn't comprehend the gap in their skill level that allowed Dink to parry him. Rex simultaneously charged at Axion.

"Fuck, It's high-grade Insipid! Watch out, Axion. They're on par with you, right now. Equivalent to an adept Attuned. Murkuk stay out of the way and try not to get killed!" Dink shouted in warning.

My only saving grace is they're amateur swordsmen and not real Attuned. Without control of my mana, there's not a shit show in hell for me to kill someone at the adept level in a fair fight. Luckily, I don't have to. All I need to do is stay alive long enough for the Insipid to wear off. Easy.

Wait, what about Riva? A mana bolt doesn't have the strength to pierce armour. It's likely someone high on Insipid could take several shots before dying.

"Murkuk, go help Riva!" Dink commanded.

"Aye, Chief," Murkuk obediently replied before running into the woods after Riva.

"The Lads in Chiset won't believe me about this, Goblins that can speak. I might have to take you back alive to show them," Clarence exclaimed in excitement, aiming a vicious swing at Dink's neck.

"Don't concern yourself with me. You'll be the one dying here today," Dink retorted, expertly ducking under the blade while maintaining perfect balance.

"Clarence, what's taking you so long to kill a fucking Goblin? I need your help with this big bastard," Rex called out in agitation.

The shout caused Clarence to turn to the side. Dink used the distraction to thrust at his heart. Clarence stumbled away in shock at the speed and accuracy of the strike. Dink unleashed a flurry of blows, keeping his opponent off balance. Clarence valiantly fended off the attacks until his foot caught against a fallen log. He tripped over backwards, allowing Dink to sever the fingers off the hand he had outstretched to maintain his balance.

He wordlessly stared at the bleeding stumps at the end of his hand in horror. Dink wrinkled his nose in disgust at the foul odour being emitted from the white blood seeping from the wound.

"Haha, do you see this, Rex? I can't feel any pain," Clarence shouted.

"Shut the fuck up and get over here now, you fucking moron!" Rex replied in exasperation.

Dink glanced over to see him desperately dodge the butt of Axion's great axe swinging toward his head. He laughed before shifting his attention back to the man sprawled on the ground in front of him, savagely swinging the sword down at his neck.

Clarence rolled to the side to dodge, quickly regaining his feet. Dink narrowly missed him with his blade, sinking it deep into the log and crumbling it into rotting pieces.

Damn it, I overextended. What am I, some novice in the training yard? Making mistakes like this.

Clarence didn't immediately attack, instead he cupped his damaged hand beside his face and intricately whistled. The flap of wings behind him diverted his attention, causing Dink to turn. A hunting hawk swooped past his head to circle through the trees. Clarence abruptly lunged forward with extreme speed. Dink lost his composure after being unsettled by the bird's unexpected distraction. He struggled to bring his blade up in time to defend his chest while adjusting his stance to absorb the impact.

There was a sound of a huge impact of metal on metal as Dink was catapulted away. He flew into the back of Rex, knocking him off balance while landing on his feet behind him. Axion took advantage to bury his great axe down on Rex's head, cleaving down the middle.