Southwestern road, Engel

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Rita couldn’t understand how the villagers of Engel managed to respond so fast to their movements. Even if they had a sentry watching for them, they had barely left the pine woods when they heard the resounding horn alerting everyone. She was not amused by it, and if she felt unwilling to participate before, now she just plain wanted to go back to Larianos and try her hand at something really worthwhile.

  The problem with a raid attempted by the collective of independent cells, however, was that no one would be the first to call it quits. Men’s nature and pride just made them keep marching, welcoming the increased danger. Without standing out, she started falling behind, she would not be on the front line of this fight.

  “Hear me out!” Called Muriel, as the RBL members lined opposite the militia, acting as the raid leader. “Tell your reeve, we do not wish to murder you.” He started and a few shouts of “We don’t?” and “Are you sure?” made the men laugh. “We do wish, however, that you bend your knees, deliver every bag of coin inside your houses, willingly surrender every jewelry and heirloom you’ve got, and knock off at least a few skirts for our entertainment. Do that, and no one has to die.” He finished, and again, a few men commented, “Well, maybe just a few have to die boss”, and other similar atrocities.

  The defenders stood bravely, although Rita could see more than a few shaking their knees. Each one of three cells attacking had 15 to 20 men, so they were a little over fifty renegades on the attack. The village, however, had managed to gather a slightly higher number, that Rita guessed to be around seventy. That number though, wasn’t really of that much importance, where fighting experience was overwhelming on their side, and surely after killing their men-at-arms, the militia would flee for their lives.

  “Go back to your filthy camps and don’t come back to our fields. We have prepared to deal with your kind and if you attack, be prepared to fall by my lance!” Lieutenant James shouted, imbuing the speech with the magic skill Challenge, which boosted the morale of his allies while causing fear to the enemies.

  Immediately after, Torin the dunner responded with a skill of his own, called Intimidate, which had similar effects, but more focused on making the enemy cower, rather than boosting allies’ morale. “After killing you, we will rape your wives, behead your parents, enslave your children. Pay the tribute or suffer the consequences!” He bellowed like a bear, and even though Rita was technically on his side, she cowered behind that moment.

  “First, you will have to kill me, and even if I die, I guarantee you that most of you will die before me!” Boasted the [Lancer], that was well equipped with a shining military armor of his patent and held an enchanted long spear along with a tall shield.

  The tension between both sides grew; the heavy silence could be felt on men’s skin. The bandits didn’t need to respond or use any more skills – many of them were eager for the fight and the pleasures that would follow. Men began choosing their targets as Torin advanced, breaking the silence with heavy steps – first short, then long strides. He reached the enemy and swung his mace at a man’s round shield – Hobers’. Muriel and several others were by his side, the three cells forming a long attacking line.

  Rita remained positioned behind the front line. Though the odds were in her favor, something about the way the village was prepared for their advance felt off. At the first signal of retreat, she wouldn’t be waiting for the ones who fell behind.

  The catharsis of Adrian, the Battlefield at Engel

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  ‘Is this my first experience with magic?’ Adrian thought, feeling the conflicting emotions of courage and fear surging through him in quick succession.

  What is this place? Is it an alternate reality, or am I inside a game? What happens if I die? What should I do now? Though he was still barely processing the absurdity of being transmigrated, Adrian’s mind was filled with paralyzing doubts. He could only watch, stunned, as the bandits marched to attack and quickly broke the villagers’ line of defense.

  When the two groups collided, blood splattered through the air, and within moments, Adrian saw three men fall. A well-armed soldier, Lieutenant James, in the middle of the villagers fended off three bandits single-handedly. The chaos was so widespread that Adrian could barely make sense of what was happening. All he knew was that the villagers wouldn’t last much longer.

  As clear as the situation was, Adrian had never fought in his life. He didn’t believe he could make any difference in this battle. ‘My luck,’ he thought bitterly, ‘choosing a stable country to start a game, and getting transmigrated into the middle of a sword-and-scythe fight.’

  The fight was bloody and chaotic; few showed any skill, and the peasants were gradually losing ground. Adrian kept watching – this was his standard procedure: stay distant and observe. Adrian was a natural loner. All his life, he’d kept to himself, with no friends and a family that paid him little attention. It never bothered him until he found that suicide forum, which seemed to trigger the shift from isolation to self-awareness, forcing him to acknowledging that he had feelings – feelings he’d buried so deeply that even he could no longer access them.

  Adrian, however, was tired of suppressing his emotions. He was ready to die rather than continue living in a self-imposed prison. Tears of fear began to fall down his face, and soon more followed. But these were no longer tears of fear. They were tears of determination. The young man ran toward the battle, drawing his sword.

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  Adrian didn’t want to be someone who simply watched and did nothing, someone who rejected their very existence. He knew what he wanted to do. The question was: would he follow that instinct, or continue hiding from the world? Before he could decide, his body moved with a force all its own. It wasn’t a rational response; it was a cry for freedom from his deepest essence.

  Adrian stepped out from behind the crops and entered the battle line. The moment he unsheathed Aurora and took his first battle stance, everything shifted. He began seeing the fight with fresh eyes, a new mindset. Aurora guided him instinctively; as if he’d been training in swordsmanship his entire life, providing the best moves to win the fight. He didn’t waste a step and in his first combat stance, he already defeated the first enemy with a thrust. A notification appeared in front of him, similar to his translucent status screen.

  Ignoring it, Adrian didn’t pause. He swung his sword instinctively in all directions, and enemies fell around him. Some tried to defend themselves, but not for long. The battlefield began to shift and bandits fell one after another. Aurora emitted a natural light from within, a true magical sword, and soon Adrian became the focal point of the battle. Notifications kept coming, but with a simple mental command, he pushed them out of his field of view.

  Adrian didn’t possess supernatural strength to slice enemies in half, nor the agility to defeat them before they even saw him. In fact, his physical strength and dexterity were at best average for any combatant his age. His success, however, was due to Aurora’s absolute might: the power to read the rhythm of battle and perform the ideal move to take down the next enemy.

  The metallic smell of blood filled the air as the dirt beneath turned black. More than ten enemies had already fallen to Aurora’s gleaming blade when Adrian reached the center of the battle. There, he joined the man-at-arms in fighting the most skilled bandits.

  A woman with a curved dagger attacked him swiftly with a crosscut. Adrian blocked the strike with the guard of his sword and, in the same motion, decapitated her with the point of the blade. The mace of a brute, who had been causing mayhem, was already descending toward him, but Adrian skillfully redirected the weapon with the crest of his sword, narrowly avoiding it. He ran the edge of Aurora along the arm of the mace, cutting through and causing the enemy’s hand to release the weapon, blood pouring from the wound. He kicked the brute, knocking him to the ground as the man howled in pain. Adrian used the momentum to dodge a spear with a spin in the air, extending his movement to eviscerate the third bandit who’d attacked him. With three down, the soldiers managed to eliminate a fourth enemy.

  Everything was going smoothly until Muriel, the leader of the bandits, suddenly shifted targets. With such agility, he attacked Adrian, and the young man barely managed to follow his strike.

  Adrian’s arm had just completed a wide airborne strike, felling his enemy and naturally restoring his stance as he landed on both feet in a perfect defensive position. He didn’t even see the thrusting strike followed by a side slash – only his flawless positioning saved his life. But even though he managed to avoid being impaled, a sharp pain flared in his left shoulder. He had defended his vital points, but not without taking damage.

  The fact that Adrian had survived the attack shocked Muriel terribly. He had waited for the perfect moment to strike – when his opponent was midair, with limited mobility – yet all he had managed was a shallow cut. It was the first time his intent had failed while using Shadow Flow.

  Muriel attacked relentlessly, his extraordinary dexterity allowing him to strike from the left, the right, and even from above. He used his new skill, Feint, disorienting Adrian and keeping him under constant pressure. Yet somehow – though Adrian couldn’t explain, as he was acting purely on instinct – he deflected multiple strikes from the short swords with a single movement of Aurora. And with every defensive maneuver, he retaliated, his counterattacks gradually sapping Muriel’s agility.

  Muriel couldn’t believe what was happening. After everything he had achieved, a mere brat was humiliating him. From the very first thrust, he had failed to land a decisive blow, while Adrian had already cut his hands and heels, crippling both his grip and his movement.

  Obsessed with the enemy before him – the one tearing apart all his plans and ambitions – Muriel made a fatal mistake: he forgot about the opponent he had been fighting seconds earlier. In an instant, James’s spear pierced his heart with full force, ending the fight.

  Meanwhile, Rita supported Gary, her flying claw hissing through the air before it coiled around a burly man’s forearm. He brandished a massive hammer, meant for forging, not war. With a sharp yank, she threw him off balance, just as Gary’s hooked axe slashed into the man’s shoulder, tearing away not just blood, but chunks of flesh.

  Rita kept her distance, her main gauche at the ready, eyes constantly scanning the battlefield. She was the first to notice the skilled fighter cutting through their lines, ultimately slaying Muriel. Without waiting for a retreat call, Rita followed her instincts and began falling back. Seeing his support gone, Gary disengaged as well.

  Of the over fifty bandits, nearly twenty lay dead – most of them felled by Aurora’s edge. Without hesitation, the rest fled back into the forest. No one had the strength to chase them, and the few who tried soon gave up.

  Adrian’s muscles screamed with every movement. Though the battle had lasted only a few minutes, it had felt like an eternity. He watched tiredly as Lieutenant James wasted no time securing the battlefield – ensuring no threats remained, tending to the wounded, and accounting for the dead before assessing what supplies could be salvaged. Then, he collapsed to his knees, Aurora still at the ready.