The Bandit Village
A well-built man stepped into the room, and the thick stench of blood rolled off him in waves. Mele's eyes flickered with unease, and beyond the walls I could feel the presence of many more waiting outside. I'd already read the situation for what it was. So I put on a friendly smile.
"Pleasure to meet you. Name's Haren — just passing through. Looks like you're coming back from a hunt."
"An outsider, then. I hear you helped Carlson."
"Yes. He'd been attacked by a monster."
"A monster hunter, are you? Which city do you operate out of?"
"Laoren."
"The northern border city."
So he knew of Laoren.
"That's a long way from here. Makes a man wonder what brought you this far."
"I had my reasons. I drifted from place to place and ended up here."
"Hmph."
He stepped slowly inside, set the axe from his back down on the floor with a dull thud, pulled out a chair, and sat. The smell of blood coming off him grew even thicker — no attempt to hide it. If anything, it felt like a threat.
"I'm grateful you helped Carlson. Losing people from this village would be a problem."
"I'm just glad I could be of use."
"Planning to stay the night?"
"I was going to leave in the morning."
"I see."
His thick fingers drummed slowly against the table. For a while he sat there, lost in thought. Then the drumming stopped.
"I'm sorry about this."
"If you want me gone, I'll leave right now. I didn't do it expecting a reward."
I had no desire to get any more involved than I already was. If they didn't cross the line, I was prepared to simply walk away.
"That won't work. We're short on the offerings we have to present this year. I can't sacrifice people from the village."
"Father!"
But they had no intention of staying on their side of the line. That thick blood-smell was a familiar one. As a monster corpse cleaner, I'd hauled away more than my share of human bodies. Whether I liked it or not, I'd learned to tell one kind of blood from another.
"Haren, run out the back!"
"Mele, that's enough."
Mele threw herself in front of her father, trying to hold him back with her own body. She was a decent human being. Her father was not. Those were the eyes of a man who had already killed far too many people. I didn't know what his circumstances were. People killing people was common enough — grudges piled up in human relationships all the time. I'd killed more than a few people myself. But those who murdered the innocent were a different matter entirely.
"If you have your reasons, I'll hear them."
"I'm sorry. There's no other way for our village to survive."
He offered no explanation. That was the end of the negotiation.
He flipped the table and snatched up the axe he'd left on the floor in the same motion — a deliberate feint, leaving the weapon down to make me drop my guard. The heavy blade split the table in two and came screaming toward me.
"Aaaaaah!"
Mele's scream tore through the room. I saw her go down clutching her younger siblings. He hadn't hesitated for a second, even with his own daughter standing right there. That was the reflex of a man who had killed a great many people.
I swept a knife-hand toward the axe flying at my face.
A sound like steel striking steel rang out, and the axe bounced away. Mana sheathed my entire body. A crude axe like that was never going to cut me. But my opponent was a man who'd made a career of killing people. He recovered the deflected axe and twisted his hips with everything he had, sending the blade scything in at my side a second time. The edge warped mid-swing, twisting the trajectory into something I wasn't supposed to be able to read. A clever trick. Against me, though, it was a trick with every card already face-up.
Power drained into the leg I'd driven into the floor. I kicked off hard and launched myself like a cannonball. I closed the distance faster than he could finish the swing.
"What—?"
Shock flashed across his face, but it was already too late. My fist slammed into his jaw. Several teeth cracked loose and flew. The impact was enough to rattle a brain in its skull — a concussion no ordinary man could stand. Mele's father crumpled bonelessly to the floor, and the axe clattered down beside him.
"F-Father!"
Mele cried out in alarm. Then her eyes met mine, and she swallowed a scream, wrapping herself tighter around her siblings. Even knowing I'd been the one attacked first, she couldn't help it.
I hoisted her unconscious father over my shoulder and walked outside. Starlight filtered through the gathering dusk, and in it I could see the men. Every one of them was armed, weapons leveled at me. More than a few held bows.
"Didn't think that bastard would go down."
"This one's no ordinary catch."
"Hell, that's why I said we should've all gone in together from the start."
"He hunts monsters. Stay sharp."
Murder glittered in their eyes. The same blood-smell that had clung to Mele's father rolled off them in waves. Farther off, I watched the villagers quietly shut their doors — so they wouldn't have to see the slaughter that was about to happen.
"Would anyone care to explain why you're attacking me?"
If they'd been after valuables, there was no reason to come at me like this. They were plainly trying to kill me. An arrow came flying. I plucked it out of the air, and startled looks crossed their faces. They'd meant to end this in a single volley.
"So you don't want to talk."
These men were bandits. I decided that then and there. The moment they showed open hostility, there was no more need to hold back.
Another arrow came. My reflexes had been pushed to an extreme by every monster I'd absorbed, and on top of that I had mana wrapped around my entire body. I put both to use and swept a knife-hand cleanly across the shaft. Sparks leapt from my hand as the arrow ricocheted — and punched into the skull of the man who'd been closing in from the side. He died without even time to scream, the arrow buried in his head.
The archer froze, stunned that he'd just shot his own man. Then the rage of losing a comrade spread through the rest of them. That they would charge me next was a foregone conclusion.
A sword came for my throat. A spear thrust for my chest. Both of them looked slow. I stepped forward and twisted my body aside. The sword whispered past my neck; the spear kissed my side but failed to pierce the mana. Instead, both men stumbled straight into my reach. I extended both hands. White flames burned on their bodies, and I seized each one in a fist.
Their bodies crumbled. Instant Death Magic reclaimed their lives without a shred of mercy.
Another one charged through the gap left by the two collapsing men. Dried blood and scraps of flesh were caked on the axe he swung — an axe that had already killed someone before tonight. I swept a knife-hand at the wooden shaft. The mana had already become one with my body, and the edge of my hand shattered the handle and sent the axe-head flying. It buried itself in the chest of a man who'd been coming up behind me. My hand was already on the face of the one who'd swung it.
Another flame went out. I was at the point now where I could snuff a human flame just by laying a hand on it. In the space of a breath, several men died screaming. Corpses piled up at my feet.
The bandits still hadn't grasped what was happening. The ones who'd died mid-swing, maybe — but they hadn't yet considered that the men I'd merely touched were dead. They did know, though, that something about this fight had gone terribly wrong. There was only one of me. And they could see no way at all of beating that one man.
Fear crept in, slow and certain. It reached out of the gaps in the night, seized them by the knees, and dragged them down. A few of them overcame the terror and the helplessness and charged anyway. Their courage was meaningless. The weapons they swung shattered to pieces, and their lives were stripped away. The flames in my grip simply went out, one after another.
"S-Stop!"
One of the bandits bellowed. His face was twisted with terror and bewilderment. Not a single drop of blood stained my hands. But the men on the ground showed no sign of getting back up. Of course they didn't. They had already left this life behind.
The ones still charging faltered. Their faces said they'd finally realized what had become of their comrades.
"What — what the hell are you? Some kind of reaper? Why does everyone you touch die?!"
The bandit who'd first shouted them to a halt asked it with a face gone white as paper.
"People die when they get hit by your weapons, too."
My Instant Death Magic and the weapons they carried weren't so different. You swing them to kill, so people die. There was nothing strange about it.
"How many innocent people have you killed, swinging those weapons of yours?"
The ones who'd fallen to these men would have been just as terrified, just as lost to fear. The words coming out of their mouths were unbearably selfish. I took a step forward, and the bandits flinched and gave ground. They'd finally understood the gap in power. Fighting me now was suicide.
"W-We had no choice!"
Another bandit found his voice at last.
"If we don't offer people as sacrifices, everyone in the village dies!"
So something had been off about the way this was unfolding. There really was something wrong with this village.
"You think we do this because we like it?! It was for the village!"
"Those damn mage's underlings showed up and said if we don't offer corpses as sacrifices, they'll use the village itself as the corpses! What the hell were we supposed to do?!"
A mage's subordinates. The moment I heard those words, my brow furrowed. Anything involving mages was rarely wholesome. But something about it didn't sit right.
Why would a mage even bother?
Was there a reason to use human corpses in magic? A monster with a mana stone, maybe. But the truth was that a human corpse wasn't much use to a mage.
"We had no choice but to attack you. We had a number to fill."
"We're sorry. We won't block your way anymore. Please — just leave the village. We're begging you."
They raised both hands as if to show they had no more will to fight. I looked at them for a long moment, then decided to ask.
"There's one thing I find strange."
"W-What?"
"Why would a mage's subordinates bother telling you to bring them corpses?"
They could have simply wiped the village off the map and collected the bodies themselves. So why go to the trouble of making the village men do the gathering? A small mountain village, hiding out here despite the wild monsters. Weapons designed more for killing people than beasts. And a practiced ease to the murder that didn't match men who claimed they had no choice. All of it pointed to a single conclusion.
They were bandits. This was a bandit village, built by bandits. That was why the mage's men had put them to work. They already knew how to kill people.
"...Damn it."
They understood there was no way out. They took up their weapons again, and the murder rose in them once more.
"Kill him!"
It was the only way the bandits had left to survive.