The Pursuit (3)
Gordon charged fiercely at the man who appeared to be the bandit leader.
He looked every bit the part: broad-shouldered and burly, with a thick beard and ragged fur clothing draped over his frame.
But the moment their weapons clashed, Gordon realized something was wrong.
The bearded bandit casually blocked Gordon's two-handed greatsword with his bare hands. Steel gauntlet met blade in a shower of sparks.
‘Gah!’
In that instant, Gordon lost his balance and his stance crumbled. The opponent had deftly redirected the force sideways.
The wildly off-balance greatsword slammed into the ground, dragging Gordon's body along with it. And in that moment, a fist the size of his head filled his vision.
Bam!
“Huff... huff...”
Gordon, who had seen his life flash before his eyes, gasped for breath.
If Krout hadn't grabbed his collar at the last second and yanked him back, his head would surely have been turned to pulp.
“Hyah!”
Calix, who had somehow appeared at Gordon's side, pulled a massive tower shield from his inventory.
Thud!
The moment it hit the ground, the air whistled with incoming projectiles.
Thwang—clang! Thwaaang—clang clang clang!
The bolts, made of solid steel, failed to pierce the tower shield, ricocheting off with deafening clangs. But the horses—large, easy targets—were another story.
Neigh! Neighhh!
In an instant, over a dozen horses collapsed.
“You bastards!”
Horses were a knight's companion, almost a friend. These weren't his personal mounts, but he'd grown attached during the journey.
One knight, eyes blazing with rage, broke formation and charged toward the dense bushes where the bolts had come from.
But—
Crack!
“Urk!”
With a small snap, the ground gave way beneath him. Below lay a mess of rusted blades.
He sensed death and his face drained of color.
Thud!
Fortunately, a kick sent him rolling across the dirt. He realized belatedly that Laila had saved him.
“Th-thank you.”
Without a word, she nocked an arrow and aimed into the shadows.
Twang—whoosh!
“Gah!”
A short groan erupted from the invisible bushes. Rustling sounds followed chaotically as the attackers fled.
“Leave this to me and go protect the young master.”
“Y-yes, ma'am.”
She flattened herself like a lizard and crept forward slowly. Thin tripwires glinted just above the ground.
She brushed one lightly, then turned and moved on. Soon, a bandit came into view, back turned, scanning elsewhere—oblivious to her presence.
Laila approached silently and tapped his shoulder.
“Who—? Ngh!”
The moment he spun around, her dagger plunged into his chest twice. Seizing the stiffening pause, she drove it into the side of his neck.
Squish! Squish!
Squish!
Before the blood hit the dirt, the bandit's eyes went vacant, soul fled.
Laila eased his body down quietly, cradling it to avoid noise.
“Hey, what's going—?”
Slash!
“Gurk!”
Another bandit, sensing something off, fell into her trap—the one she'd just primed.
‘Shadow Brigade, huh.’
From their movements and trap types, she'd pegged them. These weren't mere bandits; they were rangers in disguise.
‘Sorry, but you can't beat me at this game.’
A faint smile played on her lips as she crouched low, hunting her next prey.
Meanwhile, Krout faced five bandits at once.
Shhh—
His two weapons blazed with pale white mana, locked in a tense standoff.
But their expressions couldn't have been more different. The bearded bandit's face twisted in strain; Krout's was impassive.
Unable to endure, the beard bellowed at his comrades.
“Damn it all! You worthless shits, you gonna help or what?!”
“Fuck, he's a Sword Owner! My ass is puckering just looking at him!”
The other four, grimacing at the duel, grabbed their weapons and rushed in.
Swoosh—
The first strike was a long spear from the left. Krout deflected it under his armpit, clamping it tight between his limbs. A slight twist drew a wide arc with the shaft.
Whoosh—
“Khek!”
The spear mercilessly clubbed another bandit's ribs from behind. Its original owner stood weaponless and awkward.
In that gap, another swung a massive sickle. Krout tilted his body to dodge, then seized the man's wrist brutally.
Crack!
“Arghhh!”
Clang!
As the weapon dropped from bone-crushing pain, Krout yanked the wrist, pulling them face-to-face.
His knee rocketed up into the bandit's jaw.
Crunch—
A shove to the slack-jawed chest sent him flying into the last charging bandit.
Through it all, Krout's blade against the beard never wavered. His skill was overwhelming.
One disarmed, one vomiting bile from a gut-shot spear shaft, one with a shattered jaw doomed to liquids forever, one with broken front teeth from a comrade's skull.
All four down in seconds.
The beard sweated coldly.
“H-hey, this artifact lets you use the Sword of Light. Want it? Promise to spare me, and it's yours. Deal?”
“I don't need some crude magic sword.”
Krout's grip tightened indifferently, tilting their blades toward the beard.
“W-wait!”
Face purple with effort, the beard pleaded desperately, but Krout ignored him.
“Fuck!”
He hurled a small orb from his pocket to the ground with his free hand.
Poof!
Hiss—
Black smoke billowed instantly.
“As if—”
Krout traced the mana to finish him, but a voice cut through the fog.
“Hey, won't your master miss you?”
Krout froze. He glanced back, but the smoke hid Calix. Smacking his lips, he lowered his blade.
Moments later, the fog cleared. The bandits were gone.
Calix asked the returning Krout,
“You let them go?”
“They're frivolous scum, but all solid Class 5s. Getting hung up on one or two could've put you at risk, young master.”
Calix nodded.
“Probably Dark Knights.”
“Those trash without a shred of loyalty? They don't deserve the title. Though their teamwork was so poor, fighting separately was better for them.”
“Their own hides come first. No one wants to take losses, so they handed that weird magic sword to one guy.”
“No deaths or major injuries, thankfully. But all horses dead except one. They aimed to strip our mobility from the start—those bolts had animal-specific paralytics.”
“That's what I figured.”
“What's the plan now?”
“What plan? We keep going.”
“Understood. They might hit again at night, so I'll split us into three watches.”
“Do it.”
Krout's concern became reality days later.
Fwoosh!
Fwoom!
“Fire arrows!”
“Shields up!”
Fiery projectiles lit the camp's perimeter from afar.
“Stamp them out!”
“Leave 'em. Just hunker behind the shields.”
Calix, rubbing sleep from his eyes, grabbed a knight about to rush out.
“If they see us clearly, they can snipe.”
“Forgot? We're at least Class 4. We can smack arrows away if we see 'em. Dark's worse.”
“My apologies, young master. Short-sighted of me.”
Clang clang clang!
Endless arrows hammered the steel shields. Only Krout deflected outside. Behind him, Laila carefully aimed her bow.
Twang—
“Ngh!”
The groans remained low and brief. Executioners for sure. With shields blocking gains and Laila's counter-sniping, they quieted soon after.
But occasional fire arrows kept them from relaxing.
“Normally, losing horses means ditching heavy shields, but your ‘artifacts’ are saving us, young master.”
“They're smarter than I thought. Killing the horses wasn't just to slow us—it was to wear us down.”
Krout nodded in agreement.
“Ditching shields to save stamina? We couldn't hold now; damage would've piled up. Keeping them? We'd be exhausted from hauling steel on foot.”
“Key point: they rotate rests; we can't. Every raid, whole group pulls all-nighter.”
“Hmm...”
“Guess we take the river route.”
“Makes sense. Harder to ambush on water. Plus, other passengers mean no nonstop raids.”
“Poor bastards sharing our boat are in for lightning strikes.”
“No time to fret over others. We'll need crew anyway—not sailing ourselves. Better with a crowd.”
Calix looked uneasy but nodded.
“Fine. Head to Nodesa.”
“Yes, my lord.”
A week later, Calix's group reached a small city on the Elrin River.
If Kabala was the river nexus hub, Nodesa was just a rest stop for capital-bound travelers.
But famed for hot springs, its inns punched above weight. Calix's weary crew finally unwound.
The inn's annex boasted an open-air bath: log walls, wisteria roof—stunning. Recent light snow added poetry.
Others bathed in shifts; Calix and Krout last. Sinking in, they reflected.
“We made it without major losses.”
“No deaths, limbs intact? Miracle, with daily raids.”
Krout beamed proudly.
“Worried after losing senior knights wholesale, but now? Relief. I'm a Sword Owner; many comrades near Class 5. These raids feel lukewarm now. Haha!”
Calix leaned back on a rock, murmuring,
“Hmm... is that so?”
“Why the sudden—”
“You said the raids feel mild.”
“Blue Lion Knights have improved massively...”
“Really?”
Krout bristled at Calix's ambiguity.
“While you trained underground, we didn't slack! Blood and sweat!”
“Not denying your efforts. But raid intensity stayed consistent, right? Unless you all jumped levels overnight, they gauged our strength. Yet no reinforcements.”
“You think they held back on purpose? Could just lack manpower.”
“I hope so...”