An Ambush Cut Short
Twang.
It was the faintest whisper of a sound—a sound so subtle that even a seasoned mercenary might have dismissed it without a second thought.
Bennett, however, was a ranger. While his weapon of choice was a repeating crossbow, he had undergone formal training with the longbow as well, and he knew the subtle nuances of string and wood intimately. The sound vibrating through the air was one he had heard thousands of times: the razor-thin strike of a bowstring snapping against the riser as an arrow took flight.
The instant his mind registered the noise, Bennett threw his body sideways. An arrow flashed through the empty air where his torso had been a split second before.
Thunk!
The shaft buried itself into the floor, quivering violently. Even as he hit the ground, Bennett kept his eyes locked onto Ron and Milo across from him. The two men, who had been greedily scarfing down soup mere moments ago, were already on their feet with weapons drawn as if they had never touched a spoon.
Milo swung a heavy handaxe straight down at Bennett's prone form, aiming with lethal precision for the junction between neck and shoulder.
Crack!
The axe cleaved through floor tiles, sending stone shards flying. By then, Bennett had already rolled clear, springing onto one knee. Ron rushed forward to flank him right past Milo, but his eyes suddenly bugged out. In Bennett's hands was a crossbow—and not just any crossbow, but a repeating model primed to fire.
"You son of a bi—"
Those were Ron's last words. With a dull thud, two bolts struck him square in the chest, and the man collapsed backward mid-stride, his sword still raised high. He wore decent boiled-leather armor, but at point-blank range, it offered no more protection than wet paper.
"Ron!"
Roaring in fury, Milo hurled the handaxe in his grip. The blade cut through the air with a vicious howl, followed immediately by another as he drew a spare from his belt. But Bennett was already moving. Most of the thrown weapons sailed harmlessly through empty air, while the one that came closest buried itself harmlessly into a display rack Bennett used for cover.
Crack!
Beside him, a plastic mannequin's head shattered into a cloud of white dust and sharp fragments. Elina, the archer, was firing from the shadows. Bennett didn't flinch. Ignoring the flying debris stinging his cheek, he stepped out and squeezed his trigger at Milo.
"Ghk!"
A bolt pierced Milo's chest. The bear-like warrior dropped to one knee, wheezing, but grit his teeth and surged back to his feet—
Thump.
A second bolt struck him dead center in the temple. Milo crumpled in a heap, motionless.
Checking his remaining ammunition, Bennett grabbed an empty metal bowl from the ground and flung it straight up into the air.
Clang!
An arrow streaked out of the dark and punched through the airborne bowl. In that split second of distraction, Bennett swept his boot across the campfire, smothering the embers in a shower of dirt and ash. The orange light vanished instantly, plunging the ruins into pitch-black gloom.
Night Vision Lv.1
In the total darkness, Bennett began to move without a whisper of sound.
Damn it all, Elina cursed inwardly, biting her lip until it bled.
She had known from the start that Bennett was no amateur. But she hadn't considered that an issue. In fact, she had welcomed it. Skilled mercenaries invested heavily in their gear, which made them the most profitable targets. And sure enough, the tactical baton he had casually pulled out earlier bore the unmistakable hallmarks of a master craftsman—a prize that would fetch a small fortune on the black market.
Her pulse had raced the moment she saw it.
What else is he hiding on him? she had wondered. There was no way that baton was his only treasure.
Holding her breath and biding her time, Elina had waited until Bennett showed his back before releasing the perfect shot. It's over! she had thought.
Yet her hopes were shattered in seconds. The man had dodged her arrow with inhuman reflexes, and before she could even nock another shaft, he had butchered both Ron and Milo. And he had done it using a repeating crossbow she hadn't even known he was carrying.
Where was he keeping that thing?!
It wasn't an ordinary crossbow either. Standard models took several minutes to wind and cock between shots. For him to loose multiple bolts within seconds meant only one thing: Dwarven craftsmanship. But there was no time to ponder how an ordinary mercenary had gotten his hands on such a relic.
Whoosh.
The campfire had gone out, leaving her in utter darkness.
Startled, Elina crouched low. As her pupils dilated, vague outlines of the department store began to resolve, but the tactical advantage was entirely lost. For a ranger, vision was everything. And right now, she was blind. No matter how seasoned an archer was, this level of gloom reduced anyone to a stumbling target. Even after adapting to the dark, she could barely see three feet in front of her.
Wiping away the cold sweat trickling down her cheek, she gritted her teeth.
Clink!
A metal rattle echoed to her left. Wheeling around on instinct, Elina loosed an arrow with textbook precision. But the moment the string snapped forward, her heart plummeted.
Thwack.
"Guh!"
It was a decoy. A bolt slammed into her chest from an entirely different angle. Her leather cuirass absorbed the brunt of the impact, saving her life, but the kinetic force knocked her flat on her back.
Gasping for air, she scrambled to raise her bow again—
"Aaaargh!"
A second bolt punched straight through her right palm. The bow clattered to the floor. Sobbing in agony, she tried to scramble away on all fours, only for a third bolt to tear through the meat of her calf. She collapsed face-first onto the cold tile, dragging herself forward with her left arm in a desperate bid to put distance between herself and the dark.
Yet when she finally looked up, Bennett was already standing right in front of her.
He stood bathed in the gloom, looking down at her with a blank, unreadable expression. There was no bloodlust in his posture, no gloating malice. Only two cold, inorganic eyes observing her like an inanimate object. She couldn't begin to fathom what he was thinking.
Only then did Elina realize the horrific truth.
They had hunted the wrong man.
"W-Wait!" she cried, waving her uninjured hand frantically. "P-Please, just let me live! If you spare me, I'll do anything! Anything you want, please!"
"..."
Bennett said nothing. Panicking, Elina used her good hand to unbuckle her leather cuirass. Her fingers trembled so violently she could barely work the straps, ripping the garment off before tearing at the buttons of her shirt. Several buttons snapped off and skittered across the floor, but modesty was the least of her concerns.
Her bare skin was exposed to the chilly air, revealing a taut stomach and lace undergarments that barely contained her chest. Shamelessly, she shoved her hand into her cleavage.
"Th-This... this is worth a lot of money! It's enough to live like a king for months, I swear!"
She pulled out a glittering gemstone and tossed it toward his boots.
"And... and I'm really good in bed, too! Whenever you need to blow off steam, I'll service you! Look at me, aren't they big enough for—"
Elina's voice died in her throat as she saw Bennett calmly level his crossbow at her forehead.
"Ah—"
She tried to throw up her arm to shield her face, but her head snapped violently backward before the limb could even rise.
I... I can't die like th...
The thought fractured into oblivion. With a bolt planted squarely between her wide, unblinking eyes, Elina's limbs slumped limp against the floor.
Bennett frowned slightly as the prompt materialized before him. Being lumped together in the same 'party' as that trash left a foul taste in his mouth, but the reward itself was undeniable.
He immediately allocated all his available stat points into Agility: the two points he had banked from witnessing the Anomaly earlier, plus the three points from this achievement, for a total of five.
Just as with Night Vision Lv.1, an immediate sensation of lightness washed through his muscles, heightening his senses. Bennett stared into the empty air, lost in thought. Where on earth had his father obtained a relic like this necklace? Could he have stolen it from the Drake Family?
Not that it mattered even if he had. Whatever the reason, the unvarnished fact remained that those high-born butchers had murdered his parents ten years ago.
I saw it with my own eyes.
Pushing down the simmering rage in his chest, Bennett turned his attention back to the corpses of Elina, Ron, and Milo. Vengeance was a long-term endeavor; survival and looting came first.
"Let's see what we have here," he muttered, opening his pack.
Judging by their haul, this ambush party had preyed on fellow scavengers before. Mixed among their belongings were miscellaneous pieces of equipment that clearly belonged to other explorers, along with some intact cosmetics and skincare bottles salvaged from this ruined world. Most of Ron and Milo's weapons and armor were cheap junk beneath his notice, but Elina's recurve bow was of respectable quality. With the string removed, the limbs broke down easily for compact storage. While it couldn't match his dwarven repeating crossbow in terms of burst fire, having a quiet, long-range secondary weapon was never a bad idea.
Then came the gems. To his surprise, the stone she had thrown wasn't the only one. Upon closer inspection, several smaller cut jewels were nestled in the lining of her undergarments—right between her breasts. Had one corner not poked out through the torn fabric, even Bennett might have overlooked them.
Having gathered everything of value, Bennett packed up and slipped away from the kill site. The betrayal had caught him right when he was hoping to fill his stomach and get some rest; having not eaten a single bite of dinner, his stomach growled with hollow hunger. And Milo's stew was now drenched in blood and brain matter, making it utterly inedible.
After navigating through the ruined corridors and dispatching a few stray zombies, Bennett found a suitable hideout. Tucked in the corner of a department store boutique was an unassuming fitting room. Had the mirror-paneled door not been slightly ajar, he might have walked right past it, mistaking it for a decorative full-length mirror.
A thick carpet insulated the floor, keeping out the subterranean chill, and while the space looked like a dead end from the front, a narrow service passage lay concealed behind the rear paneling. The passage led into a small stockroom. It appeared closed off, but the partition wall was flimsy drywall that could easily be kicked out in an emergency.
This'll do.
After chewing through two tough strips of dried meat, Bennett settled into the most comfortable position the cramped space allowed and closed his eyes. It was too narrow to lie down completely, but leaning back against the wall was more than enough for a seasoned mercenary.
Gradually, exhaustion pulled him down into sleep.
"Damn it all!"
The sharp curse shattered his slumber. Bennett's eyes snapped open instantly.
"If this keeps up, we're completely done for!"
"Keep your voice down. It's too early to make that call."
Awake in a heartbeat, Bennett held his breath and listened. The tense, hushed voices weren't coming from some distant corridor. They were right in front of him—just on the other side of the fitting room door.