As they finally back at Llyn. The merchant exhaled deeply once they were through the town gates, almost sinking in his seat with relief.
"Good God," he said, gripping the reins tighter than necessary. "Nothing broken, nothing stolen. I really thought this was the end of me. All of my money went into buying those goods... Everything I had." His voice cracked slightly, but he cleared it quickly. "At least now I don't need to travel for a while. I'll set up a stall near the market and pray it all sells well."
Bral gave him a supportive pat on the back. "Well, we're happy to hear that it all made it back in one piece."
The merchant turned to Bao and Pao, his brows furrowing as he studied them more closely now that the dust had settled. "You two..." he said slowly. "You're nobles, aren't you? From the way you carry yourselves. Especially now that I know your father's name. What are you even doing out there on quests like this?"
Pao only smiled softly. Bao shrugged. "It's just something we chose. At least you got home safe."
With that, the group parted ways with the merchant and made their way straight to the Adventurer's Association. The building was relatively calm this time, the noise reduced to scattered chatter and the scratching of pens behind the counter.
When they handed in the completion form and gave a short report of the ambush, the receptionist blinked.
"Bandits again?" she muttered, making a note. "This is the fourth report like this this month... They're getting bolder. And you handled it?"
"We handled it," Bral confirmed, his tone firm but not boastful.
"Good," she said, then reached under the counter and handed over a pouch filled with gleaming coins. "Here's your full reward. It's well earned."
The pouch was heavier than usual.
But as the group stepped outside and into the evening light, there was no cheer. Amukelo walked with his head lowered, holding the reward bag in one hand without looking at it. His steps were heavy—not with exhaustion, but thought.
It was Bral who noticed first. He walked a bit faster to catch up to Amukelo and clapped a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"What's up with you?" he asked, half-joking. "We finished a quest, got paid, and you got to meet their father—who, I might add, is a lot more impressive than I expected. Aren't you happy?"
Amukelo nodded, but his expression didn't match. "I am," he said. "Meeting Pao's father was... great. It meant a lot. And seeing how happy Pao was—it was worth all of it." He paused, then looked down again. "But the bandits…"
Bao, who was walking just ahead, turned slightly. "He's also *my* father, you know," she said flatly.
Bral snorted. "Right, right. Lady Bao."
But his smile faded as he saw Amukelo's face. "What about the bandits?" he asked.
Amukelo hesitated. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I severed one of their arms. The other... I might have killed him with that last kick. It was right to the temple." He took a slow breath. "I didn't think about it in the moment. I just reacted. But now that it's over, I keep thinking about what my mother used to tell me."
The group slowed their pace, letting him speak.
"She always said that everyone, even bad people had value. That it didn't matter if they were orcs, humans, dwarves, elves... even vampires. That we were all made in the image of God. That there's something in us that's sacred, even if we're lost." His voice grew quieter. "She said... if someone slaps you on the face, turn the other cheek. And I believed that. I still do. But in that moment, when I saw him raising his sword, I didn't think of his soul. I just thought of how to make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone else."
There was a pause. Amukelo's knuckles tightened around the pouch in his hand.
"And I don't know how to feel about that," he finished. "Because... it was necessary. But it didn't feel right. I know they were trying to kill us. I know what they were. But I also know... they were people. And they're going to carry those wounds for the rest of their lives—if they're even alive."
He looked up at the others, eyes not angry or self-pitying, but tired.
"I know this is the world we live in. I just... didn't expect to feel like this after surviving."
Pao kept her eyes on Amukelo, her expression soft, eyes tinged with that same sadness she'd seen on him. She didn't speak, not yet, but her hand shifted slightly toward him, as if to offer some silent support. Amukelo didn't even notice—he was too caught in his own thoughts.
Idin stepped forward, the worn metal of his gauntlet clinking lightly as he placed a hand on Amukelo's shoulder. His voice was calm, not trying to sway or instruct, but simply there.
"I feel you, brother," he said with quiet certainty. "And you really did the right thing back there. Not finishing him off… that wasn't weakness. That was mercy. You could've, but you didn't. That says a lot about who you are."
Amukelo looked up, his brow still furrowed, but the pressure in his chest softened slightly at the words.
"But," Idin continued, lifting his hand and taking a breath, "your mother's teachings—those are powerful. Beautiful, even. But they're also often misunderstood. That scripture, about turning the other cheek? It's not about being passive when someone's trying to kill you. It's about not engaging in pointless fights. About restraint. Letting go of pride."
He gestured with a small smile toward Bral. "Let's say someone insults you in a pub—"
Bral interrupted with a snort, "They usually do."
Idin chuckled. "Exactly. If you throw a punch for that, over some dumb insult or a spilled drink, you're in the wrong. That's when you should turn the other cheek. Let it go."
Bral gave a theatrical shrug. "Noted."
Idin's gaze returned to Amukelo. "But when someone threatens your life, or your friends, or even innocent people who can't defend themselves… then it's different. Then, not standing up? That would be the sin. It's not about revenge. It's about protection. It's about doing what needs to be done when no one else will."
Amukelo didn't respond right away. His lips parted, then closed again. His mind was turning it over. Slowly. Carefully.
Eventually, he asked, "So what if we killed all of them on the spot? All those bandits. What if we didn't give them the chance to retreat?"
The question caught the group off guard. Even Bral's face stiffened for a moment. Then he blinked, and gave a whistle.
"Woah," he muttered, glancing at Idin, then back at Amukelo.
Amukelo quickly raised his hands defensively. "I'm not saying we should've—I'm just saying... we did a lot of damage anyway. They'll carry those wounds forever. For all we know, some of them could still die. Would killing them outright have been worse?"
Idin let out a slow breath. He wasn't smiling now.
"Well," he said, "If there was no other way—if they didn't retreat, if they pushed us into a corner—then no. It wouldn't have been worse. If it was your life, or Bao's, or Pao's, or Bral's, or even that merchant's... then yeah, they made their choice. You didn't swing first."
Bral crossed his arms, his tone more grounded now. "Like what you did. Disarming them. And yeah, literally in one case."
He looked aside, staring at nothing in particular.
"If there's a way to stop someone without killing them, I think that's worth trying. I'm not a monster. But sometimes, they don't give you that chance. Sometimes it's kill or be killed. And if they're attacking civilians, travelers, or us, then what do you think they'll do to the next person who doesn't have someone like you around?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't mean I like it. Just means I accept it."
There was a pause. Pao finally spoke, her voice soft. "You didn't kill him. You didn't take his life. But you stopped him. I think... I think my father would've said that was justice." Then she added, almost in a whisper, "And mercy."
Amukelo looked down. He could still feel the weight of his sword in that moment, the jarring crack of his boot meeting the man's skull. The flash of pain, the shout, the stunned silence after. He hadn't meant to hit that hard. He hadn't been thinking at all. Just reacting.
Bral stepped forward now, his voice blunt, but not cruel. "Look, I get it. You're not used to fighting people. You've been out there dealing with monsters. Things that hunt, things that eat. You never saw them as people. But you've got to understand something now."
He looked around at the group. At Idin. At the dirt and blood still drying on their gear.
"We're heading into deeper waters, Amukelo. This is where adventurers stop fighting only beasts and start dealing with politics, with power, with people who don't wear their intentions on their sleeves. Bandits, mercenaries, rogue mages. They all look like us. Talk like us. Maybe even pray like us. But when they try to kill you or the people under your protection?" His gaze hardened. "You don't hesitate. Not for a second."
Amukelo was quiet. Then he whispered, more to himself than them, "But they were people."
Idin nodded slowly. "They were. And people make choices. You didn't choose this fight. They did. And when they attacked, they weren't just risking their lives—they were risking yours."
Bral glanced down the road that led back to the merchant's quarter.
"This time, we were stronger. This time, we got lucky. But next time? If there are ten more of them? Twenty? What happens if we're not fast enough? What if the merchant died before you saw the dagger coming?"
Amukelo clenched his jaw.
"You can't let emotions cloud your judgment in the heat of the moment," Bral finished. "We all believe life has value. But some people throw that value away the second they try to take someone else's."
Pao moved closer now. Her eyes still carried that same softness. "Just promise me one thing," she said. "Promise me you won't blame yourself for protecting us, or anyone else."
He turned to her. She looked up at him. "You did what you had to do. I'm glad you did."
Amukelo stared for a moment longer. Then, finally, he nodded. "I won't forget it," he said. "Any of it."