Quinn's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on the arrow lodged in his shoulder. The pain was intense, but he didn't let it distract him from his goal. With a rough motion, he grabbed the arrow and pulled it out of his shoulder, wincing as pain spread across his shoulder blade.
The bandit he had been confronting took advantage of the momentary distraction, attempting to scramble to his feet. But Quinn was too quick, his hand shooting out to grab the bandit's wrist, holding him in place.
"You're not going anywhere," Quinn said, his voice low and menacing. "Not until you tell me what I want to know."
However, Quinn hadn't noticed the hand-seal that the bandit made, forcing him to quickly retreat by jumping several feet backwards. The bandit unleashed a blast of strong wind, the gust blowing past Quinn.
Without wasting time, the bandit started fleeing.
Ten arrows shot from the woods behind Quinn, and he quickly realized that there was another bandit hiding in the shadows. Quinn's attention shifted, his eyes tracing the trajectory of the arrows.
He followed the path of the arrows, his senses on high alert. The trees blurred around him as he ran, his magic boosting his speed. He could feel the magic coursing through his veins, giving him the agility and quick reflexes he needed to catch up to the archer.
As he closed in on the archer, Quinn's eyes locked onto the bandit's figure. The archer was crouched behind a tree, nocking another arrow into his bowstring.
Without hesitation, Quinn unleashed his primary spell – Foxfire. A pool of flames erupted beneath him, spreading like a wildfire. Foxes made of fire appeared from the flames, their eyes glowing.
The foxes charged towards the archer, their paws pounding the ground. The archer's eyes widened in terror as he realized he was outmatched. He released the arrow, but the foxes intercepted it, their fiery bodies absorbing the impact.
The foxes pinned the archer down, their paws burning him with their intense heat. The archer screamed in agony, his body writhing in pain. Quinn approached the archer, his eyes blazing with intensity.
"You're not the only one who's been playing with fire," Quinn said, his voice dripping with menace. This was becoming too boring and he wanted to get over with it.
The archer looked into Quinn's eyes, his filled with fear and desperation. Quinn's gaze was unchanging, his magic still coursing through his veins. The foxes continued to pin the archer down, their flames burning brighter with each passing moment.
The archer writhed in pain, the heat from the flames searing his skin. Quinn could see the desperation in the bandit's eyes, but that desperation only fueled his rage.
"Where is your leader?" Quinn's voice was a low growl. He leaned in closer, the light from the flames dancing on his features. "Tell me, or your suffering will only get worse."
The archer, gritting his teeth against the pain, spat back, "I'll never tell you anything, you monster!" His voice was strained but rebellious, a flicker of resistant still burning within him.
Quinn clenched his fists, feeling the heat radiate from the foxes. "You think you're brave? Your bravado will get you nowhere. I have all the time in the world to make you talk."
The archer let out a harsh laugh, despite the flames licking at his skin. "You think you can break me? I'd rather die than let you know any of our secrets!"
Quinn's brow furrowed at the unexpected response, a mixture of surprise and intrigue coursing through him. The archer's resistance was admirable, yet foolish.
With a swift motion, Quinn reached down and grabbed the archer's mask, yanking it away to reveal the man's face. What caught Quinn's attention was a distinct mark on his forehead—a butterfly, intricate and vibrant against his skin.
The archer laughed, his voice ringing through the woods, a sound that sent chills down Quinn's spine. "You think you can intimidate me with your flames? You have no idea who you're dealing with!"
The butterfly mark began to pulse ominously, and Quinn watched in surprise as bulging veins appeared, spreading rapidly across the archer's face. The once resistant expression twisted into one of cautious.
"Wait—what are you doing?" Quinn shouted, instinctively stepping back.
But it was too late. With a sudden explosion, the archer exploded, his body bursting apart in a shower of blood and flesh, painting the ground around Quinn in gore. All that remained was the archer's head, the mark still glowing faintly.
Quinn stood frozen, the acrid smell of burnt flesh mingling with the air around him. He had come seeking answers, but now he was left with more questions than before. The audacity of the archer to protect his secrets, even in the face of death, sent a shiver down Quinn's spine.
This was just what he wanted, this kind of motivation.
It was magnificent.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain composure. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, ringing through the trees, louder and more absurd than he intended. "Ha! Really? You went and blew yourself up?" He shook his head, tucking his hands into his pockets as he sighed, disappointment lacing his voice. "I was hoping for a decent conversation, maybe a little banter. But no, you just had to make a mess!"
As the laughter faded, a rustle in the bushes caught his attention. Quinn turned, his instincts sharpening as he spotted a group of ten bandits emerging from the bushes, eyes glinting with malice as they surrounded him. Quinn's heart raced, but he maintained a facade of calm, even as some of them began to taunt him.
"Look at this little mage, thinking he can take us head on!" one of them jeered, a toothy grin spreading across his face.
"Did you really think you could stop us with your little tricks?" another chimed in, chuckling dismissively.
Quinn let out a weary sigh, the thrill of the earlier confrontation draining away. "Is this really what you want to do?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with annoyance. "Surround me and talk trash? I thought we could be a little more creative." With a flick of his wrist, Quinn's demeanor shifted.
"Demon Lantern: Undead Knight!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity. Suddenly, the darkness began to pool beneath his feet, swirling like a storm. Shadows twisted and morphed, churning and bubbling as if they were alive. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of burnt flesh and impending doom. The bandits' jeers faltered, replaced by confused murmurs as they watched the darkness come to life.