Deep in the woods, a small clearing was lit by a crackling campfire, surrounded by eight rough-looking bandits. Their loud laughter filled the air, their faces tough, and their clothes made from stolen rags.
The leader, a big man with a jagged scar on his cheek, leaned against a log, holding a mug of ale. "That noble kid was nothing," he said, his deep voice full of scorn. "His guards? Ha! They fell apart like wet paper. Didn't even fight back."
A skinny bandit with a crooked smile added, "We should have kept him alive. Nobles are worth a lot as slaves."
The leader shook his head, his cold eyes narrowing. "No. We have a job to finish." He glanced at a young woman lying unconscious, tied up, her dress torn. She was a maid, beautiful even in her messy state. The leader smirked. "This one… she's worth more. We'll have our fun, then sell her. She'll bring us a fortune."
The bandits cheered, their voices filled with crude excitement. One of them, a younger man with a leering grin, raised his mug. "I call first!"
The leader chuckled darkly. "You'll wait. I'll be first when she wakes up. It's more fun when they scream."
The group laughed, their voices echoing through the forest. The fire crackled, casting long shadows over the clearing.
One of the bandits stood, grabbing a lantern. "I'm going to take a leak," he slurred.
Another waved him off with a laugh. "Don't get lost. Or eaten by a wolf."
The bandit stumbled into the forest, lantern in hand, muttering to himself. "Probably just some animal," he grumbled. "Or maybe I've had too much to drink."
He didn't notice the shadows moving behind him or the soft, careful footsteps closing in. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sound the rustle of leaves under his boots.
Then the footsteps stopped.
The bandit froze, his heart racing. He spun around, holding up the lantern, and the light revealed a figure standing just a few feet away.
It was a young man, his long red hair dripping with blood, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the lantern light. His face was pale, his expression cold and unreadable. His clothes were torn and soaked in blood, but he stood tall, his stance calm and steady.
The bandit's eyes widened, his mouth opening to speak. But before he could say anything, Reo moved.
[ALERT.]
[HOSTILITY DETECTED.]
The hunting knife flashed. The bandit's throat was cut before he could react, his lantern shattering as he fell. Blood pooled around him as he collapsed.
[TARGET NEUTRALIZED.]
[REMAINING HOSTILES: 7.]
Reo cleaned his blade, his icy eyes fixed on the campfire.
---
Back at the campfire, the bandits grew uneasy. The man who had gone to relieve himself hadn't returned. The leader slammed his mug of ale onto the ground. "Where the hell is that idiot? If he's passed out drunk again, I'll skin him alive."
One of the bandits laughed. "Relax, boss. He probably tripped over his own feet."
The leader's scowl deepened. "I don't like this. Something's wrong. Go find him. And take someone with you."
Two bandits stood, their faces serious as they picked up their weapons and disappeared into the forest.
It didn't take long to find him.
The bandit's body lay on the forest floor, his throat slit, his lifeless eyes staring up at the trees.
The bearded bandit cursed. "What the hell happened here? Who did this?"
The other bandit knelt to examine the body. "Looks like he was attacked. But by who? There's no one around except—"
Before he could finish, they heard it—soft, careful footsteps in the bushes. The two bandits tensed, swords ready.
"Who's there?" the bearded bandit growled, his voice shaking. "Show yourself!"
The footsteps grew louder, closer. The bushes rustled, and then—
---
Back at the campfire, the other bandits were on edge. The two who had gone to find their friend hadn't returned, and the woods were unnaturally quiet. The leader stood, his scarred face twisted with anger. "Something's wrong. Where the hell are they?"
Before anyone could answer, a scream of terror ripped through the trees, followed by another. The bandits froze, their faces pale with fear.
"That's them!" one bandit shouted, his voice breaking. "We're under attack!"
The leader's eyes burned with fury. "Get ready! This isn't some animal—it's an ambush!"
The bandits scrambled to their feet, forming a rough circle around the fire. They gripped their weapons tightly, their hands trembling as they stared into the trees.
In the chaos, the maid stirred, her eyes opening weakly. Her head hurt, and her body ached from the rough treatment. She was tied up—hands, legs, and mouth—unable to move or speak.
Her heart raced as she took in the scene: the bandits panicking, their weapons raised, their faces twisted with fear.
Then she heard it—slow, deliberate footsteps approaching. The bandits turned toward the sound, their weapons ready, their breaths shallow and panicked.
From the dark forest, Reo moved silently toward the campfire.
His footsteps were almost silent, but each one sent a chill through the bandits.
They knew that sound. Just hours ago, they had captured him, beaten him, and slit his throat. He should have been dead. But the trembling boy they remembered was gone. In his place stood something else. Something relentless.
Now, bathed in the campfire's glow, he stood before them—ragged, barefoot, his stance wide and unshaken. His presence alone demanded attention.
In one hand, he held a hunting knife, its blade slick with fresh blood. In the other, he held the severed head of a bandit, still dripping.
The sight sent a wave of fear through the maid.
This wasn't Leonhardt Caulem. Not the weak, cowardly young master she had served for years.
She knew Leonhardt well, and this… this was someone else entirely.
The man before her was something different—something primal. A blood-soaked predator, like a beast that had crawled out of hell.
One of the bandits screamed in horror. "No! This isn't real! We saw you die! We killed you!"
Another stumbled back, his voice shaking. "Stay sharp! There must be a necromancer here! No one comes back from the dead!"
Reo's gaze swept over them, cold and emotionless.
Reo didn't answer. His scarlet eyes scanned the group, and the voice of the system echoed in his head.
[SCANNING…]
[HOSTILE TARGETS DETECTED: 5]
Blue rings appeared over each bandit's head, marking them as hostile. Reo's face was blank, his eyes icy and empty, as if he were looking at nothing more than insects to crush.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw the severed head forward.
It landed with a sickening thud, rolling to a stop at the feet of the bandit leader.
The leader's breath caught in his throat. He didn't move. He couldn't.
Reo remained still, his thoughts a blur. He didn't know where he was or why his body felt strange—lighter, but odd. Who were these people? And why was he killing them?
The answers escaped him, but one thought burned in his mind: he needed to kill them.
One of the bandits, staring at his fallen friend's severed head, shouted in rage. "You little brat! Where did you get the guts to do this? I'll kill you again, like last time!"
The bandit charged, roaring, his sword raised high.
Reo barely had time to think. His body was still weak, and he only had a small hunting knife—not enough to block a powerful strike. But something was different.
His reflexes were faster, his movements quicker, as if his body already knew what to do.
As the sword came down, he moved.
The blade sliced through empty air as Reo stepped aside at the last moment, the wind whistling past him. The bandit's face twisted in confusion as he realized too late that his target was now behind him.
Reo didn't hesitate. His hand shot out, the knife flashing in the firelight, and plunged deep into the man's throat.
A gurgling sound came from the bandit's lips.
The other bandits froze, their faces white with terror.
This wasn't the same weak noble they had killed hours before. That boy had been a coward, shaking with fear, barely able to hold a weapon.
But now—this wasn't him.
This was someone else. Someone who killed without hesitation. Someone who moved like a predator.
Reo pulled the hunting knife from the bandit's throat, the blade coming out with a wet sound. The bandit's body jerked once, then fell lifeless to the ground. Blood gushed out, warm and sticky, covering Reo's hands.
He looked at the blood-covered knife for a moment, his face expressionless. Then, slowly, as if by habit, he wiped it on his pants, leaving dark red streaks on the fabric.
Reo raised his head, the blood on his knife now gone. His eyes were empty, unreadable.
The bandit leader watched in horror as his men fell one by one—all at the hands of a single person. And that person was the weak noble kid they had killed not long ago.
His hands trembled, not from anger, but from a deep, suffocating fear. He clenched his jaw and roared at the remaining three bandits, "What the hell are you waiting for?! Kill him! Tear that brat apart!"
Snapping out of their shock, the three bandits gritted their teeth and charged at Reo together.
The largest of them, a huge man with a thick neck and arms like tree trunks, carried a massive battle axe. A cruel grin spread across his scarred face.
"That's enough playing around, kid! I'll rip your heart out and eat it!" he bellowed, raising his axe high above his head before bringing it down with tremendous force.
Reo's body moved on instinct. He sidestepped at the last second, feeling the air shift as the axe missed him. The ground cracked where the blade struck. One second slower, and he would have been cut in half.
But the bandit wasn't done. With surprising speed for his size, he pulled the axe free and swung again, the heavy weapon slicing through the air toward Reo's ribs.
Reo ducked. Too close.
He couldn't fight head-on. The bandit was too strong—there was no way to match that strength directly.
But strength didn't matter if the attack didn't land.
It was all about timing.
And then, the opening appeared.
As the bandit raised the axe to strike once more, Reo moved quickly, striking in and dodging his guard. He drove his knife into the man's forearm, twisting deep into muscles and tendons.
The bandit roared, his grasp relaxing as the axe clanged against the ground and slipped from his grasp.
Reo didn't hesitate.
With one swift motion, he intercepted the axe in mid-fall, turned, and brought it down with every ounce of power he had.
The second bandit, who was coming from behind at a sprint, had little chance to defend himself. The axe bit into his shoulder, the impact making a revolting crunch as it sliced through bone and into the heart.