Dawn had yet to break.
The world lay in hush and shadow, the forest holding its breath. A pale fog coiled like serpents between the trees, blanketing the ground in a suffocating stillness. Above, perched upon the highest limb of a gnarled ash tree, Jake watched with predator eyes.
Fifteen of them.
He had counted as they came.
Lumbering, clanking, snorting through the trees like pigs hunting slop. They wore their sins openly—grime crusted beneath their nails, blades notched with blood, armor stolen or broken, faces slack with the overconfidence of men who had never known real danger. Not one moved like a soldier. Not one moved like him.
They called themselves bandits.
Jake reached for his bow—black wood, silent string—and notched his first arrow. The red thread around its shaft marked it: paralytic, thick with his most potent brew.
Thum.
The first went down before he could grunt. The toxin spread like wildfire—veins stiffening, lungs locking. He crashed face-first into the leaves.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
Four more dropped in quick succession. Jake moved like a ghost above them, arrows singing softly through air, never missing. Each shaft struck neck, thigh, or lower spine—places the poison would hit hardest.
The remaining bandits spun in confusion, weapons drawn, shouting into the trees.
"Who's there?!"
"Magic?!"
"Gods—move, move, MOVE!"
Too late.
He had already killed their momentum.
They ran in circles, not knowing where the shots came from. One tried to scale the ridge again, got a shaft in the heel. Another hurled a torch wildly, catching a tree trunk—smoke began curling.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
Ten down. All writhing, twitching, gagging in the dirt. The toxin stripped their control one nerve at a time. Jake notched the final five with almost serene precision.
When the last one fell—eyes darting in panic, jaw frozen mid-curse—Jake climbed down.
Slowly.
Boots touched the earth like a whisper.
Fifteen men. Helpless. Still conscious.
Perfect.
He walked among them like a priest giving blessings.
Or a butcher judging cuts.
He didn't speak. Didn't gloat. Just worked. The dagger came first—steel edge gleaming in dawn's first breath of light.
The first man he slit barely had time to realize. Blood burst from the opened throat in a hot arc, pulsing out onto leaves and moss. Jake knelt close, watching the life fade from his eyes.
『+25 EXP.』
The second squirmed. He sliced slower. Watched the panic twist in the man's frozen face. The body convulsed, feet scraping soil.
『+25 EXP.』
The third. The fourth. Fifth.
He arranged their bodies like toys on a blanket. Blood pooled in a sticky lake, steam rising into the cold air. He admired his work.
The sixth died crying through clenched teeth.
The seventh Jake took his time with. The blade caught on gristle. He cut again. Then again. Until the head nearly came off.
『+25 EXP.
+25 EXP.
+25 EXP.
+25 EXP.
+25 EXP.
+25 EXP.
+25 EXP.』
『EXP: 236 / 425』
Eight left.
Jake looked up. The remaining bandits lay frozen in silent horror.
Tears streamed from eyes that couldn't blink. Some had pissed themselves. One vomited, paralyzed mid-heave. The stench rolled through the trees like a third wind.
He tilted his head. Something inside him twitched. Snapped. Or maybe it had never been intact.
He found a thick branch—storm-fallen, jagged, sturdy.
He dragged one of the men up by the collar. His body hung limp like a marionette. Jake propped him against a rock.
Then raised the branch.
The first swing shattered the man's jaw. The second broke his eye socket. The third split his skull with a sickening crack.
Jake laughed.
Not a loud, villainous cackle. A small, involuntary giggle—like a child hearing a secret.
Blood painted his face. Bits of tooth caught in his hair. The man's body twitched once. Then never again.
『+40 EXP.』
He dragged the next one by the ankle.
The branch came down like a metronome of agony.
Bones gave way. Teeth snapped. Flesh tore. Jake's breathing deepened with every blow. His arms trembled from the exertion, but his smile never faded.
『+38 EXP.
+40 EXP.
+35 EXP.
+36 EXP.
+33 EXP.
+34 EXP.』
Six more bodies.
『LEVEL UP! — Level 18』
『EXP: 51 / 450』
『STRENGTH +1 | STAMINA +1』
The system whispered like a lover. He let the notification fade. His hands were shaking now—not from exhaustion, but from a high. A savage, giddy thrill humming in his bones.
One left.
The boss.
A thick-necked brute with a chain shirt and tattoos of knives along his arms. He'd tried to scream earlier. Now he only whimpered through clenched, drooling teeth.
Jake knelt before him, calm, almost gentle.
"You wanted soft folk, didn't you?"
The man tried to speak. Only a gargling sound came out.
Jake raised his dagger.
And placed it on the man's left pinky.
"Beg."
The man tried.
Jake cut slowly. The pinky came off in a snip. Blood sprayed.
"Beg louder."
"A-AH—nnghh—plea… pleaagh—"
Jake was enjoying it. This is exactly what he wants. To hold someone's life in the palm of his hands, to be in control.
He cut another finger. Then another.
Jake made him watch every cut. Every tendon. Every twitch. He moved to the right hand. Then to the toes.
The man finally screamed—a hoarse, wet sound through frozen lungs. His eyes rolled back. Jake gripped his face.
"Look at me."
He cut into the cheek. Peeled skin.
"Look at me."
Tears, blood, snot—all streamed down the man's mutilated face. Jake tilted his head again.
Then he stood.
And drove the dagger down through the man's throat until the hilt kissed flesh.
Blood pulsed once. Then stilled.
『+40 EXP.』
『EXP: 91 / 450』
"Jake?" someone called, voice trembling with confusion. It was Corin.
Jake turned, still kneeling in the blood-soaked clearing, crimson painting his arms up to the elbows. His expression was unreadable.
He sighed.
"I'm disappointed in you, Corin."
"Wha—?"
Before the man could finish, a soft thum echoed through the trees. The paralytic arrow struck Corin in the thigh. He staggered, hands reaching out as if the world had tilted beneath him.
"J-Jake…?" Corin gasped, legs crumpling as he fell to the forest floor, paralyzed, eyes wide with dawning horror.
Jake stood slowly, brushing dirt from his pants. His dagger glistened red in the morning light.
He picked up a thick branch from the forest floor, still sticky from the slaughter.
Corin's breath came in short, choked bursts as Jake approached—each step deliberate, detached. The look on Jake's face wasn't rage. It wasn't even coldness. It was joy.
"You weren't supposed to see this," Jake murmured, voice soft, almost tender.
And then he raised the branch.
The first blow cracked bone.
Corin's mouth opened in a silent scream, the poison locking his jaw as his face contorted in agony. Blood burst from his nose, his eyes wide and unblinking.
Second blow. A crunch—his ribs giving way.
Third. The cheekbone shattered, and a single tooth bounced off into the leaves.
Fourth. Skin split. Blood sprayed. Still, Jake smiled.
Corin's expression told a story no one else would ever hear—betrayal, disbelief, heartbreak. The boy he'd taken in, fed, protected. The son he never had. Was now the same boy taking his life.
Jake raised the branch again and again. Flesh tore. Bone splintered. A sick rhythm played under the trees.
By the end, Corin's body was unrecognizable. The forest floor around him painted thick with red. His eyes stared blankly at the sky.
『+50 EXP』
He burned the bodies—Corin with the bandits—stacked like lumber, a heap of fire and flesh. The smoke curled up toward the sky, black and greasy, carrying the scent of death into the wind.
He watched until it was ash.
Jake sifted through what the bandits had left behind. One gold coin, three silver coins, one copper coin, and eight bronze coins.
In this world, one hundred bronze make one copper. One hundred copper make one silver. One hundred silver make one gold. One hundred gold equal one platinum. One Lutetium is one hundred and one platinum.
Fifty bronze: a piece of bread or a single nail.
Fifteen copper: a decent meal.
One silver: two weeks' worth of food for one person.
One gold: a month's rent at a good inn, or a trained mule.
One platinum: enough to buy some land with everything in place a house already there etc.
One Lutetium: well, that's for the richest of the rich.
But it depends. Prices vary.
Jake pocketed the coins carefully, placing them in a small leather pouch.
He also found a skill book.
Assorted jewelry—rings, earrings, a silver chain crusted with dried blood.
He took a few of the cleaner pieces—small, inconspicuous, valuable.
After securing his spoils, Jake made his way to a nearby stream. The forest was silent, the water trickling soft over stones.
He crouched, dipped his hands into the icy current, and scrubbed. Red turned to pink, then clear. He peeled off his blood-streaked shirt, rinsing it until it no longer reeked of death.