The King's Road, previously a scene of camaraderie and lighthearted banter, was suddenly ripped apart by a storm of deadly iron. Without warning, a chilling hiss sliced through the air, followed by the sickening thwack of arrows striking wood and armor.
"AMBUSH!" Borin Ironhand roared, his jovial demeanor instantly replaced by the grim resolve of a seasoned caravan master. He expertly yanked on the reins, bringing the lead wagon to a skidding halt.
Adrian instinctively dropped into a low crouch, his hand already on the hilt of his longsword. He scanned the treeline, his enhanced Nyxal senses straining, but saw nothing. The arrows continued to rain down, impossibly accurate, coming from seemingly empty air. "They're hidden! But where?" he muttered, pulling a small, collapsible shield from his pack and raising it, deflecting an arrow that would have buried itself in Borin's shoulder.
"Too far!" Yena's voice, usually calm, held a note of urgency. She had already nocked an arrow, her hawk-like eyes piercing the dense foliage at a distance Adrian couldn't even properly discern. "They're nested on the ridge, far beyond normal bow range! These aren't common bandits!" She loosed an arrow, a whisper of a prayer on her lips. It flew true, disappearing into the distant trees, followed by a faint, cut-off cry. "At least thirty archers! Highly skilled!"
Before Adrian could process the implications of such distant, accurate archery, the ground began to tremble. From both sides of the road, the bushes erupted. Forty figures, clad in mismatched armor and wielding crude swords and battered shields, surged forward. They looked like bandits, but their formation, their coordinated charge, spoke of disciplined training, not desperate opportunism. Their eyes, visible beneath their rough hoods, held a cold, professional glint.
"They're not bandits!" Adrian barked, his voice echoing Borin's earlier thought. "Just dressed up!" His longsword, a dark blur, was already in his hand.
Torvin roared, a primal challenge, and swung his massive axe in a wide arc, cleaving the first two charging 'bandits' in half. "Then let's send 'em back to their masters in pieces!"
Lyra drew her own short sword, her movements fluid and deadly. She parried a swing, then thrust, her blade finding a chink in a bandit's improvised armor. "Gareth! Guard the wagons! Don't let them get past you!"
Gareth, pale but determined, braced himself, his short sword held defensively. "Y-yes, Lyra!"
Adrian moved. He was a dark whirlwind, a silent, deadly force. The first two 'bandits' to reach him swung wildly. He dodged the first blade with a lean that seemed to defy gravity, then batted away the second with a precise parry. His longsword flashed, cutting across the throat of one, then spun back, disarming the second with a strike to the wrist before a quick thrust ended their charge. No wasted movement, no flashy displays – just brutal, terrifying efficiency.
"They're too many!" Lyra yelled, parrying two simultaneous attacks. "And they're pushing hard!"
Borin, axe now in hand, moved with surprising agility for a dwarf of his size, covering the rear of the wagons with powerful, sweeping blows that sent bandits reeling. "They want the cargo! Keep 'em away from the wagons!"
Adrian engaged three more 'bandits' simultaneously. He moved with a speed that made him appear almost blurred. One thrust at his chest; he sidestepped, letting the blade pass harmlessly, then pivoted, driving his own sword into the bandit's exposed side. As the second bandit tried to flank him, Adrian used the falling body of the first as a shield, deflecting a blow, then striking upwards, severing the arm that held the sword. A quick follow-up thrust silenced the screams. The third, seeing the fate of his comrades, hesitated, fear flashing in his eyes.
"You're not simple highwaymen, are you?" Adrian's voice was low, chilling, cutting through the din of battle. "Who sent you? Valerius?"
The bandit, startled by his words and the cold intensity in his eyes, stumbled back, fear overriding his training. "I... I don't know who you are, demon! But you'll fall!" He charged again, a desperate, clumsy lunge. Adrian simply stepped into his guard, a blur of steel, ending the fight with a swift, clean strike to the heart.
Meanwhile, Yena was a lethal dance of motion, her bow whistling. She fired arrow after arrow, each finding its mark with terrifying precision, felling bandits who tried to flank the wagons or engage Lyra. She moved like a ghost, fading in and out of the sparse cover, her dagger flashing when anyone got too close. "Their archers are a problem!" she yelled, reloading. "They'll pick us off!"
"Don't worry about the archers, Yena!" Adrian yelled back, deflecting a blow from Torvin's side. "Focus on these! I'll draw their attention!" He deliberately moved into a more exposed position, slicing through two more attackers, his presence radiating an almost palpable aura of danger. He caught the attention of several bandits, who, emboldened by their numbers, converged on him.
"This one's strong!" a bandit captain, identifiable by his slightly better armor, bellowed. "Focus on him! The rest will break!"
Adrian welcomed the challenge. He met their charge head-on, his sword a deadly extension of his will. He parried a heavy shield bash, feeling the jarring impact, then spun, weaving through the gaps in their formation. His blade whistled, dancing between armored plates, finding soft flesh. He was a reaper, moving with fluid grace, each strike designed to kill or incapacitate quickly. He cut down three in rapid succession, a silent ballet of death amidst the chaos.
"Lady Seraphina's mission was important," Adrian muttered to himself, recalling Kaelen's words. "This is no random ambush. This is a targeted strike." He was getting closer to the truth, and it tasted like blood and steel.
Borin Ironhand, his axe a whirlwind of destruction, roared a dwarven battle cry, cleaving through another assailant. "They're well-equipped! Too organized for common thugs!"
"They want the Arcane Herbs!" Yena called out, her voice strained as she dodged a wild swing from a bandit who had somehow slipped past Torvin. "They know what we carry!"
Adrian surged forward, cutting down the bandit threatening Yena. "Then we make them regret knowing!" He was a silent, lethal force, his black armor and dark movements a stark contrast to the glinting steel and desperate flailing of the 'bandits'. The fight was brutal, fast, and relentless. But Adrian, with Nyxal's core power subtly fueling him, was more than ready. The caravan's peaceful journey had truly ended.