The sky was a murky blanket of swirling dark clouds, thick and oppressive, casting an eerie shadow over the land. The winds, sharp and biting, howled through the air, carrying with them the unmistakable scent of rain and the foreboding promise of a coming storm.
As Cassius stepped through the Portal, an unexpected sight met his eyes. The trees, usually standing tall and rooted firmly in the ground, were flying straight towards him. With a swift, precise strike, Cassius severed an incoming tree right at its midsection.
"WELCOME! WELCOME" a deep voice boomed with a hint of playful amusement.
Cassius turned his head and saw the backs of the Mercenary Queen, the Madman, and the Duke, their postures sturdy as they gazed intently in the direction the voice had come from.
In front of them stretched jagged cliffs, the formidable base of a towering mountain. No matter where Cassius directed his gaze, the cliffs seemed to encircle them, creating a natural barricade. The party found themselves standing in a small, isolated clearing filled with weeds, the only open space amidst the rocky expanse.
And then he saw them—figures scattered along the cliffs above, perched like vultures on the rocks. Every ledge, every outcropping seemed to host a new group of them, ragged and worn, dressed in tattered clothing that barely clung to their frames. They held weapons—sabers, spears, spiked clubs. They wore mocking smiles, and twisted expressions of amusement and derision, as they looked down upon the party from every angle.
Despite the overwhelming odds, the Duke’s party showed not a single sign of panic or unease.
The Mercenary Queen was a study of calm composure, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Beside her, the Madman was another story. His eyes darted everywhere. With his fingers hovering in the air, he pointed at each figure on the cliffs. "Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two..."
His voice was barely a whisper, but the cadence of his counting seemed to fill the air, an eerie contrast to the silence surrounding them.
The Duke, as always, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture impeccable. Cassius stood beside him, his expression unreadable.
The crowd of ragged individuals stepped aside with synchronicity, forming a path, and then, stepping from the shadows of the jagged rocks emerged a tall figure. A large saber rested comfortably on his broad shoulder.
His voice broke the silence, echoing across the cliffs "Welcome! Uninvited Guests! What brings you to the abode of this humble bandit? Did you like our heartwarming welcome?".
The man was referring to the trees that they had uprooted from the mountainside and thrown at the Duke’s party.
The bandit leader’s smile twisted further as his eyes locked onto the Mercenary Queen, his gaze hardening with a sharp, venomous recognition. "Oh!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a dark amusement. "I recognize a face! To think that the Leader of the pesky mercenaries was also among the uninvited guests."
He chuckled, but it wasn’t a sound of joy—it was filled with bitterness, the kind of laughter that came from years of hatred and grudges simmering just beneath the surface.
"HAHA!" The loud laughter of the Mercenary Queen echoed across the clearing. "To think this isolated space was the home of the leader of the COWARDS!"
The bandits on the cliffs, who had been so casually watching the encounter, tensed immediately. Every face tightened, mocking smiles replaced by narrowed eyes, and clenched jaws.
"As arrogant as ever," he sneered, his eyes never leaving the Mercenary Queen. "But I wonder," he continued, his tone taking on a mocking cadence, "if your arrogance would remain the same after watching this."
The Bandit King raised a hand, and with a single sharp command, he ordered, "Bring them out."
With a cruel sense of drama, two figures were brought forward. The first was a pirate, his wild eyes darted around nervously as he was shoved forward.
The Bandits beside them rustled among each other and they bought out two peoples. The moment the eyes of Duke and Cassius locked onto this second figure, an intense wave of killing intent surged from their bodies, palpable.
The figure brought into the clearing made the tension feel almost suffocating.
The Duchess.
Her condition was far worse than anyone could have expected, especially considering her former grace and dignity. The robe she had once worn, elegant and fine, was now in tatters, barely clinging to her body. Yet, beneath the ruined robe, her dress remained surprisingly intact. It was stained with dirt and grime, but the fabric itself was still whole.
A robe was tied loosely around her waist. Her body sagging from the weight of captivity. The bandit who held her kept a cautious two-meter distance.
The veil that once adorned her face was in tatters, one half almost completely destroyed, the remnants hanging limply around her face. Yet from the side that remained, her eyes could be seen. Those eyes, once full of life, now appeared dull and devoid of energy.
"Hand over my wife! Right this instant!" The Duke’s red eyes, now glowing with barely contained fury, locked onto the bandit holding the rope. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make even the most hardened of men flinch.
The Bandit King’s mocking tone rang out across the clearing as he casually walked over, his steps slow and deliberate. "Hmm! You mean this woman?" he asked, as if the question were a mere formality, as if the Duke’s wife were nothing more than a trivial possession to be tossed aside at his whim. He reached out and grabbed the rope that bound the Duchess, his grip tightening as he gave it a sharp tug.
"Is it written anywhere that this woman is your wife?" The Bandit King’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, and with a swift motion, he yanked on the rope again, causing the Duchess to stumble forward, her legs shaky as she fell to her knees.
BOOM!
The thunderous crack of lightning shook the very air, the sky above darkened by thick, swirling clouds. The already heavy atmosphere thickened, charged with an almost palpable killing intent.
"You see supernaturals like her are extremely rare" The Bandit King’s hand hovered in the air, his hand still suspended in the air, just a breath away from her but still can’t reach her. "See this! What a strong ability… even among supernaturals. A barrier that protects from even the aura of an Ascended. Not letting anyone get close. Even artifacts with penetration are meaningless against this barrier."
"Though," he began as he removed his hand, his tone almost regretful, as if pretending to sympathize, "it is sad to say that the woman has already used up all her mana and is now using her life force to maintain this barrier."
"Just shut up! Your voice is stinging my ears," the Mercenary Queen snapped. She unfolded her arms slowly, the movement deliberate, as her eyes flicked toward the Bandit King. "Hand her over while I am talking peacefully," she added, her tone dangerously measured.
"This woman is a gift from a distant brother of mine," The Bandit King said with mock sincerity, leaning slightly forward, his eyes never leaving her face. "How could I hand her over to you?"
"That distant brother of yours is currently lying on a ship without his head," the Madman taunted, as he spoke, he summoned his spear. He held it up, pointing to the tip stained with dried blood. "See the dried blood on the tip of my spear? There should be your brother’s blood somewhere mixed in it. Wanna lick? I’m sure a dog like you will recognize the taste."
The Madman, despite not being an Ascended, boldly continued to provoke one fueled by the unwavering presence of the Mercenary Queen at his side.
The Bandit King, his patience at its breaking point, finally unleashed his aura. But as soon as it surged forward it was countered by Mercenary Queen’s aura.
The Madman, despite not being an Ascended, boldly continued to provoke one fueled by the unwavering presence of the Mercenary Queen at his side.
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The Bandit King, his patience at its breaking point, finally unleashed his aura. But as soon as it surged forward it was countered by Mercenary Queen’s aura.
"Enough talking peacefully!" The Mercenary Queen’s voice thundered through the clearing "Bandits should be declared a race by the empire, that is meant to be slaughtered like pigs!"
In an instant, she was in motion. Her muscles coiled with power, and with a single, fluid motion, both her axes were out. The ground beneath her cracked, splintering with the force of her movement. She was a blur of deadly motion, her axes cutting through the air with brutal intent. In one fluid arc, she was upon him, her axes raised high, ready to cleave down on him.
The Bandit King, his face contorted with fury, retaliated by swinging his saber with a fierce determination at the Mercenary Queen.