One of the bandits had just finished chewing the last piece of greasy meat and lazily rose to his feet. With heavy steps, he staggered toward a patch of bushes not too far from the camp.
His face was flushed with drunkenness, his eyes hazy and unfocused, his balance unsteady as he fumbled with his trousers.
The sharp, sour scent of liquor lingered on his breath while he relieved himself with a sigh of pleasure, enjoying the warmth against the night's chilling breeze.
Just as he was savoring the strange relief that came with his intoxicated state, a faint rustle stirred from the darkness.
Leaves trembled almost imperceptibly, yet the noise carried sharply through the stillness of the night. Before the drunken bandit could even comprehend the danger, a dagger shot out of the shadows and pierced cleanly into his abdomen.
His eyes widened in disbelief, as if refusing to accept what had just happened. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as he instinctively tried to scream, but a small hand covered his lips with startling speed.
Something rough and coarse was shoved into his mouth, gagging him before he could let out a sound. His throat convulsed, his chest tightened, and his muffled cries dwindled into weak gurgles. His body shook violently for a few moments before collapsing lifelessly against the cold earth.
A small figure emerged silently from the bushes, his expression void of fear. It was a child, no older than five, with sharp eyes that reflected a glint of satisfaction.
He stood calmly over the corpse, breathing in the iron scent of blood, the faint smell of sweat, and the reek of alcohol. Slowly, a grin spread across his young face as shimmering text appeared before him in the air.
[Gained 50 shadow fragments.]
Modret crouched down and rummaged through the dead man's belongings with practiced precision, stuffing a few coins and scraps of bread into a pouch.
Without a sound, he melted back into the cover of the bushes. His mind sharpened instantly as he extended his senses, quickly seeking out his next prey.
Another bandit, yawning heavily, was on his way toward his tent. His eyes were half-closed, his steps dragging as he muttered to himself about the cold.
"The breeze feels unusually sharp tonight," he murmured, pulling his tattered cloak tighter around his shoulders. He shivered, unaware of the small shadow gliding silently behind him.
The man entered his tent and hastily removed his boots before dropping onto his bedding with a sigh of relief. His heavy body sank into the thin mat, and his eyelids grew heavier by the second.
Sleep began to drag him into its depths, when a sudden pain pricked at his midsection. At first it was faint, almost dismissible, but within seconds the pain sharpened and his eyes shot open in shock.
Before he could cry out, something stuffed his mouth and smothered his voice. His muffled screams filled the small tent as he thrashed wildly, but the hand holding him down was merciless.
He clawed desperately at the air, his nails scraping against fabric, but his strength ebbed rapidly. The blade had pierced a vital point, and within moments his movements grew sluggish until finally his body went limp.
The chime of the system rang clearly in Modret's mind.
[Gained 50 shadow fragments.]
His gaze lingered on the glowing text. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So, unawakened humans give me fifty shadow fragments, while rank one awakened grant me a hundred. Reasonable enough," he murmured under his breath. His eyes flicked to the numbers floating before him.
[Shadow fragments: 927/1000]
"Just two more," he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips. He pulled a thin blanket over the corpse to disguise it, then slipped out like a ghost.
The night was alive with faint sounds: the crackling of dying campfires, the croak of distant insects, the heavy breathing of drunk men collapsing repeatedly. Modret waited patiently, his body pressed against the ground, eyes scanning like a predator in tall grass.
He did not have to wait long. After hours of eating and drinking, the bandits were finally retiring. Laughter dwindled, footsteps scattered, and one after another disappeared into tents.
Modret's eyes locked onto a man walking unsteadily, humming under his breath. Without hesitation, the boy shadowed him, silent as a whisper.
When the bandit finally collapsed onto his bedding, Modret moved. The dagger in his hand glimmered faintly in the pale moonlight as he lunged, striking deep.
The man's eyes shot open in pain, but his scream was smothered instantly by the cloth shoved down his throat. Muffled groans filled the air for only a heartbeat before silence reclaimed the tent.
The familiar chime echoed.
[Gained 50 shadow fragments.]
[Shadow fragments: 977/1000]
Modret's grin widened. Only one more and he could spin the roulette, the promise of awakening drawing nearer. His pulse quickened with anticipation. But just as he bent down to cover the corpse, a sharp scream split the silence.
His eyes snapped toward the noise. A man stood at the entrance of the tent, horror etched across his face. The scream had already pierced the night, rousing the others.
Modret's heart clenched as the sound of hurried footsteps erupted all around. His grip tightened on the dagger, his expression darkening like storm clouds.
"I only have one chance to kill him before the rest arrive," he thought grimly.
'Fairy, how long?' he asked silently.
A faint glow burst from his chest as a tiny winged figure emerged, her voice ringing directly in his mind. {Barely a minute before they arrive, and even less before the awakened comes.}
Tension twisted Modret's small frame. He leapt at the bandit with sharp precision, though his movements lacked Axel's refined agility. Still, he had learned enough to be dangerous.
The startled bandit jerked back, fumbling to reach for a weapon. He stumbled in panic but managed to dodge Modret's strikes. He stopped searching for a blade, instead focusing entirely on evasion, buying precious time.
Each second that passed darkened Modret's expression. Nearly thirty seconds had slipped away. His jaw tightened. In a split decision, he turned and bolted through the tent's entrance.
{Not that way. They are coming from there.} The fairy's voice rang urgently, forcing him to veer sharply in another direction.
The bandit, realizing Modret was trying to flee, grinned with sudden boldness. Reinforcements were close, and confidence surged through his veins.
He charged at the child, blocking his path.
The suffocating presence pressing against the camp grew stronger with every heartbeat, a reminder that their leader was drawing near.
But the man's grin froze instantly. His chest jolted as a dagger sank directly into his heart. His breath hitched, eyes bulging in disbelief as life drained swiftly from him.
[Gained 50 shadow fragments.]
[Shadow fragments: 27/1000]
[Awakening roulette: 1]
The corpse slumped to the ground as a suffocating pressure descended upon the camp. The awakened had arrived, towering behind him with several surviving bandits at his side.
Their eyes widened at the sight of the boy standing calmly over the fallen corpse, dagger dripping with blood.
The air grew heavy. Modret's small body stiffened under the crushing aura, his chest constricted as if an invisible hand squeezed the air out of him.
The awakened frowned then his gaze flicked over the group and his face darkened. Out of the fifteen bandits that had gathered earlier, only eleven remained alive. Three had fallen to Modret's blade tonight, and Axel had claimed one before.
The awakened man's eyes blazed with fury. "You filthy brat… die!" he roared, his voice shaking the camp as he lunged forward with murderous intent.
Modret's lips curved slightly, his voice firm within his thoughts. 'System… spin the roulette.'
The world around him froze.
[Congratulations on awakening…]