——Bandits Captain POV——
I hate working with these idiots.
Their minds are driven only by the scent of money and women. Every decision, every betrayal, every blood-soaked deal we made was for their hollow desires.
But for me… I am not so sure anymore.
For years, I've drifted through this fog. The steel in my hand grew heavier with each passing season, rather from the wear, but from lost, the lost of purpose.
Until now.
Looking at the kid before me with bloodshot eyes, something shifted inside me.
I heard an old door creaking open after years sealed shut.
The fog I've been dragging behind me starts to lift.
And for the first time in a long while, I see things clearly.
I remember the promise I made to myself when I first picked up the sword.
Honor
I wanted to join the knighthood.
To live a life of honor, of glory.
To stand tall and sending my enemies to hell.
To shield the young, the weak, the ones who couldn't fight for themselves.
But here I am…
Taking lives of the people I wanted to protect.
Their blood on my hands.
Their eyes asking why.
Where did it all go wrong?
----Sebastian POV----
That face… Why does he have that look on his face?! Like he's the one who's lost everything. Like he's the one who's hurting.
I'm the one who should be broken. I'm the one who should be crying.
You took my home.
You took my family.
And now… you've taken my best friend.
So I'll take what matters most to you.
Not your gold. Not your pride.
Your life.
With resolve burning in my chest, I lunged forward and flung a handful of mud straight into the bandit's eyes. The man got hit before he could even flinch.
"ARGH! MY EYES!"
His voice cracked with pain as his hands shot up, clawing at his face, trying to wipe the mess away.
I didn't wait.
I closed the distance in a heartbeat, reached for the short knife at his waist, and yanked it free.
Then, with a swift motion, I stepped behind him and drove my foot into the back of his knee.
He dropped one leg buckling with his upper body dipping low and his neck was within my strike range.
"WHAT THE-"
The bandit forced one eye open through the sting, just in time to see me leap.
I swung the short knife with everything I had, a sharp downward arc aimed straight at the middle of his neck, just like how I used to slaughter chickens back home.
"ARRRHHH!" I shouted, voice cracking with fury.
The bloodlust pouring out of me caught him off guard.
He could've blocked it. Could've countered.
But his body hesitated.
His heart and mind weren't in sync.
And in that split-second of doubt, the blade came down.
As the dagger grazed the bandit's neck, a second blade clashed against mine, parring at the last moment by another lackey who had slipped in from the shadows.
My eyes widened, breath caught mid-motion.
"What—"
Before the word could finish, a boot slammed into my ribs from the side.
A brutal kick.
I flew sideways, hit the ground hard, rolled through dirt and dead leaves.
The world spun. My chest tightened. Then came a sour rush taste rising from my gut as I coughed up stomach liquids, spitting it into the soil like poison leaving my body.
Sharp pain rang through me.
"Jeez, Captain! The kid almost had you! Are you growing old and weak by the day?"
The captain didn't answer. Just stood there, silent, breathing heavy. He reached behind his neck with one hand, fingers brushing the thin line of blood where my blade had kissed skin. His eyes narrowed, not in pain but in thought.
I pushed myself up from the dirt, legs shaking, breath ragged.
It's not over.
Not yet.
This guy needs to die.
Then an imaginable force pinned me down from behind.
Another lackey lunged from the side, his grip like iron around my neck. I gasped, fingers still clinging to the short knife but he pried it from my hand with brute force, tearing it away as if ripping out a piece of me.
I struggled, feet kicking against the ground, breath choking in my throat.
"Boss, this kid just tried to take your head off. Should I kill him?"
Then I felt cold steel grazing my skin. A long sword dragged across my neck, enough to draw a thin line of blood.
"…"
The captain didn't speak. He just stared at the smear of blood on his palm. Seeing an uncharacteristic reaction from the captain, the lackeys seemed unsure what to do, their grip on me loosening just slightly, waiting for a command.
Then the boss looked at me with that same stupid face again.
STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!
All the pain you carved into me, the bruises on my body, the warmth where my parents used to be, the truth that I'll never go home again, never play with Charles again.
Then all the pent up feelings came crashing into one moment, one scream that tore from my throat like a blade.
"I WILL KILL YOU!"
The words hung heavy. Even the forest seemed to listen.
"…This is bad news, Captain," one of the grunts muttered. "The kid clearly holds a deep grudge. In these cases, we kill them before they come back biting us in the ass."
"I agree," another chimed in. "We should kill him."
After a brief moment of silence,
The captain slid his sword back into its sheath, final and deliberate, like a door closing.
"… Tie the kid up. Bring him to the meeting point."
"But, Cap—"
"I won't say it again."
And just like that, time resumed and the grip around me tightened. But the fire inside me hadn't gone out. I thrashed, teeth clenched, rage boiling over.
"LET ME GO! YOU ALL DESERVE TO DIE!"
Then the bandit responsible for this miserable feeling that hung in my chest, without turning around, his voice low and deliberate.
"Kid. This sensation that you are feeling right now, is frustration."
My eyes widened. My thoughts scattered in the wind.
And each of the following words pierced my heart deeper.
"You're frustrated because you couldn't protect your friend. Couldn't save your pet. And worst of all… you don't have the strength to kill me."
I wanted him to stop. This... Hurts...
Then he turned, finally meeting my gaze.
"You are weak."
The words hit deep in my soul. I wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, that he was the monster who stole everything from me. But as the echo of his voice settled, the chaos in my head, the rage, the grief, went quiet.
And in that silence, I saw it.
It wasn't him I was most furious with.
It was me.
I am weak.
Not because he said it, but because it was true.
I bit my lower lip as my face tightened, and tears formed my eyes.
"Never forget this feeling, Kid."
Then a sharp blow to the back of my neck. The world tilted and everything went dark.
----Rudeus Greyrat POV----
Twelve drinks in? Eight? Bah—who's counting? I feel G. R. E. A. T!
The tavern's warmth clung to my skin, the air thick with laughter, stale ale, and the scent of roasted meat. My cheeks were flushed, my limbs loose, and my heart light. For once.
Across the table, Geese leaned back with a smug grin, shuffling a battered deck of cards with the flair of a seasoned rogue. We'd been trading stories and chips for hours, and I was losing both.
"Full house," he declared, slapping his cards down with flair.
I blinked at my own hand. A three of a kind. I lost.
"Dammit!"
I groaned, slumping forward as Geese laid down his cards with the smugness of a man who'd just robbed a bank.
"You rigged this deck, didn't you? I haven't forgotten all those times you stumbled out of the gambling den wearing only your underwear as if shame and dignity were your accessories. What changed?"
Geese chuckled, scooping up the modest pile of silver between us with style. "Age, Senpai. Age changed. You live long enough, you either die broke or learn how to stack the odds. I chose the latter."
I snorted
"Stack the odds? You stacked my deck, you bastard."
He raised an eyebrow, smug. "You're terrifyingly bad at poker."
The game paused, and in between laughter and ale, Geese began recounting tales of his time with the S-party, Fangs of the Black Wolf…
I'd heard most of them before. My parents had told them a thousand times back in Buena Village, but tonight, they felt different.
Grinning like a fool and peppering Geese with questions about Tou-san and Ka-san, my voice drunken enthusiasm.
"...Then Paul drove his sword deep into the creature's guts, tearing it apart!" Geese exclaimed "But the damn thing exploded! Feces everywhere! Covered him head to toe. None of the girls would sleep with him for a week. Said he reeked like a sewer!"
"HAHA I can image how devasted Tou-san looked! Just like when Ka-san found out Lilia was pregnant!"
Geese snorted.
"Yeah, that must've been rough on you, huh?"
I waved him off.
"As if! I fixed it. I broke their discord apart, convinced Ka-san and Lilia to raise both my sisters together..."
Then the soft and cute faces of my sisters in their baby beds flashed through my mind...
"I hope Norn's living well... And Aisha..." My voice faltered.
The tavern's warmth suddenly felt distant. Cold. Like a veil had been pulled away. I saw it again, Ranoa. The charred remains. Lilia and Aisha's scorched body. My breath caught, and a shadow covered my face.
Geese noticed the sudden shift in mood. His smile faded.
Then after a brief silence, the old monkey asked gently.
"How have you been living, Senpai?"
As if I'd been waiting for someone to ask. I stared into the little ale left in my cup, reflecting the rigid and worn out face of a hopeless magician.
"...I'm a wanted man, Geese. I live under the light and walk through shadows. My magic strength has made me one of the Seven World Powers... But all this power? It won't bring back the dead."
"..."
"Isn't it strange? We can regrow limbs, cure diseases that should kill, and rearrange shattered bones... But we can't bring back soul that has left a dead body."
I rest my hand on the table and started to tap it in a rhythm with my index finger.
"I started wondering, how do demon kings resurrect every few millennia? If they can do it, why not us? Why not humans? So I've searched ancient ruins, forbidden libraries, even dragon lairs buried in the ass-end of the Red Dragon Mountains. Something. Anything. "
"..."
"Then when I found the very thing that could lead me to resurrection magic... I couldn't understand a damn word of it! Even after all the time I spent in learning the Dragon God's tongue, reading those wall relics felt like staring at a map drawn by drunk gods, in a form meant for no sane living mind to comprehend! I seriously wonder, how the heck did these people expect us to rebuild a soul with symbols that only the dead understands?! Shit!"
I slammed the table, rattling the empty mugs.
"You are telling me that I'd come this far, bled for this, and the answers sat in front of me telling me how to dream?!"
"..."
"...But maybe it meant something else entirely. I am still not sure..."
I downed the last of my ale, the bitter burn grounding me. Then I exhaled long, slow, and heavy. The kind of sigh that carries years of grief, guilt, and quiet desperation. And for the first time in a long while, I felt... lighter.
"... Thanks Geese... For listening."
Geese leaned back, the last of his ale swirling in his cup.
"You know," Geese with a soft voice, "I could drop by sometime. Just to listen. You've got a lot rattling around in that skull, Senpai."
I scoffed.
"Please. You're ancient, Geese. By the time you decide to visit again, you'll be The Walking Dead."
A small grin formed my face.
"..."
Right... He doesn't get it...
"... I am saying we will need a necromancer just to finish our next poker game."
Geese rose to his feet, brushing off his coat as he readied himself to leave.
"Heh? Don't need that! I'll probably bluff my way into the afterlife and come back with a better hand."
"Whether it's your funeral or mine, I'll bring the cards. We'll settle the score in the afterlife."
Geese paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder with that crooked grin.
"Just don't bet your soul, Senpai. Odds are, you'll lose that too."
And with that, he was gone, no dramatic exit, no lingering goodbye. Just Geese, vanishing like he always did.
I exhaled letting the silence settle. Then I stood.
Time to check on the boy. He'd been burning up earlier, and something about his fever dreams had unsettled me.
So I needed to make sure he was still breathing.