Morning broke with a crisp chill in the air, the kind that crept into your bones no matter how thick your cloak was. The camp buzzed with quiet energy as my men readied themselves for the day’s mission. The fresh scent of damp earth filled the air, mingling with the clinking of steel and the muted sound of leather being buckled. The men moved with purpose, their freshly purchased garrison armor gleaming in the pale light. We looked more like professional soldiers than a ragtag group of mercenaries now.

I had been fortunate over the past few days. The garrison soldier I had befriended during training had lent me a spare set of armor and a sturdy shield. The armor was a little snug, but I appreciated the weight of the metal resting against my shoulders—it gave me a sense of security. As I fastened the final strap and picked up my borrowed shield, I couldn’t help but feel a certain calm wash over me. We were ready, and tonight, we would put an end to those bandits.

The bandits that Sora had warned me about. I glanced at her from across the camp, her expression unreadable, but her eyes met mine briefly, and she gave me a nod. We both knew what was at stake.

The one thing that still gnawed at me was Garios. We had been in this city for days, yet he had deliberately avoided any contact with us. Through whispers and messengers, he had made it clear that he didn’t want to be directly associated with our group, likely for political reasons. It didn’t bother me too much; in fact, it made sense.

Still, Garios made sure we got what we needed. The information about the bandits’ location had come to us discreetly. They were camped near a river, about a mile north of our current location. The riverbank was an ideal spot for them, providing a natural barrier on one side. The river was wide—at least forty meters—and the currents were strong enough that an escape via water was highly unlikely. That gave us an advantage.

I called the men to attention, and Silvana, now leading the crossbow unit, marched up to me with Leon, who was temporarily serving as the infantry commander. I could see the tension in their eyes, but they were focused. We gathered around a rough map of the area I had sketched out in the dirt the night before.

"The plan’s simple," I began. "We’ll scout the terrain during the day to get a feel for the surroundings. At night, we’ll make our move. The river cuts off their escape, so we’ll circle and hit them from the other side. Silvana, your crossbowmen will start the attack. Once they’ve been hit with the first volley, Leon and the infantry will charge in with javelins, followed by spear combat. The key is to maintain formation and strike quickly before they have time to react."

The men listened intently. I could feel the weight of their anticipation. They knew this wouldn’t be easy, but they were eager to prove themselves. I saw the same look on Silvana’s face that I’d seen countless times on gamers back on Earth—the thirst for a challenge.

After our briefing, we gathered our supplies and set out toward the bandits’ camp. The journey was uneventful, but the tension was palpable. The crunch of boots on gravel, the clinking of gear, and the occasional bird call were the only sounds that accompanied us as we moved through the forest. The terrain gradually sloped downward as we neared the river.

When we reached the high ground overlooking the riverbank, we stopped. The river, just as described, was a wide, fast-flowing body of water, its surface glistening under the midday sun. The bandits’ camp was nestled close to the water’s edge, a small cluster of tents and a few makeshift wooden structures. They had chosen this spot well. The river protected their flank, and they were far enough from any major road that they wouldn’t be easily spotted.

We watched them from our vantage point for a while, observing their movements. There were ten of them, just as Garios had informed us, all seasoned fighters. They moved with the confidence of men who had survived countless skirmishes and raids. Their leader was a burly man with a thick beard, sitting by the fire sharpening his sword. He looked like he’d been through a lifetime of violence.

As we returned to our camp to prepare for the night attack, I went over the plan in my head again and again. Everything needed to go smoothly. I couldn't afford mistakes.

The night fell swiftly, and with it came the silence of the forest. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a dim silver glow over the landscape. We moved in total darkness, creeping through the underbrush as silently as possible. I could hear the faint rustling of leaves underfoot, but other than that, it was eerily quiet.

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Once we reached our positions, I gave the signal for Silvana and her crossbowmen to aim. The bandits were relaxed by their campfire, unaware of the death creeping upon them. I held up my hand, waiting for the perfect moment. The seconds stretched on, each one heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

Then, I dropped my hand.

The twang of crossbow strings filled the air, followed by the sickening thud of bolts finding their marks. Two bandits fell immediately, bolts piercing their necks and chests. The others scrambled to their feet in confusion, reaching for their weapons, but we were already on them.

"Now!" I shouted, lowering my hand, and Leon’s infantry surged forward.

The recruits launched their javelins with precision, the spears cutting through the air like deadly missiles. Several bandits were hit before they could even reach for their weapons. I saw one javelin pierce a man through the shoulder, knocking him backward into the fire, his screams filling the night.

We moved in quickly, shields up, spears bristling in a tight formation. I barely had time to register the chaos around me as we advanced. The key to this fight was staying together—no breaking ranks.

One of the bandits charged toward us, axe raised high, but before he could close the distance, one of my men thrust his spear forward, catching the bandit in the stomach. The man doubled over, blood pouring from the wound, and fell to the ground.

Another bandit swung wildly at Leon with a club, but Leon deflected the blow with his shield, driving his spear into the man’s thigh. The bandit crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg in agony.

I moved in formation with my men. That was the plan—let the formation and our numbers do the work. I slammed my shield into the nearest bandit, feeling the impact reverberate through my arm as he stumbled backward, giving me just enough time to thrust my spear into his abdomen. He gasped, blood bubbling from his mouth, and collapsed. I caught sight of Silvana’s crossbowmen reloading, their eyes sharp as they picked off any bandits trying to retreat toward the river. It was a slaughter.

But amidst the chaos, Our formation was broken due to lack of experience and I saw something that made my blood run cold.

One of my recruits—Timothy—was locked in combat with a particularly large bandit wielding a two-handed axe. Timothy was holding his own, parrying the blows with his shield, but the bandit was relentless. With a savage swing, the bandit’s axe caught the edge of Timothy’s shield, splintering it and sending him staggering backward.

Before I could reach him, the bandit swung again, and this time, the axe found flesh. Timothy’s scream tore through the night as the blade bit deep into his arm, severing it clean off. He collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the stump where his arm had been.

"Timothy!" I shouted, but there was no time to mourn.

Luckily some recruits saved Timothy from that brute. I rushed to Timothy’s side, pulling a strip of cloth from my tunic and tying it tightly around his arm to stop the bleeding. His face was pale, and his breaths were shallow, but he was alive—for now.

"Hold on," I muttered, barely able to hear my voice over the sound of battle.

Just as I finished tying the bandage, another shout drew my attention. One of my recruits, Jared, had been cornered by two bandits. He was holding his spear defensively, but he was outnumbered and overwhelmed. One of the bandits lunged at him with a short sword, and though Jared managed to block the strike with his spear, the second bandit slipped past his guard, slashing at his leg.

Jared screamed as the blade cut deep into his calf, and he fell to the ground, clutching the wound. The bandits moved in for the kill, but before they could land the final blow, Leon and another recruit charged in, spears raised. Leon’s spear found its mark, piercing one of the bandits through the chest, while the other recruit drove his weapon into the second bandit’s side.

The bandits collapsed, and Leon knelt beside Jared, checking his wound.

"He’ll live," Leon called out to me, though his expression was grim.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but the battle was still raging. Despite our overwhelming numbers, the bandits fought like cornered animals, desperate and savage. One by one, we picked them off, the clashing of steel and the shouts of men echoing through the night.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the bandits fell. The camp was eerily silent now, save for the crackling of the fire and the labored breathing of my men. The ground was slick with blood, both bandit and soldier alike.

I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, surveying the aftermath. We had won but at a cost.

Timothy lay unconscious, his arm severed, but the bleeding had stopped for now. Jared was being tended to by Leon, his leg wound was serious but not fatal.

I walked over to Silvana, who was gathering her crossbowmen. Her face was pale, but she gave me a small nod.

"It’s over," she said quietly.

"Yeah," I replied, though the weight of the victory felt heavier than I had anticipated.

We had succeeded in our mission, but the cost of war was never easy to bear. As I looked at the wounded and the dead, I realized just how far we had to go before we were truly ready for the challenges ahead. But for now, we had survived, and that was enough.