Her dull, sorrowful eyes flared with a new emotion—rage. She knew exactly what I meant as I handed her the blade. There was no need for words. The bandits started screaming, realizing what was about to happen.

“Where’s your honour?” Radagos yelled, his voice breaking with panic. “You said you’d let me live!”

“Honor?” I laughed, the sound cold and harsh in the cavern. “Why would I honour a bandit who treats people like property?”

The girl’s grip on the knife tightened. Without hesitation, she lunged at Radagos’s associate, stabbing him repeatedly. The man screamed, thrashing as the blade pierced his chest, over and over. I watched in silence, my hand resting on my sword’s hilt, prepared to intervene if things spiralled out of control. But I didn’t need to. She knew what she was doing.

Her anger was terrifying in its intensity. Each stab was precise, not the wild flailing of someone overcome by emotion, but the methodical strikes of a person bent on vengeance. When the bandit’s body finally stilled, blood pooling around him, she turned toward Radagos. For the first time since we’d entered the cave, I felt a chill.

Radagos, for all his bravado, began to tremble. “You don’t have to do this,” he pleaded, backing away on his knees. “I’ll leave. I’ll never come back. Just let me go!”

The girl stepped forward, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she plunged the knife into his chest, then again and again. Radagos’s screams filled the cave, echoing off the stone walls. His hands clawed weakly at her, trying to fend off the attack, but he was already too weak. She stabbed him with cold, calculated precision, just as she had with the first man.

When it was over, Radagos slumped to the ground, his body lifeless. Blood dripped from the girl’s hands, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She stood over him for a long moment, the knife still clutched tightly in her hand. The rage that had fueled her was gone, leaving only exhaustion and sorrow in its wake.

Finally, she let the knife fall from her hand, clattering onto the stone floor. She slumped into the corner of the cave, her shoulders shaking as silent tears began to fall. The others stood around awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I approached her slowly, my eyes scanning the cave once more. The battle was over, and we had won. But the cost was not just the lives of the bandits. I could see the toll it had taken on her, the way her hands trembled and her eyes looked hollow.

The adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins began to fade, leaving me feeling drained. There was nothing more to be done here. “Let’s wrap this up,” I said quietly to my men, my voice sounding distant in the aftermath of the violence. “Loot what we can, and bury the bodies. We leave at first light.”

Aside from Radagos’s sword, there wasn’t much worth taking. The bandits had been living a hard life, scavenging and stealing, but they hadn’t accumulated much in the way of valuables. We gathered what little we could carry, then dug shallow graves for the dead. It wasn’t a proper burial, but it would have to do. No one would mourn them.

The girl, despite her exhaustion, insisted on helping us. Her movements were slow and mechanical, but she worked alongside us until the last bandit was buried. When the task was finally done, we began the walk back to Zeocorys, the village now a beacon of safety in the distance.

As we walked, I fell in step beside the girl. I hadn’t spoken to her much since the fight, and I wasn’t sure what to say now. After everything she’d been through, words seemed meaningless. But she deserved to be acknowledged, at the very least.

“What’s your name?” I asked after a long silence.

She looked up at me, her eyes still filled with the weight of what had happened, but her voice, though trembling, was steady. “My name is Silvana,” she said softly. “I’m the daughter of a hunter from Zeocorys. My father and brother were killed by those bandits, and they took me as a prisoner. Thank you for saving me.”

I nodded, unsure how to respond. There was no need for thanks. What we had done wasn’t noble or righteous. It was just survival—hers, mine, and my men’s. But I didn’t correct her. Instead, I simply said, “You’re welcome.”

When we arrived back at the village, the first thing I did was check on Manes. He was resting at the inn, his shoulder bandaged but otherwise in good spirits. The blade that had wounded him hadn’t been poisoned, thankfully, and the cut wasn’t deep. With proper rest, he’d recover in a few days.

Exhausted from the fight and the lack of sleep, I collapsed into bed myself, grateful for the comfort of a mattress and a roof over my head. As my body finally began to relax, the events of the day replayed in my mind. The fight, the girl’s rage, the bandits’ screams—it was all a blur now, but one thing stood out clearly.

As I drifted off, the familiar robotic voice echoed in my head once more, a reminder of the strange and distant world I had left behind. The voice that had brought me here, that had trapped me in this game, was still with me.