His words caused a series of actions by the bandits. The most ragged of the group took this chance to run, without looking back once. They knew the best they could do was be useless fodder to delay their leader’s opponent.

On the other hand, The Boar and his ‘elite’ guards took this chance to pull out their weapons and make as much distance as possible. The horses stomped and whined as they backed away, making their displeasure in retreating known. Most of the guards carried large hammers, only The Boar and one other held large war-axes.

The weapons they carried showed the pure physical strength the bandit group had. They had to have something special about them to control any piece of land for any duration of time. Otherwise, another more vicious and stronger group could have wiped them out already.

Boar was leading the group as they got into a loose formation. “Those cowardly rats. they ran at the first sight of trouble. We need to teach them some discipline.”

“Discipline?” Alastair scoffed. “Bandits and discipline is like water and oil.”

As he spoke, Alastair felt his body sway back and forth. He could barely control his body, it was clear that the power he was currently wielding had yet to be fully assimilated into him. This made for a dangerous situation where he would have a hard time striking accurately.

Alastair pulled again from the well of sharp energy. The world slowed down around him. The Boar was sluggishly moving his mouth, speaking in slow-motion. The fat man jiggled as his sagging cheeks and fat rolls shook with every movement he made, especially after he pulled out his heavy battle axe.

Just as Alastair started moving, the Boar’s eyes slowly widened as if he saw him coming. With a turtle pace, he tried to bring his weapon in front of him as some form of defense.

But just as the Baor recognized the movement, Alastair was already in front of him thrusting his sword towards the man’s chest. His thought process was simple, target the largest part of his opponent, so even if he missed the targeted area, he would still hit something.

This proved to be correct. In a flash of a moment, the sword penetrated through the thick armor, well into the massive man on the large horse.

As his sword struck, a golden barrier appeared on his left as the heavy axe made its way towards Alastair. It crashed into it with a spray of sparks and wind. Though there was no visible effect on the barrier other than the weapon being rebounded in the direction.

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With another clap of wind behind Alastair, time returned to its previous speed and sound came back.

The horses cried out in distress as the guards shouted in surprise. But that only lasted a second. They gathered their wits and attempted to hit Alastair with everything they had. Each one screamed at the top of their lungs as their weapons began to glow different colors. They pulled at their own energy wells, but quickly found they were outmatched.

Each of their weapons, regardless of the color of their energy or its strength, were deflected by the golden barrier without showing any signs of stress. It left them all with a growing sense of dread.

Alastair jumped backwards, pulling his sword out with a sickening squelch that he had been all too familiar with lately. He had subconsciously made space between them lest they somehow strike him. It only clicked that they had attempted to and failed miserably when he saw how pale each one looked.

He had trained relentlessly for years, carved into himself certain instinctive movements so he did not have to think during battle. It had made him a dangerous foe with great speed, yet as he stood there, he felt like it was all wasted. He didn’t need to jump back or parry or actively block or anything at all.

Those bandits were so out of their depths, it made him feel a certain crisis. Had he wasted those years? Will he be so dominant henceforth, that his destined meeting with his beloved wife would be delayed for years more if not decades?

Alastair stared at the blood stained sword in his hands; the blood slowly dripped off the tip. His thoughts were a maelstrom of confusion and desperation. The bandits should have been stronger, they had to be stronger.

He felt no resistance as he pierced the heavy plate armor. Instead, the pure joy of his weapon, finally bathing in the blood of its enemies, was the only thing that colored the moment. It left a bad taste in his mouth to say the least.

Alastair wanted to just walk away, maybe his body and mind would forget this moment. He could live in a fantasy where he had no reason to delve into these difficult topics nor face his inner demons. Yet, deep down he knew something like that was a dream and will only ever stay a dream.

These bandits already killed soldiers that sacrificed their lives for the greater good of humanity, that left their families and friends to march under the worst conditions and little rations for the good of even their honorless lives. And in return, all the bandits had done was stab the soldiers in the back to get a few horses and other limited resources to fuel their campaign.

He was certain that if given a chance, they would do the same again for their limited profit. That was not mentioning the terror they caused to the common people. Alastair looked at Kendo and Jacob, when the Boar had just shown himself, they looked pale and fearful for their lives of the man, but now they stared at him with a similar look.

But, hidden within it was a semblance of hope they would survive.

A loud thump drew his attention back to the bandits. There he found the Boar on the ground groaning in pain as he tried to cover the hole in his chest. It proved to be useless as his body became slack in moments.

Alastair surveyed the bandits again. They all were apart of this abomination. A dark part of him wanted them to suffer for what they had done, but another forced him to take them out quickly and without hesitation.

He gripped his sword harder, felt his heart becoming firm and his shaky hands still. His resolve was made and with it, their deaths were all but guaranteed.

With another clap of gust, he disappeared from his spot only to reappear between the many elite bandit guards.

Pandemonium had begun and with it, the forest would be bathed in blood.