Big Brother & Little Sister – 2.3

“Ah, kids always think they know everything!” said another man mockingly. He laughed as if he had made the best joke in the world, as if it weren’t a phrase repeated to the point of nausea, but something he had come up with himself.

“Disgusting sons of bitches, let’s do it in the forest,” Max said, “I don’t want to wake her up.”

They approached slowly, armed with swords.

“In the forest? Yeah, sure, we’re not idiots.”

Max had expected that response, but still, he felt he at least had to try. However, he wasn’t going to waste any more time with words.

Max lunged at one of them, picking a target at random. He still had some attribute points left to distribute, but there was no time for that now. Besides, he didn’t think it was necessary. They were dressed like ordinary bandits, and they would die as such.

Max swung his sword. The silver gleam cut through the darkness—and through one of the bastard’s arms. With a single strike, it fell to the ground, accompanied by a spray of blood that gushed like a sprinkler. Max wasn’t satisfied. That hadn’t been his target. He had been aiming for the neck.

Of course, the man screamed like a pig. Max tried to silence him and did so by slashing his throat, but not quickly enough.

Helen woke up abruptly, confused and scared. She began to pant, her trembling hands reaching for the staff lying on the grass nearby.

“I’ve got this,” Max shouted.

Helen nodded but then pulled her hand away. She let it drop. The girl trusted him. She hadn’t doubted he would defeat the giant white serpent either. He was sure of that. But just like back then, she must have been burning with a desire to help him. Maybe she had decided not to. He wasn’t sure. Was it truly a sign of trust? Or, above all, was it a sign of how weak she felt?

In any case, he had to finish this as quickly and efficiently as possible. Helen had already seen too much in her short life. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to see this too.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“So fast!”

“How did he move so quickly?”

Max lunged at the next bandit, breaking his feeble guard with a sweeping strike. It only slashed the bandit’s chest—a superficial wound—so Max drew the sword back for the killing blow. But that wasn’t all he did. The bandit he had just killed had been his enemy, no doubt. Though not a threat. So Max had every right to claim the spoils of war.

The blood spilled on the ground transformed into daggers, deadly projectiles. This, of course, caught them completely by surprise. The first sign was when one of them fell, screaming and clutching a severed tendon. Blood poured freely. The screaming was a damn nuisance, so Max silenced him with a dagger to the forehead. Luckily, it didn’t penetrate as deeply as he had feared. He didn’t want the man’s head to explode, creating a gruesome sight for Helen.

That was what Max thought about, not the fact that he had just killed another human being. Well, barely human. Bastards like these deserved nothing but death.

Maybe they were only willing to traffic Helen and other elves, big and small, because they didn’t see them as humans in the first place. But that wasn’t an excuse—far from it. It was more reason to do this. More reason not to care.

“Shit, a mage! What fucking luck. Blood manipulation isn’t even an element.”

Max charged at his next target, firing the blood daggers overhead. The more they fell, the more blood there would be everywhere, and the more daggers he could create. Among other things, he didn’t weaken as the fight progressed, tiring or nearing the limits of his strength. Quite the opposite. He was building an arsenal around him. They didn’t stand a chance against him.

One of them lunged at Max while he clashed swords with another. But the attacker’s weapon shattered into pieces before it could even displace enough air to move Max’s hair. Five blood daggers had struck the blade, causing it to explode.

Max kicked the bandit in front of him, ending their sword clash, and finished off the defenseless one by decapitating him. Then he quickly turned to finish what he had started. With surprising coldness, he dragged the next bandit backward and stabbed him in the back, right above the heart.

The others turned and fled with their tails between their legs. Max decided it wasn’t worth chasing them. They wouldn’t return, and he had nothing to gain by killing those cowards.

He had already made enough of a mess here. He was grateful it was nighttime. Grateful that Helen could barely open her eyes. Not often, at least. Silence returned to the forest. Only the crackling of the fire and Helen’s breathing could be heard.

Max intended to return to her side, but then he noticed his armor was stained with blood. Not as disastrously as it could have been, but still quite a bit of blood. At the very least, he should wash it off. Was there a river nearby? Even a puddle? No idea.

He approached Helen, kneeling on the ground, but didn’t get as close as before. He didn’t want to leave her covered in blood.

“Sorry for waking you, for making you see this.”

Max quickly realized he was wrong. He had thought she was nervous, scared. But she was smiling. Seeing a man, nearly a stranger, in armor and a sword dripping with freshly spilled blood, Helen was smiling.

Feeling safe.