The eastern gate was quiet when I arrived at sunrise, the first rays of light casting long shadows across the dirt road. A weathered cart loaded with sacks of grain and crates of vegetables stood waiting, its wheels creaking faintly as the farmer adjusted the reins on his tired-looking mule.
He was an older man, his face lined from years in the sun, with a straw hat pulled low over his graying hair. When he saw me approach, his expression turned skeptical.
“You the guard the guild sent?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Rachel Turner. Bronze Rank.”
The farmer grunted, his eyes flicking over me and the rapier at my side. “You look barely older than my youngest, and she’s got no business guarding a cart, either.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, forcing a smile.
He muttered something under his breath, climbing onto the cart’s bench. “Well, get on with it, then. Don’t have all day.”
I nodded, falling into step beside the cart as the mule started forward.
The road was peaceful at first, winding through rolling fields and small patches of trees. The cart creaked along steadily, the mule plodding at a leisurely pace.
The farmer was quiet, and I didn’t mind. My thoughts were already swirling, replaying the looks and muttered words from the guildhall the day before. They thought I was crazy—or worse, completely out of my depth.
I tightened my grip on the rapier’s hilt, glancing around at the empty road.
Prove them wrong, Rachel.
The peaceful silence stretched on as we approached the edge of the forest. The trees loomed ahead, their shadows dark and inviting, the canopy thick enough to block out most of the morning light.
The cart rolled forward, the sound of the wheels crunching against the dirt seeming louder as the forest swallowed the road.
That’s when I saw it.
A red marker appeared in my vision, hovering just above the treeline. I blinked, trying to make sense of it, and then another marker appeared, followed by two more.
Bandit - Level 3
Bandit - Level 3
Bandit - Level 3
Bandit - Level 3
My heart sank.
“Stop!” I hissed, grabbing the cart’s edge.
The farmer frowned, pulling back on the reins. “What is it?”
Before I could answer, they stepped out of the shadows—four men dressed in patched leather armor, their weapons crude but sharp. One carried a rusted sword, another a dagger, and the two in the back held bows, arrows already nocked.
“Well, well,” the one with the sword said, a grin spreading across his dirt-streaked face. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a delivery.”
“Keep the goods and let us go,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear crawling up my spine.
The bandit laughed. “Oh, we’ll keep the goods, alright. And we’ll see what else you’ve got to offer.”
The farmer cursed under his breath, reaching for something under the bench. I stepped in front of him, drawing my rapier.
The bandit’s grin widened. “Looks like the little bird wants to play hero.”
The fight started fast. Too fast.
I lunged forward, aiming for the grinning bandit with the sword. He parried sloppily, his movements slow enough for me to dart past him and slash across his arm. He cursed, backing up as blood dripped down his sleeve.
-6 HP
The number flashed above his head, and for a split second, I felt a rush of confidence.
That confidence disappeared the moment the other three closed in.
The dagger-wielding bandit darted toward me, his blade catching the sunlight as it slashed toward my side. I twisted away, the edge grazing my jerkin, and countered with a quick thrust that sent him stumbling back.
-8 HP
An arrow zipped past my shoulder, too close for comfort, and I spun around to see the two archers nocking their next shots.
“Damn it,” I hissed, trying to move faster than my body wanted to.
The sword bandit lunged again, his blade heavy and wild. I deflected it with my rapier, but the impact jarred my arm, making my grip falter.
Before I could recover, the dagger bandit was on me, his blade catching me across the arm.
-10 HP
A sharp sting shot up my arm, and a red warning appeared in the corner of my vision:
HP Low. Seek Healing Immediately.
Panic set in. My breaths came faster, and my movements became sloppy. The sword bandit kicked at my knee, sending me staggering back, and the archers loosed another volley. One arrow missed entirely, but the other grazed my leg, leaving a shallow cut.
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I swung wildly, more to keep them at bay than to land a hit, but it wasn’t enough. They were closing in, and I was out of time.
And then I saw him.
A shadow moved in the trees, perched on one of the thick branches. His silhouette was barely visible, but his eyes glowed faintly, catching the light like embers.
The bandits froze, their attention snapping toward the figure.
“What the hell is that?” one of them muttered, his voice shaky.
The shadow figure didn’t answer. He didn’t move.
He just watched.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. The two archers, their bows now trained on the shadowy figure in the treetops, moved with tense precision.
“Don’t even think about it!” one of the bandits shouted, his voice shaking as he drew the string back.
The shadow didn’t flinch.
Before the bandit could release his arrow, two arrows flew from the treetops with uncanny speed, their fletching barely visible as they sliced through the air.
Both archers staggered backward, the arrows burying themselves deep into their chests. Blood spilled from their mouths as they collapsed onto the ground, lifeless.
The remaining two bandits screamed in rage, their weapons trembling in their hands.
“Get down here, coward!” one of them yelled, his voice cracking.
The shadow figure moved.
Effortlessly, he dropped from the tree, landing in the clearing with a practiced ease that made him look more predator than man. The faint glow of his eyes dimmed as he stepped into the firelight, revealing his face.
It was a man, young but weathered, with messy brown hair and sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything. He was dressed in muted greens and browns, his cloak blending perfectly with the forest around him.
He stood there, calm and composed, as if the two bandits screaming at him were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
“This is my forest,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“You’ll pay for that!” one of the bandits roared, charging forward with his sword raised.
The man didn’t move until the last second. Then, in one smooth motion, he reached for his hunting dagger.
His posture shifted, his body language changing as if he had activated some unseen switch.
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Ability Activated: Predator’s Instinct
Hand-to-hand and melee combat effectiveness significantly increased for 60 seconds.
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The charging bandit swung wildly, but the man ducked under the blade, his movements fluid and precise. He drove his dagger into the bandit’s side, twisting it before shoving him back with brutal efficiency.
The second bandit hesitated but screamed and lunged forward with his dagger.
The man sidestepped easily, grabbing the bandit’s wrist and slamming his elbow into the bandit’s face. Blood sprayed as the bandit’s nose broke, and he stumbled back, clutching his face.
Without hesitation, the man spun and delivered a sharp kick to the bandit’s knee, dropping him to the ground.
The first bandit, still clutching his side, tried to recover, but the man was faster. He moved in close, slamming his palm into the bandit’s wrist to disarm him, then drove the hilt of his dagger into the bandit’s temple. The bandit collapsed in a heap, unconscious.
The second bandit groaned on the ground, trying to crawl away, but the man stepped forward and pressed the blade of his dagger to the bandit’s neck.
“This is your last warning,” the man said coldly. “Run.”
The bandit didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and bolted into the forest, leaving his fallen comrades behind.
The man straightened, wiping the blood from his dagger before turning to face me and the farmer.
I stared at him, my mouth dry and my heart racing.
“You okay?” he asked, his tone softening as he looked at me.
“Who… who are you?” I managed to stammer.
He hesitated, his eyes scanning my face before settling on my rapier.
“Connor,” he said. “Connor Hayes. And you’re lucky I was here.”
The farmer finally found his voice, stepping forward cautiously. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Connor gave a faint smile, almost amused. “Not exactly.”
He turned his attention back to me, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “You’re not from around here, either, are you?”
I opened my mouth to respond but stopped. How could he know that?
Connor’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. “We’ll talk later. For now, let’s get this cart moving before anyone else shows up.”
I nodded, still too stunned to argue, and helped the farmer steady the mule as Connor retrieved his arrows from the fallen bandits.
Whoever this Connor was, one thing was clear: he was dangerous.
And maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what I needed to survive.
The farmer started muttering under his breath as we got the cart moving again, the mule trudging forward reluctantly. At first, I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but as the adrenaline of the fight wore off and the silence stretched, his words grew louder.
“This is what they send?” he grumbled, shaking his head. “A Bronze Rank with a fancy stick? Almost got us both killed!”
I felt my cheeks flush, my grip tightening on the rapier at my side. “I tried my best,” I said, though the words felt weak even as I said them.
“Your best nearly got me skewered,” the farmer snapped, his face red with frustration. “I hired a guard, not some—some child playing adventurer!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Connor cut in before I could.
“Enough,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “She held her ground. That’s more than most people would’ve done.”
The farmer huffed but didn’t argue further, his muttering falling to a sullen silence.
Connor turned to me, his sharp eyes softening slightly as he reached into a pouch at his side. He pulled out a small glass vial filled with a glowing green liquid.
“Here,” he said, holding it out.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking the vial hesitantly.
“Healing remedy,” Connor said. “Made it myself. Drink it.”
I glanced at the vial, then at him, and finally at the red warning still flashing in the corner of my vision: HP Low. Seek Healing Immediately.
Without another word, I uncorked the vial and downed the liquid in one go. It tasted sharp and herbal, like chewing on mint leaves mixed with something bitter, but the effect was immediate.
Warmth spread through my body, the pain in my arm and leg fading as if it had never been there. The red warning disappeared, replaced by a new message:
HP Restored: Full Health.
“Better?” Connor asked.
I nodded, still processing the sudden relief. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He gave a small nod, then turned his attention back to the road.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. The forest gave way to open fields as we approached the village, its stone walls and thatched roofs coming into view against the orange glow of the setting sun.
When we arrived, the farmer pulled the cart to a stop near the market square, hopping down with surprising agility for his age. He muttered a curt “wait here” before heading toward a merchant stall, leaving Connor and me by the cart.
“You alright?” Connor asked after a moment.
“I’ll live,” I said, glancing at him. “Though I’m pretty sure that farmer hates me.”
Connor smirked faintly. “Farmers tend to hate anyone they think isn’t useful. Don’t take it personally.”
Before I could respond, the farmer returned, shoving a small pouch of coins into Connor’s hand.
“Here,” he said gruffly. “For saving my hide. And hers.” He jerked his thumb in my direction, his tone making it clear he didn’t think I deserved much credit.
Connor accepted the pouch without comment, watching as the farmer climbed back onto the cart and drove it toward a nearby stable.
“Well,” I said, exhaling slowly. “That was humiliating.”
Connor glanced at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. “You need a drink.”
“What?” I blinked, caught off guard.
“There’s a tavern not far from here,” he said, motioning toward the village center. “Come on. I’ll buy you a round.”
I hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on me. A drink didn’t sound like a bad idea, especially after the disaster this escort quest had been.
“Alright,” I said finally. “Lead the way.”
Connor smirked faintly and started walking, his cloak trailing behind him. I followed, still trying to wrap my head around the strange turn my day had taken.
Who was this guy? And how the hell had he shown up exactly when I needed him most?
One thing was certain: I wasn’t letting him out of my sight.