Day 30
We finally arrived in Erisnow City, which sprawled and reached its way across the surface. Visible in all its stone might, miles from where we were sitting. What really set it off was the Gladiator Colosseum—a great grandstand where people would gather to watch battles rage as much as friendly sparring among adventurers.
The city also had free training grounds wherein anyone could hone up on their skills, though there's still an entrance fee. Luckily, as adventurers, Silvia and I received discount privileges, making it perfect to hone my amateurish swordsmanship. Silvia and I were inside the training grounds practicing sparring with wooden swords. Her attacks came at me full-blown; her strikes came out lightning-quick but controlled.
In spite of my parries and blocks, it was obvious that Silvia was not exactly aggressive about it. Her movements were fluid, almost like a play, where her moves tested my limits. Then, disaster. I was caught off guard for a second, and Silvia took advantage of it quickly. She struck a blow to my thigh, dropping me to my knee as a sharp, accurate hit buckled me.
"That was fun," she said offhand. "Don't let your guard down next time. Once you master parrying and blocking, I might teach you how to attack." "Ow…". I groaned, rubbing my thigh. Swordsmanship was far more challenging than hunting or archery. As I sat there catching my breath, a stray thought crept into my mind: If I could kill a skilled swordsman and absorb their abilities with my power, would it make all this easier?
This made me feel like I was cheating. For some, I considered people such as Silvia, who had invested all their sweat and labor just to improve themselves. Still, this is what I wished for, the power to be the strongest. So, why should I feel ashamed at making use of every ability I have? I owe nobody anything! Then, I got an idea. "Hey, Silvia!" I called. "Let's go bounty hunting tomorrow."
Day 31
Next on our list was a quest at the edge of the lawless frontier: Bounty Hunting. Bandit Captain Malker. For ten long years, the name and title went hand in hand with the forest bordering Erisnow City. People were taken, ransom paid, merchants ambushed, and thousands of caravans raided under the tenure of this Bandit Captain. What was most unbelievable about the entire story was how he managed not to get caught all these years. How the hell does a guy manage to do that?
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Rumors painted Malker as a near-mythical figure, his strength said to rival that of a B-Rank adventurer swordsman. Many had tried to take him down, but their attempts ended in tragedy—stories of blood-soaked ambushes and never-returning heroes whispered in the taverns of Erisnow. Still, one question nagged at me: If he's so dangerous, why hasn't any aristocrat's army taken him out?
The answer seemed obvious enough. Bandits like Malker did well in the mountainous, rough terrain, using guerrilla tactics to outmaneuver conventional forces. Armies, locked into rigid hierarchies and strategies, had little hope of cornering someone who knew the land better than they did. And besides, cities and trade routes were probably too important to risk in hunting down elusive bandits. They left that to adventurers like us—free agents willing to go where armies couldn't.
Of course, I didn't care about why this should be so. The wanted poster boasted a high price, dead or alive, and that was enough of an inducement. It would finance our quest and, with my abilities, make the best out of this hunting expedition. We adventurers, such as Silvia and I, were never tied down by red tape and bureaucratic formalities to obstruct swift motion and instant attacks.
Well, even if he's dead, the price pinned on his head won't change. I was still on my way to take his head and his power. The night was silent, except for the rustling of the leaves as we crept through the mountainous terrain, jumping soundlessly from tree to tree. And it grew cold, still growing colder as we approached the bandits' encampment. The wooden walls rose like a fortress in the forest.
When we reached a lookout over the camp, I signaled Silvia to stop as I assessed the scene below. What I saw was intimidating—a sprawling encampment full of people, almost a hidden village carved into the mountain. Fires blazed in primitive pits, lighting rows of crude huts and tents. There were nearly a hundred bandits, far too many to take on hand-to-hand. This was going to be tricky.
"We can't fight them head-on," I whispered to Silvia. "We're outnumbered, but if we pick them off one by one, we can thin their numbers. You take the guards on the perimeter. I'll handle those inside." She nodded, and a slight secret grin in the moonlight passed before me. Then she leaped off the tree and disappeared into the dark. Meanwhile, I took out the invisibility potion I prepared for this excursion.
I downed the potion in one gulp, and my shape shimmered out into the night. Silvia went out while I slid into the middle of the camp. I moved through them as silent as the night sky itself. One by one, I crept up on them, putting one hand over their mouths and plunging my knife through their throats. Each kill was so quick and deliberate that I threw their corpses like stones discarded over the walls to make sure no one stumbled over them.
With each life I took, the rush of power from my ability coursed through me. Their swordsmanship, strength, and battle instincts poured over mine, building upon it. I moved like a predator stalking powerless prey. When I reached the tents, several bandits were slumbering soundly. It was too easy. One by one, they met their silent end. Yet the silence didn't last.
A blaring horn broke the silence. Then came a panicked shout. "Intruders!" cried one of the bandits, his voice crashing through the camp. Someone must have found the bodies stacked outside. Chaos flared anew as those remaining bandits scrambled for their gear. There were less than thirty among them now, but they were alert and armed.