The moment stretched thin, and then the battle ignited like a spark in dry tinder.

"Kill that fucking kid!"

The first bandit moved with precision, not mindless fury. His rune-etched longsword crackled with icy energy as he swung it in a wide arc, aiming to freeze Xyenn in place. But Xyenn twisted his body just enough to avoid the strike, the cold edge of the blade hissing past his midsection.

With lightning precision, Xyenn's sword flashed upward, slicing through the bandit's wrist. The severed hand, still gripping the sword, spun through the air, trailing blood. The bandit screamed, clutching his stump, but Xyenn didn't give him time to react. He stepped in, driving his blade through the man's open mouth and out the back of his skull. Blood sprayed in all directions as the bandit's body collapsed, twitching violently on the snow.

Two bandits, coordinating, surrounded Xyenn. One slammed his rune-covered axe into the ground, summoning a jagged wall of ice that shot up to block Xyenn's retreat. The other, wielding a rapier enchanted with frost, lunged at him, aiming to skewer him through the ribs.

Xyenn didn't retreat. Instead, he charged forward, dodging the rapier's stab by a hair's breadth. He spun low under the thrust, slashing his sword across the rapier-wielder's legs, severing both at the knees in a single fluid motion. The bandit howled in agony, crashing to the ground in a spray of blood and bone.

Before the axe-wielder could react, Xyenn pivoted, using the ice wall as a springboard. He launched himself into the air, bringing his sword down in a deadly arc. The blade cleaved straight through the bandit's shoulder, splitting him down to the ribs. Blood burst from the wound, spraying across the ice as the man's body collapsed in two, eyes wide in shock.

Another bandit whipped out a chain with frost spikes, laced with draconic runes. He swung it expertly, sending the chain to entangle Xyenn's sword arm. The spikes dug into Xyenn's armor, freezing his arm in place.

"Got you now!" the bandit snarled, pulling hard, hoping to yank Xyenn off balance.

"Keep him there!"

But Xyenn didn't flinch. Instead, he yanked back with terrifying force, pulling the bandit off his feet. In a fluid motion, Xyenn swung his sword with his free hand, severing the bandit's head clean from his shoulders. The decapitated body hit the snow with a wet thud, the blood freezing almost instantly on the frost-covered chain.

Three bandits used their snow enchanted weapons to summon spears of ice from the ground, launching them at Xyenn with deadly precision. The spears whistled through the air, aiming to impale him from all sides.

Xyenn sidestepped the first spear, deflecting the second with a quick flick of his sword. The third spear grazed his shoulder, tearing through his armor and leaving a trail of blood. Pain flared, but Xyenn didn't slow down. He threw himself forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat.

The first bandit barely had time to raise his sword before Xyenn's blade was upon him. A single slash cleaved through the bandit's neck, sending his head spinning into the air, blood gushing in a wide arc.

The second bandit screamed and swung his mace, but Xyenn ducked under the blow and drove his sword through the man's chest. He twisted the blade viciously, spilling the bandit's guts onto the snow before yanking his sword free in a spray of red.

Xyenn grinned, "What's the matter…? I can smell your fear.."

He remembered when he used to get kicked around by Those bandits and knights and they would say the same thing: "Haha! Look at his eyes! He's scared shitless!"

That made Xyenn smile even more.

"Stolen dragon mana infused weapons. You guys are pathetic.." He said with a grinning snarl.

One of the bandits, wielding a staff of ice, slammed it into the ground, summoning a localized snowstorm that swirled around him and his comrades. The storm obscured Xyenn's vision, making it impossible to see where the next attack would come from.

Suddenly, a flail swung out of the storm, its spiked head crackling with icy energy. Xyenn barely dodged, the flail smashing into the ground beside him, sending shards of ice and snow into the air. Another bandit lunged from the left, swinging a frost-dagger at Xyenn's throat.

Xyenn leaned back, the dagger's edge missing him by less than an inch. He spun around, decapitating the flail-wielder with a single, brutal slash. The headless body collapsed into the snow, blood splattering across the white ground.

The dagger-wielder tried to press the attack, but Xyenn was faster. He sidestepped the next strike and drove his sword down into the man's chest, splitting him open from collarbone to hip. Blood poured out, steaming in the cold air as the bandit's body crumpled to the ground.

One bandit, perched above on a ledge, used his rune-imbued warhammer to smash the ice above. With a roar, he triggered an avalanche of snow and ice, hoping to bury Xyenn alive.

Snow cascaded down like a tidal wave, but Xyenn didn't run. He sprinted into the avalanche, moving faster than the falling snow. He leaped off a crumbling boulder, launching himself at the hammer-wielding bandit before the man could react.

"H-He ran into the storm?!"

Xyenn's sword plunged into the bandit's chest, pinning him to the cliffside. The bandit gasped, blood foaming from his mouth as his eyes widened in disbelief. Xyenn twisted the blade, and the bandit's ribcage exploded outward in a shower of blood and bone, his corpse hanging limply from the cliff. Xyenn looked into his eyes, smiling the entire time.

A bandit wielding a sword of pure frost lunged at Xyenn with wild, precise strikes, each blow aimed to freeze and shatter his bones. Xyenn parried the first strike, their swords locking in mid-air, the sound of clashing steel ringing out like a bell.

The bandit grinned, thinking he had Xyenn trapped. He channeled snow magic through his sword, sending a wave of frostbite energy down the blade toward Xyenn's hands, intending to freeze them solid.

Xyenn saw the shift in the bandit's stance and reacted instantly. He twisted his sword, breaking the lock, and drove his knee into the bandit's gut. The man doubled over with a grunt, and Xyenn brought his sword down in a vicious, vertical slash that split the bandit's body in half from skull to groin. Blood and viscera sprayed in every direction as the two halves of the man's corpse fell to the ground with a sickening squelch.

Xyenn laughed, "Anymore?! Huh?!"

Two bandits summoned frost wolves, spectral beasts that snarled and snapped as they charged at Xyenn, their icy bodies trailing cold mist. One of the bandits, wielding a scythe, came at Xyenn from behind, hoping to strike while the wolves distracted him.

Xyenn didn't hesitate. As the first wolf lunged at him, he sidestepped and brought his sword down in a brutal, one-handed swing. The blade cleaved through the wolf's head, shattering its icy form into a blast of cold mist. He spun on his heel just as the scythe came down, catching the blade on the flat of his sword.

With a roar, he shoved the scythe aside and thrust his sword into the bandit's abdomen, driving the blade upward until it pierced the man's heart. The bandit gasped, blood pouring from his mouth as he crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the snow.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Three of the remaining bandits formed a triangle, their rune-swords raised high as they channeled their magic, sending a barrage of ice spikes hurtling toward Xyenn.

"This kid…he's killed over 3 dozen of our comrades!"

Another one added, "And he's smiling about it..I knew this was a bad idea!"

"He's not like the other travelers we robbed and killed..let's bail out!"

"No! We're not running!"

The spikes were razor-sharp, glinting in the pale light as they flew toward him with deadly intent.

Xyenn moved like a ghost, weaving between the spikes with inhuman speed. One grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, but he didn't slow down. He closed the distance in a flash, his sword slashing out with terrifying precision.

He decapitated the first bandit with a single strike, blood spraying into the air in a crimson arc. The second tried to raise his sword in defense, but Xyenn's blade was faster, slicing through his throat in a clean, horizontal cut. The third bandit barely had time to scream before Xyenn drove his sword through his chest, pinning him to the ground in a spray of blood.

The last few bandits, realizing they were no match for Xyenn, tried to flee. But Xyenn wasn't about to let them escape. He sprinted after them, his sword flashing as he cut them down one by one.

One bandit, wielding a frost-enchanted spear, turned to face him, thrusting the weapon toward Xyenn's heart. Xyenn sidestepped the attack, caught the spear twisted, and launched it back at the bandit, and it pierced through his chest; and Xyenn brought his sword down in a brutal arc, severing the man's arm at the elbow. The bandit screamed, clutching the bloody stump, but Xyenn didn't give him a chance to recover. He drove his sword through the bandit's chest, the blade bursting out through his back in a spray of blood.

The last bandit fell to his knees, blood pouring from a deep gash in his side. He stared up at Xyenn, terror in his eyes.

"Please... no more..." he gasped, his voice weak and filled with fear.

Xyenn's expression was cold and unfeeling. He raised his sword one last time, bringing it down in a swift, brutal motion. The blade cleaved through the bandit's neck, sending his head spinning into the air, blood gushing from the severed stump.

The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the soft hiss of the wind and the quiet drip of blood onto the snow.

…

Xyenn sat on the pile of mutilated corpses, his breathing steady, though his body was drenched in blood—both his own and that of the now-dead bandits. The cold wind howled through the narrow mountain pass, carrying with it the metallic tang of death, the snow beneath him stained dark red. His sword still rested in his hand, the blade dripping with the remains of those who had fallen under its edge.

The bodies beneath him were a grotesque tapestry of death. Some faces were locked in expressions of terror, eyes wide, mouths agape in their final moments. Others had been mangled beyond recognition, their skulls caved in, throats slit, or torsos split open. One bandit's face was frozen in a permanent scream, his lips peeled back over broken teeth, eyes bulging out of his head. Another had his lower jaw severed, his tongue hanging limply from the gaping hole where his mouth had once been. Arms and legs were twisted at impossible angles, bones jutting out from torn flesh, blood pooling in the crevices between the corpses. The snow, once pristine, was now a canvas of gore—blood, guts, and shattered bone scattered everywhere.

Xyenn sat at the top of this mountain of death, his posture eerily relaxed, almost regal. His back straight, legs draped over the twisted body of a decapitated bandit, his sword resting lazily across his lap. His head tilted slightly downward, a malicious smile creeping across his face. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes, though. His gaze was distant, as if lost in thought, reflecting on everything that had brought him here.

In the silence, Xyenn began to remember. The memories came rushing back, unbidden.

He remembered the days when he was powerless. When he had no strength, no means to defend himself. The days when the knights of the kingdom—or worse, the roving bandits—would kick him, beat him, rob him, and laugh at his weakness. They treated him like dirt, something beneath them, something they could discard at will. He had no way to fight back, no way to resist. He was a victim. A nobody.

His smile widened for a moment, his sharp teeth showing as he sat there atop the pile of the dead, savoring the thought. These bandits, these killers, they had suffered at his hand. He had been the one to end them. The weak boy they could once push around had now destroyed them, left them broken and bleeding, their bodies discarded like trash beneath him. His chest swelled with a dark sense of satisfaction.

But as the memories continued to surface, as he remembered the countless times he had been beaten down, robbed, and left with nothing, the smile on his face began to fade. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. The wind picked up, blowing strands of his blood-soaked hair across his face. His grip on the sword tightened until his knuckles turned white. The smile fell away completely.

For a long moment, Xyenn sat there in silence, staring down at the corpses beneath him. The wind continued to howl, but he could hear nothing but the echoes of his past. The laughter of the knights. The sneers of the bandits. The pain of being powerless.

Then, in the quiet, he remembered the present. The blood. The screams. The way the bandits had fallen one by one, their lives snuffed out by his hand. His lips twitched, and slowly, almost involuntarily, the smile returned. He rose to his feet atop the pile of bodies, the crunch of bones beneath his boots barely audible over the wind. He looked down at the dead, his face twisted in a mixture of satisfaction and something darker.

"That serves you right!" he shouted into the wind, his voice raw with sudden emotion. "Stupid bandits! Serves you right…" He calmed down.

His voice echoed through the pass, bouncing off the snowy cliffs and dying in the distance. He stood there, breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his fists clenched tight around the hilt of his sword. The smile faded again, and his expression grew grim. His fists clenched harder, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain.

The wind howled again, and Xyenn sighed, his breath visible in the cold air. His mind raced, his thoughts spiraling inwards. 'I enjoyed that… does that make me evil? Evil like those dragon gods?

He had never killed before today. He had never taken a life. The weight of it sat heavy on his shoulders now, a creeping sense of unease settling over him.

But then he remembered what these bandits had done. They had killed. They had stolen. They had taken lives—innocent lives. They had deserved this. They had earned it. And yet, it still felt… strange. Unsettling. His mind warred with itself, trying to reconcile the satisfaction of revenge with the cold reality of death.

He shook his head, his grip loosening on his sword. He wasn't wrong. He couldn't be. They had deserved it.

'I'm not wrong. They deserved it. I'll kill more if I have to. It's only right. I'm saving lives, aren't I? Yeah, I am. Those who act like those draconic deities don't deserve to live. But why does it feel so weird? I caused all of this? Is this normal thoughts? I'll ask Mertha or Yuuna later.'

Just as he exhaled deeply, trying to rid himself of the lingering doubts, the sound of soft footsteps on snow caught his attention. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

Perched on the thick branch of a snow-covered tree high above him were four figures, each draped in armor that gleamed in shades of light blue, white, and dark blue—a stark contrast to the blood-soaked scene below. These were no mere bandits. Their armor was intricate, with jagged, icy designs etched into the metal, and their presence commanded attention.

The first to speak was a man with short, frosted hair and a cocky grin, golden white colored ehes. His armor shimmered with the faintest blue light, and a long halberd rested casually across his shoulders. "Aww, he killed them before we got to them," he said, his tone almost playful, but there was an edge to it, a hint of malice.

Another figure, a massive man with a shaved head and a thick fur cloak, chuckled deeply. His voice was gravelly as if his throat had been frozen over. "He's just a kid though," he said with a smirk. "Oh well. I killed my first bandit when I was four." His massive hands rested on the hilt of a warhammer, the weapon crackling with barely-contained frost magic.

The third figure, a woman with long, silver hair tied in a braid, dark blue eyes, sighed, her arms crossed over her chest. Her twin daggers glinted in the pale light, their blades glowing faintly with rune magic. "What a mess. I was looking forward to testing my blades," she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance. She glanced down at Xyenn with an appraising look. "But I suppose the kid has some skill."

The last figure, a lithe man with sharp features and a bow slung across his back, chuckled softly. His armor was darker than the others, a deep blue that almost blended into the shadows. "He's got blood on his hands now. No going back from that," he said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But I wonder... does he even know what he's gotten himself into?"

Xyenn's eyes flicked between the four of them, his muscles tensing. These weren't ordinary soldiers. There was something else about them—something dangerous. He could feel it in the way they moved, the way they spoke, the way they seemed to radiate cold, controlled power.

"He's the one who killed the patrol, huh?" The halberd-wielder spoke again, his grin widening as he leaned forward, balancing on the branch with ease. "Guess we should've gotten here sooner. Those bandits were using stolen armor and weapons. Our armor."

The woman shrugged, her eyes still locked on Xyenn. "Doesn't matter now. Looks like the boy took care of them. He's pretty cute too."

The one with the warhammer snorted, his breath visible in the cold air. "Yeah, but now he's got our attention."

In the blink of an eye, all four of them disappeared from the branch, dashing through the snow with blinding speed. They surrounded Xyenn, their movements so precise, so calculated, he barely had time to register it.

Their eyes bored into him as they stood in a loose circle, weapons raised, ready—waiting.

"So," the halberd-wielder asked, his grin never fading. "Who the hell are you, kid?"