“Y-y-you…” Orben’s panicked voice cracked as he found himself on the ground, scrambling backward through the gritty dirt.

What had been a peaceful caravan journey moments ago had twisted into a nightmare—a massacre unfolding in mere minutes. He had been chatting with Pelemor, one of the mercenaries he hired. But now, that same Pelemor lay dying, a blade plunged through his chest, his screams drowned by the blood filling his mouth.

“Y-you’re part of the Klamor b-b-bandits,” Orben stammered, his voice trembling with terror.

The burly man in front of him, just a few meters away, casually yanked the blood-soaked blade out of Pelemor’s chest. The sickening slosh of blood and severed tendons echoed down the dirt road. “What gave it away?” the man sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Why?! All I’m trading is simple grain and wheat! There’s nothing valuable for you to take here! Why?” Orben shouted, desperation rising.

He wasn’t lying. His caravan carried nothing of significant worth. Wheat, vegetables, grains—basic supplies meant for Bardine, a small town on the outskirts of Karemere. Commissioned by a city official in Talo, Orben had been tasked with delivering much-needed aid. Bardine, a coastal port city, relied heavily on fish for sustenance, but crops like rice, wheat, and other grains were scarce. Despite being by the ocean, the town’s soil was poor, unfit for farming. There was no grand treasure to plunder here—only food for people in need.

"Too bad for you, I guess," the bandit leader said with a wry chuckle, his tone disturbingly casual. It was clear he didn’t care in the slightest. His nonchalant demeanor made the slaughter seem like just another part of his day—hardly a task worth noticing. "We saw a caravan with some guards, so… why not? You lose your lives, and we lose a few minutes of our time. 'Sides, if you can afford six mercenaries, even if they're F-tier trash, you’ve gotta have something worth taking."

Behind him, four bandits began to approach. They varied in size and build. One was a female archer with a steel-reinforced bow strapped to her back. Beside her, a short, round man, likely a dwarf, carried two short daggers. There was also a tall, lean figure with an iron sword hanging at their waist, and lastly, an average-sized individual whose face was completely obscured, making it difficult to tell their race or gender. They were unarmed, yet their presence felt just as menacing as the others.

"Loot 'em, boys," the bandit leader commanded with a dismissive wave, not even glancing at his crew.

"Not a boy, Jakk," the female archer shot back, her voice sharp with irritation. "How many times are you going to keep saying that?"

Jakk, the supposed leader’s name, rolled his eyes, though no one behind him could see. "It's just a damn figure of speech. How many times do we have to go through this?" he snapped, clearly annoyed by the interruption. Without further comment, he turned his gaze back to Orben, who was still trembling on the ground.

Orben’s heart raced as he watched the bandits begin rifling through the bodies of his dead companions, their indifferent movements only heightening his terror.

“So, you wanna do this the hard way, or the murder way? Either works for me,” Jakk said with an unsettling grin. "You either give me everything you have, or tell me where it is, and then I kill you. Or... I kill you and find it myself." He flicked his sword, sending a splatter of blood across the ground in a sharp, deliberate line. "And if you pick the second option, I won’t be very happy."

Orben stood trembling, legs barely holding him up. He had never encountered anything like this—a group of ruthless bandits with no interest in bargaining, no intention of sparing his life. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just a simple supply merchant. Bandits? Sure, but not like this. His fingers clenched until his knuckles turned white as regret consumed him. He never should have taken this commission.

“I-I…” Orben’s throat tightened, his voice refusing to obey. What could he possibly do? His mercenaries lay dead in front of him, and Jakk had no reason to let him live. Beg? Run? Tell them everything and hope for a quick death? His mind raced, searching for a way out, but there was none.

“Come on, old man. I’m getting a tad impatient here,” Jakk warned, his tone growing cold.

“F-fine. M-my gold is—” Orben’s voice faltered.

Everything stopped.

The bandits, who had been rummaging through the pockets of the dead mercenaries, froze mid-action. Heads jerked up, ears alert, eyes wide with sudden tension. Jakk stilled as well, his once-smug expression replaced by a narrowed gaze, every muscle in his body on edge.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Stomp.

Stomp.

STOMP.

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A low, rhythmic sound echoed through the air, growing louder with each step. Something was coming.

Bursting through the treeline came a towering skeleton, clad in bone armor, wielding a massive white sword that scraped the ground like an iron bar. The sheer size of the skeleton dwarfed even Jakk, who was considered tall by human standards. Its bone feet pounded the earth with thunderous stomps, sending tremors through the ground as it charged with terrifying speed.

All eyes—bandits and Orben alike—snapped toward the approaching figure. The skeleton, with a chilling focus, aimed directly at Jakk.

With only seconds to react, Jakk swiftly pivoted, his body instinctively falling into a combat stance. His brow furrowed in concentration, muscles tensing as he gripped his sword with both hands, blade angled slightly to his right. His surprise at the skeleton's sudden appearance was fleeting; within moments, his demeanor shifted to one of razor-sharp readiness.

The other bandits scrambled to ready their weapons, but it was too late. The skeleton had already closed the distance, its massive blade swinging in a wide arc straight toward Jakk.

Although slow and obvious, telegraphed—in all sense of the word, the attack still seemed to hold devastating weight behind it. Jakk’s eyes narrowed, and with a precise movement, he lifted his own blade, meeting the white sword mid-swing. Metal clashed with bone, and Jakk twisted his wrists in one smooth motion, sliding his blade down the length of the skeleton’s weapon. With expert timing, he redirected the momentum, both swords slamming into the ground with a deafening crash.

For a moment, the air hung heavy, the clash of forces sending a small ripple through the dirt road.

A grunt escaped Jakk’s mouth, but he remained silent—there was nothing worth saying. His eyes locked onto the skeleton for a brief moment, wondering why such a powerful undead had appeared in this normally peaceful forest. This was no ordinary skeleton; it moved with precision and held a sword as if trained in combat. Maybe it was mana-corrupted, or perhaps, a monster with a core—its enhanced bone structure, reinforced limbs, and the small white buckler it carried were too sophisticated for a typical undead.

Jakk’s bandits held their weapons in loose, wary grips, unsure of whether to intervene. Their leader had just deflected a sneak attack with apparent ease, and they knew better than to jump in unless absolutely necessary. The skeleton’s size and menace didn’t seem to faze Jakk; if anything, it had ignited a fierce determination in him.

Without overthinking the situation, Jakk launched his next move. His right leg shot forward with brutal force, his foot slamming into the skeleton’s sternum with a bone-crunching impact.

From his spot on the ground, Orben watched in stunned disbelief. The entire exchange had happened so quickly—one moment, a massive skeleton was charging, and the next, Jakk had deflected its blow with enough power to leave a crater beneath their feet. But now, seeing the bandit leader deliver a powerful kick to the monster's chest, Orben couldn’t help but shake his head.

There was no way that was going to work. The skeleton looked like it easily weighed over 500kg in bone mass alone. How could a mere kick have any effect?

Wind exploded from the point of impact as Jakk's powerful kick landed. The sheer force of it sounded like a steel door slamming shut, and the ground cracked beneath the skeleton's feet. The massive creature was sent skidding back several meters, losing its balance and tumbling across the ground, dragging dirt and leaves with it. Its over-sized sword fell with a heavy thud, abandoned as the skeletal monstrosity rolled, eventually coming to a stop.

Despite the ferocity of the hit, the skeleton wasted no time. Slowly, it stood back up, bones clicking back into place. It met Jakk’s gaze, seeing the smirk on his face. Jakk, now holding the giant white bone sword, had discarded his own weapon in favor of this new prize. He tested its weight, clearly impressed.

“Well, ain’t this my lucky day. Free caravan, and a free monster core,” he chuckled, not a hint of concern in his voice.

Though heavy, the bone sword was manageable for Jakk, its solid structure more suited for bludgeoning than slicing. He swung it experimentally and sneered. "Come on, stupid skeleton. Let’s see what’s stronger—this sword or your bones."

With a taunt on his lips, Jakk charged forward, the massive bone blade raised, aiming to crush the skeletal warrior. The skeleton had no weapon now, only a small buckler in its hand, seemingly defenseless against the oncoming strike. Yet, it raised its fist, preparing for a direct counter.

Just as Jakk swung, intending to shatter his opponent, a sudden tremor shook the ground. The earth vibrated violently, and a pained scream erupted from behind him. The sound sliced through the chaos, pulling his focus away. Startled, Jakk stomped hard to halt his own momentum, narrowly avoiding a mistimed clash with the skeleton’s incoming fist.

The skeleton’s punch swung through the air, missing its target entirely as Jakk had abruptly stopped mid-charge. Both combatants found themselves off-balance for a split second, but the piercing scream continued to echo, turning Jakk’s attention toward the source of the disturbance. It was a voice that Jakk recognized.

“Lile!” Jakk roared, spinning around so fast he almost lost his balance. The skeleton monster was forgotten, all of Jakk’s attention now focused on the swordsman named Lile. His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight—a large, jagged white spike had erupted from the ground, its surface slick with dripping crimson. Blood slid down its length, pooling on the forest floor.

Lile lay screaming on the ground, his leg completely severed at the knee. His wide eyes stared down at the stump where his leg had been, blood gushing out uncontrollably. He writhed in agony, torn between clutching at the stump or simply howling in pain. Beside him, Greeve knelt, gripping Lile's shoulder, desperately trying to calm him, though his efforts were useless.

“What the hell?!” Jakk’s voice ripped through the forest, raw with fury. His eyes were wild, darting around the clearing, scanning every inch of the scene—the skeleton, the bandits, even Orben, who was now cowering behind a tree. None of it made sense. The skeleton hadn’t done this. There was another enemy here.

Someone else. Jakk’s mind raced, adrenaline pumping as his gaze swept the area. Who?! Who was it?! His heart pounded in his chest, veins bulging, muscles coiled like springs ready to snap.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ZiLMGqb.png]

“Nice shot, kid. I can hear his voice from here. Now, when that archer raises their bow, do it again,” came a rasping, hollow voice.

Hidden deep within the trees, far from the chaotic clearing, Enya crouched under a dense bush, eyes glowing with fierce concentration. The color yellow burned with intensity inside the brush, as mana flowed through her. She felt it surge, completing the spell frame in her palm. With deliberate, calculative care, she aimed her next attack, breath steady as she waited for the next opportunity to arise.