At that moment, the fight between the group of bandits and the soldiers abruptly stopped. Everyone, whether soldier or bandit, was in a state of shock, their eyes fixed on the brutal scene unfolding before them. The fierce bandit Ebruk, who had resisted the soldiers' attacks so tenaciously for so long, was now being completely subdued by Baron Oliver. The surprise on the faces of the soldiers and bandits was palpable, none of them could believe that the bandit was being defeated so easily, without even managing to land a single blow against the baron.
Ebruk was kneeling on the ground, despair and pain clearly visible in his expressions. He cried and screamed, tears mixing with the sweat streaming down his face as he tried in vain to free his arm, which was bent unnaturally due to the baron's relentless grip. The sound of bones breaking echoed through the camp, contrasting with the baron's impassive face, sending a chill down the spine of all who watched. The intense pain and the sight of his adversary's unwavering face made Ebruk increasingly paranoid. He reached the point of drooling while crying, with snot running from his nose, completely overwhelmed by fear and pain.
Tired of Ebruk's incessant screams, the baron delivered a quick punch, as fast as lightning, creating afterimages for most of those watching. The impact was devastating, Ebruk's jaw broke instantly, sending a small jet of blood and teeth that stained the snow on the ground red. The blood formed abstract patterns in the snow, starkly contrasting with the pure white around. Ebruk's tongue hung out of his now-deformed mouth as he fell unconscious, motionless on the ground, with no sign of remaining resistance. The momentary silence that followed was filled only with the sound of the crackling fire.
Turning his attention forward, Baron Oliver saw his exhausted soldiers, three of them on the ground, bloodied. Before the baron's arrival, the soldiers were beaten and hopeless, their expressions revealing exhaustion and the lack of prospects in the desperate situation. However, now, with the baron's imposing presence, their countenances changed. A new spirit spread among them, and the determination to subdue the bandits resurfaced with renewed strength.
The baron also observed the bandits, whose expressions ranged from astonishment to anger. Most of the bandits, furious and surprised by Ebruk's fall, were preparing to attack. However, only the bandit leader and two others showed fear, their eyes fixed on the baron as if they saw something that the others could not perceive. The leader, in particular, had wide-open eyes, frozen by a terror that only he seemed to fully understand.
The baron smiled and, with a firm and authoritative voice, said, "Drop your weapons and surrender now." His words sounded like an unquestionable command, imbued with an authority that allowed no refusal. The tone of his voice made it clear that disobedience would bring severe and inevitable consequences, echoing the certainty of relentless punishment for anyone who dared to defy his order.
Hearing these words, some of the bandits began to curse, protesting against surrender. However, the two bandits who had previously shown fear began to regain some confidence. Though they did not join in the cursing, their expressions changed to a silent determination, ready to follow any order from the leader. He, on the other hand, remained in a trance, static, his eyes still fixed on the baron, unable to break free from the fear that paralyzed him. The tension in the air was palpable, with everyone awaiting the leader's next move, who, immersed in his terror, seemed to see something in the baron that his subordinates and the soldiers could not perceive.
Breaking out of the fear-induced trance, the bandit leader began to hear the voices of his subordinates, calling to him insistently. They noticed the strangeness in their leader's expression, worried about the paralysis he was displaying in front of the baron. Only when he heard the anguished calls of his men did he manage to break the fear that dominated him.
"All of you, attack him, I'll block the soldiers so they can't escape!" ordered the bandit leader, his voice trembling slightly but with fierce urgency. He gestured violently, pointing at the baron with renewed determination. "Let's go! Advance now!"
Receiving the order, half of the bandits immediately advanced, already eager to attack. "Let's finish him!" shouted one of the bandits, brandishing his sword fervently. "Die!" exclaimed another, running towards the baron with an expression of unbridled fury. The desire for revenge and the need to prove their worth were etched on their faces, with smiles of excitement and eyes hungry for combat.
On the other hand, the other half of the bandits hesitated, disobeying the leader's order. Their expressions varied between uncertainty and fear. "Did you see what he did to Ebruk?" murmured one of the bandits, eyes wide with dread. "I'm not throwing myself in front of that monster," said another, slowly retreating. They looked at the baron with a mixture of fear and respect, recognizing his superiority and feeling powerless in the face of the situation. The bandit leader, noticing the hesitation in his ranks, frowned but could not dispel the shadow of fear that still haunted him.
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With the baron's presence inspiring confidence in his men, the soldiers resumed their attack with renewed vigor. Determination was visible on their faces, each blow struck with strength. They focused on the bandit leader and the three others who had not advanced to confront the baron. The soldiers' offensive, however, only managed to put the bandit leader on the defensive. Despite the pressure of the attacks, he moved deftly, blocking and dodging skillfully, without showing signs of being in immediate danger.
The leader of the bandits, although maintaining his defensive position against the soldiers, couldn't take his eyes off the battle between the baron and the bandits who had advanced on him. His gaze continuously darted to the baron, worry etched on his face. Every move of the baron was followed with intense concentration, his thoughts clearly dominated by the unfolding fight.
The bandit leader's concern grew with each passing moment. His nervousness was palpable, reflected in the sweat streaming down his forehead and the slight widening of his eyes with each strike from the baron. Even while defending against the soldiers' attacks, his mind was divided, part of him completely absorbed by the confrontation between the baron and his men.
Seeing the five bandits running towards him, the baron frowned and decided to act swiftly. With a clear intention to destabilize his enemies, he ran towards the center of the group, his body moving with surprising speed.
Upon contact, the baron dodged two sword strikes and one dagger thrust with incredible ease, his movements fluid and precise. Entering the midst of the five bandits, he left them stunned, unable to react adequately to the speed of his attacks. Each of the baron's movements was calculated, and the brutality of his blows was devastating.
From that point on, the fight became one-sided. The first bandit received a punch to the stomach so powerful that he fell to his knees, vomiting blood. The second had his leg broken by a low kick, his scream of pain echoing across the battlefield. The third was sent flying through the air with a punch to the chest, falling to the ground, likely on the verge of death.
The last two bandits, seeing their companions fall one by one, tried to coordinate their attacks. Four blows were struck in rapid succession, but the baron dodged them all with agile and graceful movements. The fifth strike, a dagger, was firmly caught by the baron. Keeping control of the bandit's arm, he twisted it with relentless force, making the bandit scream in pain before being stabbed with his own dagger.
The final bandit, witnessing the swift and brutal downfall of his comrades, dropped his weapon and knelt on the ground, begging for mercy. "Please, don't kill me!" he pleaded, his body trembling with fear. The baron looked at him with contempt, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Coward," the baron muttered before delivering a powerful kick that sent the bandit flying backward, landing unconscious on the ground.
"Come on, keep the pressure!" shouted one of the soldiers, trying to break the concentration of the bandit leader. But the leader barely heard, so fixated was he on the scene of the baron dominating his men. Each agile and brutal movement of the baron seemed to increase the leader's anxiety, who began to envision the inevitable outcome.
Seeing that the baron had managed to subdue his subordinates with terrifying ease, the bandit leader decided that fleeing was his only option. Desperate, he threw one of the three bandits beside him towards the soldiers, using him as a distraction to try to escape. The bandit, surprised, fell in the midst of the soldiers' formation, managing to block only one blow before cursing the bandit leader for his betrayal. He was then struck by two more sword blows, which ultimately killed him.
The distraction worked for a brief moment, but two more attentive soldiers quickly acted. They advanced skillfully and managed to wound the bandit leader with sword strikes as he tried to flee. The first blow struck his back at shoulder height, tearing and penetrating deeply into the flesh, eliciting a scream of pain from the leader. The second strike, a bit lower, cut across his back, tearing muscles and opening a wound that immediately began to bleed profusely.
Despite his injuries, the leader kept running, leaving a small trail of blood with each step. His body ached, and the blood flowed, staining the path he took, but fear and the instinct for survival pushed him onward.
In the background, he could still hear the voices of the last two standing bandits, cursing him for his escape. "Miserable traitor!" shouted one of them, anger evident in his voice. "Are you going to leave us to die?" screamed the other, desperate. But the bandit leader, blinded by terror, ignored the curses, focused solely on escaping with his life.
The last two bandits, now in a desperate situation, also tried to flee. But the soldiers, prepared for this outcome, pressed their attack, preventing the escape. The soldiers' offensive was swift and efficient, and they soon managed to subdue the remaining two bandits. They were now on the ground, with several bloody cuts, screaming for mercy, their voices laden with fear.
At this moment, the baron reached where his fallen soldiers were. He knelt beside them, his forehead furrowed with concern. Upon examining the wounded, he realized that two of them were in very grave condition. One of the standing soldiers appeared at his side, his face a mixture of exhaustion, shame, anger, and determination.
Taking a deep breath, the soldier spoke with extreme respect, "My lord, what are your orders? Should we go after the one who fled?"
The baron stood up and looked at the trail of blood and footprints left by the bandit leader in his escape. "That won't be necessary..." he said, turning his gaze to the soldier. "Use some branches and tent fabric to make some stretchers to tie to the horses. Burn the bodies of the dead bandits, tie up those who survived, and search the camp."
The soldier nodded and went to inform the others of the new orders. The baron looked again at the blood trail left by the bandit leader and thought, "If you manage to escape Girma exhausted and with these injuries, it means Komuchiutsu favors you and guides you away from death's beak."