Baron Oliver silently descended the escarpment, gesturing for his soldiers to prepare for the attack. The moon's glow barely lit their faces, but it was enough to sense the tension and expectation in the air. With a low, firm voice, the baron began to explain the strategy. He quickly informed them about the layout of the enemy camp, describing the position of the tents, the location of the campfires, and the bandits' patrol routes. He emphasized the importance of the element of surprise, as it would be key to their success. The soldiers, though young and inexperienced, listened attentively, their faces revealing a mix of nervousness and determination.

Noting their anxious expressions, the baron said, "Just follow your training. Pair up and form a crescent around the camp."

"You will approach silently and surround the camp from the high side of the depression," the baron instructed, pointing to the rocky formations encircling the area. "Move like shadows, without making a sound. Once you're in position, wait for my signal before attacking. Our objective is to capture as many of them as possible without raising an alarm. Use the element of surprise to subdue the bandits before they can react. Only kill if absolutely necessary."

He continued, detailing the importance of neutralizing the bandits furthest away first, to prevent them from alerting the rest of the group. "Each pair should advance in sync, moving from cover to cover. Avoid areas lit by the campfires and use the darkness to your advantage. When you attack, do it quickly and silently. Use immobilization techniques to take them down without drawing attention. Don't let them escape or call for help."

Before the soldiers took their positions, Baron Oliver called their attention once more and said in a motivating tone, "I will be observing each of you tonight. Those who demonstrate courage and skill will have the chance to become squires and, eventually, knights. Show me what you are capable of."

The baron's words brought a wave of excitement and renewed determination to the soldiers. Their eyes shone with a new intensity as they prepared for what could be a defining moment in their lives. The mission was not just a battle against bandits but an opportunity to prove their worth and earn the baron's recognition.

The soldiers nodded and the group moved away, keeping low and silent as they approached the bandits' camp. The sound of their boots on the soft snow was almost inaudible. When they got close enough, the baron raised his hand, signaling them to stop. They positioned themselves, hiding behind rocks and trees, their eyes fixed on the unsuspecting bandits who laughed and drank near the fire.

The sound of the bandits' laughter and the crackling of the fire grew louder, allowing the soldiers to hear their conversations. The camp was in a festive mood, with most of the bandits drinking from wooden mugs and chatting merrily. Some were reclining on fallen logs, while others played dice near the tents, from where occasional noises and murmurs emanated. The smell of roasted fish mixed with the smoke, creating an atmosphere of carefree revelry among the criminals.

One of the bandits, near the fire, said, "Hahaha, you should have seen the old man's face begging." Then, standing up slightly and gesturing exaggeratedly, he began a tearful imitation: "Please, please, you can take everything, just don't hurt her." He made a high-pitched, trembling voice, contorting his face into a mask of despair. Satisfied with the imitation, the bandit started to laugh, visibly drunk, almost spilling his drink as he swayed from side to side.

The bandit roasting fish, a young man with keen eyes and a serious expression, spoke in a soft voice with a tone of disapproval: "But you didn't have to kill him, Geof. The old man couldn't have stopped you from taking the girl." His immature voice revealed that he was a teenager, but his eyes showed deep discontent. He looked directly at Geof, his lips forming a thin line of reproach. "If you were really strong, you would have fought the caravan guards like the boss did, not killed a defenseless old man."

Geof responded, now directly to the bandit roasting the fish: "And what do you care about what I do or don't do, Adler?" Remembering that the kid had refused to attack the merchants, focusing only on stealing the goods, Geof raised his voice to almost a shout: "You know what? I'm sick of your cowardice, boy!" He stood up abruptly, spilling his mug on the ground, intending to fight the boy, but a muscular arm grabbed his elbow, stopping him mid-motion.

Geof yanked his arm, trying to break free, but the hand that held him was firm as an iron clamp. Angrily, he turned to yell at the man holding him, but his voice failed him upon recognizing the imposing figure restraining him.

A long silence was broken only by the crackling of the fire until a rough, firm voice said, "Go cool your head, Geof, and stop causing trouble." The muscular man who had grabbed Geof had an imposing appearance. His face was square and marked by a burn scar that ran from his neck to his collarbone, giving him an even more menacing air. His eyes were deep and full of authority, and his body, covered in defined muscles, evidenced years of battles and fights.

Geof, looking at him, had a flash of fear pass through his eyes for a second, before being replaced by anger. However, now the anger seemed more feigned, a mask to hide the true fear he felt before the man. With his face still contorted in anger, Geof said only, "Whatever," as he walked away from the fire, heading to the edge of the camp.

With each step away from the muscular man, Geof began muttering curses at the boy. At first, they were almost inaudible whispers: "Coward... stupid brat..." But as he distanced himself, the whispers turned into a normal voice, laden with frustration and resentment: "He's nothing but useless... As if he understood anything about fighting..." Geof continued grumbling, his voice echoing in the darkness as he walked.

With everyone in position, Baron Oliver carefully observed the bandits' camp. The celebratory atmosphere had increased after Geof was reprimanded, with the bandits laughing and drinking even more. The baron realized that this moment of distraction would be ideal for the attack, as the confusion and noise would cover the initial sounds of the assault. He raised his hand and gave the signal. The soldiers sprang into action, advancing silently like shadows.

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The first to be captured was Geof, who was on the edge of the camp, urinating and grumbling. He barely had time to react when two figures emerged from the shadows and took him down with a swift move. A strong hand covered his mouth while another struck his temple with a precise blow. Geof collapsed, unconscious, without making a sound.

The two soldiers continued advancing, leaving Geof unconscious on the ground. Other pairs of soldiers stealthily moved around the camp's perimeter, where they encountered two more bandits. The pairs of soldiers acted efficiently, using immobilization techniques learned in training.

The first bandit, surprised while dozing near a tent, was silenced with a chokehold. The second, who was on guard, met the same fate: a hand covered his mouth, and a knife approached his neck. As the bandit began to understand what was happening, a blow came directly to his head, rendering him unconscious. Although these moves generated some noise, it was not loud enough to alarm the entire camp.

However, the sound was enough to alert the muscular bandit with the burn scar, who was now sitting by the fire. He slowly stood up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness. The suspicious silence made him frown. Approaching to investigate, he called out to his comrades, including Geof, cursing at the lack of response: "Geof, you useless bastard! Where are you, you scum?" His rough, authoritative voice cut through the air, laden with impatience and suspicion, as he headed towards the edge of the camp, ready to discover what was happening.

When the scarred bandit neared the camp's edge, he was ambushed by two soldiers. Though taken by surprise, his combat experience allowed him to react quickly. He saw the first blow coming toward his head and managed to dodge in time. Angry at the attack, he retaliated with a powerful punch that struck the soldier square in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

The scarred bandit considered continuing the attack, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second soldier approaching. Even so, it was too late; the soldier managed to strike him with a strong blow to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him and almost making him fall backward.

Planting his feet firmly and breathing deeply, the scarred bandit stayed on his feet and drew a knife from his belt, intending to finish off the two men who had attacked him by surprise. The soldiers, realizing he would be a tough opponent, drew their swords. Seeing the gleam of the swords, the bandit hastily retreated a few steps while shouting, "Enemy attack!"

Shouts of surprise and alarm erupted from the bandits as they tried to defend themselves. Most were so drunk that they struggled to react quickly. Few managed to arm themselves with swords; most grabbed knives or anything that could serve as an improvised weapon.

The soldiers fought bravely, demonstrating their training by working together to subdue the enemies. Despite their lack of combat experience, they moved in a coordinated manner, covering each other and taking down their opponents with precision. Some of the drunker bandits fell easily with blunt blows, while others, less fortunate, were struck down with sword blows, never to wake again.

As the battle intensified, some nearly naked bandits emerged from the tents and joined the fight with shouts of anger. These men, with muscular bodies and scars indicating numerous battles, were visibly stronger and more skilled than those outside the tents. With agility and strength, they began to stabilize the battle, gathering a group of five bandits from the initial wave who managed to resist in a core near the fire. Altogether, there were nine bandits still standing, including the scarred bandit who positioned himself among them. This new formation, composed of experienced and fierce fighters, began to pose a significant threat to the soldiers.

The soldiers noticed the change in the battle's dynamics. Even with the initial element of surprise, they now faced a greater challenge. Baron Oliver, observing the entire fight from his strategic position, fixed his gaze on one of the men who had come out of the tents.

The bandit was short, with long, unkempt hair and beard, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance. His face was thin and angular, marked by scars that told stories of past battles. His eyes, a common brown, almost got lost under his thick, unruly eyebrows, which would easily make him blend into a crowd. At first glance, he seemed like an ordinary bandit, someone anyone would underestimate.

However, his deceptive appearance contrasted with his combat skill. With a sword in hand, his strikes were delivered with a combination of strength and precision, showing a technical mastery above average, though still below that of an experienced knight.

He wielded the sword with a dexterity indicating years of practice, alternating direct strikes with dodges and quick counterattacks. His fencing technique included subtle feints and sudden changes of direction, confusing the young soldiers. Even facing four soldiers at once, he always seemed a step ahead, anticipating their movements and responding with impressive speed.

Each attack was executed with meticulous precision, his hands firm and steady on the sword's hilt, while still having time to shout some orders to the other bandits. His performance in the fight was the only reason the bandits had not completely collapsed, keeping them in the fight.

And it was no wonder. When the baron directed some of the path energy to his eyes, he could clearly see the circulation of path energy in the bandit's body. The energy flowed frenetically, amplifying his physical abilities beyond what would be normal for someone of his constitution. The flow was intense, radiating a subtle light that outlined the bandit's muscles and veins, giving him superhuman strength and agility. Each movement seemed charged with this energy, making his blows more powerful and his reflexes faster.

However, the baron also noticed that the energy was largely dissipating. Small currents of energy were escaping from the bandit's body, dispersing into the air around him. This indicated that, although the bandit had reached the metamorphosis stage, he had not advanced much within this level.

This observation caused the baron astonishment. He knew it was very difficult to find someone of this caliber in such small groups of bandits. Usually, the metamorphosis stage was reserved for more experienced and trained warriors, belonging to large groups of bandits, knight orders, or structured armies. Seeing a common bandit, apparently without formal path training or significant resources, reach this stage was quite rare.

This event made the baron hesitate. In the blink of an eye, he pondered the situation. The purpose of the journey was to provide experience for the novice soldiers, so he did not intend to intervene in the combat. However, he did not expect to find someone at the metamorphosis stage among the bandits. At most, he imagined facing bandits who had trained up to the peak of the foundation stage.

For a brief moment, the baron weighed the risks and benefits of his intervention. He knew that intervening could compromise the valuable experience the soldiers were gaining. However, seeing the soldiers begin to retreat, breaking formation, he realized that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. The presence of the bandit at the metamorphosis stage was dangerously tipping the balance in favor of the bandits.

The sight of the soldiers, young and inexperienced, struggling to hold the line while being pushed back, made the baron make his decision. He recognized that learning came through experience, but not at the cost of his men's lives. With the determination to protect his soldiers and restore order in the battle, the baron stepped forward, ready to intervene.