It came as a surprise to me how deep the rot of corruption ran through the land. When you sit on a throne of skulls, the minor struggles of the weakest barely registered. Now breathing it and struggling to live it, it came as no surprise that so many Heroes faltered. They were fighting uphill the whole way.

Time had passed along the trail, and the drizzled sky had softened to just a mild overcast attempt to gloom our new adventure. Surely, I was thankful for the lack of radiating sun to make the journey unpleasant for me, but the drab inevitability had put a damper on the Party’s mood. We had sat in morose silence, save for Basil indicating the first turn-off point.

Now we were headed into the forest proper - and while the road was rough and irregularly maintained - it was a smooth enough route. On both sides, trees grew up and covered most of the road with their muted green canopy to create a shadowed tunnel. Perhaps it would look beautiful in the right season and with less dramatic destination in tow.

“Something’s ahead,” Jakob grunted as he narrowed his eyes.

I sat up and straightened to look ahead. While the distant pathway was shaded over, save for the scant beams of grey light from gaps in the tree cover, the Ranger had exceptional vision. Now I could pick it up too, as the wagon rolled clearer - a shape lying in the middle of the road.

“Jakob,” I turned to him with a frown, “combat target priority?”

“Healers, magic users, and ranged combatants.”

I nodded. Good. “Florence?”

The Mage didn’t turn from her seated position at the front. “Crowd control, disruption.”

“Right.” A small smile crossed my face, and I nodded at Basil. It was almost enough to warm my villainous heart - if the Badge wasn’t doing a swell job of that already. Knowing what you were expected to do in a battle was half of it won already.

Gradually as we got closer, more details could be made out.

“Looks like a body… possibly male. Three arrows stick out from it. Unmoving.” Jakob related the facts as they came into focus.

Just as likely to be a trap as anything. Middle of the road was suspicious - but if someone was killed along their travels, that seemed a reasonable place to leave their corpse.

“Stop around two dozen feet from it.” I leaned forward to the Mage and watched with intensity. My jaw worked as I felt something brewing in the air. Sixth sense, or perhaps part of me was eager to shed blood… to drink- no, none of that.

The wagon stopped, Petal giving the floor a pensive clip-clop against the stone road. “Be prepared,” I whispered and jumped from the side of the wagon, landing deftly before withdrawing my sword. I heard them prepare their weaponry behind me as I began to get closer to the prone figure.

My eyes scoured the woods on either side of us, trying to pick out shapes or the glint of metal amongst the dark shadows. It was conveniently covered in chest-high shrubbery and thick tree trunks. Either there was nothing there, or whoever had laid the trap knew what they were doing.

With a sigh, I reached the corpse. I took a knee and gave it a jostle. The inert hessian sack that had masqueraded as a face slid out of place as if to mock me.

“Well, what do we have here then?”

I almost rolled my eyes as I stood to watch figures emerge from both sides, their leather armors tarnished with streaks of dark brown and green for camouflage. Even their faces were covered in mud, paint, or dirtied cloth masks.

“I’d say, an impromptu graveyard for fourteen.” I turned to face the supposed leader. Nine men, five women. Four of them archers, and the rest had an assortment of melee weapons. Idiots.

“Ooh, got a smart mouth, grandpa.” The man, busy signing his death warrant, removed his face mask to show off a greasy blonde beard and crooked smile. A scar ran up through one eye, the pale and blind orb adding to his threatening look. “We are just here for your gold, then you can go.” His good eye twisted back to the wagon and then to me. “Maybe the girl too?”

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My right eye twitched. Either they hadn’t clocked that we were Rankers - or thought they still had the advantage with numbers. Surely, they could take us down… but the question was, were they foolish enough to risk it? Would they target the right one of us first, use the right tactics to… This all was unnecessary thought.

“How about you give us your gold, and I won’t decorate the wagon with your heads on spikes.” I slowly turned to face him, feeling the bows of the bandits rise towards me.

“Huh,” he chuckled and shook his head, “how’d you get so old with your head being so full of shit?”

“Come a little closer, and I’ll show you.” The sword began to glow crimson, and I shot a glare back to the team. Pensive and reserved. Ready to go if I directed so. It was good that Basil was with the two. I felt as though my hands were about to be very full.

“Last warning.” The man drew a sword. A faux pas, this meant he was ready, invited death. Should he have remained unarmed, I may have gone a little easier on him.

I spat on the floor. “You know not what doom you beckon unto yourselves; I weep that you have given up on your short life so soon.”

“Fuck you,” he growled and gestured with his sword extended. “Kill the assholes!”

[Enrage]

My blood boiled. A volcano of heated anger burst within me and energized my limbs. I felt invincible and insatiable. Craving violence, I ran towards the leader, even as the rest of the thugs coursed down into the road. A flash of green sparked from the wagon as Jakob cast [Dual Shot] into the two ranged bandits, the two arrows arcing in the air. A burst of heat flared from behind me as Florence cast [Fire Wall] in front of the other two rangers and approaching bandits. It saddened me briefly that I wouldn’t be able to admire their attacks in more detail.

As currently, I wanted to tear each and every one of these stupid fucks limb from limb.

A brief flash of realization crossed the face of the leader before grim determination set in. Now he knew we were Rankers, and he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Couldn’t lose face in front of his group, though. I would probably reminisce on my phrasing used there in the near future and have a good laugh about it.

My blade arced through the air, and he moved back and blocked it. His footwork was not amateur. Barely, he ducked the second swipe, and as I feigned a third strike, I instead stepped closer and headbutted him. With a spray of blood from his broken nose, he clattered to the floor just as three bandits moved into combat and relieved him.

These three were slightly less proficient but hoped to make up for it with numbers. I didn’t care, fuck them. The anger flooding through my system gave me a dim view of the would-be robbers. Droplets of blood ran down my face, driving my fervor.

I blocked a clumsy overhead club swing and drew my blade down to cut at the offending hand. Backstepped away, parried a sword, and returned a swing of my own - my opponent jumping away just in time. Not enough blood was shed. They were full of blood, so much… so much…

The anger led me down a dark path. I had no patience for poor duellists.

As the sword-wielding bandit readied their next attack, I recklessly swung with a wide upward arc. I took some injury but barely felt it - however, I was rewarded with a deep line of crimson erupting from the torso of the man assailing me. My blade had shredded through clothing, leather armor, and muscle. As he stood in pained shock, I turned with a flourish and jabbed my greatsword backward to puncture his abdomen and gather a brief look at the other side of the battlefield.

The [Fire Wall] had burned one overly eager bandit, who lay smoldering on the floor and twitching in agony. Having since rescinded, small shrubbery and dried leaves had caught aflame. Between the Mage and Jakob, they had picked off all four ranged bandits in short order, along with two other opponents.

Pulling the blade out with a wet pop, I turned back to the few bandits now wavering. I would not let them escape my blade.

“No mercy!” I roared, leaping towards the draining confidence of those remaining. I brought my sword down and split the head of the club bandit in half. I spun and decapitated the remains. Unnecessary, but I reveled in the resulting spray of blood. Blocked the weakened strike of the next bandit and brought my blade across their arm, causing them to drop their weapon.

I leveled a kick at their knee and struck them in the face with the pommel of the sword. It had become a dance of violence, something I had long missed. I spun around them and lopped their head off - fireworks of arterial spray coloring the drab road.

The leader had been crawling away, now pale and shocked by the short measure of violence I had wrought upon his comrades. I stomped over to him and grabbed his hair, pulling him to his feet.

Sweat and blood ran down his face in streaks, and his one good eye glared at me in abject panic.

“S-stop, I yield. You can have w-whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” I put my face closer to his. His exposed neck open and wanting. The smell of his blood seeped into my nostrils. I burned. Drool ran from my mouth.

My heart thumped in my chest as I moved slowly closer. My chest sagged as my breathing became shallow.

I dropped the man, and he fell to his knees. He turned up to face me, eager to thank me for sparing him.

A crimson arc blurred through the air and cleaved his face from his head, brain slopping out of the rent hole as his body slunk to the floor.

Poetic.