The villagers rushed toward Lane. The fear on their faces was impossible to hide; their breathing was uneven, their eyes constantly drifting back toward the tavern. One of them stepped forward, his voice shaking."Sir, there is a warrior inside the tavern, and the people there are turning against us. Th—"
Lane raised his hand before he could finish. He lifted his index finger, signaling him to wait. The villager immediately fell silent. Lane stepped closer, took the sword from the villager's scabbard, the sound of metal sliding free echoing through the street. Without another word, he began walking toward the tavern. The villagers followed behind him, pulled along by fear more than choice.
As Lane walked, he asked,"Were there any innocents inside?"
The question was cold and direct. One of the villagers shook his head quickly. "No."
Lane said nothing else. When he reached the front of the tavern, he stopped. Holding the sword with one hand, he pointed it straight toward the building. Then he released his dark energy. The air grew heavy. A purple hue spread outward, distorting the space around him. The village soldiers instinctively stepped back; some raised their shields, others turned their faces away.
Lane rotated the sword horizontally and swung.There was a cut.It was silent. Too silent.
Two seconds later, screams erupted from inside the tavern. Cries of panic, terror, muffled agony filled the air. Yet the strange thing was this: the building itself was completely unharmed. The walls stood intact. The door was still standing.
Lane pushed the door open and stepped inside. Most of the people within had been split in half. Some were severed at the head, others at the waist, others had lost their legs entirely. Blood pooled across the floor. Those still alive were screaming. Lane walked past them. One by one, he stabbed each of them, killing them without haste.
Then he moved toward the upper floor.
When the villagers entered, they froze. The smell of blood was overwhelming. One of them couldn't endure it; he dropped to his knees and vomited onto the floor. The villager beside him immediately grabbed him and pulled him back. The others followed behind Lane in silence.
Lane reached the second floor and saw the warrior. He walked toward him. Everyone else retreated to the sides in fear. That single sword strike had stripped the room of all courage.
Lane asked,"Were you the bastard who threw my soldiers outside?"
His gaze was horrifying. His intent to kill spread beyond the room, seeping into the street itself. The warrior was actually a butcher. He had spent his life cutting meat, picked up a few crude techniques here and there. In the tavern, he was respected. But Lane destroyed all of that respect with a single question.
The butcher collapsed to the ground, dropping to his knees."Please, forgive me, pleaaase!"
He cried. He begged for mercy. From Lane.
Lane placed his hand on the man's shoulder and crouched down. Leaning close to his ear, he whispered,"Mercy is expensive for you."
There was a sudden piercing sensation. Blood poured from the butcher's mouth. He clutched his throat, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Lane stabbed again, this time straight into his heart.
"You must die so that no one can heal you."
Lane stood up and turned his back. Speaking in a low voice, he said,"If you don't want your lives to end like this, leave this village. You have no place here. This place belongs to those who freed it, not those who hid."
Everyone was frozen. They were being driven out of their own homes.
Some were terrified. Some raised their voices in defiance."Who do you think you are to throw us out of our own—"
Lane didn't listen. He threw the sword directly at the man's head. The blade spun through the air and pierced straight into his skull.
Lane spoke only once more."You talk too much. I'm tired."
After that, no one said another word. Faced with such brutality, they understood that there was nothing they could do against this man. One by one, they left the tavern, preparing to abandon the village.
Lane descended the stairs slowly, muttering to himself,"Damn, people get scared of me just because I say I'm tired. My face must look messed up. I should go take a shower."
As he walked through the village, everyone made sure to keep their distance from him. Despite his exhaustion, Lane still tried to help the wounded he passed along the way.
The village was filled with dust and chaos. Evening was slowly settling in. Lane and the remaining villagers moved toward the cave. Eventually, they all arrived there.