As the last body fell, Raven stepped through the open wooden gate. His sword still dripped blood, leaving a thin trail on the muddy ground. Torches along the fence swayed in the night wind, their light illuminating his figure standing tall in the thick fog and pungent smell.
The hilltop plateau stretched out before him.
The bandits' headquarters stretched out like the nest of a wild animal that had just been disturbed. Wooden huts stood haphazardly, surrounded by a fence of tall tree trunks arranged closely together. Bonfires burned in several spots, reflecting orange light on the rough faces that slowly realized something was wrong at the gate.
Raven's steps were slow, unhurried.
His shoes stepped on pools of blood, making a regular, damp sound, like the beating of a heart before death.
"Hey! What's going on!?" shouted a bandit, rushing to his feet and grabbing the axe at his waist.
He didn't even have time to pull it out completely.
Sret!
A silver flash crossed the air. His head was cleanly severed, his body still standing for a split second before collapsing. Blood spurted, staining the ground and wood around him.
Screams erupted.
"Intruder!"
"Everyone gather!"
More than thirty bandits scattered out of the hut. The clang of metal, the sound of hurried footsteps, curses and panicked shouts overlapped. But in the midst of the chaos, Raven stood calmly at the center of the storm he had created.
He slowly spread his arms. The sword in his right hand still dripped warm blood, and a faint smile began to form on his lips.
It was not a smile of victory.
It was the smile of someone who was enjoying the situation around him.
"Ah..." he murmured softly, looking at those who were beginning to surround him with their weapons raised.
"Finally... the little ants have come out of their nest."
His voice was low, almost like a whisper. But every word felt like a punch to the chest, making the bandits breathe heavily without them realizing it.
"Well then..."
He bowed his head slightly. The tip of his sword touched the ground, dragging small sparks across the blood that was beginning to dry.
"The party has just started."
And in an instant, Raven disappeared from view.
Only a black shadow darted between the flames.
The first slash was so fast it was almost invisible, knocking down three people at once.
Blood spurted in a red arc through the air, splattering the frightened faces behind them.
"Hey! What's going on!?" shouted one of the bandits in panic.
"Quick, surround him!"
"He's just one person! Attack—"
"Arghhh!"
The scream was cut off mid-sentence, replaced by a wet sound as the sword pierced flesh.
Raven continued to move, his body dancing between the shadows and the light of the torches. Each step left a trail of death and the sound of clashing metal, the whistling of the wind, then a brief silence before the next scream broke out.
"He... he's no ordinary man!" someone shouted, their voice trembling.
One of the bandits tried to retreat, but before he could turn, Raven's sword pierced his chest. The man's eyes widened, his body trembled before collapsing.
From the other side, a large bandit swung a giant axe with a desperate scream. Raven spun lightly, parrying the blow with one smooth movement. In the same spin, his blade slashed.
The man's arm was severed at the elbow.
The sound of breaking bones echoed, followed by a long scream that shook the night air. Blood spurted profusely, forming a shiny red pool under the light of the fire.
The remaining bandits began to retreat with trembling steps.
Some still tried to attack in desperation, but none could get close without losing their lives or limbs. Fear was now thicker than the smoke billowing from the bonfire in the middle of the camp.
The bandits began shouting to bolster their own courage, swinging their weapons wildly, hoping their numbers could overwhelm this one man.
"Together! Don't give him an opening!"
Three men charged from different directions.
Raven stepped forward quickly.
His sword spun low, cutting the ankle of one of the attackers. In the same motion, he twisted his body, letting his opponent's slash pass over the edge of his clothes, then countered with a straight line that split the chest. The third person managed to raise his sword high, and their gazes met.
In the bandit's eyes, there was only fear.
The flash of the sword swept away the bandit's gaze, and in the end, his sword fell first. Followed by his body.
Now only a few people remained, standing scattered. Their breaths were ragged, their chests rising and falling irregularly. There were no more war cries. Only the sound of burning wood and panicked gasps stuck in their throats.
They stared at the figure in the middle of the courtyard in horror. Its body was covered in the blood of people who, just moments ago, had been talking and laughing with them.
Then, without a word being spoken, the same understanding dawned on all of them at once.
"Run."
"Run and survive."
No one gave the signal. Yet they moved almost simultaneously.
One person broke the silence first, turning and running toward the gate with what little strength he had left. The others followed, desperate, pushing each other for a slim chance at survival.
But just as they were about to reach the halfway point...
"Phantom Step." Raven's voice was soft, almost like a whisper carried by the wind.
In an instant, he vanished.
His footsteps became faint, his body darting with erratic movements, like a shadow shifting from one dark spot to another. In an instant, he was behind their line.
A long slash swept across.
Several heads lifted simultaneously before the bodies realized what had happened. Blood spurted, forming red lines in the night air.
The bandit at the front, leading the escape, ran two more steps before feeling something pierce his back. A sword blade emerged from his chest with a warm red glow that billowed in the cold air. His legs weakened. He bent down slowly, staring at the tip of steel protruding from his body as if he didn't understand.
Raven stood right behind him and, expressionless, pulled out his sword.
The body collapsed slowly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
There were no more screams. No more footsteps.
The headquarters turned into a silent field filled with lifeless bodies. The smell of blood mixed with smoke filled the air.
Raven stood in the middle of the pile of corpses. His breathing was slightly irregular, but his gaze remained cold. The light of the dying embers reflected in his dark eyes, making him look more like a demon than a human.
He slowly raised his sword, blood dripping from the tip of the blade onto the already wet ground.
"Is that it?" he said flatly.
There was no answer.
Only the sound of night insects and the rustling of the wind through the wooden beams of the base.
Raven stepped between the scattered bodies. Blood flowed on the ground, forming red trails like dancing roots under the torchlight.
The night sky bore silent witness to the massacre.
Only the rustling of the wind and the sound of blood dripping from the tip of the sword broke the silence.
He lowered his sword.
A thin smile reappeared on his face, and this time it was more terrifying.
And behind his empty gaze lay something darker than the darkness of the night itself.