Daros's mouth hung open, the light of life fading from his eyes. Yet his strong, burly body began to tremble uncontrollably as Black spoke, twitching as if dancing to some unheard tune. At the same time, a faint, translucent glow seeped from his ears, eyes, and mouth—wispy tendrils that swirled upward, drifting toward the pitch-black sword piercing his neck, before vanishing into the blade without a trace.
**Hum—**
A low, resonant hum spread outward. It did not sound like the roar of any living creature, yet it filled those who heard it with an inexplicable dread—as if it were the harbinger of some ancient, slumbering evil stirring awake to walk the world once more.
To the keen-eyed observer, Black's sword had now split into two. One remained in his hand—the Dark Adamantite blade that had killed Daros, its faint blue light flickering along the engraved patterns. The other was nothing but a phantom, overlapping perfectly with the physical sword. Both were pitch-black, so at first glance, there seemed to be no difference between them.
But the ethereal sword was a hundred times more beautiful than the Dark Adamantite blade in Black's grasp. Its sharp, keen edge was straight and slender, nearly a third longer than the physical sword. The patterns etched onto its surface were exquisitely detailed—far surpassing the finest elven murals. Its crossguard curved backward, shaped like outstretched claws, radiating a ferocious, menacing aura. On the tip of the phantom blade, those patterns swirled and coalesced, forming a line of text no one in the world could read.
A column of pitch-black light shot straight into the sky.
*Welcome back, my beloved sword.*
Gazing at the phantom blade, Black's lips curved into a faint smile. Then he sheathed his sword. As the blade slid home, Daros's desiccated corpse finally crumpled to the ground—and before everyone's eyes, it turned to sand and vanished completely.
"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!"
After witnessing this terrifying sight, the bandits lost all will to fight. They outnumbered their enemies ten to one, but if even Daros—a High-Tier Swordsman—and his five Mid-Tier lieutenants had been slaughtered, what chance did they, a bunch of lazy, thieving rogues, stand? Someone screamed the cry, and the bandits scattered instantly, fleeing in terror in all directions.
But it was already too late. Their resistance and struggles were utterly meaningless in the face of the inevitable.
Sheathing his sword, Black stretched lazily, glancing around the battlefield with a bored expression before waving at Ofalil.
"Come. We have business to attend to."
"Business?"
Ofalil hurried to his side, her curiosity piqued. All around them, the sounds of clashing weapons and shouted battle cries still echoed—but not a single fool dared to attack Black now. He was a man who could kill a High-Tier Swordsman with barely any effort; even an idiot knew better than to make an enemy of him.
"Of course."
Black smiled and shrugged at Ofalil, then turned and strode toward the heart of the stronghold.
"We're going to ransack Mr. Daros's belongings. We might find something valuable."
"More treasure?"
Ofalil sighed, shaking her head as she instinctively patted the spatial pouch at her waist. Throughout their journey, she had never fought in a battle or commanded a single soldier—but there was one task only she could do: identify treasure.
Bandits always looted everything in sight and hauled it back to their lairs, often not even knowing what they'd stolen. But as a princess raised in the royal court, Ofalil's knowledge of art and valuables far surpassed that of any common bandit. So Black had entrusted her with the job of sorting through their plunder. Now her spatial pouch bulged with all manner of items—famous paintings, precious ornaments, and over five thousand gold coins Black had seized from the bandits. If they sold all these, the Twilight Castle would have no financial troubles for quite some time.
"Well, that's part of it."
Black shrugged, glancing back at Ofalil with an amused smirk. Meeting his gaze, the young woman frowned slightly, then her eyes flicked to the corpse of a bandit lying nearby. After a moment, her expression cleared, and she hurried to catch up with him.
"My Lord."
"Hmm?"
"If you have to choose between allying with House Seabo in the southern territories or House Kazel in the west, I personally recommend House Kazel. Their clan has served as soldiers for generations and is fiercely loyal to the royal family… and they are bitter enemies of House Byrd. I'm sure Lord Kazel would be willing to pay a handsome price for our help… provided we have something to offer, of course."
"Oh?"
Black turned to look at Ofalil, her sapphire-blue eyes shining brightly in the sunlight—determined, yet with a hint of cunning.
"That's an excellent suggestion, Ofalil."
Black looked away, continuing his walk.
"I'll give it serious consideration."
Although the bandits' dwellings were a chaotic mess, finding Daros's house was surprisingly easy. Throughout history, whether it was bandits, pirates, soldiers, fortresses, or cities—finding the leader's residence was always simple: just look for the most imposing, luxurious, largest, and tallest building in the place.
Daros was no exception.
When the two arrived at the door of the wooden house—twice the size of any other in the stronghold, perched on its highest point—the sounds of battle around them had finally begun to fade. Black glanced back at the forest in the distance, then pulled his pocket watch from his coat and checked the time. He had originally planned to end the battle within fifteen minutes; now it was over in just ten. The bandits would not last much longer, and the false clues he had left behind to mislead the Pale Eagles should buy him enough time to loot the treasure and retreat… or so he hoped.
"We'll head north when we leave."
Black slipped the silver watch back into his pocket, stating this seemingly random fact. But Ofalil nodded, as if she understood exactly what he meant. Then Black pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A stench of alcohol and blood hit Ofalil's nose, making her wrinkle her brow. She had experienced such smells countless times on their journey, but some things were never easy to get used to. The entire hall was still in the same state of disarray as when Daros had rushed off to battle—overturned tables and chairs lay scattered across the floor, and fruit, food, and wine spilled everywhere. The poor body of Kelly still lay in the center of the hall, forgotten in Daros's haste; no one had even bothered to bury him.
"What a waste of a fine suit."
Black glanced at the expensive clothes on Kelly's corpse, shaking his head in genuine regret. Then he gestured for Ofalil to stay put, walking forward leisurely. Unlike mages or nobles, who often filled their homes with elaborate traps to protect their wealth, bandits usually relied on simpler methods to keep their hard-earned loot from being stolen by their own kind.
Daros's bedroom was located behind the main hall. For some reason—whether it was overconfidence in his own strength or something else—Black found no traps inside, unlike in the other bandits' rooms. But this made sense: the other bandits had set traps only because they were weak, using them as insurance against being robbed by stronger members of their gang. But Daros was a High-Tier Swordsman; stealing from him under his nose was no easy feat. Of course, even so, Black did not believe Daros would be foolish enough to leave his room completely unprotected.
However, there was an unexpected bonus waiting for him.
Black raised an eyebrow, his gaze falling on the bed.
On the soft, large bed lay a woman. She was not as breathtakingly beautiful as Ofalil, but she was certainly very attractive. At the moment, she was fast asleep, completely unaware of what had happened outside.
But that was not a problem for Black. He walked to the bed and casually pulled back the fur blanket covering her.
"…Mmm… huh?"
The cold air made the woman shiver, and she let out a soft moan as she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw the young man standing beside the bed, her face turned pale with shock. She scrambled backward, curling up in the corner of the bed as she stared at him warily.
"Who are you?! How did you get in here? You…"
The cold tip of a sword pressed against her throat, cutting off her words mid-sentence. She frowned, glancing toward the door—it was empty. The bandits who should have been guarding it were nowhere to be seen. This made her realize something was terribly wrong.
"This is Daros's room! Are you trying to kill yourself?!"
"Daros is dead, my lady."
Black smiled and gave her a slight bow.
"And I'm here to collect his belongings… so, beautiful lady, would you mind helping me with that?"
"You…!"
The woman's eyes flashed with anger, and she opened her mouth to retort—but Black merely twirled his sword, forcing her to swallow her words. She quickly realized that no matter what had happened, she was completely at his mercy now.
"What do you want?"
The woman's eyes darted around the room as she calmed down, no longer struggling. She stared at Black, finding it impossible to believe his claim that Daros was dead. What nonsense! Daros was a High-Tier Swordsman—no one could kill him so easily! But he was clearly not here now. This room was forbidden even to his most trusted lieutenants; how could a complete stranger just walk in?
What were the guards outside doing?
"It's simple. I just want a few small things."
Black's smile was warm and elegant, gradually easing the woman's fear and anxiety.
"I'm sure Mr. Daros corresponded with many people. In fact, I'm very interested in those letters… do you happen to know where they are?"
"Letters?"
The woman froze for a moment, then a cold glint flickered in her eyes. She glanced at Black, then pointed to the painting hanging on the opposite wall.
"I remember Daros always kept his most valuable possessions in a hidden compartment behind that painting…"
"Would you be so kind as to help me retrieve them?"
Black's tone was polite and gentle—but the sword in his hand remained unyielding, pressing firmly against her throat.
"This is Mr. Daros's room after all. As an outsider, I wouldn't want to snoop around without permission. Why don't you do me the honor of fetching them for me?"
"…"
The woman's expression stiffened. It was clear he had seen through her trick. There *was* a hidden compartment behind the painting—but it was nothing more than a decoy designed to trigger a trap. If Black had walked over there carelessly, the poisoned arrows shooting out from the compartment would have killed him instantly. But now it seemed her plan had failed completely.
What *was* going on here?
Confused, the woman pricked up her ears, listening for any sounds from outside—but there was only silence.
She had no choice now.
With a sigh, the woman climbed out of bed. She wore nothing but a thin, translucent nightgown, her snow-white body barely concealed beneath the silk fabric—exuding an irresistible allure. It was obvious she was very good at using her beauty to get what she wanted. She looked at Black triumphantly, expecting to see the same greedy desire in his eyes as she had seen in every other man's—from the villagers in her hometown to the bandits here, and even Daros himself, who had always looked at her with lustful longing.
But Black merely looked away. The woman let out a soft laugh.
*He's just a naive young man, isn't he?*
"You're very charming, my lady."
Black's voice remained calm and unchanged.
"So I suggest you cooperate. If you help me, I promise I won't hurt you."
"That's what you say."
The woman bit her lip, smiling as she walked to the wooden wall on the other side of the room. She tapped the wall twice, then knelt down and slid a loose plank aside from the corner. With a soft click, the plank shifted, revealing a luxurious wooden box hidden behind it. The woman picked up the box, deliberately pushing her ample chest out as she walked back to Black. She could feel his gaze linger on her breasts for a moment before moving to the box in her hands.
*Men are all the same.*
The woman raised an eyebrow, then opened the box, laying the letters inside bare before Black's eyes.
Black reached out to take the letters—but the woman pulled the box back, placing it on the table beside her before stepping closer to him, pressing her body against his.
"No need to be in such a hurry, young man."
The woman giggled, her voice dripping with seduction.
"You said Daros is dead. That means you have plenty of time now, doesn't it?"
"Frankly speaking, I do have a little time to spare."
Black sheathed his sword and shrugged, his hands resting on her slender waist as his fingers slid down to caress her curvy, tempting body.
"Then you should prove your worth with actions."
Feeling his touch, the woman let out a soft gasp, pressing her chest even closer to his.
"Perhaps you want to mark me as yours?"
She took his left hand and guided it between her legs, her cheeks flushing as her eyes glistened with desire—she looked utterly irresistible.
"You said you won't kill me. So why not enjoy me first, sir? Am I not beautiful enough for you?"
"In my opinion…"
The woman had led Black to the wall behind her. But as she spoke, Black suddenly spun around, pinning her roughly against the wood. He leaned in close to her ear, his voice cold and calm as he answered her question.
"…no, you're not."
"Huh?"
The woman froze in shock—but before she could react, Black grabbed her right hand and slammed it against the wall beside her. A faint clicking sound echoed as the mechanism activated. The woman felt her wrist tighten suddenly; when she looked down in horror, she saw that Black had pinned her hand directly over the hidden trap compartment. Her wrist was now locked in place by a steel restraint embedded in the wall, rendering her completely immobile.
"I'd advise you not to move, my lady."
Black stepped back, straightening his clothes as he smiled at her again—this time his smile was cold and cruel.
"You might not be aware, but this is what's called a 'concealment trap'—quite common among bandits. I won't bore you with the details of how it works. I'll just say this: if you try to pull your hand free now, or even touch the inner wall of the compartment, the trap will activate. So please be careful. I wouldn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you."
"What—what do you mean by this?! You promised you wouldn't kill me!"
The woman's face turned ashen with fear, her body freezing completely. She stared at her trapped right hand, realizing with horror that Black had tricked her perfectly. Her hand was suspended in mid-air, neither fully inside nor outside the compartment—and holding it up like this was impossible to sustain for long.
"I *am* keeping my promise. I'm not killing you."
Black shrugged, walking over to the table to pick up the letters and flip through them as he answered her panicked cries.
"See? I'm a man of my word. Hmm… I must say, Mr. Daros was quite the busy man…"
Inside the box were not only Daros's correspondence with various nobles but also the evidence he had collected over the years—proof of the nobles' illegal dealings with bandits. He had always feared the nobles would betray him and silence him once he was no longer useful, so he had kept these documents as insurance. Now they lay in the box, waiting for Black to claim them.
"Excellent. Thank you for your help, my lady."
Black closed the box with a satisfied smile, tucking it into his spatial pouch.
"Well, I've taken up enough of your time. I should be on my way now. I hope my unannounced visit didn't ruin your day too much. Farewell."
The woman stared at Black with hatred as he walked toward the door, her eyes burning with the desire to tear him apart. But Black paid her no attention—until he reached the doorway, when he suddenly paused, as if remembering something important. He turned back to her.
"Oh, right. You've been so helpful; I really should leave you a little gift. Here—this gold coin is for you. Don't mention it."
With that, Black pulled a gold coin from his pocket and flicked it toward the woman.
"NO!!!"
When she saw his gesture, the woman finally realized his true plan. She screamed in terror, stretching out her left hand to catch the coin—but Black was far too fast. By the time she moved, the coin was already flying toward the hidden compartment. It bounced off her trapped right fingers, then clattered to the ground. The slight impact caused her fingers to twitch involuntarily—and brush against the cold steel inner wall of the trap compartment.
**Snap!**
Several sharp spears shot down from the ceiling in an instant. The woman barely had time to raise her hands in a futile attempt to defend herself before the spears pierced her body, impaling her against the wall and turning her into a bloody, mangled corpse.
"What a terrible coincidence. Accidents really do happen, don't they…"
Watching the gruesome scene unfold, Black sighed softly, then turned and walked out of the room without a second glance.
"My Lord! What happened in there?"
As soon as Black emerged from the bedroom, Ofalil hurried over to him, her voice filled with concern. She had clearly heard the woman's scream and was eager to know what had transpired.
"Nothing important."
Black said casually, his eyes flicking toward the bedroom door for a brief moment.
"Someone just had extremely bad luck, that's all."