Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of the whip mixed with screams. The bandits listened with pleasure, while the people imprisoned in the caves trembled in fear—every lash that struck that man's body felt as though it were striking their own hearts.
Two young girls were mixed in among the captives.
"Zul, I really thought my luck had finally turned… turns out it was just a full meal before death."
The pink-haired girl clutched her friend, Eina, and burst into tears.
Misha Flott was also a student from the School District. Unlike the honor student Eina, her grades were mediocre. Her evaluation in the Guild's mock exams had been very low, yet to everyone's surprise, she had still been hired by the Guild.
She had thought a future of high pay and happiness awaited her.
Instead, on the road to Orario, she was kidnapped by this vicious group of bandits.
Worse still, these bandits weren't after money—they wanted lives. At dusk yesterday, Misha and the others had watched with their own eyes as more than a dozen people were burned alive. They called it a sacrifice to the gods, but it was nothing more than the madness of fanatics.
Next, it would be their turn.
"Don't think like that. We'll survive," Eina said, gently patting her friend's back as she tried to comfort her.
Her pretty face, however, was pale, and even she herself didn't truly believe those words.
She had chosen the Guild's high-paying job to support her sickly mother and help with household expenses.
She never imagined she would die before even starting.
More than her own life, she worried about what would happen to her family after her death.
After two days without a proper meal, Eina's once rosy lips had turned pale and cracked, and obvious exhaustion and frailty showed on her face.
At that moment, Eina sensed something strange.
Though she didn't have an adventurer's sharp perception, as a half-elf with a natural aversion to filth, she was extremely sensitive to others' gazes.
"That is…?"
She looked toward the source of the discomfort and saw a young man staring at her. She remembered him—he had just arrived earlier, mixed in with the routed bandits.
The boy glanced at her while asking something of the sharp-faced, monkey-like man beside him.
That man was a minor leader among the bandits. Rumor had it he was a remnant of the dark faction, and their capture was partly his doing.
What surprised her was that, in front of the boy, this small-time leader seemed to show a faint trace of reverence.
For an instant, their eyes met.
The handsome boy grinned at her, then turned away and continued chatting with the other bandits.
The boy blended in among them, laughing and talking, yet Eina could tell the difference. Deep in his eyes, there was a clear, steady calm from beginning to end—nothing like the violence and ugliness of the bandits.
Listening to the sound of the whipping, Roy frowned. "That's enough. Tell him to stop."
The "Moleman" didn't dare refuse. He hurried over, but instead of using force, he slung an arm around the bandits' shoulders in a friendly manner.
"The ritual's about to start anyway. He's dead no matter what—let's go drink."
Facing this Lv.1 remnant of the Rudra Familia, the ordinary bandits naturally gave him face.
"Come on, brothers, let's drink!"
Laughing loudly, the group left. After looting caravans day after day, alcohol was the one thing they never lacked in the stronghold.
About an hour later, the sun sank toward the western mountains. The air of dusk rolled in, as if dyeing the bandits' ferocious gazes with a blood-red hue. Along with it came the despair of the captives.
Three ordinary-looking men walked out of a cave. The aura they gave off was completely different from the rest of the bandits—they were all Lv.2 adventurers.
No one knew their real names. They were known only by their nicknames: Black Hawk, Night Wraith, and River Fiend. All three were former Lv.2 members of the Rudra Familia, criminals with countless sins to their names, each carrying Guild bounties ranging from 350,000 to 500,000 valis.
Roy recognized them at once. A cold glint flashed in the depths of his eyes.
"For the great god Rudra!"
"Ooooooooh—!"
Standing atop a raised platform, the three Lv.2 men shouted loudly. The evil thieves who worshiped the dark god erupted into frenzied, reverent cheers.
At once, several people rushed to the barred caves and dragged out more than a dozen captives, including Eina and her friend Misha Flott.
"A half-elf… what a waste. Such a pretty woman. I hear she's still untouched."
"Before we burn her for Lord Rudra, we should let the brothers enjoy her."
"You've lost your mind. The god will punish us!"
Looking at Eina's beautiful features, the bandits whispered among themselves. In this world, in terms of overall beauty, gods ranked first, elves second.
Gods were beyond imagination—but elves were close enough to inspire twisted fantasies.
The dozen captives dragged out were deathly pale, their eyes devoid of color, filled with despair as they were led toward the massive pit where hundreds had already been burned alive.
All eyes were focused on the ritual. No one noticed that Roy was already moving toward the platform.
With the three Lv.2 remnants of the Rudra Familia present, the "Moleman" had lost all value. Roy lowered his voice.
"All right. You can go."
"Th-Thank you!"
The "Moleman" was overwhelmed with gratitude as he quietly slipped toward the back of the mountain. He knew what was coming next—a slaughter.
Though he had once belonged to the Rudra Familia, he didn't care in the least whether these people lived or died. As the saying from the eastern lands went—
Better them than me.
Roy glanced at his retreating back, a cold smile curling at his lips. Did he really think he would survive?
During the half hour the man had guided him through the forest, Roy had continuously used magic, letting tiny electric currents seep into his body.
His electrolytes and neural signal pathways were already a complete mess.
Within three hours, his heart would stop.
He was already a dead man, not worth Roy's attention. Roy shifted his gaze back to the platform—the three Lv.2 criminals were the real prize.
Roy stepped backward, slipping free from the crowd.
Hiding in a corner where the dim sunlight couldn't reach, his body perfectly merged with the shadows. Suppressing his presence, he moved silently toward the platform.
When Roy reached the stairs leading up to it, he was still thirty meters away from the trio. One more step forward, and he would be exposed to the sunlight.
At that moment, Black Hawk seemed to sense something. His brow furrowed as he scanned the surroundings with a wary, puzzled gaze.
Windstep!
In that same instant, Roy activated the effect of his Gale Boots. Wild wind coiled around his legs, boosting his Agility by 80%, instantly jumping from B-rank to SS-rank.
The shift in the wind's flow immediately alerted the three Lv.2 remnants.
But it was already too late.
Thirty meters—against enemies whose abilities were inferior to his—if Roy couldn't kill them in a single strike, he might as well smash his head into a block of tofu and die.
Roy's figure shot forward like a raging gale, appearing before the trio in an instant.
The broken Muramasa Sword plunged straight into the heart of the man known as Night Wraith.
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