Chapter 9 The Onset of Action <TOC> Chapter 11 An Unexpected Figure
Translator: SumTLMan
Guided by Susan, Lance targeted his next prey, a stumbling drunkard.
With a swift dagger swipe, Lance slit the man’s throat, watching impassively as blood spurted out, and the man eventually succumbed to death. Effortlessly, he offered the fallen as a Sacrifice, the blood staining his hands barely affecting him. He picked up the man’s discarded clothing to wipe away the blood, then tossed it aside nonchalantly.
In this world, if one doesn’t adapt, they are cast aside mercilessly.
Among the thirty or so sheriffs, the insignificant riffraff had been eliminated, leaving only the mercenaries.
“The next target is the leader of these mercenaries,” Susan warned, “He wears armor and weapons stolen from the Man-at-Arms. Tread cautiously.”
While most would pick off the weaker foes first, Lance chose the opposite path, confronting the strongest looking leader among the mercenaries head-on.
He wasn’t arrogant, thinking mercenaries were as easy as the previous small fry. These mercenaries had lived on the knife’s edge, and while they couldn’t match Dismas or Reynard, their survival meant they were not to be underestimated. Their alertness was unparalleled compared to the street thugs.
Yet, having experienced bandit raids, they were also like startled birds. By taking down the strongest, even if Lance’s intentions were exposed, the remaining mercenaries wouldn’t dare to retaliate – such was their nature.
Beginning with the other mercenaries would be risky. If one escaped, they could rally under their leader, thwarting Lance’s plans. He acknowledged the gamble but had faith in his team’s abilities to bring them victory.
The mayor, in an attempt to curry favor with The Mercenary Leader, had gifted him a brick house. As Lance and his team approached, they heard the harrowing screams and cries of a woman.
“This man has perverse inclinations,” Susan said, disdain dripping from her voice. “Despite his imposing stature, he’s lacking where it counts. He only finds pleasure in tormenting others. Three women have already perished by his hands.”
Lance could sense the bitterness in Susan’s tone and narrowed his eyes.
“Let’s move!”
Dismas, having honed his skills on the streets for years, found the lock trivial. He swiftly unlocked the door, and they followed the source of the cries. The woman’s screams combined with the leader’s maniacal laughter masked their approach. By the time they reached the door, the mercenary leader remained unaware.
At this point, retreat was no option. Lance exchanged glances with his companions, whispering, “I still need him alive. Try not to kill him.”
Reynard was first to kick down the door and rush in, followed by Dismas, armed with a short sword and pistol. Lance signaled for Susan to wait, only entering after hearing the chaos inside.
The cramped room was made more so with their entrance. Lance saw a hefty, bare-chested man wielding a whip, barely fending off Reynard’s assault. Tied to a wooden frame in the corner was a woman, her body marked with lash wounds.
Distracted momentarily, Lance noticed Reynard’s blade slicing through the whip and landing on the leader’s shoulder.
Despite his hefty frame, the leader’s guttural roar heralded a bear hug attempt, which could have been fatal if successful. Unfortunately for him, Reynard’s battle-hardened techniques prevailed. The leader’s move felt more like offering his throat to Reynard’s blade.
Realizing his predicament, the leader tried to push the blade away, slicing his palm in the process. His desperate move spared his neck, but Reynard wasn’t finished.
Reynard skillfully maneuvered his sword, using its hilt like a striking snake, landing a blow on the leader’s chin and sending him sprawling backward.
Never one to give enemies a chance to regroup, Reynard was quick to knock him out with a few more blows from his sword hilt, ensuring he stayed down. He held his blade to the leader’s throat, warning of dire consequences should he attempt to move.
In a world where equipment was paramount, a fully armored leader might stand a chance against adversity. Yet, facing Reynard now without his gear, he was like a lamb to the slaughter. Only by the grace of Lance’s ulterior motives did he still breathe; otherwise, a swift blade would’ve claimed his neck.
Dismas, the highwayman, had burst in with zeal, ready for a skirmish. But the cramped space cornered their leader, leaving him nowhere to turn. All Dismas could do was stand helplessly, watching Reynard pluck his prey with ease.
“Patience,” Lance murmured, his voice a balm in the heated atmosphere. Turning his attention to a woman bound on a rack, he beckoned, “Come, assist.”
Together, they moved the woman to a bed, her body a tapestry of pain, not an inch of skin unscathed. Whip lashes crisscrossed her back, while bruises from blunt force bore witness to her torment.
Dismas, taking in the woman’s cruel fate, couldn’t hold back his disdain, “Monsters.”
Fear painted her face as she regarded her unexpected rescuers. Once free, her immediate response was to curl up, trembling, like a leaf in the wind.
“Fear not,” Lance assured, his focus elsewhere, “We aren’t your enemy.” Leaving her with those words, the trio went on to bind the leader to a wooden frame. Ironically, the tools once used to torture others now ensnared him.
Upon inspection, Lance deduced most of the blows had been deflected by the leader’s whip. The injuries on his shoulder were superficial at best, and his hands bore similar testament.
Outside, Susan finally ventured in, her gaze questioning the scene before her, “Why let him live?”
“Don’t you think a swift death would be too merciful?” Lance replied with a chilling smile. He sought not just to kill but to strike fear, using this scum’s life to cement his authority.
While Susan remained silent, her confusion evident, she chose to comply. “Tend to her,” Lance instructed, passing the battered woman to Susan’s care.
As Susan attended to the woman, Lance and Dismas scoured the room. Soon, they unearthed a set of armor, a mace, and a shield — unmistakably the equipment of the Man-at-Arms.
Chapter 9 The Onset of Action <TOC> Chapter 11 An Unexpected Figure