I had expected more of a reaction from the bandits when I came crashing through the ceiling. Had I been in their shoes, I would've thought, "Hmm... That's strange? Did somebody throw him through there? Wow, he's standing up. Sure, he looks injured, but I don't want anything to do with someone that could survive that fall."

  Maybe the ample free beer had given them enough drunken confidence in their numbers to ignore such an odd entrance.

  Eye Patch ran a hand through his slicked back hair, licking his lips. "Cyprus, eh?"

  The tavern rang with a chorus of blades drawn from their sheaths. Three goons moved toward the door, thoughtfully blocking the exit. I set 15 of my gold coins down on the table beside me. A skinny bandit sporting an awful looking mullet bowl-cut hybrid dropped to the ground and scurried on his hands and knees, helping himself to my loose gold.

  "He's loaded," he squeaked.

  "Forget such a pittance. The bounty's ours." Eye Patch chuckled. "Looks like the goddess of luck shines on us today. I was worried those Umbral bastards got you first."

  I brought a palm to my forehead. "I hope you can kill me. Really, I'm rooting for you and your little bandit troupe here. Cause I'm in such a terrible mood, I'm honestly afraid of what I'll do to you. I didn't come here to turn into this."

  I stared down at my bloodstained palms, wondering if I could ever change. "It's a shame. If news traveled quicker, I doubt any of you would be here right now."

  Slowly, a loose semi-circle of armed bandits formed, blocking me in with my back to a table occupied by two goons armed with daggers, ready to spring off their stools.

  "What news?" Eye Patch asked.

  "In the coming days Aclana will know how Cyprus, the noble adventurer, brought Black Diamond to its knees, took Barret's head, and wiped out countless foes in a single night."

  The tavern erupted into laughter, offering a distraction for the bartender, who dropped onto the floor behind his bar.

  Filter - Level Fives

  Not a single status appeared.

  I groaned. "Let's get this over with."

  The goon behind me lunged forward, dagger in hand. I caught his wrist and snapped it as I drove my boot into his shin, splitting his right leg in half. I caught his comrade's counter-attack, twisted the blade from his hand, and planted it into his kneecap.

  "Get him!" Eye Patch yelled. "Tay, dispel!"

  As their mage wasted his mana, pointed blades chipped against my skin as if they were striking smooth stone. I dropped low and performed a simple leg-sweep, breaking several ankles.

  "Dispel, quick Tay!"

  "I already did, twice," the mage said from the other side of the bar.

  Eye Patch's infallible confidence wavered when half of his numbers ended up on the ground clutching their decimated legs and ankles. Their loose offensive collapsed, and the three goons who had previously been guarding the door tried opening it.

  I cut across the room before they could even touch the door's handle.

  "You still think you can leave?"

  "Wait—"

  "Claw strike," I said, making up a generic fighter ability name on the fly as I gently pawed the goon's face.

  As his features parted from his face and splattered across his boots, the room instantly sobered up. It was no longer a matter of bagging a tough opponent for a massive bounty at the cost of a few men, but a desperate battle for survival.

  "Claw strike, claw strike," I said, leaving another two bandits featureless, tissue and skeletal structure exposed.

  "Ultimate Supreme—"

  "Poke strike."

  I crossed the room in a flash, before Eye Patch could finish rattling off his convoluted move, only halfway shifted into his stance. With precision I jabbed my index finger through his Adam's apple.

  He tumbled back against the bar, clutching his throat to seal the airway.

  Six bandits remained standing, all of them running for the exit. I detected the newly gained agility and strength stat point as the muscles in my legs propelled me through the bar. With a quick series of chops, I disabled the last bandits, taking out their legs from underneath them.

  Screaming cries, and begging pleas filled the tavern, but the view of the smoldering charred foundations of Waystone village tuned them out.

  Eye Patch held his throat tight, waving me off with his free hand. The youngest bandit with the horrible haircut tried sneaking to the door while I focused on his leader.

  "Touch the door and die. Finish collecting my coins, set them on the table and witness what happens to those who throw dirt on my name."

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  He gulped and nodded.

  Eye Patch reached for the spare dagger at his side.

  "Knee strike."

  Eye Patch blinked and his right knee exploded out from underneath him. He collapsed to the ground, tried to scream, but only a subtle whistling noise escaped from the hole in his throat. The simple downward jab at full strength had all but disconnected his leg aside from a few dangling tendons.

  I knelt over, grabbed his boot and finished ripping his leg off. He unleashed another high-pitched whistle, watching as I carried his dismembered appendage around the bar, clubbing his fallen comrade's to death with it.

  Whack.

  "Someone help!"

  Whack.

  "No, please!"

  Whack.

  Unsurprisingly, the damage boost from Karma's Gaze was more than enough to turn Eye Patch's foot into a devastating war hammer. After the first three bandits lost their brains across the floor, a chorus of horrified screams filled the tavern as the others crawled toward the door.

  Despite the immense blood loss, Eye Patch grabbed a stool and chucked it at my back. I ignored the distraction as I strolled up to the bandit in last place for the race to the door.

  "Stop, please..."

  Whack.

  The back of Eye Patch's boot cracked the bandit's skull open, and I proceeded onto the next one.

  "Fuck yo–”

  Whack.

  "Drayatoriakian save us," one bandit shouted desperately as he dragged himself toward the exit.

  He must've been one of the victims of my leg sweep, seeing as both his ankles were bent at 90 degree angles.

  "Please, I'm sorry!"

  Whack.

  Although his skull instantly caved in, I had put a bit too much force into the swing and Eye Patch's foot flung loose, leaving me gripping his tibia.

  The tavern's doors swung open, knocking out the bandit in first place. Karma's Gaze lit up, revealing Drayatoriakian as a level six with negative karma and a giant sword hanging on his back.

  A bushy black beard stretched down his chest, and braided locks of golden hair swayed down across his sunburned face. He tried stepping through the doorway, but the hilt of his massive sword bumped against the top of its frame. He ducked inside, infuriated by the messy sight of his fallen group.

  "Be careful, Boss, it's Cyprus and he's fast," one bandit said through clenched teeth.

  I shook my head, disappointed. "You're the shot-caller? I thought Eye Patch was."

  I glanced over my shoulder, and saw Eye Patch clinging to life. A thin smile spread across his face as he leaned his head back against the bar's copper foot rail.

  "My bad, I wouldn't have torn his leg off. That's on you, Dray-ya-teriyaki-man."

  Butchering the pronunciation of the towering level six's name invoked further fury. He unsheathed his gigantic sword, taking out half of the tavern's front wall in the process.

  "I'll cut out your heart and eat it in front of you," Dray-whatever-his-name growled.

  I yawned, turning my eyes to one of the injured bandits seeking refuge under a table. "Has he really done that before?"

  He nodded and I shuddered.

  Air split with a hiss as the brute swung his super-sized blade. I dashed into the swing, raised my left forearm, and blocked its edge, feeling like I'd just been struck by an empty paper towel roll. Before he could react, I ran my right hand through his chest piece, piercing flesh and bone. Exploring his chest cavity like a surgeon, I fished around until I found the pear shaped organ and yanked it out.

  Teriyaki-man staggered one step back as I sank my teeth into his heart. A gamey, earthy flavor with a heavy iron-like undertone seeped over my palette. The tough, spongy texture was an immediate turn-off. I gagged, spitting the half-chewed piece of meat at the mortally wounded brute's feet.

  I dropped his heart, and hurried over to the bar. "Beer, please now."

  The bartender rose and fumbled for a mug as he watched the heartless bandit leader fold over. He averted his gaze from the mess, shaking as he filled the mug from a tapped barrel. I swiped the glass from his hands, and washed the awful aftertaste away with a long sip.

  "You got a washrag?" I asked.

  The bartender nodded, and returned with a wet cloth. I wiped my face and took a few minutes to finish my beer. After my last sip, the only uninjured bandit with the awful haircut set all 51 gold coins and my silver in a neat stack on a table by the door.

  Three of the four surviving bandits on the floor had crawled outside. I picked up a loose dagger from the ground and Eye Patch grabbed my ankle, his grip weak, face pale, life fleeting.

  "I'm glad you've realized your mistake. But consequences are still due," I said, voice void of emotion.

  I crossed the room and grabbed the broken leg of the bandit who had made it halfway through the doorway. Agonized screams rang through the bar as I dragged him back inside, about to run the dagger through his neck.

  "Cyprus, stop," Jordain said as he rose from the ground, steadying himself on a table. "It's finished. Killing them won't bring anyone back."

  "Please, I'm so sorry," the bandit cried.

  I shrugged and dropped the dagger. "If you say so."

  +110 XP

  +25 Karma

  I jumped up, snatched my satchel from the rafters and collected my money, the contract, and the dungeon key.

  "Well, then, I'm off to Ingcaster."

  There were no 'good byes' or 'have a safe trips.' Just an awkward silence between myself, Jordain, and the bartender as I headed out the door.

  To be fair, I expected no less. Nearly two-thirds of Waystone had been razed to the ground. The triage tents that had been set up in the center of the town were toppled. I passed by the corpses of villagers and guardsmen alike, including the two who had asked for my help the night before.

  Smoke stung my eyes, drawing involuntary tears down my cheeks. While I partially regretted my decision to chase after Viessa instead of saving Waystone, it wasn't worth crying over. No, if it wasn't giant slugs or bandits, it would've been goblins or some other equally awful disaster. The experience I had gained from the tower, and what I learned in the challenge scenario was far more important than the village.

  Yet, even in the face of rock solid logic, a disappointed sadness seeped in. It was an odd feeling, too similar to what I felt in my gut when Viessa disappeared, and when the Moonsewn Bandits were brutalized.

  Like usual, when I analyzed a strange feeling, it came and went quicker than a humming bird to a flower. I slipped back into my default setting. Cold. Emotionless. And more regretful that I hadn't eaten a larger share of Chinese food when I had the chance..

  Before I departed Waystone, I entered a house on the edge of town by the northernmost wall.

  "Anyone, home?"

  No reply.

  I let myself in, performed a quick sweep, and found exactly what I was looking for.

  A mirror.