I moved with the wind at my back as I dashed forth out of the woods and into the caravan's flank. Most of the bandits were packed tight on the path, forming two single file lines alongside their wagons. I carved my way through their back line, rapidly ripping out throats and snapping necks in a furious blitz.

  Within seconds, I had dispatched the first wagon's worth of men with my bare hands, not wanting to dull my blades before I stormed The Cellar.

  Dokoran and Lor-Noth whipped their horses around toward the calamity. Bewilderment struck them as an invisible force blew through their ranks. Blood sprayed, bones ruptured, and corpses hit the ground with each consecutive attack as I pushed on at full throttle, much too fast for any of the level threes to react appropriately.

  "Counter-magic," Dokoran shouted, making eye contact with a panicked man holding a staff.

  Isidore, the staff wielding level three, was standing in the wagon closest to their leaders. Meanwhile, I was working my way through the wagon behind him, decimating bandit after bandit.

  As I rammed my fist through another skull, popping it like a gore-filled pinata, the level three besides him turned heel and ran for the woods. I ripped an iron helmet from a corpse at my feet and flung it with deadly accuracy. The helmet's edged face guard pierced the back of the deserter's head before he crashed into the brush.

  I spun on my feet, slamming the back of my fist into a foolish bandit attempting a backstab. His chest guard crumbled along with his rib cage and I turned my eyes on Isidore, who was muttering something under his breath with his staff pointed in my direction.

  The night filled with screams. Though, I was too caught up in the bloodshed to hear more than a dull ringing sound as I picked off the level threes who were retaliating in slow motion.

  Isidore finished his incantation, sending a glinting white light out from his staff which encompassed a small area surrounding the dead bandits. Unfortunately, for Isidore, with Agility Burst still active, avoiding his spell was simple.

  I rolled to the side, avoiding a forceful blast of energy and leaped atop his wagon. The wood creaked beneath my boots as the hope vanished from his eyes.

  He pointed his staff in my direction and opened his mouth. "Dis—"

  I shoved my hand into his mouth and ripped the lower-half of Isidore's jaw from his skull before he could finish his spell. Then I tossed a handful of his chin and teeth into Dokoran's face.

  Lor-Noth lunged off his horse, flying at my last known position with a spear in hand. For taking a shot at an invisible target, he did quite well. The spear's tip whistled by my ear as I twisted around and caught Isidore's staff as it fell from his dying grasp.

  I shoved the blunt end of the staff through Lor-Noth's helmet like it was a mere soup can. The Cinderwind Renegades' leader reached toward the shaft sticking out from his dome only to stagger backwards and collapse in a heap beside the wagon, leaving Dokoran and the handful of remaining bandits scrambling.

  Dokoran finished wiping the blood from his vision just in time to watch the whirlwind of death cut down the rest of his bandits. He sat upon his horse, steeping in the horror before him as the steed bucked, rising on its hind legs.

  Everyone was dead besides him and Taylorian. In under a minute, an invisible menace had annihilated both bandit groups.

  A light breeze whistled through the woods as he clutched a short-sword close to his chest, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, trying to pinpoint my position.

  "Savage Slash," Dokoran shouted as he swept his blade in an arc in front of him.

  Blurred fragments of moonlight reflected off the blade as it twirled like a blender. I lunged into the attack, and slapped my palms together, catching the sword's edge, and yanking Dokoran from his mount.

  His steed abandoned him as he pushed himself off the ground and reached for the backup dagger in the sheathe at his side. I struck him at half-strength, shattering teeth and denting his helmet, which cut into the side of his cheeks.

  "What's the matter?" I asked. "Didn't expect this outcome?"

  "Bastard..." Dokoran sputtered through broken enamel. "I'll kill you."

  "Well, this is refreshing. At least you've maintained your dignity in the face of death," I said and glanced at Taylorian, who was wide-eyed and shaking in his front row seat to the massacre.

  "Take solace in knowing you and your associates' deaths will be responsible for saving lives in the future," I said, and ended Dokoran's suffering with a quick kick to the side of his head.

  Taylorian stumbled backward, clutching his mouth with his hands.

  I turned to him and reached my hand out with an open palm. "My cloak."

  Without missing a beat, he promptly shed the cloak and handed it over. I dabbed the blood from my face and slipped it on.

  +930 XP

  +395 Karma

  I stared up at the bold text as it faded away, passing down through Taylorian's frame. My hope of hitting level eight fizzled out like a lit cigarette tossed in the toilet. Most of the XP likely came from Dokoran and Lor-Noth, while the level threes only brought in a pittance. Without my pocket glass or any other reflective surface for that matter, I couldn't check my status. I remembered needing 17,500 XP to reach level eight, but had lost count too many kills ago.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  How many people have you killed now?

  "I've lost count…" I muttered as I stared past the trail of bodies.

  Palpable silence lingered as Taylorian drew muted breaths, eyes yielding to the ground. I did some rough math and came to the conclusion I couldn't be that far off from 17,500. Would killing one more level five be enough?

  I picked at my cloak's fabric and flicked off dried flecks of blood from my previous encounters as I mulled over how much XP Taylorian's life could be worth.

  Every bit helps. He's scum.

  He has kids.

  He tried to kill you.

  Think of the children.

  Fuck those kids. Rip this coward's throat out.

  I covered my ears, attempting to silence the incessant back and forth. The unrelenting argument worsened the burgeoning migraine that had somehow expanded from behind my eyes to the top of my head.

  "Shut up!" I shouted.

  The echo of my own voice reverberated throughout the passage, snapping me back to attention. Taylorian flinched as our eyes met.

  "If you wish to live you must fulfill two conditions," I said, grabbing the level five's utmost focus. "First, write down the names of every bandit and group that trespassed in Waystone. Send the letter to The Gilded Boar addressed to me. Second, make a career change and raise your kids to be better than you."

  Taylorian nodded, tears streaming down his face as I brushed past him, void of the emotion I had hoped my act of clemency would spark.

  ***

  The crystal lakes were an unmissable sight. Even at a distance, the water's quiet surface twinkled with a combination of lime green and deep purples intertwined with the moonlight that stretched as far east as I could see. It was juxtaposed by a seemingly endless stretch of bare, grassy plains to the west. As I left the forest behind, the terrain flattened and the dirt road simply disappeared beneath the grass.

  A moisture-laden breeze smelling of fresh minerals swept in from across the lake. I took in a lungful of refreshing air and scanned the area, eyeing an enormous stone bridge that stretched out from a raised bank and over the lake, disappearing into a grim veil of fog in the east. Massive stone archways marked the bridge's entrance, casting long shadows over the shimmering surface below.

  I scaled a boulder on the shore, getting a better look from a vantage point that was nearly 600 feet away. Magic infused orbs encased in glass hung along interspersed pillars, lighting the aged walkway in an artificial orange glow.

  Where were the guards? Cleveland described their organization as a loose collection of previously established bandit groups. Even the inept Sanguine Syndicate had guards watching the gates. Maybe Black Diamond had spread themselves too thin this evening to bother with placing guards at the bridge's entrance.

  Time Remaining: 21:38:37

  Regardless of my reservations, I descended the boulder and made my move. Unable to ignore the ticking clock, I shot across the grassy bank, keeping my eyes on the bridge's impending approach. Its towering archway loomed closer as I waded into the mist, taking my first step onto the ancient stone pathway.

  As I passed under the arch, I noticed an iron lever sticking out of its side, but more peculiar was the dark stain painting its handle and the stonewall beside it. Blood, fresh and stark against the weathered gray, weaved the tale of a recent skirmish. I traced the streaks along the pathway, following it up and over the low stone walls along the side of the bridge.

  I cursed under my breath and sprang ahead, following bloody boot prints left by what looked to be a trio of assailants. I followed the prints as they quickly faded along the dew-saturated walkway. The mist intensified and enveloped around me, restricting my vision to only a few feet ahead as the distance between the mage lights increased.

  Over 100 feet below, water sloshed against the bridge's support columns, the sound echoing eerily in the foggy silence. Considering my few bloody interactions with Black Diamond, it was hardly surprising that they had other adversaries. Yet, the timing concerned me.

  Raiding the The Cellar, eliminating Vanguard Squad, and rescuing Viessa was already a tall task without outside intervention. I was nearly a half mile into my trek across the bridge when I passed a second bloodied archway with another lever sticking out of the wall.

  I crept into the copper light, smearing blood on the bottoms of my boots as I examined the area and noticed a line of holes drilled deep into the pathway's stone. Putting two and two together, I figured the lever activated a mechanism that would raise a gate or some type of security apparatus if pulled. Despite Black Diamond's security measures, whoever was ahead of me had to have been competent enough to avoid detection and dispose of the bodies.

  Fearing the complications of a third party's involvement, I shot forward, slicing through the fog with my agility. Once again the mist thickened between the light posts. I sped along the walkway, pondering how long this damned bridge could possibly be. As I spotted the murky outline of another archway up ahead, Karma's Gaze lit up, revealing two targets through the fog moments before they were even visible to the naked eye.

  Target: Gustall

  Level: 5

  Karma: +355

  Additional Data: Age 31, male. One of the founding members of the Moonsewn Bandits. Dislikes include boots without arch support and edible flowers with bitter aftertastes.

  I skipped over the option for bonus information, turning my attention to his comrade's data as I crept closer.

  Target: Brythan

  Level: 5

  Karma: -170

  Additional Data: Age 28, male. Joined the Moonsewn Bandits five years ago thanks to his cousin Gustall's thoughtful recommendation. Current hobbies include hunting, fishing, and gambling.

  One bandit with positive karma and another with only -170... But where was their third? I was certain I saw bloody tracks belonging to more than just two individuals. I drew closer until their outlines appeared underneath the archway. I watched as they dragged two bodies and heaved them over the side of the bridge.

  "It's not too late to come to your senses," Brythan said. "She'll never be your woman. Dying on her account is sad. What's even sadder is that you've dragged me into this mess."

  "Then leave. I'm not doing this for her, I'm doing it for Gideon. He saved both of our lives—More than once," Gustall whispered. "Or have you forgotten?"

  Brythan snatched a sword off the ground and flung it over the side of the bridge. "I'd rather you chuck me off this bridge than listen to another guilt trip. I'm here, aren't I? There's a good reason the rest of Moonsewn rejected this desperate venture. You may not be led by your pecker, but following your heart is equally foolish."

  I cocked my head and squinted hard, puzzled by the predicament. If not for Gustall's positive karma rating, he and his cousin would've already joined the other bodies that were currently sinking to the bottom of the lake.

  "Go back, Brythan. I'll bear no ill will, no matter the outcome," Gustall said.

  Brythan chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You waited till now, when we're exposed in the middle of this ghastly bridge to say that? I'm not going back alone. What if another one of their squads arrive? I swear I heard something behind us."

  "Do what you want. I'm going to catch up to Celina before she decides to take the next pier without us," Gustall said and rushed ahead into the fog, leaving his cousin behind.

  "Prick," Brythan muttered as he glanced over his shoulder, staring in my direction.

  While I could barely see his dim contour, I assumed he saw nothing because after a few seconds he cursed once more and turned to chase after his cousin without the slightest idea I was lurking behind them.

  I quietly followed after them.