Rustling, whispering.
On a narrow, weed-choked path, a dust-covered traveler trudged forward slowly.
It was said that, a few years ago before the imperial capital slashed the military budget, there used to be—besides this winding, rugged footpath—a wide and grand road maintained by magitech between the border Towns and other cities.
On that bustling Magitech Highway, travelers came and went in an endless stream, and there were even lively marketplaces along the way to supply all that people needed.
But ever since the central government cut funding for the border defense army, leading to the collapse of Martial Discipline at Unyielding Bastion and a massive invasion by the barbarians, everything had changed.
The Magitech Highway, which had cost enormous sums of money and magic to maintain, was dismantled, the materials melted down and reforged into wonders the emperor desired.
The local Patrol Troops who kept the peace—once their military pay vanished—had to rely on luck: some were transferred to units where they could still get paid, others had no choice but to seek other ways to survive.
Mercenaries, adventurers, Bodyguards, hired thugs—even… turning to banditry.
The traveler, dressed as a merchant, gripped a wooden staff, his expression calm as he looked ahead at what seemed an uninhabited thicket, but where, in truth, danger lurked beneath the grass.
He glanced at a puddle; under the harsh sunlight, several shadowy figures flickered in and out of view.
They hadn’t noticed him.
The merchant, relying on his extensive combat experience, quickly made a judgment.
Crackle.
The sound of a fire burning.
“So hungry… Boss, when are we going to find a fat sheep to fleece?” A low, grumbling voice groaned year after year, “We haven’t had a good meal in weeks, have we?!”
Smack!
A crisp slap.
“Shut up, all of you! Keep your mouths shut!” The Bandit leader, narrow eyes gleaming like green beans, scolded, “Didn’t I say to wait a bit longer? That commander of the border fortress is a real piece of work, hard to deal with. I heard the Eagle Gang over on the neighboring ridge tried to rob a few wagons, and that Bloodthirsty Princess sent troops to wipe them out.”
“More than two hundred people—not a single one escaped. All hanged from the gallows.”
“Not just that! I also heard that the Princess somehow found a bard, who keeps coming up with all sorts of bizarre ideas for her.”
Another bandit, face full of frustration, wiped his shiny steel blade with burlap, and said helplessly, “Hasn’t the Western Governor locked down all border trade approvals recently? We thought our lives would finally get easier—since apart from these small paths, there’s no way to enter the western hinterlands freely.”
“But that bard, who knows what trick he used, actually solved the basic food supply problem!”
“It’s all because of that damned bard—there haven’t been the floods of refugees we expected, and not only did we miss out on getting rich, even scraping together enough to eat is hard.”
The more knowledgeable bandit sat by the campfire, tossing a few more sticks into the flames in frustration.
Hiss—hiss!
The fire blazed higher.
“Boss, why don’t we accept the Town Official’s offer for amnesty? I heard that guy is a confidant of the Second Prince—if we pledge loyalty, not only do we get army uniforms, but if the Second Prince ever takes the throne, maybe we… heh heh heh.”
That well-informed bandit looked over at the one-eyed man, surrounded by the others and radiating authority.
The bandit leader said nothing, as if deep in thought.
Interesting.
Having overheard the bandits’ discussion, the merchant stroked his chin, a spark of interest kindling in his eyes.
“I really didn’t expect that princess to pull this off. Hmm… could it be because of that bard named Green?”
A fragment of memory flashed through the merchant’s mind.
“I always suspected he wasn’t ordinary, but the stories I’ve heard along the way—whether crushing a barbarian force of ten thousand, or now solving the food crisis and breaking the trade blockade…”
Due to his profession, the traveler actually had deep expertise in such matters—even the so-called experts and scholars of the Imperial Treasury could scarcely compare to a tenth of his skill.
“Even a legendary powerhouse can’t conjure food out of thin air.”
Satisfied, the traveler nodded. “Looks like I should make a record of this and find an opportunity to report to Miss Anna.”
“But the capital hasn’t been stable lately.” As if remembering something, the traveler muttered to himself, “First the Master of Seals was poisoned at home, then the Chief Steward had a fatal accident, and now even the previously neutral Church of Light has rumors of their Bishop dying unexpectedly.”
A storm was brewing on the horizon.
It seemed that, ever since the Emperor exiled his most beloved daughter Theresa, the rivalry among the royal heirs had grown ever fiercer.
“But this is also an opportunity.” The traveler pondered quietly. “Miss Anna, and all those others branded with disgrace, will have their chance for revenge.”
Suddenly, the traveler remembered what his secret employer once said:
“Only when the seemingly powerful empire is shaken to its core by internal strife will we have the chance to enact justice.”
Justice.
Thinking of his old master, who had died a wretched death, the young mistress forced to wander and hide for years, and the countless other victims, the traveler couldn’t help but feel a sting at the tip of his nose.
“Boss, we should be careful these days. The spies in Town said the Security Team has put us on the Bounty List, and I heard you’ve got a five-hundred-gold bounty on your head.”
“Ohohoh, five hundred gold! As expected of Boss—a proper level-sixty professional, and a former Imperial Major!”
His subordinates’ eyes sparkled, regarding the Bounty List as a kind of honor, staring with excitement at the one-eyed man still calmly wiping his blade, dressed in a worn military ceremonial uniform.
The bandit leader paid no heed to their flattery, but lifted his head slightly, looking into the silent, motionless thicket.
“Come out.” The bandit chief’s eyes snapped open, shooting a cold gleam.
“I am the former Major and Captain of the Empire’s Seventh Legion. May I ask your esteemed name?”
Whoosh—
A chill wind blew, making the bandit leader’s uniform flutter dramatically.
“Andy.” The traveler, wooden staff in hand, stepped openly into the bandits’ line of sight.
“Hah! Boss, who says our luck’s bad today? Here comes a fool walking right into our net!”
“Heheheh, old man, hand over everything of value, or… well, you know what happens next.”
The bandits stood up with a clatter, looking at Andy with malicious intent.
Andy ignored the rabble’s threats, calmly locking eyes with the bandit chief, who had already sensed the killing intent radiating from him.
“Five hundred gold, huh,” Andy mused, “enough for a fitting celebration.”
“Damn old man, you dare to ignore me…!”
Clank, clank, clank!
Some bandits drew crystal-powered guns, others raised weapons and gathered their magic. Each one looked like a beast ready to pounce, their eyes burning with bloodlust.
Except for the bandit chief.
He seemed to sense something, and suddenly, with nostalgia, took off his military coat, carefully folding it as if it were a priceless treasure.
“If I die,” the bandit chief said strangely, “please return this uniform to my old comrades. Tell them—I’m sorry.”
It was as if he was announcing his own last will. With that, the bandit chief tossed the coat to Andy.
Swoosh—
Andy’s hand grasped it tightly, aligning the nametag on his chest. His calm expression was suddenly shattered.
“The Eighth Legion, huh.”
The lost legion.
The Empire’s most disastrous defeat in recent decades, turning a favorable situation against the Orc Kingdom into utter chaos, and even losing several provinces—a catastrophic failure.
As punishment, the original commander was forced to commit suicide, and the once-glorious formation was disbanded, becoming a Legion that “does not exist.”
And that bandit chief…
Had once belonged to that very Legion.
“I understand.” Andy quietly draped the military coat over his shoulders.
“That’s good…”
Clang!
Without another word, the former Imperial Major charged straight at Andy.
In that instant, Old Andy’s mind flashed with familiar images.
Choking smoke, blood spraying everywhere, the merciless sounds of slaughter, muddy soil, the thunder of cannons.
And Miss Anna’s father, the Eighth Legion’s former commander.
Boom——
The vision ended.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Bodies toppled over, twisted and askew.
“So it was you, Baron.” The bandit chief feebly touched his empty chest. “Former Chief of Staff of the Eighth Legion.”
A difficult smile crept onto his face. “Never thought I’d see you again.”
“You’re Stephen?”
Staring at his old comrade, recalling the crimes he’d committed, Andy’s face grew even more conflicted.
“Haha, I’ve shamed you,” tears glinted at the corners of the bandit chief’s eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t keep my oath…”
Thud.
The bandit chief’s body crumpled to the ground.
Whoosh—
Another blast of wind.
The bandit chief was dead. His face bore none of the fear or dread shown by other bandits before dying—only a peace and serenity impossible to describe.
“The young miss will avenge you.”
Andy stepped forward, gently closing his old comrade’s eyes.
Thwip.
In a flash, the wooden staff moved—the bandit chief’s head was neatly taken.
“It’s time to head back to Town.” Old Andy expertly wrapped up the bandit chief’s head, then glanced back at the corpses sprawled in chaos.
“Sigh.”
The messy scene brought back painful memories.
“Back then, because of someone’s treachery and betrayal, our Eighth Legion was utterly destroyed.” Old Andy murmured, “But this time, we’ll return from hell itself, and settle every debt in blood!”
Chirp, chirp!
A few birds, sensing something atop the trees, suddenly took flight.