The Hero's Puppet Master

Ronan stood still, his eyes fixed on the great bandit camp before him. It was a scene all too familiar, seared into his mind like a scar. This place-this accursed place-had haunted him through so many lifetimes. He'd seen his village destroyed, watched his foster mother give her life to save others.

Not this time.

Not this bloody time.

He took a slow breath of the cold morning air that made it turn to mist. He shook off his painful memories and focused himself. There were about thirty-five, maybe forty bandits spread out across his camp. Most were of C rank, a couple B rank. And then, of course, there was Vulture. A-ranked. Deadly.

Behind him, Aurelia crouched in the bushes, holding her breath. The morning light reflected in her wide, fearful eyes. She clasped her trembling hands tightly together and shot him a pleading glance, saying nothing.

"Alright, you bastards," he muttered under his breath, his voice cold and steady. "Let me show you what a real raid looks like."

With a little hesitation, Ronan strode into the clearing. He was gliding on cat-like quiet and movements, like a hunter approaching his prey.

"Body Hardening," he whispered to himself.

Near the campfire, four bandits sat around, laughing and making crude jokes. Their weapons lay carelessly on the ground.

"Easy pickings," he whispered to himself.

One of the bandits finally saw him. He squinted and frowned. "Hey! Who the hell—"

Before he could finish, Ronan hurled his mini axe in a sharp arc.

The axe glowed faintly with his spell, Weapon Acceleration, its speed unnaturally fast.

It struck the bandit's skull with a sickening crunch, knocking him to the ground. Blood seeped out, pooling beneath him as his body lay still.

The other three bandits froze, their faces pale with shock.

For a brief period, all was quiet only the crackling of the fire. Then pandemonium broke loose. "Intruder alert!" one of them shouted, scrambling to gather his weapon. His warning shout went echoing across camp, setting the rest in motion.

Ronan whispered slowly.

Shadow step.

In an instant he vanished.

By the time he reappeared, he was behind one of the bandits. The man sensed someone near and spun around, but it was too late.

"Miss me, darling?" Ronan whispered before bringing his axe down in a brutal swing.

The blade crushed the man's skull with a wet crunch, spraying blood. Ronan barely flinched, his focus unbroken.

The remaining two bandits charged at him with their arms readied. The first man swung wildly with his sword, but he moved aside without any effort, his movements fluid.

Again using "Shadow Step", he blinked behind the second bandit. He delivered a quick upward strike and tore through the man's chest, leaving a gruesome wound.

The last bandit lunged, but Ronan deflected the attack and spun, using the momentum to bury his axe deep into the man's side. The bandit screamed before collapsing to the ground.

Ronan walked back to the first corpse and pulled his mini axe free with a firm yank, blood dripping from the blade.

Shouts and scurrying footsteps sounded as more bandits ran towards him, their arms brandishing weapons. He smiled weakly, twirling the axe smeared with blood in his hand.

His pace was slow and calm as he moved forward. "Let's make this fun."

He whispered, "Wind Coating."

The edge of his axe gleamed with green energy, the swirling wind giving it a sharp, deadly glow.

The C-ranked bandits hesitated before attacking with spells and weapons.

Fireballs, stone spikes, and swords came at him from all sides, but Ronan dodged them with ease, his movements like a predator weaving through chaos.

With one swing of his axe, a wave of wind burst forth. The force severed one bandit's arm and decapitated another, their bodies dropping to the ground.

The arm crashed into the earth. Ronan stooped to pick it up, and walked over to the bandit who had lost it, grinning with a mocking smile.

"Here," he said, holding the arm out to him. "Put it back on."

The bandit, pale and quivering, hesitated a moment before reaching out to take it, hope flickering in his eyes.

Just as he was reaching out, Ronan's face froze. With a swift motion, he buried the mini axe into the man's throat. Blood sprayed as the bandit choked and fell dead on the ground.

He stood up, wiping off the blood from his face with his sleeve. His cold gaze turned towards the remaining bandits who were all frozen in fear.

"Who is next?" he asked quietly with his voice sharp and deadly.

The bandits drew back as a giant of a man emerged—a towering giant, broad and with muscles like stone. The other bandits hastily retreated to the side, their faces a mixture of relief and terror.

"This one's mine," the giant growled, his voice like thunder. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, ready for a fight. "You've caused enough trouble, kid. Time to crush you like the bug you are."

Ronan gripped his axe tightly, a slow, unsettling grin spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed with excitement.

"B-ranked, eh?" he said, appraising the fellow. "Well, it has been some time since I have gotten a proper warm-up."