Inside the bandit hideout.
Though dawn had just broken, people had already risen and begun their labor.
People of this era didn't have nightlife; they slept early and woke early too.
The boy tightly gripped the Wooden Sword his father had crafted for him, continuously gazing toward the village entrance, his face full of anticipation: "Grandfather, has father not returned yet?"
In front of the small wooden house, the limping old man was sharpening the hatchet in his hands, somewhat worried upon hearing the boy's words.
It's been a whole night; could he have been caught by those noble lords' guards?
Yet he still smiled, soothingly saying: "He will be back soon. Don't worry, this time your father will surely bring back plenty of meat and coins; I'll go to the city's tailor shop and have a new set of clothes made for you."
The boy instantly showed a smile with a missing tooth: "No, I don't want new clothes, I want father to make a cane for grandfather first."
The old man's wrinkles squeezed out a smile: "Such a dutiful grandson, but this leg doesn't hinder much, let's make the clothes for you first."
The grandfather and grandson chatted and laughed.
But the boy's face suddenly froze, and he pointed fearfully behind the old man: "Grandfather, it's the Devil, the Devil is here!"
The limping old man looked back, only to see at the village entrance, a terrified villager was being kicked over by a man clad in a red Cloak and iron armor.
Scarlet blood was pouring down the sword's edge held by the iron-clad man.
The man wielded the blood-stained sword, seeming like a Demon from Hell, slowly advancing toward the village.
The limping old man almost immediately recalled the arrogant Lord Knight from back then who had broken his leg.
No one knows better than him how terrifying a Knight could be!
"Go, quickly, hide in the cupboard inside the house!"
The limping old man hustled the boy, whispering harshly.
...
Losa exerted his arms, slashing down with the sword.
The sharp blade of the Half Sword appeared to meet no resistance, effortlessly cleaving through the shoulder of the robber ahead, along with the wooden Long Spear he attempted to use for blocking.
Ah—
A piercing cry rang out.
Excruciating pain caused the robber to tumble repeatedly on the ground.
The blood pooled into a small puddle.
A hint of pity flashed in Losa's eyes beneath the Barrel Helmet. He gripped the sword and steadily pierced the opponent's heart.
The screaming abruptly ceased.
The greasy sensation of metal against flesh surged along the sword tip.
He withdrew the Half Sword and once again swung toward two approaching robbers.
Prajna stood by his side, shadow-like as she followed.
Initially, she did not strike; these feeble robbers did not compel her to act.
Until one robber, seeming to regard her as easy prey, attempted to seize Prajna, hoping to leverage her against the unrestrained, fearsome Knight.
Yet before he could approach, a blood flower blossomed at his neck.
Blood dripped from the three tips of the Ghost Face Triangle Shield. Prajna sidestepped the splattering blood, her expression unchanged.
The blood slowly seeped into the Shield.
The ghost face relief upon it revealed a satisfied smile, promptly instigating the desire for Prajna to kill more living beings.
But Prajna remained unmoved, silently accompanying Losa, displaying no emotion.
...
The strong robbers were progressively cleared out.
Losa kicked over an old farmer holding a manure fork, his gaze sweeping across the elderly face.
Then, without hesitation, he thrust a sword into the man's heart.
He dared not underestimate this humorous Weapon, the manure fork.
For it was said that once a Demon Hunter was killed by a manure fork.
Bearing a Weapon meant having the resolve to die by his sword, regardless of whether one was old, weak, or a woman.
...
Hans and Model shielded each other, battling the enemy.
Their Martial Arts and Equipment were far superior to these people.
Moreover, in the unexpected early morning rise, no one in this bandit hideout stood a chance against their combined forces.
Bam—
Hans raised the Shield, knocking down a limping old man, kicked away the hatchet from his hand, and Model beside him stabbed forward, piercing the man's throat.
Gurgle—
The old man wanted to say something, but blood gushed from his neck, blocking his airway.
He fell helplessly to the ground, his gaze shifting toward his grandson hidden in the wooden hut before losing consciousness.
"No!"
"Grandfather!"
Crying with tears in his eyes, the boy, full of hatred, dashed out from the wooden hut.
He picked up the hatchet the old man dropped on the ground and charged at Hans.
Hans hesitated slightly, nearly getting struck by the hatchet, but Model beside him timely stepped up, blocking the blow with the Shield.
"You horned Demon, I'm going to kill you!"
"I'm going to kill you!"
The boy roared, desperately swinging the weapon in his hand.
But the machete was too blunt, and his strength was insufficient.
With Hans prepared, he held the shield in front, allowing the boy to hack away madly, like a moth trying to shake a tree.
"Stop, child, drop the weapon immediately!"
Model shouted angrily, "As long as you don't attack us, considering your young age, we will spare your life."
"Sir, what should I do?"
Beneath the horned helmet, Hans's expression was somewhat bewildered.
At this moment, the sounds of fighting had ceased.
The bandits who remained were all the old, weak, sick, and disabled. Even those with hunting bows only had arrows made of bone and wood, posing no threat to the four of them.
It was an overwhelming massacre.
Model was rather impatient. In his mind, any ungrateful child like this should just be cut down with a sword.
After all, they were merely offspring of bandits, and growing up in such an environment, they'd only become villains destined for the gallows.
But he hesitated.
His lord was clearly a benevolent ruler. If he committed such an act of slaughtering the young, would it seem too bloody and ruthless, contrary to the spirit of chivalry?
Remember, just last night the lord hinted that they might be knighted in the future!
This conflicted mentality prevented Model from acting.
Not far away, Losa flicked the blood off his blade and walked over unhurriedly.
He glanced around, quickly understanding what had transpired.
After a moment of silence, he spoke, "Once you pick up a weapon, you're an enemy."
"Attendant Hans, Soldier Model, do I need to teach you how to deal with enemies?"
Bam—
Model slammed the boy with his shield, knocking him onto his backside.
Losa looked at the hate-filled face of the boy in front of him, his expression slightly sympathetic, "Your father likely saw the same expression when he slaughtered other fathers."
"When you were eating bread soaked in others' blood by your father, you probably didn't think it was evil, but instead admired him greatly, didn't you?"
"Right?"
Losa raised a finger, his expression cold, "I'll give you one last chance, drop the weapon."
The boy stubbornly gripped the machete, gritting his teeth, his eyes full of hatred, as if the anger would spill out like ink.
Losa shook his head and turned away.
"Do it, Hans."
Hans gritted his teeth, raising the half sword high.
Swish—
Blood flowed freely across the ground.
Losa bowed his head slightly, drawing a cross in front of him, "Heavenly Father above, may you judge whether they are guilty. I cannot make a detailed assessment, nor can I determine if they don't deserve death, so I can only send them to meet you. Amen."
"Continue, for anyone holding a weapon and daring to resist, if they cannot be persuaded, deal with them all."
Losa gave the order.
Soon after, this tranquil, paradise-like village underwent drastic changes.
Bodies lay everywhere, with blood flowing freely.
Women and children screamed, hiding in a building resembling an assembly hall.
"Sir, how are we different from these bandits?"
Hans's expression was a bit confused.
So was Losa's.
He didn't know if what he did was right.
But he knew he couldn't show any uncertainty in front of Hans, who admired him as his attendant.
He said sombrely, "Everyone must pay for what they do. Besides, we only killed those with weapons, sparing others, isn't that the greatest mercy?"
He did not order an attack on the assembly hall where the women and children were but instructed, "The enemies are basically cleared. Model, notify Laine and the others to come over and collect the supplies... be sure to leave some food and seeds for those who didn't resist."
Losa stood before the "assembly hall," looking at the numb and fearful faces without saying anything to represent justice.
Among these people could be plundered women, but mostly they were the bandits' families.
They, and possibly many deceased, might be innocent, having never harmed anyone.
But when they consumed the food and riches brought by the guilty, they were not so innocent.
It's often said that calamity doesn't extend to family, but is a daughter who flees abroad with her debtor father's money truly innocent?
If she's innocent, what about those impoverished, desperate people who rely on that money to survive?
This was Losa's way of handling things.
Both merciful and cruel.
A notification indicating a milestone completion rang in his ear.
With a heavy expression, Losa was the first to leave the village.
"Ha, Knight of Chivalry."
Losa muttered to himself mockingly.