A caravan was crossing the Nulan Forest, escorted by a group of hardened mercenaries. They were transporting something valuable for a local noble. Everything seemed calm.
Jeff walked with a relaxed pace, staff in hand, whistling between the trees and damp earth.
Jeff:— "This mission's been a breeze."
Neil Obraham: —"Shut it, Jeffrey. Saying that brings bad luck."
Debora:— "That's a myth."
Noelle:—"I get Neil-kun. I don't like death flags either."
Jeff:—"That's not a death flag... This is a death flag":
"When all this is over, let's grab a beer, alright?"
Brock:—"Shut it, Jeffrey. Say one more word, and I'll shut you up with my boots."
Jeff:—"Alright, alright... I'll be quiet."
Debora:—"You're so gullible. There's no such thing as death flags—only bad luck."
Neil stopped dead in his tracks.
His eyes scanned the forest like a hunter sensing a wolf nearby.
Neil Obraham:—"Hold up... Take your positions!!"
The silence of the forest shattered.
They had walked into an ambush.
From the undergrowth emerged fast, feral shadows.
The Scavengers.
A gang feared by both mercenaries and adventurers alike. Ranked A. Known for their brutality and their sick hatred of nobles.
They killed out of hate, out of spite, for ideology... or just for fun.
Cedríc Vous, their leader, was a former slave.
He slaughtered his master and everyone on the estate.
He founded the gang with rebel ideals—but those ideals rotted.
Only blood remained. Only resentment.
The world knew him as Ravenok. A thousand silver coins for his head.
Hidden among the brush, Cedríc watched like a vulture before a feast.
Cedríc:—"Anyone who works for those bastards deserves to die."
All:—"Yes, sir!"
Cedríc:—"Kill them."
Thirty men emerged like rabid hyenas.
Brock:—"You know the drill—if you wanna live... FIGHT!!"
Brock was the first to strike, smashing four men with a single swing of his warhammer.
Neil Obraham:—"Debora, cover fire! Six o'clock!"
He leapt into the fray like a storm, slashing two throats before his feet hit the ground.
Debora:—"I've got plenty of bullets to hand out."
Her guns spoke. Two shots, four bodies dropped.
Noelle:—"Watch out, Jeffrey!!"
She rushed into the enemies, blocking and striking without pause.
Debora:—"Don't worry, I've got him."
Another shot. Another enemy down.
Jeff:—"Thanks, Deby... I swear I'll never talk during a mission again."
From the rear, Jeff swung his staff awkwardly—but with heart.
Noelle:—"If we make it out of this alive, I hope you keep that promise."
Jeff:—"I swear I will!"
As they talked, Jeff landed a clean blow on the enemy sneaking up behind Neil.
From a nearby hill, Tato, Cedríc's right-hand man, watched the carnage.
Tato:—"Sir, we're losing too many men."
Cedríc:—"Wait until they're tired... Then we go in."
Tato:—"But our men..."
Cedríc:—"We've been too many for a while. Today's a good day to thin the herd."
Tato:—"Of course, sir."
***
Three Minutes Ago – City of Atris
Bullet Tavern (Mercenary Guild)
Old man Bang was pissed.
That brat had come back way too fast.
Bang:—"I told you to rest, kid."
— But I'm bored... Isn't there anything else?
Bang:—"No. You delivered all the month's messages in four hours. No jobs till tomorrow."
— Then what should I do?
Bang:—"I don't know... Go find Neil and the others."
— Weren't they on a mission?
Bang:—"They are. But it's so safe, even a useless guy like Jeff went with them."
— Can I join them?
Bang:—"Do whatever you want, brat. Just don't die."
— Where did they go?
Bang:—"Escorting something to the city of Bourn... You might catch them on the way."
— Okay, thanks, Boss Bang.
Bang:—"Yeah, yeah... Now scram."
***
Nulan Forest – Road to Bourn
The air smelled of blood and sweat.
Neil's group had held out—but at a high cost.
The last bandit tried to flee. A bullet cut him off.
Debora:—"Haaa... that was the last one... and I'm out of bullets."
Jeff:—"Cough, cough... I'm not okay."
Neil Obraham:—"None of us are, Jeff... None of us."
Brock:—"I think you should check that wound, boss."
Neil Obraham:—"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Brock, how's your leg?"
Brock:—"No worries. There's no Nordkrieger berserk who hasn't taken an arrow through the knee."
Noelle:—"Still, you shouldn't have pulled that stunt. I could've protected her."
Brock:—"June's life was in danger. It was worth it... Besides, I deserve extra pay for this."
Noelle:—"Knew it... I knew you didn't do it out of heart."
June, the five-year-old illegitimate daughter of Baron Clinsman, was the precious "cargo" they were escorting.
Her mother had died recently of illness.
In a desperate letter, she begged the baron to protect the child.
Fearing betrayal from adventurers, the baron hired mercenaries.
To keep it secret, he disguised the girl as common cargo in a supply cart.
But the information leaked. And Cedríc found out.
June walked up to Brock, still trembling, holding a straw doll in her hand.
She handed it to him with a grateful smile.
June:—"Th-thank you, sir... for protecting me."
Brock swallowed hard. A lump in his throat.
That extra pay talk... felt a lot worse now.
Jeff:—"Cough... I think we'll be fine..."
That's when Cedríc appeared—along with his twenty best men—emerging from the blood-soaked mist.
Debora stared at Jeff and said:
Debora:—"You really can't shut up, can you?"
Cedríc walked forward calmly, looking at the mercenaries like they were garbage.
Cedríc:—"Don't you think a slave has the obligation to hate nobles?"
Tato:—"They absolutely do."
Cedríc:—"So... what do we do with those who don't? What should be done?"
All:—"Kill them!"
Cedríc:—"Good. You know what to do."
His men charged like wolves.
Neil's group braced for impact.
Wounded. Exhausted. Hopeless.
Brock:—"I would've liked to place one last bet."
Debora:—"Damn... I really wanted to see my master again."
Jeff:—"Shit... I wish I hadn't died a virgin."
They all laughed for a second. Even now.
The laughter wasn't from humor—it was from humanity.
A tear slid down Noelle's cheek.
Knowing this was the end, Neil said:
Neil Obraham:—"I'm sorry, kid..."
Cedríc:—"Kill them already."
But just as the bandits charged...
They went flying like ragdolls, screaming in pain.
A voice echoed from the forest. Familiar. Firm.
—That won't happen while I'm around, son.
Debora:—"Raymond?"
—Hello, what's up?... You guys look screwed. Need a hand?