"This."
The guards exchanged glances—some surprised, others uncertain. Then one of them stepped forward with calm resolve and a small smile.
"Well said, young lady. But I won't let you face this alone. If you're choosing to stand and fight to the end… then I'll stand beside you."
"Let's show these bastards of bandits how real warriors fight!" shouted another, fist clenched and burning with defiance.
One by one, the rest echoed his sentiment. Their voices weren't loud, but firm, each one pledging to take up arms against the bandits rather than cower in fear.
The last to speak was the older guard. He exhaled a long, weary sigh. "I hope there's still a place for these old bones on the battlefield."
Valerie Vale felt a quiet warmth bloom in her chest at their words. Despite the fear, a small smile touched her lips. Their support… it meant more than she could express.
Without wasting time, they quickly outlined a rough plan, aiming to strike the sixteen bandits and their leader with a surprise assault. Every move, every breath was carefully measured, none of them letting slip even a trace of their intent. They would make the first strike count.
But just as they were about to spring into action, a sharp voice rang across the battlefield—clear, unyielding, and loud enough to stop them in their tracks.
"All these bandits are mine. Don't interfere!"
It was Mikael.
"The hell's he talking about?"
"Does that lunatic think he's going to beat us all on his own?"
"Ignore it. He's trying to mess with us."
Mocking voices rose from the bandits as they sneered at Mikael's declaration. Some of those not currently engaged in combat turned their attention toward the caravan. But seeing no signs of movement, no sudden rush or assault, they simply kept watch, cautious but not yet provoked.
Valerie and the guards froze mid-step. Mikael's timing was too precise to be a coincidence.
"Isn't he being a bit arrogant?" one of the guards muttered. "He thinks he can take them all alone?"
Confused murmurs followed, the group hesitating. Something didn't feel right. They had been moments away from launching the ambush, and yet Mikael's voice had come at the exact moment to stop them.
"Wait… wasn't the sound-sealing talisman already activated?" Valerie asked, her brow furrowing. "How did he know we were about to attack?"
Her words cut through the growing confusion. The older guard glanced quickly at the talisman in his palm, confirming its glow.
"It's still active," he said, frowning. "He shouldn't have heard anything. So how…?"
No one had an answer. They looked instinctively to the older guard for direction—and then to Valerie, who, despite her young age, held authority as the young lady of the Noble House they sworn to serve.
She considered the situation carefully, eyes lingering on Mikael's distant form. 'He said not to interfere… and he sounded confident.'
"Let's hold back for now," she said calmly. "We'll wait. If he looks like he's in danger, we'll move in."
The older guard scowled. "That's too risky. By the time we see he's in real trouble, he'll already be dead before we can reach him."
Valerie Vale didn't share his view. Her eyes remained fixed on Mikael, a quiet confidence gleaming within them. "I think we should believe in him. Before today, did you ever imagine a mid-stage Body Forging Realm cultivator could go toe-to-toe with twenty mid to late-stage cultivators and survive?"
She crossed her arms. "So let's give him a chance. If he ends up needing our help, then we'll step in."
The guards exchanged glances, hesitant at first, but ultimately nodded. They turned their full attention to the battle, eyes locked on Mikael's form as he fought, ready to intervene the moment things turned dire.
***
Swish.
Mikael ducked low, slipping just beneath the arc of a descending sword, then rolled backward, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow of a heavy hammer that slammed into the ground where he'd just stood.
Clank.
As he rose, three more opponents lunged. Two spears and a sword came at him in tandem. With precise timing, he redirected the spears with Sangrelia—a flick here, a twist there—though he only managed to partially deflect the sword. Its tips grazed his arm, slicing a shallow gash into his flesh.
Mikael grimaced. The wound wasn't serious on its own, but when added to the many other minor injuries he had already sustained, the accumulation was beginning to take its toll. They hadn't crippled him, not yet, but they were steadily chipping away at his stamina.
Still, he pressed on, clashing headlong into the fray with unwavering focus. Blood dripped from a dozen minor injuries, yet a crazed, battle-hungry grin had spread across his face.
The reason?
His swordsmanship was evolving.
Tempered through the fire of battle, sharpened in the crucible of life and death, his foundational skills were being refined in real time. Every parry, every counter, every wound fed into that transformation, pushing his technique higher and higher.
Despite the mounting injuries—despite what should have been a decline in strength—Mikael didn't grow weaker. He held steady. Not because the wounds didn't affect him. They did.
But his swordsmanship was evolving at the same pace as his body deteriorated.
For every shred of vitality he lost, his swordsmanship gained precision, his timing grew deadlier, and his flow more unpredictable. The result: a battle power that remained eerily constant, even as his physical condition wore thin.
The bandits, of course, saw none of this. They weren't versed enough in the Sword Dao to grasp what was unfolding before their eyes. All they saw was a man slowly being carved down, his body marred by countless cuts, his breathing heavier with each passing second.
"He's close to collapsing! Keep going, brothers and sisters!" one of them yelled, slashing at Mikael's sword wielding arm in a bid to cripple him and end the fight.
A dangerous glint sparked in Mikael's eyes.
'I think it's time to up my game. Fighting with only the raw power of a 9th layer Body Forging Realm cultivator and basic swordsmanship isn't enough against twenty coordinated enemies of equal or stronger cultivation.'
A grin that sent alarm bells in the mind of the more sensitive bandits appeared on his visage, "Yeah it's time to up my game."
And then—he vanished.
In a sudden burst of speed, Mikael evaded the approaching sword, slipped inside the bandit's guard, and—
Slash.
With a sharp flash of Sangrelia, the bandit's head was sent flying, a trail of crimson arcing behind it.
The battlefield fell into stunned silence.
For a heartbeat, every single bandit stood frozen—not only from Mikael's unexpected acceleration but also because this marked the first death among their ranks in this lopsided twenty-against-one fight.
Mikael didn't let the moment go to waste. He closed the distance between himself and two female bandits in an instant.
By the time the two snapped out of their daze, he was already standing right in front of them.
Startled, they thrust their spears in a panic. But their forms were clumsy and desperate—easy for Mikael to slip through with fluid ease.
He passed their weapons and stepped into striking range. Without hesitation, he moved with surgical precision. Sangrelia howled through the air—and the two were cleaved cleanly in half.
Thud.
Their severed halves dropped to the ground with a wet, sickening slap.
"Three down. Seventeen to go," he muttered, as casually as checking items off a list.
Drenched in blood, wounds torn across his body, Mikael stood tall. Like an asura wreathed in death, he radiated a silent promise of carnage.
The bandits wavered, fear prickling at their nerves. But the memory of what had just happened pushed them to suppress the instinct to freeze.
Still, a cold shiver ran down their spines.
"Careful! He can explode with insane speed!" one of them shouted, voice cracking with panic.
Quickly, they formed a tight circle around him again, moving cautiously, unwilling to let him slip through their formation.
They found it strange that he hadn't taken advantage of their lapse to escape. But they rationalized it—perhaps he simply hadn't had the time, given how fast they regrouped.
Clank.
Blades met again. Mikael and the remaining seventeen bandits clashed in a brutal chorus of steel and force.
They braced themselves for his sudden speed—but it wasn't just that.
"Fuck, it isn't only his speed… all his physical parameters are higher than before!"
That realization marked the beginning of their downfall.
Mikael, having loosened the self-imposed restraints, now fought with physical stats comparable to a 14th layer Body Forging Realm cultivator.
Compared to his real physical strength, it was still nothing—but compared to earlier, it was a boost of over 50%.
That increase alone brought him toe-to-toe with the strongest of the remaining bandits. And with each clash, his swordsmanship sharpened, evolving bit by bit.
Combined with that raw surge in power, the momentum of the fight shifted entirely.
"ARGGGHH, my hand—!" screamed one of the bandits, his arm freshly severed by Sangrelia. Moments later, his scream was cut off as Mikael took advantage of his pain and swiftly decapitated him.
Mikael continued clashing with the bandits, but compared to earlier, the tide of battle had completely changed.
Under his blade, bandits were now falling one after another—some gravely injured, others killed outright—while he still took hits, but far less frequently than before.
In this fashion, they began to drop like flies.
"What kind of monster is he?" cursed the bandit leader as he watched Mikael keep fighting, completely unfazed by the numerous injuries he had already sustained and continued to sustain.
"ARGGHH!"
Another bandit was cut down.
'No—I have to act now, or this freak will wipe us out.'
"Varos! Nine of you, you're with me—let's go support our brothers and sisters in taking down this bastard! As for the rest of you, keep watch on the guards and warn us if they attack!"
"Yes, boss!"
"Tsk, okay boss," Varos muttered, clearly annoyed. He would've rather stayed with the caravan. The guards and that noble girl weren't despairing as much anymore, but the non-combatants hiding in the wagons still offered some entertainment. As for Mikael?
He wasn't fun. That lunatic was grinning like a man possessed–no fear, no desperation. Just bloodlust. Still, orders were orders.
With those commands, the battlefield shifted again. The eleven bandits fighting Mikael were now reinforced, bringing their total to nineteen. With Varos and the bandit leader included, their numbers swelled to twenty-one against one.
It mirrored the beginning of the fight, but the difference now was that Mikael was covered in injuries, blood staining his entire body.
Clank.
Uncaring of his wounds, Mikael clashed with the bandits once again.
They expected his battle-hungry grin to fade, or at least for him to grow more serious upon seeing the reinforcements. But Mikael did neither. On the contrary, his grin grew even wider.
The reason?
From the moment he increased his physical attributes by 50%, the difficulty and danger of this life-and-death battle had decreased, and as a result, his basic swordsmanship had begun to evolve at a slower pace.
But now…
With as many enemies as at the start, with Varos and the bandit leader being especially powerful, and with injuries continuing to accumulate, the difficulty and danger of the battle skyrocketed—allowing his basic swordsmanship to evolve at a rocket pace.
And then—
The bandits began to fall once again.
Twenty.
Eighteen.
Fifteen.
By the time their numbers had dwindled to ten—including Varos and the bandit leader—panic had begun to spread. The cries of "Monster!" echoed more frequently, and Mikael could see it in their eyes—they were beginning to consider escape.
"Don't let them run away!" he shouted.
The guards didn't need to be told twice. Fueled by vengeance, they sprang forward to repay the ambush in full. Without hesitation, they moved to block off the five bandits that had been guarding them, and the ten still surrounding Mikael.
Author Note:
EnjoyingAscension Through the Records?
A quick Power Stone, short review, or thoughtful comment helps the novel rise in the rankings.
Want to read ahead? Unlock advanced chapters on Patreon—just search SDASLUMMY.
You're part of this story's ascent. Thanks for being here.
— End of Chapter —