Now that the bandit was dead, John's plan to get information went down the drain . They were too quick to make a decision, as the bandits inside the cabin had surely already realized that something strange was going on outside.
John had two options in mind: the first , to escape as quickly as possible and call reinforcements from the castle to deal with the situation; the second , to invade the cabin with a surprise attack to rescue the prisoners. The first option was unfeasible — with one of his own dead, as soon as they found out, the bandits would flee immediately. The second, although dangerous, offered some chance .
Inside the hut, some time passed and the bandit who had been sent had yet to return. The chief's brow was furrowed; he felt that something strange was in the air.
— You three , go take a look — experimented.
The three bandits obeyed and left. One held a sword, the other two each held a spear. The chief gathered the two prisoners together, prepared at any moment. If anything went wrong, he would abandon the bandits and flee with the women. For him, honor was for idiots.
John made his decision: they would face the bandits together. Even if we couldn't win, use your speed to escape. Alex found it in the fight, but he scowled when John mentioned running away. In the end, he accepted — he didn't fear for his own life, but protecting the young lord was his top priority.
John looked around. Facing unfamiliar opponents, knowing the terrain to take advantage of the fight and flight. In a few moments, he memorized the scene: old bars full of water scattered everywhere, a bare tree nearby, and an alley between huts that could restrict enemy movement.
He asked Isa to hide in an empty barrel.
— Isa , stay here. Don't come out for anything, unless I call you. They still don't know where you are, and the only one who knew... is dead.
Isa nodded, got into the barrel and spoke in a trembling voice:
— John, Alex, be careful.
— Don't worry, we'll be careful — John said. Almost at the same time, Alex said: — You don't need to worry.
The two hid behind the tree. Alex appeared with the stake firmly in his hands, while John took the dead bandit's old sword. They left the corpse in sight, so that it could be found quickly.
John saw the door to the cabin open and three bandits come out . He drew his sword tightly, his heart pounding, but he rushed in with deep breaths. He looked at Alex and saw the anxiety in his eyes, but no sign of fear.
John stared at the three bandits. They didn't mention anything impressive, just a little stronger than the bandit he had just killed. The bandits saw their companion's body on the ground and approached. The one holding the sword crouched down to feel for a pulse and concluded: — He's dead. Chip will tell Chief Cancer, and we'll try to find out who did this. If ...
With his back to the tree, the bandit had not yet finished his sentence when Alex, holding the stake tightly, jumped towards him. The bandit was crouched down, and Alex aimed for his head, wanting to knock him down with a single blow, as John had done before. He used all his strength.
Beng .
The sound of metal clashing echoed. Alex slammed the stake into the bandit's sword. Because he was only half-standing, the bandit lost his balance and fell backward, nearly dropping his sword. His hand went numb; the stake was too heavy.
Alex saw the opportunity and prepared to attack again, but the two other bandits charged at him with their spears.
Alex blocked one spear with the stake. When the other came , he dodged it and jumped back, moving away. But the bandits didn't want to give him any breathing room. They chased him and attacked again.
The bandit Alex had knocked down tried to get up and join his companions, but he felt something behind him. He turned quickly and saw a sword coming towards his head. He jumped back. The downward blow hit only his left arm, making a light and superficial cut on his shoulder.
— Who the hell are you? — asked the bandit, full of anger and surprise.
The bandit asked, confused. How could two children aim for his head? He had nearly been killed twice that day. Anger consumed him, but so did caution. He could sense the unusual strength of these two young men from their previous exchanges. It didn't matter if it was a stake or a sword—they both had strength comparable to his. How was this possible? They were just children. How could they be so strong?
John realized that his surprise attack had had no effect. He felt discouraged, but he did not give up. Gathering all his strength, he struck twice, one aimed at the bandit's neck, the other at his chest, but both were easily blocked. The bandit was more experienced with the sword than John. A cold smile formed on his face.
— Hahaha , children, you will meet death today. You must be children of nobles, preparing for your first evolution. Very well, since you have strength but no experience, it will be fitting for you to die by my hands.
A chill ran through John as he heard those sinister laughs.
Suddenly, a V-shaped sword flew toward him. John didn't try to block it, just dodged it to the left. The blade stuck in a barrel full of water, stuck. Seeing his chance , John attacked with his sword, aiming for the bandit's head, who was struggling to free his weapon.
As John's blade was about to cut through the enemy's neck—
Beng !
John's sword hit another sword. He stepped back, and then saw a burly bandit who was none of the previous three.
—How can you not deal with mere children? — the bandit boss mocked , glaring at the two.
— Boss, these kids are strong — warned one of the bandits.
The bandits who were facing Alex retreated to join their companions. Alex also stood beside John.
The bandit boss asked again, this time looking straight at John and Alex:
— Who are you children?
John replied with a confident smile. Even though he was outnumbered, he wasn't worried. After the previous exchanges, he could estimate the strength of the enemies.
"Who we are doesn't matter," he said, pointing to the cabin. "I want them. If you give us the prisoners, I'll consider letting you live."
John still felt the latent fear, but adrenaline was starting to take over. He was confident: with Alex's help, they could face the four bandits.
— Hahaha , hahahahahahahaha — four bursts of laughter exploded at the same time, echoing menacingly in the air.
The bandit chief, with a distorted and cruel smile, spoke:
— You are good seeds. How about becoming my servants? Who knows, in the future, powerful mercenaries under my banner.
John found it an insult, a bad joke. The son of a lord becoming a servant to some mercenary? Never. He pointed his sword firmly and replied coldly:
— Get out of here or die. You will not lead the Wolf family while I am here. You are not qualified to be my masters, much less am I qualified to be your servant.
"Foolish, arrogant children," the chief grumbled. "I only spoke to you to see if there was anyone else hiding. Since there isn't, no one is going to finish you off. Now, you better get out of here fast. I don't think I caught the little girl, but I'm satisfied with both of them."
John's heart sank. There was still someone hiding, an unseen danger behind the scenes. His smile and confidence evaporated, and with a look that tried to disguise his fear, he asked:
— Who are they? Who would be pleased?
The boss's laughter grew even more sinister, filled with a murderous intent that chilled the air—he had probably already taken countless lives with that same coldness.
— Scared now, you arrogant child? — he mocked . — Since you're going to die anyway, I'll tell you everything.
He laughed, now like a classic villain, and blurted out the truth:
— We are direct servants of the Gross Vein mercenaries. They have two gold mercenaries.
Alex, who had remained silent until then, spoke in a firm and serious voice:
— The Veia Grossa mercenaries were expelled from Novo Redondo. What are they doing here? And what do they want with this family of werewolves?
The boss responded in a tone as if he were speaking to a corpse:
— Yes, this sector — replied the chief — but they sent three representatives to take care of these wolves. The Wolf family will be sent to headquarters, in Evans territory.
He continued to laugh mockingly.
John glanced sideways at Alex and whispered:
— What's up with the Veia Grossa mercenaries?
Alex replied in a low voice:
— I'll explain later. We have to finish them off now. If we delay, they'll send a primal being. And then, it's the end for us.
John nodded silently and then shouted:
— ISA , run! Go help your family! We'll take care of them!
Isa, who had been hiding inside a barrel the whole time, jumped out and ran towards the hut. The bandit chief was startled when he saw her, but then a glint of euphoria appeared in his eyes—it was the girl he had been waiting for.
Without wasting time, he tried to run after her, but John stood in front of him, sword in hand.
— Where do you think you're going? I'm your opponent — he said coldly.
The boss scoffed:
— Child... what gives you so much confidence? Before I even entered the fight, you could barely handle my men. Now, with me here, do you think you have a chance ?
John and Alex looked at each other and started laughing out loud.
— You idiot — Alex teased —, do you really think that this miserable bunch is a match for us?
The bandits looked at each other, confused. They had the numerical advantage and yet they were being ridiculed? Was this a bluff? A trick? The chief narrowed his eyes, suspicious but hesitant.
John spoke with disdain:
— At first, I was worried that you, like a good coward, wouldn't leave the cabin. But now that you're out here... we can fight without worrying about hostages.
John's posture changed. Now he spoke like a strategist, someone who was always in control. And he didn't hesitate to reveal everything:
— From the beginning, we were ready to flee if they were much stronger than us. That's why we hid Isa. If necessary, she would be safe until we returned with reinforcements.
John pointed to the cabin with his chin:
—But if your strength was similar to ours, the plan was simple: create an advantageous situation. We knew the boss would stay inside the hut—it's always like that. I've seen it happen dozens of times. The leader sends his lackeys to test the waters. If they're weak, he doesn't even have to leave. But if there's resistance... then he shows up.
And you fell right in.
If the opponent was weak, the boss would appear and eliminate him personally. But if the intruder was too strong, he would use his subordinates as a shield—to buy time and escape.
That was why John and Alex had used all their brute strength from the beginning, but hid their speed and agility. Although the four bandits were similar in level to them, there was one natural advantage that made all the difference: the Iron Tails had sharper senses and innate strength superior to that of humans—even before their first evolution.
Alex and John had the upper hand, but they held back in order to manipulate the battlefield. Their goal was to lure the boss out—and create a chance for Isa to free her family. If the enemies were truly more powerful, John would not hesitate to flee; but since they were just arrogant trash, he would attack with all his might.
All this took only a few moments. When Isa finally reached the door of the cabin and entered, John knew the time had come.
He looked at Alex beside him.
— Let's finish them off.
Alex smiled confidently.
— Let's go.
In perfect synchrony, the two went on the attack. John would face the chief and the swordsman. Alex was left with the two bandits armed with spears.
The fight began again—this time, with no strings attached. Now they displayed their full potential. Strength. Speed. Agility. It was all on full display.
John danced between attacks with ease and precision. His sword swung, blocked, and counterattacked with deadly fluidity. His eyes were always fixed, calculating. Every move was surgical.
Alex moved intelligently: he used the barrels as cover to hinder the reach of the spears, approaching only when he had a safe angle to attack. He was like a fast shadow, impossible to catch.
John blocked a powerful blow from the swordsman and took a few steps back. The chief advanced, growling:
— Where do you think you're going?
John didn't answer. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and concentrated. Fragments of a distant past flashed through his mind—the mandatory physical training of the old SIA agency. Even as an intelligence agent, he had been forced to learn the organization's martial system. He remembered only the basics, but it was enough to turn the tide.
When he opened his eyes, two swords were already cutting through the air towards him—one aimed at his neck, the other at his abdomen.
Woxim .
The sound of the wind being cut by the blades sounded like thunder on the battlefield.
John spun his body in a low arc, dodging the upper blade by millimeters. With a fluid movement of his fist, he locked the swordsman's arm and used it as a shield against the boss's blow. The impact was brutal—the swordsman screamed as his own ally struck him in the ribs.
Before the chief could react, John spun again, slicing his blade into the wounded swordsman's side—a clean cut to the hamstring. The man fell to his knees, screaming.
The boss's eyes widened, surprised by the sudden change in pace.
John raised his sword, steady. The fog of fear in his chest had now turned into pure determination.
— Now yes... let's dance.
Woxim .
With simple but incredibly precise movements, John dodged the two swords as if they were too slow to hit him. Up until this point, he had not used any formal techniques—just his speed to evade the attacks. But now, he moved so naturally that the two bandits were astonished.
They attacked again, charging with renewed force. The result? The same.
In SIA, the "Art of Compound Movement" was taught as a mandatory discipline for all agents — and John was no exception. In his eyes, the enemy's movements were predictable. Slow. The real secret of this technique was in the timing : it wasn't about pure speed, but about the right moment to react. That was why he dodged with almost provocative ease blows that should have been fatal.
Frustrated at not being able to hit the enemy, the chief lost his composure. He screamed in rage, threw his head back like a beast, and charged with his sword pointed straight at John's heart—without any care for his defense.
The blade sliced through the air. Inches to go. John didn't move. He waited. And then, as if time had slowed for a second, he slid slightly to the right.
Shff .
The sword tore through his clothes—but did not touch his skin.
In the next split second, John counterattacked. A downward crescent-shaped slash. His sword penetrated deep into the chief's left shoulder, piercing through his chest and stopping only at his abdomen.
The second bandit tried to intercept the blow, but it was too late. John, smaller in stature, used this to his advantage to duck and escape the blade — with frightening fluidity.
Now he was fighting two wounded enemies. Blood stained their clothes, their movements became less fluid. John's advantage only grew.
He then began the final stage of his plan. He lured the two toward a tree. There, well hidden, was his secret weapon: a wooden stake. As he approached, he grabbed it with his left hand—and threw it with full force.
The target was not the boss. It was the swordsman, the same one with the wound on his shoulder.
Seeing the projectile coming, the bandit prepared to dodge, but hesitated when he noticed its speed. He chose to use his sword to block. Big mistake.
John smiled. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
Just as the enemy raised his sword to parry the stake, John disappeared from view—and reappeared behind him.
Swim .
The blade cut through the air smoothly. A clean, almost elegant sound.
John froze behind the enemy, his sword still extended. The bandit, not understanding, slowly turned around. His gaze found John's back.
Then, without warning, he put his hands to his neck.
It was as if a faucet had been turned on—clotted blood gushed from his throat, thick and dark. The bandit knelt. He dropped his sword. He tried to hold the wound with both hands, but it was useless. His wide, trembling eyes showed a single feeling:
Disbelief.
The chief, seeing his companion fall dead at the boy's feet, tried to run. He knew. He knew he was no match for the child in front of him.
John watched in silence as the man fled. He didn't chase him. He simply bent down, picked up the fallen enemy's sword, and in one fluid motion, threw it with all his might.
Croft .
The blade cut through the air like lightning. It entered the back of the chief's head and pierced through his neck. The body fell to the ground like an empty sack. Dead.
John let out a sigh. Not of weariness—but of relief and regret.
He felt strange. He had just killed men. Men who wanted to kill him, yes… but still, people. Psychologically, something inside him was shaking. He knew it was a matter of survival—kill or be killed—but he couldn't ignore the knot in his stomach. It wasn't the first time. He had killed before, in his past life. So what was making him shake now?
The answer came as he looked at the bodies, the blood covering the ground, slowly dripping down the fallen weapons.
In his past life, he would just pull the trigger. The blood would spurt far away, never onto his feet.
In the distance, the bodies of Alex's opponents lay on the ground. John took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. But then, upon seeing Alex…
John smiled.
Alex was pale, kneeling, vomiting. His face was bathed in tears. His stomach refused to accept what his eyes had witnessed. The scene he had just experienced.
John held back the urge to laugh out loud. It was Alex's first time.
This world was cruel.
Children learned to kill before they even lost their virginity. John felt sorry for them both. Even though he had lost his virginity in his previous life, this body was still a virgin. He and Alex were just boys. And they had already killed.
After some time, Alex regained control . They wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. They didn't even think about checking on Isa and her family right away. They just wanted to get out of that hell.
Pa pa shovel pa.Pa shovel shovel shovel shovel shovel shovel .
The sound of clapping echoed through the room. They both turned around, looking for the source—but they couldn't see where it was coming from.
Then, in addition to the clapping, footsteps.
And finally, he appeared.
A man. A bandit.
He stopped in front of them. The sound of clapping ceased. His cold eyes met John and Alex's, and in an almost disinterested tone of voice he asked:
— Were you the ones who killed my servants?
Just with those words… something changed.
John and Alex felt a chill run down their spines. Their hearts raced. Sweat ran down their faces. Their legs began to tremble.
It wasn't ordinary fear. It was instinct.
It was as if a predator was facing its prey.
The man in front of them was no simple bandit.
He was an evolved being . A Primary Level 2 .
John and Alex? They were just ordinary kids.
At that moment, they felt like ants in front of an elephant.
In the sea of the soul. In John's soul, a calm sea stretched endlessly in every direction. The water was clear, mirroring the blue sky—a sky without sun, and yet illuminated by a soft, inexplicable light . There was no horizon, no wind, no sound. Only peace.
In the center of that endless sea, a gigantic egg floated.
Translucent.
Inside it, a sleeping baby — eyes closed, expression serene, as if sleeping the deepest sleep in the universe.
Then came the fear.
When John's fear went beyond the limits of reason—when it became pure, visceral, primal instinct —the baby's eyes opened.
No expression. No judgment. Just awakened awareness .
Strangely, the baby could see everything around John's body in the real world. But unlike human eyes, which saw color, shape, and light, the baby saw only three shades: white, black, and gray. Light. Shadow. Neutrality.
Continued...