Jorek narrowed his eyes as he studied the lone carriage surrounded by his men.
"Looks like another merchant," the bandit beside him muttered, casually stuffing fried beans into his mouth.
Jorek didn't respond.
His gaze never left the carriage—more precisely, the coachman.
Too calm. Far too calm for someone encircled by over thirty armed men.
Without turning his head, Jorek extended a hand. The man beside him clicked his tongue in annoyance but dumped a handful of beans into Jorek's palm.
"Can't you eat your own beans?" he grunted.
Jorek ignored him, chewing slowly.
That was when the coachman moved.
The carriage door opened.
A young man stepped out.
Fair-skinned. Well-built. Dressed plainly, yet carrying himself with an unmistakable air of composure. Not the stiff arrogance of a noble, nor the trembling fear of a merchant—but something in between.
Something… dangerous.
"Oh?"
The bandit beside Jorek let out a low whistle, his surprise quickly twisting into delight.
"Well, isn't he handsome," the man chuckled. "What do you think? How much would the Black Spider Auction pay for someone like him?"
Several bandits snickered.
Jorek didn't.
His eyes locked onto the young man—who was now looking directly in his direction.
Not scanning.
Not guessing.
Looking.
Even though Jorek was partially concealed among the bandits, even though no one had pointed him out—
The young man's gaze found him without hesitation.
Jorek's jaw tightened.
'Trouble,' he thought.
His hand clenched slowly around the hilt of his sword.
---
Kael subtly adjusted his Appraisal.
He limited the display to only four fields—Affiliation, Crimes, Tier and skills. There was no need to drown himself in unnecessary information. Names, races, genders… none of that mattered right now. If someone exceptional appeared, he could always switch to a full read later.
For now, this was enough.
The carriage door opened, and Kael stepped outside.
His gaze swept across the surroundings.
They were surrounded—but not chaotically.
The bandits stood at a measured distance, forming a loose but deliberate encirclement around the carriage. No reckless charging. No shouting. Every man held his position.
Kael nodded faintly.
"Smart," he said quietly. "They're veterans."
Jasper stood beside him, posture relaxed, eyes sharp.
"Yes, sir," he replied. "They've placed archers at the rear and spearmen at the front. This looks less like bandit behavior and more like militia deployment."
Kael hummed in agreement.
That matched what he was sensing.
He activated his appraisal on the nearest spearman.
─────────── APPRAISAL ───────────
Affiliation : Black Spider Organization (Bandit Group 4 – Grunt) [Evil]
Tier : Low-tier-1
Skills :
• Spearmanship (Novice)
• Seed Selection (Intermediate)
• Plowing (Intermediate)
• ...
Crimes :
• Murder of innocents
• Robbery of ten civilians
─────────── END ───────────
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly.
'One,' he thought, mentally marking the man.
A killer.
Without changing expression, Kael shifted his gaze and activated the same narrowed appraisal again—then again.
One by one, figures were sorted in his mind.
Those who had crossed a line that could not be forgiven.
And those who, perhaps, still could be spared.
As Kael continued his silent assessment, the bandits remained unaware.
They believed they had surrounded prey.
In truth—
They were standing before a judge who had already begun deciding who would walk away…
and who would not.
As the final appraisal window faded from his vision, Kael let out a quiet sigh and shook his head.
He wondered bitterly, 'Why did they choose to commit crimes like this?'
Now, there was no room for mercy.
'If justice is to be carried out,' Kael thought, 'then I'll let Jasper be the one to do it.'
His gaze shifted back to the man he had just appraised.
Jorek Grimroot.
At a glance, he looked utterly unremarkable. Wore the same worn clothes as the other grunts. An ordinary face, the kind that would disappear into a crowd without leaving an impression.
Normally, Kael would have overlooked him.
But the appraisal told a different story.
─────────── APPRAISAL ───────────
Name : Jorek Grimroot
Race : Human
Age : 34
Gender : Male
Affiliation : Black Spider Organization
(Bandit Group 4 – Leader) [Evil]
Class : Tailor
Tier : High-tier-2
Growth : 65%
Talent : Pattern Follower (E-rank)
Attributes : 672 (!)
Skills :
• Spearmanship (Advanced)
• Archery (Expert)
• Reinforced Seam (Expert)
• ...
Crimes :
• Murder of innocents
• Robbery of civilians
• Human trafficking and slave trading
─────────── END ───────────
Leader of these Bandits.
Beside him stood the Vice Leader, masquerading as nothing more than a loud-mouthed thug.
Jorek noticed Kael's gaze and stiffened.
Their eyes met.
Kael turned slightly and spoke to Jasper, his voice calm, almost casual.
"Well," he said, "it seems they're the real deal."
Jasper listened without interrupting.
"Leave those two alive," Kael continued, nodding subtly toward Jorek and the man beside him.
"Kill everyone else."
There was no hesitation in his tone.
"Make sure they don't escape," he added. "And do it cleanly. Break their necks—no blood on the ground."
Jasper's eyes sharpened.
Kael said, gesturing to one side of the road, "Pile the bodies over there. I'll take care of them."
Jasper gave a short nod. "Understood, sir."
He didn't ask why blades were forbidden.
He didn't question why two were to be spared.
Orders were orders.
As Kael stepped back into the carriage and closed the door behind him, the world outside seemed to grow quiet.
Jasper turned to face the bandits.
A soft smile touched his lips.
"Well then," he said lightly, "let's see how long you can last."
He took a single step forward—
And vanished.
Jorek's pupils shrank.
Before either he or his vice leader could even draw breath, Jasper was suddenly in front of them. No sound. No warning. Just presence.
Two precise strikes followed.
Jasper's hands shot out, landing cleanly against the sides of their necks. The speed alone was shocking—but the control behind it was terrifying.
Jorek's vision swam.
So did his vice leader's.
Their consciousness faded before panic could even take root.
Before their bodies could hit the ground, Jasper caught both men by their clothes and stepped back—already moving.
In the next instant, he was beside the carriage again.
He released them unceremoniously at the feet of the horses, ensuring they remained unconscious but alive.
Then Jasper turned.
And stepped back into the encirclement.
This time, there was no restraint.
He moved through the bandits like a silent current—hands flowing with sharp, practiced motions. Not a blade in sight, yet every strike carried lethal intent. A chop here. A precise blow there.
No questions asked.
No mercy offered.
One by one, bodies dropped—cleanly, quietly—before they could even understand what was happening.
To the bandits, it felt less like a fight—
And more like being erased.
----
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