Night descended upon Woodstone Forest like a heavy curtain.
The last traces of sunlight vanished behind the towering trees, leaving only darkness layered upon darkness. Thick branches intertwined overhead, blocking the moonlight and turning the forest into a shadowed maze. The air grew damp and cold, filled with the faint smell of soil and moss.
Near a clearing deep within the forest, a campfire burned.
Orange flames flickered quietly, illuminating a group of bandits gathered around it. Some drank from rough wooden cups, others tore into roasted meat with loud laughter. Weapons lay carelessly nearby. Their armor was mismatched, their vigilance dulled by confidence and exhaustion.
They did not know death already surrounded them.
Hidden among the trees, Ivan and ten knight apprentices formed a silent ring around the camp.
Bows were raised.
Arrows rested against drawn strings.
All eyes waited for a single signal.
Ivan stood at the center of the formation, gaze calm and unmoving as he observed the bandits below.
In this world, night belonged to danger.
Most ordinary people suffered from poor night vision. Years of malnutrition left their bodies weak, their eyesight dull once darkness fell. Villagers rarely traveled at night unless forced by desperation. Even many minor nobles struggled to see clearly after sunset.
The bandits were no exception.
Though they hunted and looted for survival, living off meat and stolen supplies, true nutrition remained scarce. Their bodies were strong from hardship, yet their vision still faltered in darkness.
Knight apprentices, however, were different.
From childhood, they received structured training, medicinal tonics, and balanced diets meant to strengthen both body and senses. Years of disciplined cultivation sharpened their perception far beyond ordinary men.
Tonight, that difference became a weapon.
Ivan slowly raised his hand.
Ten bows tightened.
The forest fell utterly silent.
Then—
His hand dropped.
Whoosh—
Arrows tore through the darkness like streaks of shadow.
Before the bandits could react, six men collapsed instantly, arrows piercing throats and chests. Four others screamed as shafts buried deep into shoulders and ribs.
"Ambush!"
"Enemies!"
"Take cover!"
Chaos erupted around the fire. Some bandits scrambled for weapons, others stumbled blindly into one another, unable to locate the attackers hidden beyond the firelight.
Ivan's voice came low and steady.
"Second volley."
Again, bowstrings sang.
Another rain of arrows descended.
Five more bandits fell before they could even stand properly. Blood splashed across the dirt as wounded men crawled desperately away from the flames.
The camp dissolved into panic.
Ivan did not hesitate.
"Swords."
Bows were lowered in perfect unison.
Steel flashed as knight swords left their scabbards.
"Charge."
The apprentices surged forward like a breaking wave.
Boots crushed leaves. Armor rustled softly. Within seconds, they burst into the clearing.
The battle ended almost as soon as it began.
Disorganized and half-blind in the darkness, the remaining bandits could barely mount resistance. Blades rose and fell with ruthless efficiency. Sparks scattered with every clash. Steel cut through leather and flesh alike.
A mid-level apprentice split through two opponents in quick succession. Nearby, low-level apprentices fought in pairs, relying on coordination rather than brute strength. Though weaker individually, their training far surpassed that of ordinary fighters.
Within minutes, the clearing fell silent again.
Twenty bandits lay scattered around the dying campfire.
The smell of blood replaced the scent of roasted meat.
But victory brought no relief.
Ivan's eyes shifted toward the dark cave behind the camp.
"…They heard us," he murmured.
As if answering his words—
Shouts echoed from within.
Moments later, figures rushed out of the cave entrance.
Nearly twenty armed bandits charged forward, fury replacing confusion as they saw their fallen comrades. Rage drove them recklessly toward the knight apprentices.
Ivan lifted his sword.
"Formation!"
The apprentices regrouped instantly, forming a tight combat line.
The two forces collided.
Steel rang violently.
This time the enemy was prepared.
Among the charging bandits were two figures whose movements stood apart—one powerful and steady, the other swift and precise.
Knight apprentices.
One high-level.
One mid-level.
They engaged Ivan's strongest subordinates immediately, locking the battlefield into fierce duels.
Elsewhere, combat turned brutal and close.
Low-level apprentices struggled against multiple opponents, relying on teamwork to survive. Mid-level apprentices faced three or four enemies at once, cutting openings through sheer skill.
Ivan himself fought ordinary bandits, conserving strength.
His instincts told him the true battle had not yet begun.
Then—
A figure flew across the battlefield.
A low-level knight apprentice crashed heavily onto the ground before Ivan, coughing blood as his armor dented inward.
The battlefield seemed to pause.
Heavy footsteps approached.
From the shadows emerged a massive man clad in worn half-plate armor. His body was broad like a bear's, muscles straining beneath battered steel. Scars covered his face, and one eye bore an old, vicious wound that twisted his expression into something feral.
A suffocating aura spread outward.
Ivan's pupils contracted.
Black Wolf.
The leader of the Howling Wolf bandits.
For a brief moment, even the surrounding fighters slowed, their attention drawn toward the confrontation forming at the center.
Ivan stepped forward.
"I'll handle him," he said calmly.
The apprentices did not argue. Trust had already formed through battle. They withdrew, reengaging the remaining bandits and leaving space for the duel.
The Black Wolf let out a hoarse laugh, his voice rough like gravel scraping stone.
"So… you're the one giving orders," he said, tilting his head as his single good eye fixed on Ivan. "I was wondering which pup was leading these knights."
His gaze swept over Ivan from head to toe, measuring, judging—filled with undisguised hostility.
Ivan gave no response.
He moved first.
Both men charged simultaneously.
Steel collided with explosive force.
Clang!
The impact traveled through Ivan's arms like thunder. His muscles trembled as immense weight pressed against his blade.
Stronger than expected.
Inside his mind—
"Scanning target," Nova reported.
Data appeared instantly.
Physique: 4.3Stamina: 4.2Constitution: 4.0
Ivan's own physique differed only slightly.
But numbers alone meant nothing.
A knight possessed a chi circuit—a complete internal system that circulated energy continuously throughout the body, enhancing endurance, recovery, and explosive power.
A knight apprentice only possessed fragmented chi channels, capable of reinforcing limited areas temporarily.
The difference was fundamental.
The Black Wolf grinned as he forced his blade downward.
"You're strong," he growled. "But you're still just an apprentice."
Ivan twisted his body instead of resisting directly.
He stepped aside.
The enemy blade struck empty air.
Ivan countered instantly, his sword flashing toward the man's ribs.
Clang!
Blocked.
Sparks scattered between them.
They separated, circling slowly.
Around them, fighting continued—but attention drifted inevitably toward the duel. Even hardened bandits stole glances, shock flickering in their eyes as Ivan matched their leader blow for blow.
The Black Wolf attacked again, swings heavy and relentless, each strike carrying crushing momentum.
Ivan no longer blocked directly.
He dodged.
Redirected.
Countered.
Nova's combat assistance calculated angles and timing, guiding subtle adjustments in footwork and blade trajectory.
Steel clashed again and again.
Leaves scattered under their feet.
Breathing grew heavier.
The Black Wolf's grin slowly faded.
This apprentice… was adapting.
Ivan stepped back briefly, creating distance.
Then he advanced once more, blade cutting forward with sharper precision than before.
Their swords met mid-air.
A burst of sparks illuminated their faces.
For a fleeting instant, neither moved.
Man against man.
Apprentice against knight.
The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.