Chapter 91: Annihilating the Bandits (2)
Zane raised his axe with a savage grin, ready to finish Gavin—
Whoosh!
A flash of steel shot toward him.
Zane reacted instantly, bringing up his axe to block.
Bang!
The incoming sword slammed into the axe with explosive force. Zane's expression changed drastically as he staggered backward seven or eight steps, his hands trembling violently. Blood seeped from his split palms, dripping down the haft.
Saelen had already marked him the moment Zane killed two of his men. Before he could step in, Gavin had rushed forward recklessly. Now, seeing Gavin in danger, Saelen had cut down another bandit, seized his sword, and hurled it with all his strength.
When the thrown blade failed to kill Zane, Saelen didn't hesitate. Gripping Ice tightly, he charged forward.
Zane steadied himself, face grim, and met him head-on.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Their weapons clashed over a dozen times in rapid succession, each collision ringing through the valley. But the difference in strength was clear.
Zane's face grew pale, his breathing ragged. His steps faltered—his strength was fading.
Saelen saw the opening. He reversed his grip and swung Ice with full force.
Zane gritted his teeth and raised his axe to block.
Crack!
The moment the two weapons met, the axe shattered into fragments. The impact sent a violent force through Zane's arms, driving him back over ten steps. His hands shook uncontrollably, now gripping nothing but a splintered wooden haft.
Shock and fear filled his face.
So this… was how it would end.
A flicker of unwillingness passed through his eyes, but in the end, he threw aside the broken handle and dropped to his knees.
"My lord… mercy," he begged, his voice trembling.
Saelen dragged Ice across the ground as he approached, stopping before him.
"Give me a reason to spare your life."
"I… I have money!" Zane blurted out desperately. "A lot of it—four or five hundred gold dragons! I'll give you everything—just spare me!"
He looked up at Saelen with desperate hope. After countless raids, and by killing his rivals, he had amassed a fortune. Surely… it would be enough to buy his life.
Saelen shook his head, his expression cold and unmoved.
"Not enough. Not even close. You've killed too many. Your crimes are beyond counting. That amount of gold won't save you."
His gray eyes were devoid of emotion—as if he were already looking at a corpse.
Zane's face collapsed in despair, his body slumping to the ground.
By now, the fighting in the valley had ended. Jon, Ser William, and the others gathered around.
Jon dragged two prisoners forward and threw them down.
"Only these two are alive. The rest are dead."
The two captives trembled, begging desperately.
"My lord, mercy!" "Please spare me!"
Saelen looked at them calmly.
"Did you show mercy to the villagers?"
"…."
The two men fell silent. Surrounded by cold, murderous gazes, they lowered their heads, their eyes empty with despair.
"But…" Saelen continued, his tone shifting slightly, "nothing is absolute. If one of you can provide valuable information, I will spare his life."
Hope flickered instantly in all three prisoners' eyes.
"My lord, ask anything! I'll tell you everything!" the two captives said eagerly, clinging to the chance.
"Pah!" Zane spat disdainfully. "My lord, ask me instead. Those two are nothing but small fry—what could they possibly know?"
He leaned forward, his tone fawning.
"I'm their leader. I know far more than they do."
The two prisoners, seeing their hope slipping away, forgot their fear and began cursing him furiously.
Saelen raised an eyebrow. "You're their leader?"
"Yes, my lord. Absolutely," Zane replied, bowing his head obsequiously.
"Those who ordered you—are they among the dead here?" Saelen asked, gesturing at the corpses.
"No, my lord. They left last night," Zane answered quickly. "They said they were going to gather reinforcements and told us to wait here."
Saelen let out a quiet breath.
Too late.
Those men had likely sensed danger and slipped away early. These bandits… had been nothing more than expendable pawns.
"How much do you know about the people behind all this?" Saelen asked.
Saelen listened as Zane declared himself the leader. His gray eyes turned cold as ice, his gaze fixed on him. Ice was planted firmly into the ground, both hands resting atop its hilt.
"This…"
Zane froze. What could he possibly say? Those people had always dealt with them masked in black, dressed in plain, unremarkable clothing, bearing no sigils or identifying marks.
Truth be told, he had only clawed his way up from the bottom through brute force and ruthlessness. He was crude, impulsive, and not particularly bright. At the time, all he cared about was striking it big with them, dreaming of becoming a knight or noble. He hadn't paid attention to anything else.
"Looks like you know nothing," Saelen said flatly. "Then what use are you to me?"
"And as their leader… the order to slaughter those villagers came from you, didn't it?"
He shook his head as if in regret. The moment he confirmed Zane was the bandit leader, his fate had already been sealed. Even if he had provided valuable intelligence—he would still have to die.
"My lord… I was only following orders!" Zane tried desperately to argue. He didn't want to die. As long as he lived, there was always a chance to rise again.
"Pah!"
"My lord, don't listen to this bastard's lies!" one of the prisoners suddenly shouted, furious. "We acted together, yes—but those masked men barely interacted with us. They gave no such orders!"
"The command to slaughter the villagers came from Zane himself!"
"He killed the most—and in the cruelest ways!"
"And those two girls who were flayed alive—he had a hand in that too!"
The prisoner's voice trembled with a mix of hatred and fear as he exposed Zane's crimes.
Zane's face turned ashen. Terror consumed him as he crawled forward on his knees.
"My lord, spare me! I'll be your blade—your tool! Any dirty work, any task, I'll do it all!"
"I beg you… show mercy—"
Slash.
In a single stroke, Zane's body split cleanly from head to crotch.
Pale brain matter and bright blood burst outward. His organs spilled onto the ground as the two halves of his corpse collapsed to either side. Blood pooled rapidly beneath him, the stench of iron thick in the air.
"Ugh—!"
The two remaining prisoners vomited at the sight, their faces deathly pale. Their bodies went limp, the smell of urine and sweat filling the air.
Saelen calmly withdrew Ice. His gray eyes burned with an icy killing intent as he looked at them.
"Do either of you have anything else to say?"
"My lord—I can identify the ones behind this!"
One of the prisoners—the same man who had exposed Zane—forced himself to speak through his fear.
"They always wore black and covered their faces, but if I see them again… I can identify them. By their build, their voices, the way they move—I'll know their leader!"
"Oh?" Saelen's gaze sharpened. "What's your name?"
"Hunt, my lord."
"You're certain you can identify them face-to-face?"
"Yes, my lord. If I see them, I will recognize them without fail."
Though just a lowly bandit, Hunt had always been observant. During his time with those masked men, he had quietly memorized their traits. He never imagined that habit would one day save his life.
"Very well. I'll spare you," Saelen said, nodding slightly. Then his eyes shifted to the other prisoner.
That man's hope had already collapsed. His spirit broken, he muttered incoherently to himself, eyes vacant.
Saelen did not hesitate. His blade flashed—
The man's head fell to the ground.
Useless men had no place here. Blood must answer blood.
Afterward, Saelen ordered his men to sever the heads of all the bandits and bring them back to Castle Edd. They would be mounted along the roads as a warning to any who harbored ill intent.
It was brutal—but in this land, such methods worked.