The bandits arrived at sunset. A horde of leather-clad raiders followed a hulking figure on a terrifying horse. Its black coat shone unnaturally, as if slick with oil. The horse's eyes were bright and cold, empty of any warmth or thought. Its hooves hit the ground with hollow thuds, each step sending dread through the air. Jagged scars ran along its flank. It was a beast that should never have been tamed.
The Bandit Lord Varkas rode said horse. His shaved head had a crimson mohawk tattoo that ran down his neck and arms. One bloodshot eye twitched constantly, while the other was milky white with a scar through it. He swung a spiked mace, coated in dried blood, moving with the savage rhythm. His rasping voice sent shivers down the spines of those around him.
***
Ignia called for Rage to get on a horse. Her command was clear as she looked over her shoulder.
"Get on. You will ride with us."
Rage froze, staring at the horse with confusion and fear. He had never ridden a beast before. The horses here were not like the easy ones in video games. They were real animals, and there was no guide to help him.
Rage shrugged and raised his hands. "Nah, I'll just take the bus."
Ignia narrowed her eyes. "Ride that beast, or you ride with me."
Rage muttered under his breath. "I'm going to look ridiculous."
He imagined a small man riding in front of a princess as they charged into battle. It looked like a story from a legend, with him as the reluctant littlefolk.
"Yeah, or I'll just ride on your back?" he muttered.
Ignia's lips curled into a dangerous smirk. "You can try," she said, "but I would not bet on staying on."
"If you say so," Rage said.
He climbed onto Ignia's back with all the grace of a drunken man, holding on tightly as if his life depended on it.
Ignia moved steadily and Rage realized just how strong and unforgiving she really was.
"Well, this is gonna be a ride to remember," he thought, trying to steady himself before they took off.
One of the soldiers raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicked between Rage and the unusual arrangement.
"Why does he need to join the charge?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Ignia's eyes narrowed, the smirk on her lips barely masked her steel-hard resolve.
"Because I said so. Only women, elders, children, and the sick stay behind. Every able-bodied man joins the fight. And if he can't even stay on a damn horse, I'll make sure he doesn't get himself killed before we reach the battlefield." Her voice was calm, but the weight of her words left no room for argument.
The soldiers around her formed up quickly, lining up in a tight cavalry formation. Horses pawed at the ground, and the sound of armors moving rose with the tension in the air.
Ignia, always the leader, took her place at the front, her presence was steadying the army as it prepared.
***
The bandits charged with fierce speed, their weight shook the ground. With every step, they closed the distance, until there was no space left. The battlefield, once open, became a storm of dust and movement.
Ignia let out a battle cry and surged forward. Her sword moved with deadly precision, cutting through the enemies. The bandits fell one after another under her relentless attack.
Meanwhile, Rage clung to her back, holding on to whatever he could. His body shook with the force of the charge, and his mind raced. He felt like nothing more than a weight holding her back. He was not a warrior. He was not supposed to be there. But there he was, useless and unnecessary, just watching as the fighting raged all around him.
"Get off!" Ignia's sharp command cut through the chaos. For the first time, Rage realized he had been so focused on holding-on that he had not even thought about getting down.
Rage stumbled to his feet. His boots slipped on the blood-soaked ground as the sounds of battle roared around him.
"I did not think it would be this difficult," he muttered, shaking his head.
He reached for his sword, which he had forgotten to bring.
"Of course, this is going perfectly."
He watched Ignia and her soldiers cut through the enemy lines, while he stood in the middle of it all. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and blood. The screams of the dying mixed with the harsh sound of steel striking steel. Horses galloped past, hooves pounding the ground, as Ignia's soldiers charged in formation, meeting the bandits head-on.
His mind was a blur. His eyes darted across the battlefield, trying to make sense of the chaos. It was impossible to keep up. Everywhere he looked, soldiers cut down bandits, and bandits struck back. Swords flashed in the sunlight as death moved through the air. But Rage could not move. His feet were frozen, stuck in place, as if the chaos around him was too much to handle.
He used to be someone. People looked up to him, his friends, his coworkers, his teammates, even his family. He was the one with answers, the one who carried the match, the one they trusted.
Now he was just dead weight. No commands to give, no plans to call, no strategy or skill to rely on. Just a broken world and the harsh truth that here he was nothing.
He tried to move, to act, to do something, anything, but his body wouldn't listen. His breath came in short, ragged bursts. He wasn't a fighter. He didn't belong here, and deep down, he knew it.
A sudden shout snapped him out of his daze. A bandit, a large man with a wild grin, charged at him with a raised sword, aiming to kill. Rage's instincts tried to kick in, but he was too slow. His body would not move.
Out of nowhere, a soldier appeared, leaping in front of Rage with a shout, blocking the bandit's swing with his own sword.
[SYSTEM] Dain Lv.27
[SYSTEM] class : Armsman
[SYSTEM] neutral
The sound of metal clashing rang in Rage's ears, but the soldier was clearly struggling to hold his ground.
Before Rage could react, another bandit, quick and ruthless, drove a dagger into the soldier's side. The soldier crumpled to the ground, screaming.
Rage's blood ran cold as he watched the soldier fall. But the scene wasn't over yet
[SYSTEM] Oswald Lv.34
[SYSTEM] class : Swordsman
[SYSTEM] neutral
Another soldier, riding a horse, charged into the fray with terrifying speed, sword drawn. In a single, swift motion, he cleaved the two bandits in front of him, their blood splattered across the ground.
The soldier brought his horse to a stop, his eyes fixed on Rage. His voice was firm and sharp, made for the battlefield.
"Get on your feet, boy. Dead men don't get second chances. Fight or get trampled."
Rage didn't move. His legs felt locked, the battlefield was spinning around him in a chaotic blur. His pulse hammered in his ears. He knew he had to act, had to move, but his body wasn't listening.
The soldier clicked his tongue and yanked the reins. His horse reared slightly before launching forward, pounding across the blood-soaked ground. Without hesitation, he crashed into a group of bandits, slashing down with brutal precision.
Rage watched, breathless. The battle was already leaving him behind.
A breath. Another.
His thoughts raced. A memory flashed. Null Veil, the skill he had learned, waiting to be used. He knew it was about speed, but how exactly? The details were unclear, like trying to remember a combo in a game after a long break. He tried a few different ways.
First, he clenched his fists, the way he'd seen others channel their energy in the animes he used to watch, expecting some kind of surge or glow.
Nothing.
Then, he lifted his hands, palms open like he was about to cast a spell, but the air remained still, no effect.
Frustration gnawed at him. It wasn't magic. It wasn't some chant. It was something else.
With a deep breath, he willed himself to focus, pushing through the panic, and it was then that he felt it. A pulse beneath his skin. The sensation surged through him, spreading like an electric charge. He had to will it.
[SYSTEM] Null Veil activated
"So that's how it works," he muttered.
The air around him softened. His body felt lighter, faster. He took a quick hop, then another, then a dash. He was testing his new speed. Each leap felt like he was barely touching the ground before springing off it again, as if gravity had lost its grip on him.
Then, he pushed himself further, focusing on his speed, and suddenly a twofold dash. His body blurred. Everything around him seemed to stretch. He was moving faster. It was less like teleporting and more like a sudden acceleration, a quick burst of motion that left everything behind.
His hands twitched instinctively, fingers curling mid-motion. He clawed twice, slicing through empty air, and realized his arms were faster too. The speed was not just in his legs. His whole body was adapting. If he had a weapon, he would be carving through something by now.
"Let's say how this works," he muttered, adrenaline buzzing in his veins.
He glanced around. His heart was hammering in his chest.
Then, he spotted something, a fallen Firekeep knight. Rage's eyes locked onto the cape. Without thinking, he dashed toward the body, tore it free, and threw it over his shoulders. Torn and dirty, but it was something. He adjusted it, pulling the fabric over his head like a makeshift hood. It wasn't much, but it was a thin barrier between him and the chaos.
He crouched low, his breath was steadying as his fingers curled against the dirt. His gaze swept the battlefield, hunting, searching for his first prey. He wasn't just hiding, he was waiting.
The makeshift hood cast shadows that shifted in the daylight. The Firekeep knight's insignia, worn and tattered, gleamed faintly in the sun. Beneath the fabric, his eyes burned with sharp intensity waiting for the right gust of wind to ignite.
A bandit ahead caught his attention, swinging wildly at one of Firekeep's soldiers. Could he use that ability again? Could he mix his newfound speed with that deadly touch?
Rage didn't wait. He dashed forward again. His hand reached out and found the bandit's arm. Interface flickered, a twitch of his finger. Then a series of mental input of programming codes.
[SYSTEM] Input Recognized
[SYSTEM] Processing...
The bandit struggled against Rage's grip.
[SYSTEM] Code Necrosis Activated
The bandit's whole arm lost its strength, his weapon dropped from his grasp and then rolled down screaming in confusion and agony.
Rage didn't stop. His eyes flicked to another bandit, this one was closer, slashing at a soldier. Rage dashed again, his body was still adjusting. He reached out, this time he found the bandit's neck. Then, another set of mental input.
[SYSTEM] Input Recognized
[SYSTEM] Processing...
The bandit struggled to get free, but Rage's grasp was with intent.
[SYSTEM] Code Necrosis Activated
The bandit's body staggered before it slumped. Foam bubbled from his mouth.
Rage stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, his thoughts rushed. It was a step forward but there was still so much to control. He hadn't killed before, but now, it felt like a dangerous tool, something he barely understood.
His gaze moved to another bandit in the distance, an archer drawing his bow, aiming at Ignia. Without thinking, Rage pushed forward, his feet were moving faster than his mind could follow. He reached the archer in a blur and grabbed the bow just as the string was pulled tight. His hand closed hard, an instinctive reaction. His thoughts scrambled for something to disable the weapon.
He remembered Dead Circuit and activated it. He focused on the archer's long bow, adjusting its durability to zero.
[SYSTEM] Input Recognized
[SYSTEM] Dead Circuit Activated
[SYSTEM] Downgrade Successful
The bow snapped, the tension of the string collapsed and hit the archer's collarbone with a sickening crack, the force of the break made him stumble back.
"No way it can work that way," Rage muttered to himself, staring at the scene.
The speed, the power, it felt wrong, but it worked.
Ignia's eyes flickered briefly to Rage, noticing the events. Then a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though her focus remained on the battlefield as she cut down another bandit with a clean swipe.
***
Varkas charged into the heart of the battle, his massive form cut through the chaos. The clash of steel and the cries of soldiers barely registered in his wake as he plowed through.
[SYSTEM] Varkas Lv.70
[SYSTEM] class : Armsman
[SYSTEM] Hostile
Rage caught sight of him through the carnage. The Bandit Lord was unmistakable, too big, too vicious to be ignored. His instincts kicked-in, and without thinking, Rage picked up a discarded dagger from the ground, his fingers closed around the hilt.
He moved forward quickly, the speed from Null Veil made everything around him seem slower. His target was Varkas. Rage's heart pounded as he prepared to strike the Bandit Lord with Code Necrosis.
But before he could touch him, Varkas swung his mace with terrifying precision. The impact sent Rage flying back, crashing into a soldier who had no time to react. Disoriented, Rage scrambled to his feet, frustration boiling within him.
Ignoring the sting of the hit, he tried again. His body moved faster than his mind could process. This time he aimed from a different angle.
But Varkas was ready.
With a single swing, the dagger flew from his hand, skittering across the battlefield.
Varkas loomed over him, a scarred grin twisting his lips.
"Do you know what insanity is?" he spat, his voice dripping with mockery.
"It's doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results."
Rage's mind raced, pushing through the pain and frustration. He couldn't back down. He had to do this.
With a growl, he charged again, even faster. This time, there would be no hesitation.
But once again, Varkas was a wall he couldn't break. The Bandit Lord's spiked mace swung in a wide arc, and Rage didn't have time to react. The blow caught him in the chest, hurling him backwards with bone-crushing force.
The landing was worse.
Rage's foot twisted painfully as he hit the ground, his ankle gave way under the impact. A sickening jolt of agony shot up his leg, and he gritted his teeth, fighting back a shout.
He could not afford to show weakness. The pain was sharp, but he kept pushing himself up, his hands were shaking as they pressed into the ground.
Varkas glared at Rage, his massive form towered over him. He spoke slowly, his voice was mocking and savoring every word.
"You see, the thing is..." Varkas began.
"Up there, you thought you had a chance."
"Way up in the skies, you thought you held your fate, your destiny."
"But, little man, down here... down here?" He leaned closer.
He tilted his head, a grin was spreading across his face. "You hit the ground."
His laughter was harsh and grating.
Just as Varkas raised his mace for the final blow, a loud, commanding voice cut through the chaos.
"BACK OFF!"
Ignia charged forward.
Their horses collided with a loud crash, hooves hitting the ground before they moved apart. The dust cleared, leaving Varkas and Ignia standing face to face.
Varkas sneered, his bloodshot eyes were narrowing as he scanned her from head to toe.
"You really think you can save him?" he hissed. "You're just another fool, playing hero, standing in the way of destiny. I am destiny."
Ignia gripped her sword tightly.
Each word she spoke was precise.
"I will be the one to show you what fate really means," she said with cold and controlled voice.
"You will regret crossing it," she added.
Her sword cut through the air with speed and control. She moved with focused intent, every strike aimed to bring Varkas down.
Varkas blocked the first strike with his mace. The force of her blow pushed him back a step, but he recovered quickly and swung his heavy weapon in a wide arc toward her.
Ignia ducked just in time. The mace missed her by inches and struck the ground, sending dust into the air.
She moved again at once, her steps were light and quick as she closed the gap. Her sword cut toward Varkas' side, but he turned away from the strike, his eyes were fixed on hers as he prepared to counter.
Varkas grinned.
"Is that all you've got, little girl?" his voice was dripping with mockery.
He swung his mace again. This time aiming for her head. The weapon cut through the air.
Ignia raised her sword in time. The clash of metal filled the air. The force of the blow pushed her back, but she rolled to the side and avoided the next strike that could have cut her down.
Varkas chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll need far more than that if you seek to stand against me."
Ignia drew a sharp breath and steadied herself, eyes narrowing as she studied Varkas' movements. She was faster and lighter, but he had greater strength. She needed to outthink him.
She feinted and lunged low, aiming for his knee. Varkas gave a short laugh and shifted his weight. His knee barely moved before he brought his mace down. Ignia stepped aside just in time, feeling the impact brush against her armor.
She turned fast and aimed for his side, but Varkas was ready. He met her blade with a hard parry, his mace hit her sword with enough force to send pain up her arm. Her vision blurred for a moment, and her balance slipped.
"Ah, Queen Ignia," Varkas sneered. His voice carried open contempt.
"Do you know what insanity is?"
He raised his mace high, preparing to deliver the final blow.
Rage looked toward Ignia. Her figure was faint through the dust, weakened and unsteady. The sight struck him hard. the fierce warrior he knew was now struggling to stand.
Then the world around him grew distant. The noise of battle faded into silence. The field that once rang with steel and shouts now stood quiet, broken only by faint sounds far away.
His senses sharpened, the noise of war, screams, shouts, clattering metal, faded like a distant hum.
Now he could hear it. The sound of a roulette wheel turning, the click of a ball spinning in a circle before stopping on a number that decided a life.
There was no wheel, no ball, no machine, yet the sound was clear. Dice rolled without being thrown. Cards shifted without being touched.
It was a game played in silence, where every move and every choice carried the weight of life and death, decided by something unseen.
Then a number appeared in his interface, breaking the silence.
[SYSTEM] Random Number Generator : 100
It looked plain and mechanical, but it carried weight. It was not just a random value. It meant something.
[SYSTEM] Red Static Activated
[SYSTEM] System override
[SYSTEM] Syncing body to new temporary combat protocols
[SYSTEM] Initiating : Full Swing
Rage ignored the pain. His senses were sharpened. His focus narrowed. Only the target ahead mattered. Each step took effort, his muscles strained, but the protocol kept him moving. The pain that had filled his body now felt distant, muted behind a wall he could not see.
Ignia's sword lay just out of reach. No hesitation. He dashed forward, not toward her, but to the weapon she had dropped.
He reached it in a heartbeat and wrapped his fingers around the hilt. The sword's weight almost pushed him back. It felt heavier than it looked, the blade was larger up close.
A low grunt escaped him. He roared and lifted the sword. The world around him blurred as the combat protocol engaged. The pain was distant and irrelevant now. It was time.
The sword whirled fourfold, each spin a brutal crescendo. From waist to shoulder, to head. The weapon felt alive in his hands, the power surged through him with every rotation.
Then, without warning, he stopped. The sword hung overhead for a heartbeat.
Varkas had no time to react. In an instant, a downward strike. The blade cut from his shoulder to his waist. Blood spilled as his body split under the strike. He staggered, his broken laugh turned into a gasp as he fell to his knees .Pain dragged him down.
Rage stood there for a moment, the sword was still in his hand, but everything around him started to blur. His vision went hazy, his body exhausted beyond measure. Every muscle screamed in agony as his grip on the sword began to falter. He staggered forward, the world tilted, before his knees buckled beneath him.
Just before he hit the ground, a firm hand gripped his shoulder, catching him mid-fall. A soldier, battered and bloodied, strained to hold him up, his own strength was waning. His breathing was heavy, his body trembled from his injuries, but he kept him steady.
Rage blinked.
A second stretched into eternity.
The world faded, then returned in a sudden rush.
He woke to the distant echoes of retreating bandits. Through the haze, he heard Varkas's voice, low and strained.
"You can smell it, can't you?"
"The static."
Varkas's voice grew weaker, each word strained as he reached out with a trembling hand, trying to grasp at the air for something that was no longer there.
"The lies we've all been fed."
"Behind the skies. Behind the mask."
"It's all just a game, isn't it?"
His body went still. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven rhythm, life slipped away with every breath.
Then, with a final exhale, he fell silent, his hand fell beside him.
Rage turned his head slowly. His body ached, but his vision cleared. Beside him, Ignia leaned against a broken stone, her breathing was shallow, her wounds were showing the cost of the fight.
Rage looked at her for a long moment, his thoughts were scattered by exhaustion. His chest tightened under the weight of the battle, the loss, and the choices that had brought him there.
His vision wavered, and his body felt heavy, broken, and left behind on the battlefield.
Then he felt himself being lifted, the sudden shift in position pulling him from the ground. His arm was draped over a soldier's shoulder, the grip was firm yet steady as he was hoisted up.
His senses returned slowly and without order. He felt the weight of the battlefield, the blood and the dust around him. Every detail reached him, but his body would not move, heavy and sore.
Not far from him, Ignia leaned against another soldier for support, her movements were slow but steady. She was still standing.
The sight stirred something in Rage, but before he could act on it, darkness creeping in once more.
"You fought well, boy," a voice murmured, low and distant.
Rage couldn't tell where it came from, but the words felt oddly comforting in their simplicity.
[SYSTEM] Queen Ignia : Loyalty 65.1%
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 12.8%