Rayder's grip tightened on the hilt of his longsword, the steel glinting coldly in the dim light. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, thrusting the blade straight toward the chest of the elderly strongman leading the group. His strike was swift, precise, and filled with killing intent—aimed directly at the heart.The suddenness of his attack stunned the strongmen who had encircled him. None had expected such a young man to leap through the barrier of sheep and strike without warning, aiming directly for their leader. A moment of stunned silence spread through the group, broken only by gasps.But the elderly leader reacted quickly. A sneer curled his lips as he raised his short axe, clearly underestimating Rayder's strength. His eyes seemed to say, How foolish. However, the moment their weapons clashed, the old man's expression changed drastically.The force behind Rayder's strike was monstrous—far beyond what the strongman had anticipated. Though he managed to parry the blow with his axe, the impact reverberated violently up his arm. A sharp crack sounded, followed by numbness. The web of skin between his thumb and index finger tore, blood spilling down the haft of his weapon. The axe nearly flew from his hand.Staggering back two steps, the strongman's confidence shattered. His eyes, wide with disbelief, locked on Rayder.Rayder, too, was surprised the old man had withstood a blow carrying seventy percent of his full strength. But there was no time to hesitate.Shifting his stance, Rayder swiftly transformed his attack into a sweeping horizontal slash. His only thought now was clear: Kill.Kill the leader to scatter the rest—strike terror into the heart of the pack!At the same time, he raised his shield with his left hand, blocking two incoming strikes from other strongmen. The clang of metal rang out as his shield absorbed the blows. But his right hand was already moving again—his longsword like a viper, darting with deadly accuracy toward the strongman's chest.The old man, too slow to react, could only watch in horror as the blade pierced through his chest. A cold shiver ran through him, followed by intense pain. He dropped his axe and clutched at the wound, then crumpled to the ground—dead before he could utter a word, his wide eyes still filled with disbelief.The moment their leader fell, chaos erupted.Some strongmen went pale, backing away instinctively. Others, however, roared in rage, driven by fury and desperation. Weapons raised, they charged at Rayder with renewed aggression.Rayder inhaled sharply, his expression unchanging, but the light in his eyes turned even colder.He swung his sword in wide arcs, forming a defensive ring of steel. Each blow carried a fearsome force, forcing his enemies back or wounding them outright. His left-hand shield was not just defense—it became a weapon of its own, bashing and parrying with brutal efficiency.Despite his efforts, pain suddenly seared across his back—two sharp weapons had slipped past his guard. Though his shield absorbed much of the impact, the blades still tore two deep gashes into his flesh, exposing bone. The excruciating pain made him grunt, but he did not falter.Instead, it awakened something darker inside him.The pain became fuel.Rayder's swings grew even more savage. His eyes turned sharp like a predator's, the pupils narrowing, his gaze fixed on every moving enemy. His blade thundered with each swing, striking down foes with terrifying precision.Most of these strongmen were nothing more than bandits—veterans of bloodshed, yes, but lacking true training or discipline. Against Rayder's raw strength and relentless offense, they crumbled. His sword cut cleanly through their crude defenses, tearing through armor and flesh alike.Cries of agony and the crunch of bones filled the air. Blood sprayed in all directions, splattering Rayder's face and armor. His once-handsome appearance was now painted with gore, transforming him into something feral and terrifying.Within moments, he had slain over a dozen men.Corpses littered the ground. Dust swirled in the air, mingling with the heavy stench of blood and fear.Still, Rayder did not stop.His movements only grew faster. Wounds began to accumulate on his body—gashes on his arms, nicks on his legs, slashes across his side—but each time pain flared, a warm, almost imperceptible current surged through his body.The system's medical repair function silently activated, healing flesh, mending muscle, and dulling pain. Though Rayder never paused to acknowledge it, the system ensured that no wound kept him down for long.His armor, however, told a different story.It was torn and shredded in several places. His cloak hung in ragged strips, flapping with each motion, silent testimony to the battle's brutality.As the bodies piled higher, fear finally began to seep into the hearts of the surviving strongmen.Their morale cracked.Some froze in place, unsure whether to attack or run. Others backed away, their eyes darting in search of an escape route.Rayder, drenched in blood, looked almost otherworldly. His figure, still upright despite the wounds, seemed like the embodiment of death itself.Many began to falter.They had believed they were attacking an easy mark, a lone traveler. They never expected they were facing a monster.Several tried to run. Panic took over as survival instincts kicked in. They turned and fled, pushing past their comrades, desperately trying to escape the slaughter.But it was already too late.The encirclement was broken. Their formation had dissolved into chaos.And worst of all—they had no idea what lay outside the battle. Was help coming? Or had their actions already drawn the attention of others?Fear turned to despair.The atmosphere grew heavy, like a cold tide washing over them. The strongmen's knees trembled. Some threw down their weapons. Others fell to the ground, hoping to be mistaken for the dead. But there was no mercy in Rayder's eyes.He had no intention of letting them go.Because just as the final wave of panic was about to scatter the last of them—A thunderous roar echoed from the sky above.The very air trembled.Everyone, friend and foe alike, froze and looked upward.The clouds swirled. A monstrous shadow passed overhead.And from the heavens came a beastly cry that shook the hearts of all below—a roar not of man, not of steel, but of something far more terrifying.Rayder's expression shifted. The dragon was awake..
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)