Zen's blood still roared in his veins. His chest heaved, his muscles trembled, but instead of fear, exhilaration burned through him.
He realized, with a sudden jolt, that he had enjoyed the fight. Even when death had been a breath away, he hadn't flinched — he had thrived.
Am I… a battle maniac? he wondered, unsettled. Do I love this too much?
Red's voice cut in, dry and sharp.
"I suppose you are. You were smiling in the face of death. But it's not a bad thing — if you can control it. Just don't lose yourself in the pleasure."
The wind brushed past Zen's hair, carrying the metallic tang of blood. He glanced down at his arm — the wolf's claw mark still bled freely.
"Apply bandages and medicine," Red ordered. "You've already lost too much blood."
Zen pulled a roll of bandages and salve from his system space. He always carried supplies — in this world, unpredictability was law. Better to be prepared than sorry. He wrapped the wound tightly, then stripped off his shredded clothes, replacing them with a fresh set. The old ones, torn and bloodstained, he tossed aside.
"Finish quickly," Red warned. "Blood like this will draw other beasts."
Zen opened his mouth to reply — but the ground trembled beneath his feet.
The earth shook, trees quivered, and dust rained down from the canopy.
"Red, is this an earthquake?"
"No, idiot!" Red snapped, panic lacing his tone. "Run. Now. That's not the earth — it's beasts. A lot of them. Get your ass moving!"
Zen smirked, defiant.
"You think I'm scared of a few beasts? Let them come."
But when the shadows shifted and hulking shapes emerged, his bravado faltered. Dozens of monsters — some towering D-rank predators, others lesser scavengers — poured into the clearing, drawn by the scent of blood. Their eyes gleamed with hunger.
Zen swallowed hard.
If I don't run now… I'll never run again.
Honor meant nothing compared to survival. Without hesitation, he bolted.
Red's laughter echoed in his mind.
"Hmm. Didn't someone just say he wasn't scared of beasts?"
"I'm not scared!" Zen shot back, panting. "But they brought their entire colony!"
Red rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Excuses, excuses."
The forest shook as the horde thundered after him. Zen glanced back — too close.
"These things don't have anything better to do?!"
He thrust out his hand. Shadows surged, forming hundreds of jagged spikes that rained down on the pursuing beasts. Some were impaled, others dodged, their momentum broken. It bought him precious seconds. He ran harder, lungs burning, until finally the sounds of pursuit faded.
Zen collapsed against a tree, clutching his stomach. His heart hammered so violently it felt like it might burst. Slowly, his breathing steadied.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. First a chuckle, then a booming roar.
"That… was one hell of a marathon!"
"Yes," Red muttered, rolling his eyes. "A marathon of stupidity."
Still grinning, Zen searched for shelter. Red guided him to a small cave hidden beneath thick bushes. Safe from wandering beasts, Zen collapsed inside and let exhaustion claim him.
An hour later, he stirred. Pain flared through his body — pain he hadn't felt during the fight, masked by adrenaline. He stretched, wincing, then stood.
I've wasted too much time. I came here to earn money… by stealing from thieves.
The thought made him chuckle.
"Red," he said aloud. "The bandits' location."
"I thought you'd forgotten," Red replied dryly. "Remember — we came to steal, not to play hero."
Zen didn't argue. Red was right.
He sprinted through the forest, his figure blurring between the trees. After what felt like an eternity, he reached the bandits' hideout. His eyes widened.
It wasn't a camp. It was a fortress — walls on all sides, sprawling like a small town. Watchtowers loomed, scouts patrolling with torches.
Zen crouched in the branches, cloaked by night. Perfect cover. He circled the perimeter, silent as shadow. Four gates, one on each side. He extended his power — shadows stretched beneath the walls, slipping inside. Through them, he felt the pulse of mana, the restless stir of men. His control had grown; his reach was farther than ever. But even so, he couldn't locate the treasury.
If I sneak in myself, I'll be discovered. Killing them all? Impossible. Not yet.
He needed a distraction.
Inside the Fortress
Zen pressed a hand to the ground. Shadows swallowed him whole. In the next instant, he reappeared inside the fortress courtyard, cloaked in darkness.
"Shadow Step," he whispered.
"Still my favorite trick."
"Try not to get cocky," Red muttered. "One mistake and you'll be decorating their walls."
The camp was alive with noise — bandits sharpening blades, gambling around fires, and arguing loudly. Zen crept closer, letting the shadows carry him near a group of drunken guards.
Four bandits sat around a fire, roasting skewers of questionable meat.
"I swear, if Commander Rask eats any more, we'll have to raid a farm just to feed him," one joked.
"Ha! Careful, he might hear you. Last guy who called him a pig got punched through a wall."
"Better than Commander Veyra. She doesn't punch you — she just stares until you feel like apologizing to your ancestors."
"Yeah, but admit it — she's smarter than all of them. If she ran this place alone, we'd be living like kings."
"Kings don't sleep in flea-ridden tents, genius."They all burst into laughter.
Zen smirked in the shadows.
Rask the brute. Veyra the tactician.Nearby, another group played dice.
"Come on, double sixes! … Damn it!"
"Hah! Hand it over. Luck's on my side tonight."
"Luck? Please. Commander Jorik makes his own luck. Half the men follow him out of fear."
"Fear's better than loyalty. Loyalty gets you stabbed in the back. Fear keeps you alive."
"Tell that to the guy Jorik 'disciplined' last week. Poor bastard's still limping."
One bandit leaned in, grinning.
"Speaking of limping — how's your leg after falling off the wall last month?"
"Shut it! I slipped on the moss!"
"Moss, huh? More like you were drunk again."
The table roared with laughter.
Zen's eyes narrowed.
Jorik the tyrant.
Zen shadow-stepped again, sliding under the flap of a tent. Two younger recruits whispered nervously.
"Forget them. The real danger is Commander Kael. He doesn't shout, doesn't fight in the open… but people who cross him vanish."
"Yeah, but he doesn't have the numbers. Without his spies, he's nothing."
"Nothing? He knows everything. Who sneaks out at night, who cheats at dice, who owes money. He probably knows we're talking right now."
"…Shut up, you're giving me chills."
Zen's grin widened.
Kael the schemer. Quiet, dangerous, and hated. Four commanders — Rask, Veyra, Jorik, Kael. A nest of snakes, each waiting to bite the other.
Red's voice hummed in his mind, amused.
"Well, well. They're too busy mocking each other to notice you sneaking around."
"Which means," Zen whispered, "I don't need to fight them all. I just need to… push them."
"Push them?"
"Into chaos. Let them tear each other apart while I take what I want."
An idea struck: use the forest against them
Zen melted back into the shadows, slipping out of the fortress unseen. The forest was alive with growls and glowing eyes. He whistled low, taunting them, drawing their attention. The beasts snarled, teeth flashing, and surged after him.
He ran, weaving through the trees, leading them straight toward the fortress walls.
Inside, the bandits were still laughing and bickering when the first roar split the night.
The first roar shook the night. Then came another — deeper, closer. The ground trembled as the beasts slammed into the north and east gates.
Bells rang, shrill and frantic. Torches flared along the walls as men scrambled into position. The fortress, once filled with laughter and drunken banter, erupted into chaos.
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Beasts! They're everywhere!"
"North gate's under siege!"
"No, east side too — they're climbing the walls!"
The north commander, Rask, bellowed orders, his voice booming over the din.
"Archers! Fire! Don't let them through! Kill every last one!"
On the east wall, Veyra's voice cut sharp as steel.
"Hold formation! Shields up, spears forward! Don't break ranks or I'll gut you myself!"
But Jorik's men lingered, watching with folded arms.
"Why waste our strength? Let them bleed first," one sneered.
"Yeah, let Rask and Veyra wear themselves out. Then we'll swoop in like heroes."
Meanwhile, in the shadows, Kael's agents whispered, scribbling notes, watching who faltered.
"Mark the deserters. The Commander will want names."
"And the cowards too. Tonight will tell us who's worth keeping."
The beasts slammed harder, claws raking stone, fangs snapping men in half. Screams echoed as the walls shook. Arrows whistled, steel clashed, and the stench of blood filled the air.
From the treeline, Zen crouched, watching the fortress unravel. The bandits weren't fighting as one — they were fighting as rivals, each commander barking orders, each faction sneering at the others.
Perfect, Zen thought. The more they fight each other, the easier it will be to take everything from them.
Red's voice hummed, half-admiring, half-wary.
"You've turned their fortress into a battlefield without lifting a blade. Clever… but don't get cocky. Chaos cuts both ways."
Zen's smirk widened.
"Then I'll just make sure I'm the sharpest edge."
He slipped back into the shadows, ready to move deeper while the fortress burned.
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