Vayne was the last to remain.
The sword-wielding undead stood still for a second, then slowly dissolved into shadow, the blade fading last.
Silence returned completely.
Now it was just Aiden and the dead.
He walked through the camp calmly, stepping over bodies as if they were nothing more than fallen logs. He searched their pockets, belts, boots. Checked inside the wooden huts, kicked open a few crude chests.
Most of it was junk.
Cheap blades. Torn clothes. Half-rotten food. A few silver trinkets probably stolen from merchants.
Then he found a small locked box hidden beneath one of the beds.
He broke it open with a stone.
Gold coins spilled out.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He gathered everything and counted carefully.
Twenty gold coins in total.
"That's it?"
He clicked his tongue.
Ten bandits. A whole camp. And only twenty.
Still, it was better than nothing.
