The barrier's pulse faded.
But the carriage did not move again.
Jax focused, reaching outward through the skill, and his expression hardened.
They had stopped.
That alone told him enough.
The sudden shift in his posture was all the Vixens needed. Lounging ceased instantly. The lazy comfort of the morning evaporated as awareness snapped into place.
They'd been sprawled across couches and chairs only moments before, still riding the afterglow of a night spent breaking in the absurdly oversized custom bed. Soft laughter, half-asleep smiles, and what they affectionately called "comfy clothes"—loose shirts, shorts, bare legs, relaxed hair.
Jax himself was wearing something Bunny had picked out their first night in Solmere.
A brightly patterned shirt.
Flowery shorts.
In his old world, this outfit screamed vacation dad.
Internally, he groaned.
I look like a complete dork.
But there was no time to change.
The alert chimed again in his awareness, and Jax was already moving.
"Stay close," he said calmly, heading for the door.
The Vixens followed without question.
Weapons shimmered into existence as each of the Vixens summoned their gear from System Storage—bows, staffs, whips, and hammer—gleaming and wildly out of place against bare legs and casual shirts.
The carriage door opened.
Jax stepped out first, unarmed and in his vacation attire.
They were at the edge of a forest clearing, a river cutting across the road ahead. A stone bridge spanned the water—old, narrow, and currently blocked.
By people.
Roughly two dozen of them.
Bandits. Mercenaries. A mix of both.
They were spread loosely across the bridge and its approaches, mounted on heavy, horse-like beasts. Weapons rested casually in hands. Armor varied from scavenged pieces to proper steel.
As Jax's bare feet touched the ground, his System chimed.
YOU ARE ENCOUNTERING NON-BEAST OPPONENTS.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN THE BANDIT SKILL: INSPECT?
That's new.
"Yes."
Information bloomed across his vision.
Levels scrolled past his awareness.
The System identified the groups individual ranks. Some were Bandits, especially the low ranks. But others had other distinctions added behind title: MURDERER / RAPIST
The group blocking them were a mix of levels.
Low twenties.
Thirties.
A handful in the forties.
And one that stood out.
A fully armored human mercenary.
Level 55.
Leader, Jax thought calmly.
MERCENARY / MURDERER / RAPIST
Level 55
The Vixens took in the scene behind him—and tension crept in.
This wasn't a dungeon.
This wasn't beasts.
This was people.
The bandits noticed Jax's outfit almost immediately.
Laughter rippled through the group.
"Look at what he's wearing!"
"Is this some kind of traveling theater troupe?"
"He's asking to get robbed dressed like that."
Jax sighed inwardly.
I knew it. I look like a dork.
But instead of bristling, he smiled.
He stepped forward a few paces, posture relaxed, hands loose at his sides.
"Good morning," he called out pleasantly. "What seems to be the problem?"
The laughter grew louder.
The Leader finally raised a hand, silencing the others.
"Our bridge," the man said loudly. "You're trying to pass without paying the proper toll."
Jax nodded as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world.
"I see. I was unaware this road had any tolls. I must have missed the signage. Or the paperwork. Or the governing authority that would make this legitimate."
A few brows furrowed.
"What is the toll rate?"
The leader smirked. "Toll's based on what you're hauling."
Jax tilted his head. "Interesting. That implies you know what I'm hauling."
The man's grin widened. "Expensive things, based on the looks of that carriage of yours."
"Ah," Jax said thoughtfully. "So not a toll. An estimate."
Murmurs spread.
"An estimate for what?" the leader asked.
"For how much you think you can take from me without consequences," Jax replied mildly.
A few of the bandits shifted.
Jax clasped his hands behind his back, casual as a man enjoying the fresh air outside, still smiling.
"I should warn you," he continued politely, "your business model is… inefficient. You probably charge regular travelers modest fees, but rob and murder those you believe won't be missed. That tells me you're not strong enough to enforce real control—only opportunistic enough to prey on the unlucky."
The leader's smile thinned.
"Careful, or you run the risk of raising my ire." he warned.
Jax nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't want to excite a man of your age. That sort of strain can be dangerous."
One of the bandits snorted loudly. "We should just take everything. Including the women."
Jax looked at him calmly. "I'm certain you believe that would work," he said. "But that would be like the ant attacking the boot that is about to step on it."
A few of the mercenaries shifted in their saddles.
The leader narrowed his eyes. "You're awfully mouthy for someone dressed like a clown."
Jax glanced down at his shirt, then back up. "Yes, well. I find these clothes awfully comfortable. Do you have a blind companion who laid out your outfit?"
That earned a few nervous laughs — the kind that came from people who weren't entirely sure whose side they were on anymore.
The Vixens were too nervous to laugh.
"Is he trying to pick a fight with them?" they wondered.
The leader leaned forward. "Here's how this works. You pay us based on the value of your carriage and cargo. And if I don't deem that enough, then we take more from you, until I'm satisfied. Or you don't cross. Or leave here alive."
Jax nodded slowly. "And here's the part you're going to dislike."
He summoned a HUGE sack from his system. He opened it in front of everyone and placed both hands into it, pulling out hundreds and hundreds of gold coins, and dropping them back down into the sack.
He picked up the sack and put it back into his System's storage.
The Bandits and Mercenaries were shocked by the amount of gold they just saw. That was more than any of them had seen in their entire lives.
He gestured casually toward the bridge. "I'm not even going to humor you with a bronze coin."
"Oh, he's definitely picking a fight with them," Nyxian stated.
The leader scoffed. "Looks like you are our meal ticket."
"You are going to disband and allow us to pass," Jax stated matter of factlly.
"Why would we do that?"
"Because if you live to see the afternoon sun," Jax replied. "It will be because WE allow it."
The bandits murmured again.
One of the bandits on the left bristled. "Keep talking, pretty boy, and I'll cut that deviled tongue from your head and feed it to your pets behind you."
The clearing went quiet.
Nyxian's eyes widened — then lit up. She knows there is a fight about to occur, and she needs the group to snap out of it be ready for it.
She leaned toward Llandra, voice carrying just enough. "Did you hear that?"
Llandra didn't answer. Her gaze was at the man who just spoke, and anger was filling her normally peaceful demeaner.
Nyxian smiled wickedly. "He threatened to cut off Jax's tongue."
That was all it took. Her rage took over.
Llandra moved.
There was no dramatic windup. No shouted warning. No drawn breath.
One moment she was standing beside Jax.
The next, her bow was already raised.
The arrow wasn't an arrow at all — it was compressed energy, shaped and guided by Starpiercer, accelerated by enhanced agility, iPoints, and instinct refined through training.
The bandit didn't even have time to blink.
The bolt struck him square in the head.
There was a sharp crack — like air breaking.
His body flew backward off his mount, hitting the ground fifteen feet behind him, and didn't move again.
Dead.
Silence crashed down over the clearing.
Llandra lowered her bow calmly.
"You will not threaten my second favorite body part of my betrothed."
Bunny blinked."…Second?"
Zee tilted her head. "I'm not even going to ask what the first is."
Nyxian snickered. "They came looking for a fight. And now they are getting one."
The mercenaries stared at the corpse.
Then at Llandra.
Then at the Vixens — still in T-shirts and shorts, weapons glowing faintly in their hands.
The leader swallowed.
Jax sighed softly, rubbing his temple. "Looks like that is 1 down. 23 more to go."
He looked up and smiled — not kindly, but pleasantly.
"Vixens," he said evenly.
His tone changed.
Calm. Commanding. Certain.
"Formation Lima."
He smiled.
And the road to Crystalshire held its breath.