The bandits charged. Laxyie drew his dagger, moving with sharp precision—slashing, ducking, forcing them back. Dust rose from the path, splinters flew from the cart's sides, and chaos erupted.
But he didn't pause. Laxyie scanned the area, eyes flicking between every shadow and movement. Seven of the attackers held bows, arrows nocked and ready, while eight bore swords, closing in fast.
He threw a dagger at one of the archers, striking him in the chest. Before he could press the advantage, a sword swung at him from the side. Laxyie ducked just in time, the blade whistling past his head.
Inside the cart, Tyke had been watching anxiously. Trembling, he pulled out a slingshot and fired. The stone hit one of the archers head squarely, staggering him. Another shot knocked a second archer off balance.
Laxyie seized the moment. He lunged at the sword-wielding bandits, moving fluidly and efficiently, striking each with lethal precision while keeping eyes on the archer. One by one, the swordsmen fell, leaving only their leader standing.
Just as Laxyie prepared to finish him, a sharp cry rang out. Bol had been struck in the shoulder by an arrow, collapsing against the cart. Laxyie's eyes narrowed. There was no time for hesitation—he had to finish the archers first.
He grabbed swords from the fallen bandits and hurled them at the remaining archers. The sudden attack forced them to stagger back, arrows and weapons scattering. Within moments, only the bandit boss remained.
The leader staggered, wide-eyed, pale. "Who… who are you?" he stammered.
Laxyie's gaze was cold, unwavering. "You don't need to know now," he said. With a swift strike, he slashed the man down, leaving him lifeless on the dirt path.
Turning quickly, Laxyie moved to Bol, pressing a hand to the arrow wound. "Stay still," he muttered, tearing a strip from his own sleeve to bind the shoulder. Bol gritted his teeth, trying not to groan, as Laxyie worked efficiently.
Tyke climbed out of the cart, dust on his face, grinning nervously. "I… I helped!"
Laxyie glanced at him, expression slightly annoyed. "Lameass… good job," he muttered.
Tyke's chest puffed out, pride shining in his wide eyes. Laxyie didn't say more, but he noted the boy had guts. That alone was enough for now.
The road lay quiet again, save for the heavy breathing of the horses and the faint groans of Bol. Laxyie sheathed his dagger and surveyed the scene: the bandits were gone, the cart mostly intact, and the path ahead still open.
"Let's move," he said, voice low. "Selam isn't far from here."
Tyke followed close, a little braver now. Laxyie led the way, already thinking about the final stretch of the journey, knowing that the road to Selam was just ahead.