The arrows cast a shadow over the town. The citizens stared up in horror at their incoming doom.

“Watch out!” Dall yelled as he threw his blade up in the air. “Deflect!” The sword twirled and twirled, eventually blurring into a bright yellow spiral of iron. The arrows raining down shredded to pieces. 

The sword flew above, hovering over the citizens at a blindingly fast rate. He gritted his teeth and forced his feet in the ground. Sweat poured down his cheeks, and the energy in his body slowly slipped away from him.

Seemingly minutes later, the arrows stopped. Dall coughed violently and bent over, his stomach churning in agony. The townspeople stood there dumbfounded. “Hurry! Get to the Shelter!” Joseph followed up. “Keep ringing the bell! Everyone needs to hear the warning,” he said to a nearby soldier, who saluted him. He patted Dall’s back and said with an amazed smile, “You had a magic weapon?! Since when?”

“Is now really the time, Joseph?” Dall grumbled. He straightened his back. The sword stopped in front of him, and he grabbed its blade. He turned his attention to the wall. “You go make sure the civilians get to safety,” he said.

“Understood,” Joseph said. 

Dall held his sword, his arms shivering and shaking. ‘Only use it in times of emergency.’ His father’s words rang in his ears. ‘It is rare for the Icalians to gift one of their rechargeable magic items. So use this well, son.’ The short blade in his hands glowed bright red, steam rising from the metal.

There's only one more charge? He knew that the magical items given to them were extremely ineffective, but for something like this to have such little energy was disappointing. But it didn't matter. As long as he could use it to protect his people, he'd be happy.

He shook his head and sprinted towards the city’s walls.

Soldiers stood on the edge, peering over the horizon. The weapons in their hands shivered as they gazed at the enemy charging towards them.

Garnell stood there, his rusty and heavily plated armor strapped around his chest. Thick, spiked gauntlets covered his burly hands. The Greatsword Insignia was etched into every knuckle.

Dall ran straight for him and asked, “How many are there?”

“At least thirty,” Garnell answered. He pointed forward. “They’re coming from the North, across the river.”

“Across the river? They made their presence known already. What're they thinking?” 

“Those Bandits are in possession of magic weaponry, Sir,” Garnell said. “They must be able to dish out hundreds of arrows when fired together.”

Thirty enemies carrying deadly weapons capable of ending the lives of the entire town's populace came rushing towards them at an unbelievably slow speed. This isn't to mention the fact that they had yet to cross the river dividing the two.

Dall frowned. To think that those weapons had managed to fire weapons from so far away. Where did they get them from? Did they raid a military shipment? No, something's off. He pursed his lips. No, this is related to the Unification. I know it.

The bandits rode on horses, charging over the hill. “The drawbridges are raised, correct?” Garnell asked. A nearby soldier nodded and saluted. “Fire at them. Takedown as many as you can.”

Obeying his order, a dozen soldiers pulled their bows and fired volleys of arrows down on the bandits. Dall expected them to crumple over. Only the truly idiotic would attack a town in broad daylight, especially when the town is walled with a garrison protecting it. 

However, something he failed to realize happened. With a bright, yellow light emanating from their bodies, the arrows bounced off of them, as if they hit an invisible wall, lodging themselves into the dirt.

Dall held his breath and gripped his sword’s hilt.

That's just like what happened in the war, he thought.

“Air Shields,” Garnell said, clenching his fists. “Fire another! Deplete as much magic from their orbs as you can.”

“Understood sir!” The soldiers saluted.

With mighty thuds, the arrows stuck in the ground around the bandits. Clouds of dirt rose around them. 

Despite the Garrison’s attacks, the bandits’ yellow glow remained strong. 

The soldiers lowered their weapons and stared in awe. No matter what they did the shield remained. “What is…?”

A few of the bandits raised their weapons - black bows twice the size of a regular one. They each pulled five arrows back on its white string. After a moment's pause, their tips caught fire, and at least twenty flaming arrows launched towards them. 

“Get the orbs and get an Air Shield up!” Garnell ordered.

Moments before the arrows could hit them, a huge, yellow transparent wall appeared in front of them. The flaming arrows crashed into it, each thunderous hit cracking the wall little by little.

Bright flashes of red and orange blinded them.

Some of the soldiers threw their hands over their ears.

Some broke down and dropped their weapons.

Then, another volley came flying towards them. “Hold your ground!” Dall yelled out.

The wall shook violently as the arrows kept coming.

What's with this magical energy?!

His mind flashed back to the battlefield five years ago. The abundant number of people who perished in the war due to their weakness came to mind. Inexperienced soldiers from both sides of the war died seemingly meaningless deaths. They stood on the front of one of the bloodiest battles on the continent in recent years.

So for these Garrison soldiers, who have spent five years in a peaceful town training without true combat experience, to suddenly face a foe who wields powerful weaponry?

There’s no way they’d be able to win, Dall thought.

Precious time ticked away as the bandits inched closer towards the wall.

The Air Shield protecting them cracked and cracked as more arrows pelted against it. 

If this keeps up, the entire town would be decimated.

Dall knew that the limited magic orbs that the Garrison had weren’t going to be enough against these ‘bandits’.

He nodded.

They needed to be dealt with swiftly. “Garnell, I’m going to go down and take care of them.”

Garnell glanced at him and looked back to his men. “As expected of Lord Lupin’s Son!” a soldier cheered. The others who had collapsed and were exhausted all put on huge smiles and raised their fists as if they’ve already won.

Dall smiled, but his body went cold. ‘Lupin's son.’ 

“I would’ve preferred you allow us to handle this,” Garnell responded, a pained look on his face. “But I understand. Be safe, Sir.”

“Will do.”

---

‘Take these weapons and bring down Fora. Your life will be guaranteed. The Qalee Tribe will be prosperous. Everything will be yours.’

These words by the demon were far too tempting for the younger men of the bandit tribe. Gifted with unbelievable power, they went straight to do what they were told. And leading them was their rising young newcomer, Bantor. “Hold on the Fire! We’re getting closer now!” Bantor yelled to his allies.

“Wish we coulda’ made ‘em waste more arrows…” a rough man to his right said. “Bastards.”

“We’re almost to the gates, Bantor,” another called out to him from his left. 

“Good. We’ll launch the Harpoons once we get to the drawbridge,” Bantor replied. Sweat poured down his neck, his heart pounding in his ears. “Once we do that, leave the Captain to me. Take care of the soldiers. Use the weapons we got carefully, got it?”

“Yahoo! Let’s go!” 

He heaved, gasping for breath. His baggy clothes bounced up and down, the silver chains decorating his clothing chiming. 

Bantor belonged to a family of miners in the cold, Gallian North. After a terrible accident resulting in his entire family’s death, he fled Southward, believing he’d try to get to the famous Royal Orphanage in Central. He went from city to city, surviving on stealth, thievery, and any food he could find in the garbage dumps. He was just a kid. He would do anything he could to live. 

And one fateful day, he was saved.

“I’m not letting this opportunity slip by. This is for you Joe,” he whispered.

This group of thirty men now stood confidently at the edge of the river. Bantor raised his battle-ax and said,

“Take the drawbridge down!” With a grand cheer, two, thick iron anchors shot out and broke through the wooden bridge. The two men who fired them collapsed on the spot, foam forming at the mouth.

The amount of energy needed to utilize their weapons proved too much for them, but it didn’t matter. 

They practically had their hands on victory.

The demon had told them that the Captain of Fora - the Left Hand of Lupin Greatsword - Garnell had supposedly grown too old and that his capabilities as a soldier and a leader had diminished significantly. He was nothing more than an old man who couldn’t do anything.

Bantor believed it to be true, as well. If he could take him down, the town was as good as theirs. These random folk in the South of the Empire couldn’t be prepared for a group of bandits donning magical weaponry. The fact that they had ceased firing proved it.

Their fire arrows, without question, overwhelmed these peace-enjoying fools. They had given up.

Butterflies danced in his stomach. 

This was it. This would be their new land - their new home.

With booming and thundering cracks, the drawbridge’s wood splintered and broke apart. The harpoons forcefully pulled it down.

He prepared to whip his reigns to charge into the town when everything in his body screamed at him to stop.

Standing across from them stood one man. 

Bantor’s spine chilled. “Hold, hold.”

“I’ll give you this one chance,” the man walked forward, his sword pointed in the ground. “Give up your weapons and tell me why you’re here. If you do, all of you will go free.”

“Yeah right, you bastard! You ain’t takin’ our shit!” someone sneered behind Bantor.

Something about this wasn't right.

Something felt wrong. A deep, violent emotion swirled around inside of him. His blood boiled, his muscles strained, and he lost focus. Screams filled his ears. His body heated up drastically. 

Then, all of those feelings disappeared.

Bantor gasped for breath as he stared at the man in front of him. He knew that if he felt these things, then the others could as well. "Don't provoke him," he said nervously.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“What, Bantor?! You wimping out?” 

“I”m not, Surin. We need to be careful. He’s powerf-”

“Since when were you such a coward ?” Surin said. “Just like I thought, Darius really messed up picking you up.” 

“Don’t talk about Joe like that,” Bantor growled. "Wait, that's not the point. Listen to me, we need to attack him from range. It feels like we'll get pummeled if we get too close."

“Aargh, all this 'be careful' nonsense is killing me!" Surin said. "It’s just one guy! We can tear him apart in seconds!” The others around him agreed.

Bantor still shook his head. "Listen, please."

Surin snarled, “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Stop-!”

Surin and most of the other bandits charged forward on their horses, weapons raised in the air. Five of them equipped black bows and aimed at the man. One by one they fired and a cloud of arrows shot out towards him.

And in the blink of an eye, the arrows all shattered and were crushed into dust. The bandits, still charging forward, dropped their jaws. 

Then, as if cutting away the dust, a single blade floated in midair. A sharp, yet dim yellow glowed around its edges. 

The bandits pulled their horses to a stop. The man unsteadily approached it from behind and grabbed the hilt. He bent over and coughed up some blood.

Surin took the chance and whipped his horses’ reigns. “I’ll have your head!” 

With the horse hooves' thuds, Surin swiftly got close to the man. Stretching out his elongated, silver blade, he swung, but the second he moved, the man disappeared.

He grabbed Surin’s arm, twisted him around, and threw him to the ground. The force of his push was so powerful that Surin knocked out instantly.

“Guys, take care of this one. I’ve got the others,” he said. Behind him, a dozen or so soldiers arrived and apprehended Surin. 

Bantor’s mind raced. Only the Knightblades, Generals, and the Royalty are allowed to carry magical blades. Everyone else was limited to the magical orbs, and those things were rarely effective.

This ragtag group of nobodies had been given powerful weaponry - equal to the Icalians' highest-tier products - and thought that they had the upper hand. That's why they thought taking over the city would be easy. 

Because Garnell was merely a Captain, he shouldn’t have had one. And the reports from the other tribes stated that the Knightblades were busy - especially with the Princesses’ Celebration.

Who is this, Bantor asked.

The man sprinted toward them. 

In hysteria, the bandits tried to surround him. Trying to take advantage of their numbers, they piled in one after the other. They swung their blades down aiming for his neck, but he deflected them with his sword effortlessly.

T-That wasn’t magic.

After prying their weapons away from them, the man shoved his knee into their stomachs one by one, forcing them to collapse and pass out. “Secure these guys!” He yelled to the soldiers.

Everything in his body told him to run away. 

“B-Bantor, what do we do?” A younger kid stuttered. “Do we fight?”

Six other Bandits stared at Bantor with terrified eyes. I knew I shouldn't have brought them... These were only kids. Maybe two, three years younger than he was. They only joined because they thought the job was going to be easy. And now here they were, about to face criminal punishment.

He bit his lip.

The man stalked towards them, his sword lightly swaying back and forth. His blonde hair ruffled in the wind, and his emerald green eyes shimmered in the sunlight.

It was then that Bantor figured who this man was.

The son of Lupin Greatsword.

He’d heard stories of him ever since he was a kid.

How he could go toe-to-toe with the best of the Empire’s soldiers. How he had fought during the Six-Month War. How he had stood on the front-lines directly next to the Empire’s Summoned Hero and the Knightblades…

“Dall Greatsword…” he whispered. 

This wasn’t a fight they could win. 

But they couldn’t run. 

Running would ruin their name among the bandit tribes. And their backs would be exposed to Dall. 

“We stand. Stay strong!” Bantor yelled. “Back up slowly, and all of you keep an eye on him. If he tries moving, shoot your Black Bows at him.” 

Dall kept walking, all bows aimed at him. He lifted his sword and held it in front of his chest. He breathed slowly, in and out. “Six targets. Alright, I’ll be finished with this fast.”

Time slowed down.

Their minds in peril and anxiousness preemptively shot their bows but instead of hitting him, they all hit the ground. In the blink of an eye, he was already taking down one of Bantor's allies.

His comrades to his right all fell off of their horses. “Gah!” 

It was all a blur.

Bantor glanced side to side, trying to catch where Dall would attack next.

How is he doing it?! 

“H-Help!”

“Stop!”

Then Dall was in front of him. His comrades collapsed on the ground. Dall coughed and held his blade up. His eyes were fixated on Bantor.

He could tell that Dall was giving him one last chance.

To give up or be arrested.

No matter how tempting it seemed, giving up was not an option. Especially after how he had practically taken the lead for his comrades. 

Bantor got off of his horse and brandished his ax. 

At that moment, the pressure around him intensified. Dall’s gaze shook his core. 

But he had to attack. He swiftly raised his weapon in the air and hurled it down towards him. “Take this!” he yelled.

As his ax came down, Dall took his sword and blocked it. 

The two pushed each other back and forth, their arms shaking and their blades chipping in each other.

But then, Dall swept at Bantor's legs. 

His ax fell to the ground, and Dall's knee was pressed against his back.

It was game over. 

The Qalee tribe was done for. The other bandit tribes in the alliance would never allow them to continue. 

"You're an interesting kid," Dall said. "I'll make sure they treat you right."

Then Bantor blacked out.