Camping out under the clear night sky of the desert, the merchant and Cirrus were enjoying the tranquility of the scene.

“… Say, kid, can I ask you something?” the merchant asked.

“Sure, what is it?”

“You’re an adventurer, right? You have those weapons on you and Lord Poseidon asked for my help?”

“… That I am.”

“Then… what brings you here? Most adventures of Orario stay within the city to explore the dungeon.”

“Merchant… can I pay you to not ask such questions?”

“My apologies! I did not know that was a sensitive topic.”

“It's fine. I’m sure you are curious why a child such as I am traveling to Varga.”

“A bit yes.”

“Then can I give you some advice?” Cirrus said, looking at the merchant.

“S-sure?”

“When conducting business, it's best to ask some questions before accepting. Once accepted, the client and seller are now associated with one another, whether it's good or bad.”

“….” The merchant has a drop of sweat come down his brow. “I-is this bad…”

A smile appears on Cirrus’s face beneath his mask.

“No, but I will tell you this: I am after criminals. Any more than that and you will need to keep watch over your shoulder.”

“Phew…” The merchant took a breath of relief. “I’ll do my best to not look further into it.”

“If it makes you feel any better once this is done, I’m sure Lord Poseidon will count on you and a reliable source of income is extremely precious to a traveling merchant such as you.”

“Fuhahahah!!! You should have said that from the beginning!! I'll take you anywhere, kid!!”

‘Not the first merchant to tell me that.’

With the conversation at its end, they could hear sounds at a distance.

“Shit, it's bandits! Hey kid, have you ever—“

“I have.” Cirrus gets up and draws his sword. “Get inside the carriage.”

The merchant quickly gets in the carriage.

The sounds get closer and closer until finally jumping from a dune, a wooden boat came out with runners on the bottom to let it slide across the sand.

The group of 3 boats surrounded the camp. Cirrus could make a few, one of which was the boy he punched along with some elves.

They made their scene and settled down, stopping around the end of the campfire. Down came an average man with brown skin and a tattooed left arm.

“You the kid that punched my little bro?” he said with his hand on his scimitar.

Cirrus looked around, and all of them had weapons and were ready to draw.

“I am. He wouldn’t leave well enough alone, so I taught him a lesson. He should have taken more to heart.”

“Kukukuk… tell me, kid, are you an adventure?”

“I am. Is it not obvious?"

“Good, well you should know that I’m level 2! I made it without help from a dungeon! So if you give me all of your stuff and let my little bro punch you, we’ll think of leaving you with some water!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

The group laughed out loud.

“… Ugh, so fucking annoying.” Cirrus takes out his wand and holds it with his index finger and thumb.

“What? a stick!? KAKAKAKA!!” shouted the boy. “What can you do with a stick!!”

A grin appeared on Cirrus's face, his magic circled appeared behind Cirrus and the sudden realization dawned on the elves who powered the ship.

“He’s a mage!!!!” they shouted.

"You should have let well enough alone."

It was too late for them. The armor quickly enveloped Cirrus. He placed his wand back onto a strap and quickly covered the distance between him and the leader.

“!!”

“I’m level 3.”

Shing!!

It was as if time had stood still for the bandits, as they could see Faruk’s head fall through the air.

Spurt!!

Before the head or even body could fall to the sands, Cirrus was already drawing more blood. By the time they regained their reason, Cirrus had already cut down more than half of their group.

Wanting to get answers, he cut down 2 of their boat's sails when he turned to the bandits. Their legs gave out and fear had taken them.

“Haaa~… I really wanted to sleep.” Cirrus turns towards the remaining bandits. “Answer me this." He walks up to them, illuminated by the camp's fire, making him far bigger than he actually was. "How did you get these ships? You can't possibly make enough to get there, so either someone is backing you or you are surprisingly good at what you're doing, in which case I will need to make sure you aren't robbing anymore—"

“V-v-Vritra Familia!!!” shouted one bandit.

“Y-yeah, they told us to rob people!!” said another.

“T-t-they forced us to convert!!” said another.

Cirrus didn't have the heart to kill any more than what he already had to show he was serious.

He knows they are desperate. Why else would someone resort to crime? It was the easiest way to get the resources they needed, given their financial situation. Even the young kids around his age get swept up in gangs to survive and fit in and gain protection. It's not their fault they walked this path. They had no choice.

"Leave." He sheathed his blade. "Leave, now. Should I find you again stealing or anything of the like, I'll be sure to cut your tongue and make you eat them, tell anyone of the Vritra Familia about this and I will kill you all as painfully as I can, understood.” He said in a cool and as calm tone as he could. "But if you utter a word I will fucking cut your fingers and tongue off. Got it?" Cirrus said as menacingly and sternly as possible.

Despite his child's voice, Cirrus intimidated the bandits. His image against the light of the flame seared into their minds.

"Y-yes, sir!!" they all shouted.

They all quickly scrambled to the last boat and sail off.

 

As Cirrus sees them off riding off back to Ukhara, he walks back to the campfire and disengages his armor, leaving his mask on.

“Fuck….”

His stomach began to turn, but Cirrus did his best to hold it down when the merchant came and patted his back.

“It's fine… they were bandits. I’m sure they robbed and killed many before.”

“Yeah… you're right, but… that doesn’t mean killing is any easier.”

“… I will dispose of the bodies you go on and sleep.”

“… Alright.”

As the merchant disposes of the bodies in the desert, Cirrus goes into the carriage and closes his eyes. When he does, he remembers Briareus. He still clings to what little of morale's of his former world he still has. But that to will soon die off.

‘Seems it’ll be a restless night… again.’