Year 8 — cont.

Under the moonlight and the cold breeze of the night, the Quincy galloped on their respective horses into the plains, heading towards the carriage and slave procession that was under attack. 

Soon, they heard the clash of metal and shouts, intended to boost someone's morale, as well as cries for help. The group of Quincy stayed far away, ensuring they remained unnoticed by the fighting parties.

Normally, they would charge at the nomads and bandits, but due to a special request from Yhwach, they changed their tactics. Observing the unfolding scene, a bloodbath didn't shock or confuse them. This was their job, and encountering dismembered bodies was a familiar occurrence for them.

"Release your bows," came the command.

The Quincy monks behind closed their eyes, letting go of the reins, and focused on the instruction. Sweat poured down their foreheads during the process. After a full minute, blue starlit particles began to appear on their arms, swirling like snakes and coalescing into solid objects—a bow without an arrow.

"Everyone ready?" asked the Quincy squad leader.

They nodded, adjusting their posture and balance in anticipation of the impending action. Despite their physical strength surpassing that of normal humans and their ability to manipulate spirit particles, they remained vulnerable to attacks. A single mistake could cost them their lives.

"The moment my arrow hits someone, that's when we strike. Remember, kill everyone except the slaves. Do you understand?"

Nodding in agreement, they prepared themselves. With one hand holding the reins and the other clutching the Reishi-made Quincy bow, they took aim. 

The Quincy at the front positioned himself as if he were about to load an arrow, even though it wasn't necessary, as a thin thread-like object materialized in the middle of the bow. Gradually thickening, it transformed into a genuine arrow made of Spirit Particles.

He pulled the "string" and targeted the nearest knight. Taking a deep breath, he released his finger from the string. 

Swish!

Swiftly, a line was drawn across the plain, the arrow cutting through the air with a whistle, leaving a trail of blue smoke as it homed in on the oblivious knight who was busy defending the carriage from the bandits.

When the knight sensed something ominous approaching, he shifted his gaze from the bandits to the space behind him, where he saw the arrow—a blue arrow. His brain screamed "dodge," but his reaction was too slow, or rather, the arrow was too fast. 

Before his brain could comprehend the severity of the situation, the arrow pierced his skull, lifting his body into the air and embedding it in the carriage door, like a ragdoll.

“...”

For a moment, chaos halted. Regardless of which side they were on, everyone paused to observe the fate of the knight. The bandits clicked their tongues in disapproval, while the knights were puzzled. They wondered if another group of barbarians had set their sights on the noble inside the carriage.

However, upon examining the arrow, they realized it was no ordinary projectile. It bore a striking resemblance to the arrows rumored to be used by the monks residing just a few kilometers away. But those monks claimed to help anyone against bandits, so why did they kill a knight?

The same question echoed in the minds of the bandits. Had they missed their target? No, that was unlikely. They had experienced the horror of these monks before and knew the accuracy of their peculiar-looking arrows. Some had even witnessed them change trajectories firsthand.

So, what in tarnation is happening?

While confusion enveloped the scene, the sound of galloping reverberated through the area. All eyes turned towards the source, discovering a dozen or so men in white robes with a pentacle-shaped insignia on their shoulders.

"The Quincy..."

"Should we flee?"

"Are they here to help, or...?"

Whispered words from the bandits filled the air as they watched the Quincy approach on their horses. The knights, on the other hand, felt conflicted. Were these Quincy allies or foes?

Soon, the answer became apparent. The Quincy riding their horses raised their arms, assuming a stance and pulling back the string of their ethereal bows, materializing similarly ethereal arrows. As they released their fingers, the arrows flew at breakneck speed.

Swish!

Dozens of Reishi arrows raced toward their intended targets, shattering heads like clay vases.

“...!”

One by one, individuals with Reishi arrows lodged in their skulls fell, leaving the onlookers in a state of shock. What was happening? Had these Quincy gone rogue?

Regardless of the many questions swirling in their minds, one thing became certain—these monks are enemies.

Bandits and knights gripped their weapons and faced the approaching Quincy. Without uttering a word, an alliance formed instinctively. 

Confronted by these monks, their primal instincts warned them that continuing to fight amongst themselves would result in the destruction of both sides.

"Uwaa—!"

After a brief silence, someone shouted and took a step forward, signaling the start of an advance. However, before the message could reach the newly formed alliance, an arrow pierced his throat. Blood gushed from his neck, akin to a fountain, spraying in a gruesome display.

The monks wouldn't even allow them to sound their war cry.

Did they truly stand a chance against them?

With the ability to form arrows instantly without the need for loading time, the Quincy also remained several hundred meters away, out of reach for sword-wielding opponents. At this point, they were nothing more than sitting ducks, waiting to be killed.

...

The aftermath of the battle presented a gruesome scene. Heads twisted and misshapen, evidence of the sheer force behind the Reishi Arrow. Lifeless corpses lay scattered in a pool of blood, their wide eyes fixated on the moon, betraying confusion even in death, as if unable to comprehend what had transpired.

Truly, it was a sight that left one awestruck. It was difficult to fathom that amidst this devastation, the Quincy had emerged unscathed, save for their depleted stamina. 

It wasn't that they were immortal, or extremely formidable in combat; it was simply that, before the oppositoin could even take a step, arrows had already found their mark upon their heads.

An unequal fight, to say the least.

Clang!

One of the Quincy, still possessing enough stamina, conjured a small blade crafted from Reishi and swiftly severed the chains that bound the slaves' ankles. 

Some of the chains were empty, as a few of the slaves had seized the opportunity to escape when the battle ensued, by dislocating their ankles. However, the Quincy made no attempt to pursue them, as it was not part of His Eminence's instructions.

“...”

The newly freed slaves regarded the Quincy with a mix of confusion and conflicting emotions. Accustomed to being treated as less than animals, they found it difficult to comprehend the sudden appearance of someone like them, who had come seemingly out of nowhere to rescue them. 

It... felt like a dream.

"Don't look at us in such a manner. We are not your saviors," the Quincy spoke, his tone firm. "It is His Eminence who instructed us to undertake this mission. If you wish to express your gratitude, do so when you meet him tomorrow."

Silence followed his words. However, deep within, the slaves pondered the identity of this "eminence" that the warrior monks spoke of.

Towards the back, a malnourished, dark-skinned boy among the slaves harbored a great curiosity towards his savior. His emotions were palpable, evident in the gleam that flickered in his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight.

Little did he, or even his benefactor, realize that this encounter would give birth to one of the most dangerous and deadly individuals in the world.