Dark Fantasy: Magical Eye Knight – Chapter 90

 

Chapter 90: Roadside Encounters (3)

 

Tebonin struggled to catch his breath. The pursuit, the ambush by the bandits in broad daylight, and the deaths of the mercenaries he had hired with such difficulty were overwhelming him.

 

“Ughhh. . . . . .”

 

He had faced countless life-threatening situations over a decade of peddling, but he had never felt so helpless as he did now.

 

Thirty or more bandits. And every one of them was a magic user, capable of wielding some measure of magic power.

 

Any village or city would welcome a magic user with open arms. Tebonin could not understand why they had chosen to become bandits.

 

The mercenaries, who could barely swing a sword and had no magic, were helpless against such bandits.

 

Tebonin pressed his fist against his mouth, choking back a scream as he listened to the death throes of the mercenaries and the screams of others trapped in the wagons. Despite biting down hard, he could barely feel the pain.

 

His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst out. Death was imminent.

 

Then, something unexpected happened. One of the bandits shouted, “Hey! Up on that hill!” The galloping figures reined in their horses and turned to look at the hill.

 

‘W, What the?’

 

Tebonin pressed his eye against a crack in the wagon. The bandits, who had been circling the wagons and slaughtering the mercenaries and people, were staring at a single spot. The hill was to the northwest, and three figures stood there.

 

The bandits kicked their horses’ flanks.

 

“Let’s go! Charge!”

 

“Load the crossbows! New prey!”

 

Tebonin felt a brief flicker of joy at the respite from death, but he could not help but feel despair for himself and the travelers, as they were destined to perish. They would all perish.

 

“Huh?”

 

But what happened next was astonishing.

 

A man on horseback drew a dark-colored greatsword from somewhere—Tebonin had no idea where the blade had come from—and charged straight at the oncoming bandits.

 

Was he insane? Reckless? The answer came in the form of the bandits’ bodies being torn apart by the great sword.

 

Tebonin’s jaw dropped as he watched the man wield the greatsword as if it were an extension of his own body.

 

If violence were to take human form, it would look like this: As the man sliced through half a dozen bandits, they collapsed to the ground, blood spraying from their necks and chests.

 

Then Tebonin saw the leader of the bandits who had attacked them charge forward, brandishing a giant sword.

 

The merchant knew what a fearsome opponent he was. His strength was such that he had cut down Tebonin’s hired mercenaries like paper dolls.

 

The innards of the dead mercenaries spilled out, scattering across the ground. Tebonin fought back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, but he could not tear his eyes away from the crack in the wagon.

 

He prayed and begged, hoping that the black-haired man would prevail. His prayers were answered, too.

 

The thunderous clash of greatsword and giant sword reached Tebonin’s ears, causing him to flinch. He gasped as the fearsome bandit leader, unhorsed, sent him tumbling across the rough ground.

 

“Hooray!”

 

He raised his arms in triumph, then quickly dove as the remaining bandits turned their attention to him. Their arrows nocked.

 

The arrows did not fly. The other bandits seemed frozen in place; their leader’s defeat had shocked them into inaction.

 

What followed was nothing short of a slaughter. The remaining bandits died without putting up much of a fight.

 

The ones who had ridden to the distant hill seemed to have met the same fate. One of them was a huge man, whose size could be guessed even from a distance, and next to him was a person who looked even smaller.

 

And now, Tebonin swallowed hard as he finally got a good look at their saviors.

 

There was an orc. Not a greenskin, but a brown-skinned orc, a descendant of the green-skinned orcs of long ago. But an orc nonetheless.

 

His brown skin was adorned with black tattoos, twisting and distorting as his bare chest muscles moved.

 

“Hello?”

 

Kai chuckled. The faces of the townsfolk paled. Not only was his face fearsome, but his steel tusks protruded from his lips, glinting in the sunlight. The townsfolk returned his greeting.

 

“H, Hello there. . . . . .”

 

Kai seemed proud of his impressive tusks, but to the townsfolk, they seemed like a declaration that he could tear their necks out at any moment.

 

The second figure was a girl who looked to be about sixteen. With her white hair and doll-like features, she looked at the wagons, the horses, and the survivors with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

 

“Howdy?”

 

A cheerful greeting. Then the black-haired man with crimson eyes spoke.

 

“Aella, be polite.”

 

“Oops. Hello there. . . .”

 

The girl nodded. The townsfolk bowed their heads in unison.

 

They could not afford to ignore the young girl.

 

When they saw the flash of light on the hill earlier, it was clear that the girl was a wizard. Her striking appearance, with her white hair and blue eyes, only reinforced that assumption.

 

In truth, the townsfolk were even more wary of the girl than they were of the burly Kai. Wizards and witches were beings beyond ordinary people’s reach.

 

They were rare beings, typically employed by nobles or the blue-blooded, such as lords and dukes.

 

Commoners rarely had the opportunity to meet such wizards or witches. And when they did, it rarely ended well.

 

There were countless tales, some credible, some outlandish, about wizards who turned people into frogs or made snails come out of their mouths just to smile at them the wrong way.

 

But Tebonin knew that the most important figure was the third one, even more so than the orc or the white-haired girl. He’d been the first to greet the black-haired man.

 

“T, Thank you. For saving us.”

 

Tebonin believed that the man must come from a noble family.

 

His handsome features—dark eyebrows, a sharp nose, piercing eyes, and firm lips—were all the hallmarks of an aristocrat.

 

And the power he had displayed earlier was far beyond what most knights could achieve.

 

‘Good heavens, he had single-handedly defeated a band of over thirty bandits. No famous knight could do it.’ A knight’s strength came from his heavy armor, his finely crafted sword, and his expensive warhorse.

 

But this black-haired man had not even worn armor, yet he wielded a huge sword and slaughtered the bandits.

 

The man sheathed the great sword inside his coat—Tebonin could now see where the massive blade had come from—and said,

 

“It was nothing. They were going to fight us anyway.”

 

The bandits had not intended to pass by. They had spotted Russell’s group and charged at them. It was not unusual for them to encounter bandits along the way.

 

Tebonin looked to be in his forties or fifties. His forehead was broad, and his clothing was a bit flashy, as befitting a merchant. He bowed his head and said,

 

“My name is Tebonin. As you can see, I am a peddler.”

 

“Russell. Traveler. These are Kai, and Aellasis.”

 

Tebonin was surprised. Russell had shown respect for them, even going so far as to correct the white-haired girl’s impolite greeting.

 

That was something hard to come by from nobles or knights. No, it was impossible. To nobles, commoners were like pebbles on the side of the road. It is commonplace, and only useful for throwing at someone.

 

Tebonin asked Russell,

 

“Where are you headed? Baron Marzoff hired me to transport some goods to his estate. Grain, barley, and other provisions. . . .”

 

Then he met the bandits and nearly died. Russell listened quietly, and it turned out that their destinations were not so different.

 

“So, would it be possible to request your escort? I will, of course, pay you.”

 

Russell looked at Kai and Aellasis. They both shrugged, indicating that they had no objections. If they were going the same way, there was no need to part ways.

 

“Very well. We shall accompany you.”

 

“T, Thank you!”

 

Tebonin’s face lit up with gratitude. Russell acknowledged his thanks, then turned his attention to the stopped wagons and the people who were slowly getting to their feet.

 

“Any injured?”

 

“Huh? Oh!”

 

Tebonin had only just thought about the wounded. He hurriedly called out to the other peddlers and the townsfolk hiding with them, and together they sorted through the people injured by the bandits.

 

“Daddy! Daddy!”

 

“Sweetie, uhhh. . . .”

 

In the midst of the peddlers, a traveling family wept over a man who had three arrows embedded in his chest.

 

The others were not in much better condition. The bandits’ swords had been too strong for ordinary people to withstand.

 

Most of the wounded died after a few short breaths. Russell knew how to use healing light, but even that could not heal such deep wounds. They had already lost too much blood.

 

Magic is not a miracle. It was more like a transaction, where one gave something in exchange for something else. He could use his magic to close wounds, but he could not create blood that had already been spilled.

 

The other bodies were not in much better condition.

 

Those who had their chests torn open, revealing their ribs, were relatively intact. There were also mercenary bodies, with their faces split in half or their upper and lower bodies severed.

 

Tebonin’s face was grim as he collected the bodies. Six of the ten mercenaries he had hired died in the attack. The ones who had survived had chosen to hide rather than fight.

 

In addition to the mercenaries, three of the travelers who had been with their peddler group had also died.

 

Tebonin said,

 

“Those who have family or friends should wrap them in cloth and let us go to a village with a church. As for the others. . .”

 

Tebonin and the other merchants began digging a pit for the dozen or so bodies. Russell approached.

 

And without waiting for anyone to stop him, Russell picked up a shovel and began digging. Under his shovel, the earth gave way easily.

 

Tebonin gasped, trying to stop him.

 

“Sir Knight. How can a knight do such a menial task. . .?”

 

‘A knight huh.’ Russell scratched the back of his neck. He was a knight, yes. But he had not received a proper inauguration from his family. He had left home before that could happen.

 

“It is fine. If we all work together, we will finish it sooner.

 

“I will help too.”

 

Kai offered his help. With two men more than twice the size of the others and their strength, they dug the pits in no time.

 

They carefully placed the bodies in the pits. They also put in the weapons they had used in life, as well as some coins. It was a kind of bribe for the ferryman who would take them across the river of the underworld.

 

Small mounds of earth appeared on the empty plain, unmarked by tombstones.

 

The surviving peddlers and travelers stood before the mounds for a moment, their heads bowed in silence. Tebonin hesitated, then softly asked Russell.

 

“Sir Knight, if you would not mind, would you give a eulogy. . .?”

 

The others also looked at Russell. It was customary for a priest to give a eulogy in the name of the gods, but they didn’t have a priest with them.

 

In such cases, a noble or knight of some standing would often say a few words for the deceased, and that was what they were asking Russell to do.

 

Russell stood for a moment, looking down at the mounds.

 

As always, death came suddenly. These people had never thought that they would die in this desolate land at the hands of bandits. Death was undoubtedly one of the many uncertainties in life.

 

He recited what he knew about the gods they believed in and the paradise they promised. There was not much, so the eulogy was short.

 

But the people stood there with solemn faces, their eyes closed. Each of them is praying to their own gods.

 

“Let us pack up. We need to get out of here quickly, or we may encounter more of those bandits.”

 

Tebonin clapped his hands, and the others hurriedly gathered their belongings, which they had abandoned in their panic.

 

Meanwhile, Russell approached the bodies of the bandits they had killed. He had no time or obligation to bury them, either. He would simply leave them to the sun and the wind. On the plains, exposure was a common form of burial.

 

He couldn’t find the source of the strange magical circuit. And scrying was an ability that he used very rarely and very reluctantly. It had almost given him trauma.

 

Partly because it could only see the inside of the body, and it was difficult to see anything related to magic.

 

The prayers of the bandits he had fought had been unusually violent and explosive, but he had no time to investigate them now.

 

Russell looked down at the bandit leader who had fought him. The bandit leader’s head lolled to the side, his neck severed. His eyes were like dull glass beads. He had a vacant stare that would soon become fixed.

 

He turned away. Not many of the horses the bandits had ridden remained. Most of them had galloped away across the plains as soon as their masters disappeared.

 

But there were still a few left, including the one that the halberd-wielding bandit leader had ridden. It was a huge beast, comparable in size to Kry.

 

“Can you ride this one?”

 

“Hmm. The size seems to be about right. I’ll use it to carry my bags for now.”

 

They had not been able to find a horse that Kai could ride at Errandis’ estate. So they had no choice but to bring only Kry, but they were lucky enough to acquire a horse after encountering the bandits.

 

Just then, Tebonin, who had been watching, arrived with the three remaining horses and the weapons the bandits had dropped.

 

“S, Sir Knight. Here are the spoils.”

 

The weapons were varied. There were javelins nearly ten feet long, bardiches that combined a spearhead and an axe blade, falchions, battle axes, longswords, and more.

 

In addition, there was a fair amount of armor, such as chainmail and leather armor, that the bandits had worn.

 

Tebonin rubbed his hands together and said,

 

“If it is acceptable to you, I would like to purchase these.”

 

“Would you?”

 

“Oh, yes. I will pay you well above the market price.”

 

“Wait a moment.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Russell looked through the weapons, picking out a few javelins, a battle axe, and a few daggers, and handed the rest over to Tebonin. Tebonin wasn’t disappointed.

 

The remaining armor and horses were also valuable commodities. He would be able to make a decent profit if he sold them to a blacksmith or a market in the next village or town.

 

With both hands, Russell accepted the coin pouch that Tebonin handed him. He examined it and saw that it contained about ten gold coins.

 

Russell’s massive greatsword had torn or crushed the leather armor and chainmail the bandits had worn in various places, so the horses held the majority of their value.

 

Horses were expensive and always in high demand. They were more versatile than cattle and essential for raising a cavalry. The value of horses rarely decreased because they could serve as farm horses.

 

The bandits had killed all the horses pulling the wagons, so it was necessary to replace them. The horses accepted their new bridles, reins, and saddles, even though their masters were dead.

 

“Then let’s go.”

 

First, Tebonin spoke with Russell. He was the caravan’s leader, but Russell was the one who had the most strength to protect the group, so it was natural for him to defer to Russell.

 

Russell nodded.

 

The peddlers set off again. Wagons and carts trailed behind the wagons, and travelers rode in the carts or walked beside them.

 

Russell rode Kry with Aellasis, while Kai walked beside them.

 

The group of less than thirty people walked along the faint path across the plain. The dead bodies rotted behind them.

 

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

 

A few hours later, Under the scorching sun, the bodies lying on the plain rapidly decomposed, emitting a foul odor. However, there were those who welcomed such a smell.

 

Clang.

 

The beasts that had caught the scent of blood and rotting flesh on the plain had arrived. Russell had encountered a pack of prairie wolves two days ago. They had joined up with another pack, and their numbers had swelled.

 

The wolves cautiously looked down from the hill where Russell’s group had first stood.

 

There are over thirty human and horse corpses. The feast in the wilderness was of a rare quality. The wolves feasted.

 

The beasts buried their heads in the flesh, frenzied.

 

Gradually, as they neared the end of consuming the hearts and entrails, changes began to occur.

 

Their once-lustrous fur lost its shine and gradually became matted. In the gentle breeze, it fell off in clumps.

 

The skin beneath the fur turned red and oozed pus. With a wet, squelching sound, the bones twisted and the muscles swelled, their bodies growing more than twice their original size. Their four legs elongated to more than twice their original length.

 

But the beasts paid no attention to the changes in their own bodies. They simply continued to devour the human flesh. And soon, all the muscles and flesh had entered the bellies of the beasts, leaving only white bones behind.

 

Now, standing there, there were no longer wolves, but monsters.

 

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