The rain was strong; the dirt and grassy ground had turned to mud. Deep in the woods, in a clearing, Faust was surrounded—over ten guards stood around him. His body was wounded; an arrow had pierced his shoulder, and several cuts marked his skin, all of these were injuries he had acquired while trying to escape.
"Heh, you know you won't be able to get away. Just give up already; it's better to die peacefully than in pain," one of the guards said, taking a step forward.
Faust remained quiet, silent; his breathing was weak, and his pale skin had become even paler.
Suddenly, a huge sound reverberated from the city—an explosion.
The birds in the forest started making noise and flying away. Some of the guards turned toward the village, nervous and curious.
"I had to detonate it after all," Faust thought. When he had been locked away, he had forced the bear to eat all the items in the bag. Most of them had detonation runes and were indigestible, made from rocks and javelins alike.
It was his trump card, meant to kill most of the guards and open a path to escape. However, he hadn't expected the captain to wield aura. His plan had failed the moment the captain showed up.
Faust's eyes darted around the battlefield. He had no way to run. He was already too slow; he hadn't been fed properly while imprisoned. And if that wasn't enough, his hands and feet were shackled by chains.
"Surrender already!" one of the guards shouted, their nerves rattled by the explosion.
"I don't think he will, honestly," a masculine voice echoed through the woods. All eyes searched for the source.
They landed on a man with long, dark green hair. His eyes bore horizontal slits instead of normal irises. He carried a chained whip and wore a frog talisman on his waist. His loose clothes made him look like a vagabond.
"Who are you? This is a criminal! If you don—"
Before the guard could finish his sentence, his head was sent flying, blood spurting from his neck. His body stiffly collapsed to the ground. The other guards instantly shivered down to their cores, staring at the one who caused it.
The man with the frog talisman held his chained whip, blood dripping from the links, which were lined with small blades.
Everyone fell silent. The frog talisman man had moved too fast; none of them could even see the attack. He was strong—too strong.
"No need to look at me, guys. I'm just after that little man over there. We have some business together."
Faust stared at him in confusion. What could the man mean? They had never met before.
"Oh, you're confused. You were the one who invaded our ritual area in the cave. It was truly hidden and secure. How did you even find it? I'm genuinely impressed! But on the other hand, you made me come all the way here. I could have been resting, you know?
"Well, whatever. I have to bring you back anyway. We can talk later." He stopped looking at Faust and turned to the guards, who were shivering and silent, knowing they were no match for him. "On the other hand, you all saw me... I'm sorry, but I have to dispose of you too. Too bad, too bad!"
The man's expression was relaxed as he moved his whip once more. In a movement too fast to see, another guard was killed, cleanly cut in half.
The guards started to falter; they could barely hold their weapons anymore. Meanwhile, Faust, who had been surrounded, tried to use the chaos as a chance to escape. He tried to move, but the moment he did, the whip lashed out at him. His eyes widened. An enormous cut opened across his back, exposing muscle and bone.
He collapsed to his knees, the pain overwhelming.
"Stay there. I don't want any more work," the frog man said before instantly killing two more guards, their blood raining over the battlefield.
The situation was disastrous. Half the guards were killed in a blink. Faust was heavily injured and had nothing but the executioner's sword; and he didn't even know how to wield it properly, especially since its rounded tip prevented it from stabbing.
His bear was dead. His journal was missing. He had no javelins or stone grenades.
As he analyzed his losses, he couldn't help but find the situation laughable. It was so tragic and unlucky it almost seemed like a comedy.
The frog man moved again, rushing at a guard and wrapping his whip around the man's neck, then snapping it. The head was sent flying.
He moved again—and again and once more. Two more guards were killed in rough but precise movements. His attacks were not just fast; his movement speed was extraordinary.
In under a minute, only one guard remained. The frog man began to walk toward him. The guard desperately tried to run, but his leg was instantly severed. He fell to the ground and began crawling, struggling to escape. From his mouth, a muttered prayer could be heard.
"How weak, hehe."
The frog man casually approached. His face no longer serene, he was now smiling. Every attack after the first had grown less precise, making the victims suffer more.
"Die, worm."
He stomped down, turning the guard's head into a bloody paste.
Then he turned around and saw Faust, who was struggling to get up.
He kicked him in the back, sending him face-first into the mud.
As Faust crawled, trying to distance himself from the long-haired man, the rattling of chain links echoed—the sound coming both from Faust's shackles and the man's whip, creating a weird harmony.
"Alright, let's go." The frog talisman man extended his hand toward Faust, ready to grab him—but at the last moment, he leapt backward, avoiding the golden burst of mana that grazed past his face.
The man's gaze lit up with curiosity, his horizontal eyes glowing with interest. "Maybe this job wasn't so bad after all! I think I'll do just one more after this... then rest!"
From the woods, two figures emerged opposed to him.
The guard captain, with half his right arm destroyed and multiple injuries along his body, approached. He gripped his sword so tightly that his hands bled.
Beside him stood a woman—young and pretty, with short blonde hair and light blue eyes. Her cheeks were pinkish and she had soft features. She wore a long white and gold robe adorned with the symbol of the Light Order—an eight-pointed golden star. She was a priestess of the religious group.
Her soft appearance sharply contrasted with the battlefield, where mutilated guard bodies and pools of blood covered the muddy ground.
She looked at the carnage and maintained a neutral expression.
At her side, the captain advanced slowly. His aura had recovered and was growing stronger with each step. Rage simmered silently within him—rage against Faust, the criminal trying to escape; rage for the soldiers who had died under his command. Even if he was not the most respectable man, he cared for his men.
He was a captain.
The frog man grabbed Faust and threw him to the back of the battlefield, stepping protectively in front of him.
The three people on the battlefield were clearly a cut above the rest. They existed on a level Faust was still far away from—he could barely fight even when using runes.
"You are accused of protecting a criminal. For that, your punishment is execution," the captain said, brandishing his sword. His stance was adjusted to compensate for his lost arm—right foot back, left side forward.
The priestess moved her hand in an arc, conjuring three golden mana spikes that floated in front of her.
No one was moving, no one was speaking. The only sounds in the clearing were the falling rain, the hum of the priestess's golden mana floating in the air, and the heavy breathing of the captain.