Chapter 10

Shaun ignored the taunt and narrowed his focus to the fight at hand. The bandits had circled him. He took a deep breath, his mind racing as he scanned his enemies.

There are too many of them," he thought, gripping his sword tighter. "When it comes to sheer strength and aggression, I can't match them. They're bigger, stronger, and they fight without hesitation. If I hold back, I'm dead."

His eyes moved quickly from one bandit to another, studying their movements. The leader was likely the most dangerous. The others weren't as skilled, but they were still a threat.

"I can't afford to play it safe. There's no one around to see, no one to question how I fight. I have to end this now."

Shaun took a deep, steady breath, his focus sharpening as everything else faded away. His body tensed, ready to move, every muscle prepared to strike.

Shaun adjusted his stance, planting his feet firmly. His sword positioned at an angle that promised precision over brute force. He locked his eyes onto each bandit, sizing them up. A tense silence filled the air, making the bandits uneasy, as they sensed the change.

The bandits exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence starting to fade.

From the edge of the clearing, the bandit leader stepped forward, his axe resting casually on his shoulder. He smirked, but there was a hint of caution in his eyes. "Stand down," he ordered, his voice sharp and commanding. "I'll take care of this myself."

The bandits hesitated, glancing at each other uncertainly. Bandit 5 spoke up. "Boss, he's just a kid. We can take him."

The leader's smirk disappeared, replaced by a scowl as he turned to face him. "Are you questioning me?" he growled, his voice sharp and threatening. The bandit quickly shook his head and stepped back, lowering his daggers.

The leader turned back to Shaun, his axe now resting at his side. "You've got guts, kid," he said, his tone almost admiring. "I'll give you that. But guts won't save you from me."

Shaun didn't respond. His eyes remained locked on the leader, his stance steady. The tension in the air was palpable, the forest itself seeming to hold its breath.

The leader took a step forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. "You think you're special, don't you? Think you can take on the great Rorik and live to tell the tale?" He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Let me show you what real strength looks like."

Shaun's grip tightened on his sword, his mind racing. "This is it," he thought. "No more holding back. If I can take him down, the others will scatter."

The leader raised his axe, the blade gleaming in the dim light. He opened his mouth to taunt Shaun again, but the words never came.

In the blink of an eye, Shaun moved.

It was as if he had vanished, his body a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow. The bandits gasped, their weapons lowering as they tried to make sense of what was happening. The leader's eyes widened, his smirk fading into confusion.

Then, it happened.

Shaun reappeared behind the leader, his sword sheathed and his stance calm. For a moment, nothing seemed to have changed. The leader stood frozen, his axe still raised, his expression one of stunned disbelief.

"What…?" the leader muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. His arms dropped to his sides, his axe slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, his face pale with shock.

The bandits stood still, their breathing shaky and uneven, as if the air had suddenly become too heavy. Their wide eyes darted to their leader's unmoving body, looking for any clue about what had just happened. But there was nothing—no wounds, no blood, no sign of an attack. He didn't move, his chest barely rising and falling, as if he had been frozen in place.

Bandit 3 gripped his dagger tightly, his knuckles turning white. His eyes darted between his fellow bandits and their motionless leader. "What… what did he do?" he muttered.

The silence that followed was suffocating. The bandits exchanged uneasy glances, their usual bravado shattered. Bandit 1, a wiry man with a patch over one eye, began to back away slowly, his hands raised as if warding off an unseen threat. "This ain't natural," he said, his voice rising in panic.

Shaun turned to face them, his expression calm but his eyes burning with determination. "Leave," he said, his voice firm and commanding. "And don't come back."

The bandits didn't need to be told twice. They dropped their weapons and fled into the forest, their leader left behind, still lying in the dirt.

The leader looked up at Shaun, his voice weak and trembling. "What… what did you do to me?"

Shaun paused, glancing back over his shoulder at the paralyzed figure. His voice was calm, almost casual, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the fact that he'd just incapacitated a man without leaving a mark. "Pressure point," he said simply, gesturing vaguely toward the leader's neck. "Right side, just below the base of your skull. You'll be fine in a few minutes—can't move, can't speak, but you'll be back to normal soon enough."

The bandit leader stared at him, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Shaun didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked away, his footsteps steady and unhurried, as though he hadn't just demonstrated a skill that left the man questioning his strength.

The forest seemed to grow quieter around him, the tension dissipating with each step he took. Behind him, the bandit leader lay paralyzed in the dirt, his body still refusing to obey his commands. But his voice, though weak and trembling, began to rise in frustration and fury.

"Hey! Hey, you little rat!" the leader shouted, his voice cracking as he strained against the paralysis. "You can't just leave me here! Do you hear me? Don't you dare walk away from me!"

Shaun didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. The leader's voice grew louder, more desperate, echoing through the trees.

"You coward! You think you're so clever, don't you? Hitting me with some cheap trick! You're nothing but a spineless, sneaky little worm! Come back here and fight me like a man!"

The leader's words were laced with venom, but Shaun remained unfazed. He continued walking, his posture relaxed, as if the man's screams were nothing more than the distant chirping of birds.

"You hear me, you worthless piece of trash? I'll find you! I'll hunt you down and make you regret this! You think you're tough? You're nothing! Nothing!"

The leader's voice turned rough, his threats turning into a mix of curses and insults. But Shaun was already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, blending in with the trees. The leader's angry shouts grew weaker, swallowed by the quiet of the woods.

For a moment, the forest was silent again, except for the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. The bandit leader lay on the ground, breathing heavily, his mind filled with anger and shame. He wanted to shout again, to curse Shaun's name until his voice gave out, but he still couldn't move.

And so, he was left alone, his threats ignored, his pride crushed. The only sound left was the fading crunch of Shaun's footsteps—a quiet reminder of the power he had wielded and the mercy he had shown.