seventy three,all dead

The cave echoed with the sound of drunken laughter, the clinking of stolen gold, and the slurred cheers of victorious bandits. Piles of treasures—coin pouches, expensive silks, and rare gems—were scattered across the cavern floor, the spoils of their latest raid.

Amidst the revelry, Rain Bonito sat slumped against a wooden pillar, his hands and legs bound by thick chains. His once-pristine noble garments were now tattered and stained with dirt and sweat. He struggled weakly, but the restraints barely budged. His face, pale with fear, twisted as he turned to Roadie, his voice hoarse.

"Roadie… why?" His tone was laced with disbelief. "We were friends… You and I, we had a deal—"

Roadie, lounging lazily on a crate, took a swig from his wine bottle before letting out a dry chuckle. His amber eyes gleamed under the torchlight.

"Friends?" He scoffed. "Don't make me laugh, Baron. A bandit and a noble, friends? No, we had an arrangement. You paid me, and in return, I was supposed to take care of that damn hound, Sir Jaeger. That was it."

Rain's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Then why—why kidnap me? What do you want from me?"

Roadie smirked and shrugged. "Wasn't my idea, actually." He took another sip before jerking his thumb toward the shadows. "Our new crewmate insisted on having a little chat with you, so we brought you along."

Rain furrowed his brows. "W-Who—?"

Before he could finish, slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the cave. A figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into the dim torchlight.

Zander.

His cold smile stretched wider as he approached, his crimson-red eyes gleaming with something dark—something hungry. His posture was relaxed, but there was an unsettling air about him. He crouched before Rain, tilting his head slightly.

"Do you remember me, Lord Rain?" His voice was quiet, almost teasing.

Rain's eyes darted across the boy's face, searching, but came up empty. He had met countless peasants, beggars, and desperate men, all of whom were beneath his notice.

Zander let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Of course not… You nobles never bother to remember the faces of the starving beggars you trample over."

Something in his tone made Rain's breath hitch. His gut twisted, an instinctive fear clawing at his throat.

Roadie stretched his arms lazily and stood up, yawning. "Well, kid, do what you want with him. Just make sure you keep your end of the promise."

Zander didn't even look back, his gaze locked onto Rain as he licked his lips, his grin widening. "Oh, don't worry, Captain. I will… But first"—he reached for the dagger strapped to his belt—"let's have some fun."

Rain shuddered. The cave suddenly felt much colder.

Later ,Zander stepped out of the cave, his boots crunching against the dirt, and approached Roadie, who was lounging on a barrel, swirling a bottle of wine in his hand. His dark eyes flicked toward Zander as he approached.

"The work is done," Zander said, his tone devoid of emotion. "Let's announce it to everyone."

Roadie grinned. "Now that's what I like to hear." He stood up, stretching his arms before raising his voice. "Alright, you bastards! Gather up!"

The bandits, still basking in the spoils of their last raid, reluctantly dragged themselves together, some still holding half-eaten pieces of meat, others clutching stolen goblets of wine. They formed a loose circle around Zander, curiosity in their eyes.

Zander stepped onto a boulder, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd. He let the murmurs die down before speaking, his voice firm and unwavering.

"My fellow members, how long will we keep living like this? Hiding in caves, scurrying out for raids only when we're starving, then crawling back into the shadows?"

A bandit scoffed, folding his arms. "Then what? You want us to farm? Settle down and start families?" The crowd erupted into laughter.

Zander ignored them, his expression unchanging. "No. I say we take one last raid—one that will keep us fed for years. We stop thinking small. Instead of hitting carts and villages, we burn down the entire state of Ravenhart. We raid every village, every town, every city."

The laughter died down. A few bandits exchanged glances, some intrigued, others skeptical.

"The entire state?" One of them asked. "That would take months."

Zander smirked. "Yes. But it'll be easier than you think… because we already know where all the wealth is."

Silence. Every eye was on him now.

"These states are rotten to the core," Zander continued. "All the wealth is hoarded by the nobles—Viscounts, Barons, those leeches that suck the people dry. If we take down their estates, we won't need to waste time looting every small village. We hit the right places, and we'll have enough for all of us."

A few nods. Some of the more experienced bandits were starting to see the logic in his words.

"And what about their guards?" Another voice called out. "The nobles aren't just sitting around waiting to be robbed."

Zander grinned. "That's why you should learn to read." He pulled out a crumpled parchment and held it up. "A public notice has been posted in the cities. Ravenhart is holding Sir Jaeger's death ceremony in a few days."

The mention of Jaeger's name made some bandits tense up. He was a feared knight, even among criminals.

"And here's the best part," Zander added, his smile widening. "By royal decree, every soldier under Ravenhart is required to attend. Jaeger was a big shot in this empire, after all. That means, for one day, the state will be left defenseless."

A murmur spread through the crowd. Excitement. Greed. The idea was insane—but tempting.

Roadie chuckled, stepping beside Zander. "So… what do you bastards say?" He spread his arms. "Shall we paint Ravenhart red?"

The cave erupted into cheers.

Zander leaned in slightly, his voice laced with amusement. "Also, I found out that Zed Ravenhart is after you like a wild beast. Did you do something to piss him off?"

Roadie paused mid-drink, then let out a chuckle. "Heh, that brat, huh? Well, I might've done a thing or two." He grinned, swirling the bottle in his hand. "But I gotta say, I like his spirit. Most nobles just send their dogs to do the work, but this one? He's hunting me down himself."

Zander tilted his head. "And that doesn't concern you?"

Roadie shrugged. "If he wants to come, let him. I'll be waiting."

Zander smirked. "You know, I found something interesting about Zed and the Greyrat case." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Anyway, Zed will come for you, and he'll die trying. So why not make some money out of it too?"

Roadie raised an eyebrow, now intrigued. "Well, you've got my attention. How do we pull that off?"

Zander crossed his arms. "From everything I've gathered, it turns out that Ravenhart brutally murdered Habil's eldest son."

Roadie scoffed. "So?"

"So," Zander continued, "Habil will be desperate for revenge. We just have to tell him we'll take care of Zed for a nice sum of gold."

Roadie leaned back, grinning. "How much gold are we talking about here?"

Zander's smirk widened. "Revenge makes people reckless. If we play it right, we could milk him for a few hundred thousand gold coins."

Roadie let out a whistle. "That's the same as raiding an entire city."

"Exactly," Zander said, eyes gleaming. "And it's easy money."

Roadie burst into laughter, slapping his knee. "Damn, kid, you're getting better at this! I like it."

Meanwhile, in the Ravenhart estate, Zed sat alone in his dimly lit room, his gaze lowered, lost in thought. The only source of light came from the moon, its silver glow filtering through the open window. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains, sending them billowing inward. As they settled back, a figure emerged from the shadows.

The entity stood before Zed, clad in black from head to toe, his hands, boots, and mask—an eerie red Asura skull—dripping with fresh blood.

Without looking up, Zed spoke, his voice low. "How many?"

The entity replied in a cold, emotionless tone. "Seventy-three. All dead."

Zed exhaled slowly. "And your progress?"

"Peak Awakener."

At that, Zed leaned his head back against the chair, his icy blue eyes staring at the ceiling. "Almost there," he murmured. "You can return now."

The entity wordlessly unsheathed its sword—a blade shimmering in the same striking blue as Zed's eyes. As if responding to an unseen command, the sword dissolved into pure Rhu, flowing like liquid energy toward Zed. It wrapped around his arm, sinking into his skin and forming a deep-blue tattoo that pulsed faintly.

The room fell silent once more as the entity vanished into thin air, leaving only the lingering scent of blood in its wake.