Attack (2)

Everyone except Colt had fainted.

He was the one who'd knocked them out. It wasn't a spell—just simple chloroform, stored in a narrow glass tube.

He'd bought it in his past timeline, and it had come with him. While the others were distracted, he slipped it from his inventory and used it.

Locking the doors was even easier.

His Mana Manipulation wasn't known by anyone. That, paired with the stress of the moment, meant none of the others noticed a thing.

This was because they were inexperienced. Of course, that was normal at their age.

Even Seila couldn't use her magic to prevent inhaling the smoke. Colt didn't need to interfere. She couldn't think of anything during the chaos.

He hadn't even removed the seal on his level to do these things.

If he was going to step in, he didn't want anyone to see the truth. This was the cleanest solution.

After clearing the smoke, Colt stepped out of the carriage and headed to the rear. The guards there were weaker.

From a distance, he watched the battlefield unfold. Eleven bandits were at least level 130, six more over 140, and two at 150.

The real threat came from the 150-level fighters.

At the rear side battle, one of them, plus six of the 130s, were clashing with five elven guards and two maids.

The rest were at the front, drawing most of the attention.

The fight hadn't reached its peak yet. No injuries on either side.

That was typical. Bandits didn't charge in to die—they pressured with numbers, chipped away at stamina, and waited for a break.

They'd probably scouted the area beforehand. They must have known no help was coming.

There could even be lookouts so that they could hurry or run away if someone approaches from the outside.

That meant they weren't in a rush. They had all the time they needed.

Unlucky for them, Colt was here.

He didn't rush in. Instead, he launched his attack from afar.

First, he cast a domain directly over the bandits.

Inside it, he could manipulate mana far more precisely. And that was all it took.

The rushing enemies froze mid-step, collapsing in confusion. Before they could react, they were dead.

What he'd done was subtle—he twisted the ambient mana, locking their abilities and suppressing their speed just long enough to strike.

Close-combat classes didn't have internal mana circuits, but they still drew on ambient mana without realizing it.

Since he was only using the power of a 66-level, he could only stop the mana for one second against 130+ level opponents.

But in a fight at this level, a second was everything.

Still, this was also beneficial for him.

Because the effect was slight, none of the surviving bandits suspected outside interference.

Most bandits in Arte favored close-combat classes—assassins, brawlers, warriors, etc... The kind that couldn't sense distant mana shifts.

If Colt had truly been just level 66, they would have seen through it instantly.

Unfortunately, all the guards and maids were also close combat types. If they had only one mage, the fight would already be over.

Of course, that was unless the bandits also bring a mage in preparation.

Meanwhile, the rest of the bandits noticed something was wrong. Six of their allies dropped dead at the same moment.

The 150-level leader at the rear scowled.

"Useless bastards," he muttered, then stepped in himself.

The five elven guards were no pushovers—four at level 138, and one at 140.

Normally, five fighters at that range could overwhelm someone ten levels above them.

But there was a significant gap between levels 149 and 150. Everyone knew it existed. But almost no one really understood why.

That was a mystery for the future.

Right now, even if that bandit couldn't beat them, all he needed to do was stall.

Keep them from helping at the front. That alone could tilt the battle.

He knew it too. He didn't take risks. He fought defensively, slow and steady.

Good, Colt thought. That meant the rear was under control.

Time to shift to the front.

Ten guards were locked in battle with five level-130s and six over level 140, while another level-150 bandit hung back, barking orders.

This side was faring much worse, even though more than half of the guards here were over level 140.

Two had already taken hits—one to the leg, another to the arm.

Colt didn't flinch. He did the same as before: cast his domain and intervened just enough. This time, three bandits dropped.

Not as many, but still, it helped. The pressure eased, if only slightly.

But that was all it took to make the level-150 bandit step in personally.

He charged straight at the strongest guard—the one who always spoke for the group, the one who addressed Hei when anything important came up.

Colt narrowed his eyes, running through options.

He still didn't want to lift the seal. Every time he did, he'd need more of Seila's hair—and he wasn't about to let her go bald for his sake.

Her hair was far too beautiful for that.

He couldn't hinder the 150 level one even for a second with his 66 level self. So, what he could do was to help the others defeat the other bandits.

That way, all of them could fight against the 150+ level bandit together.

But how...

He had plenty of ways to deal with them, but it had to look like the guards were the ones who won.

There was only one method that fit. Instead of attacking the enemy's mana, he cast his domain over the guards and briefly infused them with extra mana.

Unlike before, when he drained energy from his enemies, this time he gave it. Because he wasn't harming the guards, their bodies didn't instinctively resist.

That meant he could maintain it for a few seconds, but he didn't. He kept it short—just a moment, and only on one target at a time.

For example, when a guard's sword clashed with an enemy's, he'd boost their strength at that exact instant.

The bandits, used to the rhythm of the fight by now, expected the usual level of force. But the sudden surge caught them off guard—swords flew from their hands, feet stumbled, balance broke.

Right after the boost, Colt withdrew his mana so the guards wouldn't notice anything strange.

Then he turned to the battlefield itself, subtly manipulating the terrain. One bandit tripped over a rock that hadn't been there a moment ago. A tree, weakened by Colt's quiet interference, toppled at just the right time, crashing down as if from the shockwaves of the clash.

The weaker ones fell fast. Before long, only the 150+ level fighters remained.

Colt's work was done. No matter the level gap, the ten guards could now overwhelm them and push toward the rear.

But he had one more task.

He returned to the carriage and waited.

Eventually, the sounds of battle up front quieted. Colt pulled another vial of chloroform from his inventory.

Just as the front guards came into view, the carriage filled with smoke—and a rustle echoed from the trees nearby.

Hei's number one guard, Akson, cursed. "Two of you, with me. The rest, go reinforce the rear."

The three hurried to the carriage and threw open the doors, only to find four unconscious fifteen-year-olds.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Akson gave his orders. "I heard something behind that tree. Probably someone trying to sneak up on the carriage, but ran when he saw us.

Search the woods. If you find anyone, take them alive. That high-level bastard didn't leave us a single prisoner."

Hidden inside, Colt exhaled slowly. The plan had worked.

There was no one behind the tree, of course. But this way, it would look like an ambush had failed, and explain the presence of the chloroform.