Chapter 16: Not all of them are dead yet

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Flashback…

Deep within a thick, overgrown forest, shadows reigned. The sunlight barely pierced through the dense canopy of towering trees, their branches stretching endlessly toward the sky. Monsters roamed here—feral beasts and unnatural creatures—but they rarely crossed paths with travelers. This place was far from the common roads, hidden from the maps and forgotten by time.

I was perched high above, crouched on the thick branch of a tall tree. Hidden beneath the shadows, unmoving and silent—like a predator waiting to strike. My body was wrapped in dark armor, fitted with a hood that concealed my face in the gloom. Around my neck hung a brown scarf, worn and soft—Ruru's gift, one of the few pieces of warmth I carried with me.

A faint sound broke the silence. Hoofbeats—slow, steady, unhurried.

I narrowed my eyes.

My hand moved toward my inventory bag, and from it, I quietly drew a sword—its edge gleaming faintly in the muted light.

A group emerged between the trees: armed men on horseback. Their armor was uneven, patchy—barely more than thick leather—and their weapons remained sheathed, slung casually across their backs. They laughed among themselves, voices careless, as if the forest posed no threat to them.

Bandits.

I recognized them instantly.

These men were known for their cruelty, for preying on isolated villages and unsuspecting merchant caravans. Behind them were three wagons—heavy, iron-barred, and drawn by weary horses. And inside, cramped and bound by rope, were people. Prisoners. Slaves.

Even in the dim light, I could see the hopelessness etched into their faces—their eyes hollow, their expressions drained. No more tears left to cry.

I clenched my teeth, jaw tight with rising rage. My fingers wrapped around the hilt of my sword, knuckles pale under my gloves. My heartbeat slowed as I prepared to strike. I waited for the bandits to pass directly below me, just within reach.

Then I heard their voices.

"Hehehe… Damn, that girl back in the village. She screamed like a dying animal. Gave me such a rush." One of them was grinning as he looked back toward a woman inside the wagon.

"Yeah," another said with a sick laugh. "Once we get back to the base, we'll keep the fun going. We'll take our fill until they're useless—then off to the slave traders they go. Easy coin."

The bile rose in my throat.

I spotted one of the women covering her ears inside the cage, her whole body trembling.

"Hey, girl!" one of them shouted. "You better save your voice for me later—I want you loud and—"

He never finished his sentence.

In a blur of motion, I dropped from the tree like a phantom.

His head hit the forest floor before his body could even register what had happened.

The other bandit barely had time to widen his eyes. His hand went to his weapon, but before it could even leave its sheath, I activated my skill.

A flash of steel. Then another. And another.

Panic erupted.

Screams broke through the laughter as their companions fell one by one—lifeless, beheaded, slipping from their horses like ragdolls. The bandits couldn't keep up. Their eyes darted around in confusion, their swords still undrawn, their minds unable to process the speed of the carnage.

They weren't prepared for someone like me.

They were nothing compared to the ones who attacked Nathan's village. Weak. Scattered. And their leader wasn't even among them.

I stepped over the bodies of the fallen, my armor stained red, blood dripping from the blade in my hand. With one sharp motion, I flicked the edge clean, then slid the sword back into its sheath.

I made my way to the wagons. The iron locks on the cages were rusted and crude. I smashed one open with ease.

The captives shrank away from me—fear in their eyes as they stared at the blood-soaked figure that had just appeared from the shadows.

"Who among you knows how to drive a wagon?" I asked, voice firm but calm.

An old man raised his hand, though he didn't speak. I saw others raise theirs in the remaining two cages. I nodded.

From my bag, I brought out supplies—food and clean water. Enough for a feast. I placed them inside each wagon, careful to spread it evenly. They hesitated at first, but hunger broke their fear. Slowly, they reached out—ate, drank, and cried.

I handed them three maps, drawn on monster-hide parchment. The maps pointed to Nathan's village—a safe place. I told them the password to give the guards at the gates.

Then I turned to leave.

There was more work to be done.

I had found a map to the bandits' base tucked inside the belongings of one of the men I'd slain earlier. I intended to follow it. I needed to finish what they started.

Just as I began to walk away, a small voice called out.

"Kuya Leben… is that you?"

I froze.

That voice… weak, exhausted.

I turned.

A little girl stepped toward me. Barefoot. Dirt covered her skin, and there was blood on her clothes—faint, dried, but unmistakable. Her hair was tangled, her face bruised. And on her wrist… a bracelet made of flowers.

My eyes widened.

I knew that face.

I rushed to her, heart twisting. I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms.

"Lily…"

My voice cracked.

"Forgive me. I came too late."

No tears left my eyes—but I felt them in my chest, pressing down with every breath. My arms trembled as I held her.

The little girl began to sob—loud, unrestrained, the kind of cry that tore into the soul.

I clutched her tighter.

I couldn't believe it.

Someone had survived the dragon's attack on the village of Gram.

End of flashback

Lily survived. She was one of the children from the orphanage and had been adopted by a kind family. She had already left Gram before the dragon descended, but misfortune caught up with her. Bandits had slain her adoptive parents. My jaw clenched as the weight of my past failures came crashing down.

"Status," I muttered under my breath.

John Leben [Lvl. 35]

HP: 690/690 (+70)(+300)

MP: 50 (+500)

Class: [None]

Rank: [White]

Title: [Dark Knight], [Beast Hunter], [Protector of the Nameless], [Bandit Reaper]

Skills: [Mirage – Lvl. 20], [Rage Trance – Lvl. 10]

Str: 1 (+5)(+21)

Int: 1 (+5)

Dex: 27 (+5)(+5)

Con: 26 (+5)(+7)

Wis: 0 (+5)

Available Points: –

Skill Points: 2

Resurrections Remaining: 8

Instant Resurrections: 10

Memory Penalties: 51

Mental State Penalty: [Unweeping Curse]

  → Effect: Removes the ability to cry.

My eyes locked on the very last line.

Mental State Penalty: [Unweeping Curse].

Maybe this was the price of countless resurrections—something had been stripped away from my humanity. I had died too many times. The pain of death had faded from my flesh… but not from my soul.

I quietly assigned all available points to DEX. Speed was everything now. Faster kill, faster dodge, and faster fatal attacks.

The world around me no longer felt the same. There was a time I used to be excited—hopeful even—to search for the Sacred Treasures across Alfiria. But now? My heart boiled with rage. I couldn't even understand myself anymore.

I was returning to Gram, carrying a sack over my shoulder. Inside were the heads of the bandit leaders I had hunted down.

This village… it had been rebuilt and renamed: Gram Village. Nathan had founded it, and I helped however I could—resources, defense, guidance—before vanishing into the wilderness to slaughter the bandits.

Never did I expect to become a part of Gram's rebirth.

The first Trainee Village in the Alfiria Saga.

A new beginning—for everyone.

And this wasn't even part of the original game. What once fascinated me—collecting Sacred Treasures—now felt distant, irrelevant. I found myself more invested in discovering hidden savepoints and eliminating threats. After all, the next Sacred Treasure required Level 45 to access, and I was still far below.

As I neared the outskirts of Gram, my eyes turned upward to the distant sky, where the ruins of the old village once stood.

There, suspended among the clouds, was a floating island:

Firion Sky Castle.

From below, it looked small… but up close, it was massive—larger than any capital city. A monstrous kingdom of the dead, ruled by a being of unspeakable power:

Duke Vruul, the Undying Bishop of Firion.

A Lich whose power once crushed me repeatedly in the game's past. And now, in this strange reality, I didn't dare approach. I knew—I wasn't strong enough. Not yet.

I stood at the gates of Gram.

The guards straightened their stances, saluted in unison.

One of them called for the gate to be opened.

I scanned the area. The village was now protected by a towering wall, each post embedded with glowing crystals. These weren't for show—they formed a barrier, keeping monsters and dark forces out. 

The Church who preached Goddess Alfiria set this barrier but I set another barrier as well. The Blessing Barrier. That barrier was part of the System's Blessing, my reward for killing the Bandit Lord, Gorren.

As I stepped inside, it was no longer the fragile cluster of wooden huts it once was.

There were stone homes, families walking about, laughter in the streets.

This place… it was safe now.

A sanctuary.

It was the true starting village for new adventurers in the world of Alfiria.

And without realizing it, I smiled.

A rare, faint smile.

I walked past the center square.

Along the main street stood tall posts bearing Wanted Posters of known bandit leaders.

Above them, nailed gruesomely—were the actual heads of the ones I'd already slain.

Crows perched on them, pecking the flesh.

The stench of rot was unmistakable.

"I have more to add," I whispered.

Nearby, a mother and child were staring up at the severed heads.

Their eyes, filled with rage.

They knew what had been done to their kin.

Most people in Gram didn't know me.

Only the survivors of the early attacks did.

They whispered my name… no, not my name.

My title.

"Someday, Dark Cloak will wipe out all the bandits in the world," the child said to his mother.

Dark Cloak.

That's what they called me here… and even in the capital.

In the Royal Kingdom, my alias carried a bounty.

After all, I had taken justice into my own hands.

I now stood before the Council Hall, where Nathan worked and lived as the chieftain.

The building was large, elegant—built with donations from noble families, curious about Gram's swift rise.

Many suspected Nathan's connection to Dark Cloak… especially with all the bandit leaders' heads appearing in the village square.

I leapt to the second floor balcony outside Nathan's office.

There he was—buried in paperwork, fatigue etched into his features, but his will remained unbroken.

He looked up, his eyes falling on the sack I carried.

"Leben… it hasn't been long since your last visit, and already you've brought something again," he said, concern in his voice. "You need to rest. I'm starting to worry about you."

I approached slowly, placing the sack on his desk.

My face, unreadable.

"We can't, Nathan. We don't know if there are still bandits lurking out there... or if, right now, a village is already being burned to the ground—children trembling beneath tables, women being… desecrated."

"I have to wipe them out, Nathan. You understand me, don't you? We're friends, after all."

Nathan gripped my shoulders tightly. His hands trembled.

There was anger—and pain—in his eyes.

"Leben! I'm begging you. You're human, just like me! You get tired! You hurt! Don't lock yourself away in this pain and hatred! Look at yourself! Don't shut us out, Leben! You're smiling—like this killing feels good! That's not the man I remember!"

I froze.

Smiling?

I was… smiling?

Even as I spoke of death… of vengeance?

Craang—!

A crash cut through the silence.

We both turned toward the source of the noise.

There stood Lily—the child I had once saved.

Her hands were trembling.

The tray of tea she was carrying had fallen.

She had overheard everything.

Slowly, silently, she approached me and wrapped her arms around my waist.

She wept. Not out of fear… but pity.

Pity for me.

"Kuya… stop."

I looked down at her as she held me tight.

Softly, I placed a hand on her head.

"I'm sorry for making you all worry…

I promise… I'll rest soon."

I said it gently, to both of them.

And for a brief moment…

The world felt a little warmer.