Chapter 10: Bandit Raid

The cold night wind swept through the narrow stone streets of Oak Town, carrying the chill of early winter and making the faded sign of Wheat Fragrance Bakery creak.

Inside the small room behind the shop, the fire in the stove had long gone out, leaving only a faint red ember barely dispelling the cold in the corners.

Lynn Dashan and Susan huddled together under the only somewhat thick old blanket, listening to the howling wind outside the window in silence.

Their daughter, Wei’er, curled up on the small bed in the inner room, clutching a withered grass-woven bracelet.

Her brother Lin En had taught her to make it, using the most flexible grass stems from the riverbank.

“I wonder how our son is doing at the Academy,” Susan’s voice was as light as a sigh, filled with inescapable worry.

Lin En’s meager Magi affinity was the deepest thorn in their hearts.

“Don’t overthink it.”

Lynn Dashan’s rough hand patted his wife’s shoulder, his voice forced steady.

“That boy’s always been stubborn since he was a kid. He’ll find his own path. Let’s keep the shop running and wait for him to come back. Then we can make sure he eats something warm.”

He paused, looking out into the deep darkness beyond the window, his brows tightly knit.

“But this town… it’s been restless lately. The rumors about the Blood Wolf Bandit Gang are getting worse…”

Before he could finish—

“BOOM—!!!”

A deafening crash tore apart the silence of the town!

The bakery’s not-so-sturdy wooden door, together with its frame, was blasted inward by a violent force from outside—splintering into pieces!

Wood chips shot into the room like a rainstorm!

Firelight!

The stench of sweat and blood surged in!

A group of burly men, faces twisted and dressed in ragged leather armor, eyes savage like beasts, brandishing torches and blood-stained swords, burst into the cramped space!

At the forefront stood a man with a huge centipede-like scar slashing from his left temple to his right jaw—under the flickering torchlight, his face looked especially terrifying.

He was Scarface, the infamous leader of the Blood Wolf Bandit Gang—a Silver-Rank Warrior whose violent aura suffocated the air.

“Old man! Be smart and hand over anything valuable and that little girl! We don’t have time!”

Scarface licked his lips, his voice hoarse as sandpaper.

“Wei’er!”

Susan screamed, her soul fleeing, as she lunged for the inner room.

“Courting death!”

A bandit with a face full of fat grinned, swinging a thick-backed blade toward Susan’s waist without hesitation!

“GET BACK!!”

A thunderous roar!

Lynn Dashan’s eyes turned red, like a lion driven mad!

The normally honest and quiet baker erupted with terrifying strength and speed. He seized the heavy iron poker used to stoke the fire, muscles bulging, and swung with all his might!

“CLANG!”

A harsh clash of metal rang out!

The iron poker smashed into the bandit’s wrist, the sound of bone shattering echoing sharply!

The bandit howled, his sword flying from his grasp as he staggered back.

“Protect Wei’er! Run!!”

Lynn Dashan bellowed, planting himself like a wall in the narrow passage leading to the inner room.

The iron poker in his hand became a whirlwind again, slamming with desperate fury into another approaching bandit!

The bandit was caught off guard, the poker crashing into his shoulder—his scapula collapsed, and he fell screaming.

“Dammit!”

Scarface’s eyes blazed with murderous rage.

He hadn’t expected such ferocity from an ordinary townsman.

“Cut him down!”

Two more bandits rushed in, blades flashing!

Lynn Dashan fought like a berserk tiger, the iron poker spinning wildly.

Using the cramped space and a reckless determination, he managed to carve a deep, bone-baring wound into another bandit’s leg!

Blood sprayed in the tight passage, mingling with screams and roars.

“Father!!”

Wei’er’s terrified cry came from the inner room.

“Don’t come out, Wei’er!!”

Lynn Dashan roared, distracted.

In that moment of weakness—

Scarface moved!

His massive figure shot forward like a demon, the gleaming steel of his longsword flashing downward with the power and speed of a Silver-Rank Warrior!

No flourishes—just lethal efficiency.

SPLURCH!

The dull sound of flesh being sliced by steel made one’s teeth ache.

Lynn Dashan’s frenzied swing froze.

He looked down in disbelief.

A horrific wound slashed diagonally from his chest to abdomen, splitting him open as hot blood gushed forth, soaking his ragged tunic and pooling on the cold floor.

The iron poker fell from his grasp with a clang, landing in the blood.

He opened his mouth, trying to scream “Wei’er, run!”, but only a frothy torrent of blood gushed out.

His body wavered, then collapsed forward, eyes wide with boundless worry and rage for his wife and daughter—eyes that did not close even in death.

“DASHAN!!!”

Susan watched her husband die, her scream shattering the air.

Overwhelming grief and despair drowned her.

Seeing two bandits lunging for the inner room, she summoned strength from nowhere.

Like a mother beast, she hurled herself at them, clutching one bandit’s leg in a desperate embrace!

“Wei’er! Run!”

She screamed with the last of her life.

“Get off me, you wretched woman!”

The bandit, startled and enraged, kicked Susan hard.

His other hand drove a dagger down!

STAB!

The cold blade drove through Susan’s abdomen, sending a wave of agony that nearly blacked out her vision.

But her arms locked around the bandit’s leg like iron shackles, refusing to let go.

Warm blood soaked through her apron and coarse shirt.

“Mother!”

Wei’er rushed out just in time to see the dagger buried in her mother’s body, her small face turning ashen with horror.

“Grab her!”

Scarface ordered coldly.

Two bandits pounced on Wei’er, seizing her arms and pressing a filthy, foul-smelling rag over her mouth and nose.

A wave of dizziness hit her.

Her last sight was her mother’s fallen body in a pool of blood, her father’s corpse nearby…

Then darkness swallowed her.

“Dammit! Nearly let the brat get away!”

A bandit cursed, slinging the unconscious Wei’er over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Boss, what about the old one?”

Another bandit pointed at Susan, lying in the blood and barely breathing.

Scarface glanced over, eyes indifferent.

“She’s as good as dead! Move! Back to the mountain!”

He spat at Lynn Dashan’s corpse, then led the bandits into the blood-soaked night.

The clatter of hooves quickly faded.

“Killed! The bandits killed someone!”

At last, a scream rang out from a neighboring house, shattering the suffocating silence.

***

In the center of Oak Town, inside the humble chapel with only a small pointed steeple, Priest Hank jolted awake from a shallow sleep.

A wave of blood, thick and suffocating, swept over his senses like a cold snake.

“Terrible!”

Hank’s face turned pale.

He seized his oak staff from beside the bed, not even bothering to put on his outer robe.

Still in a thin linen shirt, he dashed from the chapel, sprinting toward the source of the blood stench at the eastern edge of town.

When he arrived, panting before the Wheat Fragrance Bakery, the scene struck him like a thunderbolt.

Broken doors, blood and chaos everywhere, Lynn Dashan’s corpse sprawled in a pool of crimson… and beside him, Susan, lying on the edge of the blood, a dagger in her abdomen, her breath faint and fading.

“Merciful Light God…”

Hank’s heart shook.

Sorrow and rage surged within him.

He fell to his knees beside Susan, placing his hands above her mortal wound without hesitation.

“Holy Light! Hear my prayer—soothe this pain, heal her!”

Hank closed his eyes, praying urgently.

A gentle white glow flowed from his palms, warm and full of life, seeping into Susan’s wound.

He focused with all his strength, guiding each thread of Sacred Light Healing to mend the terrible injury, fighting to keep Susan’s flickering life burning.

Hank was only a low-level Priest, able to wield the most basic Sacred Light Healing.

The process was painfully slow, but at least it moved in a better direction.

After a while, the bleeding stopped at last.

Sweat drenched Hank’s temples.

His face was ashen, the effort draining him.

Susan’s complexion was still pale as paper, but the faint rise and fall of her chest showed that Hank had barely clung to her last breath.

Seeing Susan’s condition stabilize, Hank finally breathed out.

He asked wearily, “What happened here?”

A voice thick with sobs sounded at the door.

“Priest Hank! It was Blood Wolf! The Blood Wolf Bandit Gang! They… they went west, toward Skull Ridge! And… and they took Wei’er!”

“Blood Wolf Bandit Gang……………”

Priest Hank spat the words through gritted teeth, burning with hatred.

These bastards, who devoured everything, had raided villages and towns many times.

The local knight order had tried several times to wipe them out, but Skull Ridge was a natural fortress, their base perched on the summit—easily defensible and hard to attack.

Hank took a deep breath, steadying himself.

He knew this was no time for grief.

He had to restore order first.

He glanced at the barely alive Susan, then at the frightened, grieving townsfolk gathering around.

“Everyone, don’t panic!”

Priest Hank forced back his anger.

“I’ll go rescue Wei’er! But first, we must tend to Susan!”

He turned to a younger townsman.

“You! Go gather everyone in town with medical skills—do all you can for Susan!”

The man nodded frantically and ran off.

Priest Hank rose slowly, his eyes turning firm and resolute.

As a follower of the Light God and a Priest of the Holy Light Church, even if his power was weak, he believed it was his duty to protect everyone.

He picked up his oak staff, gripping it tightly.

The gem at its tip glowed faintly.

BOOM—!!!

Hank’s head snapped up!

Far away, in the direction of Academy City, a visible air shockwave twisted the sky like a giant invisible arrow, tearing through the clouds at supersonic speed, roaring toward Oak Town with destructive fury!

Too fast!

One second it left an afterimage in the distant sky.

The next, the sonic boom crashed over Oak Town like thunder!

BOOM!

A figure crashed down from the heavens, like a meteor, striking the shattered, blood-stained street in front of the bakery.

A violent shockwave erupted outward, shaking the ground like a small earthquake.

Wooden doors and windows rattled violently, creaking under the strain.

Nearby houses shed roof tiles, which crashed down as red-gray dust and the stench of blood rose in a choking cloud.

“God! Save us!”

A townsman screamed in terror.

“Is… is it the bandits coming back?!”

The dust was swept away by invisible force.

A slender figure appeared.

The hem of his gray apprentice robe was torn and singed black.

But no one cared about such details.

All eyes—frightened women, cowering children, men gripping makeshift weapons—were fixed on that figure.

Breath held.

That was… Lin En?!

The baker Lynn Dashan’s son?

The one who grew up in Oak Town, left for Academy City to try his luck… Lin En?!

But the presence he now exuded—a soul-shaking, crushing pressure—what was it?!

An icy aura nearly freezing the air!

Waves of distortion rippled around him, residue from air torn by speed!

And the ground at his feet was shattered and cracked by his landing!

This was nothing like the silent, somewhat awkward Lin En they had known!

“Magi… Magi Lord?!”

Someone in the crowd screamed, voice trembling.

The title carried immense awe and disbelief.

Oak Town was too remote.

The strongest they’d ever seen were maybe Bronze-Rank Warriors from passing mercenary bands.

A true Magi?

Such beings existed only in legends and bard tales—masters of wind and rain, rulers of the elements!

And now, the Lin En they once pitied and whispered about had descended in a storm of power that dwarfed even the Blood Wolf Bandit Gang!

The terror and awe clawed straight at their souls!

“It’s… it’s Lin En! It really is Lin En!”

Old John, a carpenter who had once taught Lin En his letters, peered through his shattered window.

His eyes were wide, his pipe falling from numb fingers.

“He… he became a Magi Lord? How is this possible…”

Lin En slowly raised his head.

The once gentle, youthful face was now icy beyond measure.

BZZZZZ—

An invisible, mind-numbing hum echoed from deep within Lin En’s consciousness.

It was the Spirit Power Radar unleashed by his Crystal Core, scanning everything around.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it pierced every onlooker’s mind like cold steel needles.

Those townsfolk who still harbored doubt felt themselves plunged into an icy abyss.

Their hair stood on end.

Terror—pure, overwhelming terror—seized them!

This wasn’t the Lin En they knew!

This was a vengeful specter, wearing Lin En’s skin—a Magi Lord wielding incomprehensible, irresistible power!

All whispers ceased.

The street fell silent, save for distant sobs and the chilling hum that froze the bone.

No one dared even to breathe, for fear of drawing the gaze of this descending reaper.

Lin En’s gaze swept the shattered bakery, the scattered blood, the corpse of his father Lynn Dashan lying cold in the pool of red.

“Father!”

His eyes locked, frozen as a frost-covered lake—calm, yet containing rage enough to annihilate all.

His body trembled, hatred boiling within, threatening to burst the shackles of reason.

At last, Lin En’s eyes found Susan, collapsed in Priest Hank’s arms, a dagger in her abdomen, her breath flickering.

Hank felt a chill colder than death descend, as if a prehistoric beast had locked its gaze on him.

He had no doubt—at this moment, Lin En needed only a thought to erase him utterly.

“Lin… Lin En!”

Hank forced the words out, fighting the soul-crushing pressure.

“It was the Blood Wolf Bandit Gang! They went west—to Skull Ridge! Wei’er… Wei’er was taken! Her fate is unknown!”

He added quickly.

“Some townsfolk saw them head for the mountains!”

Hank’s words were like sparks igniting a powder keg.

The volcanic pressure of Lin En’s Spirit Power surged, then compressed inward—creating an even more suffocating silence.

It was as if the world itself held its breath.

The onlookers felt invisible hands squeeze their hearts, nearly stopping them.

Lin En walked to Hank’s side, kneeling.

He did not look at Hank.

He only reached out a trembling hand, gently touching his mother’s cold, bloodless cheek.

The motion was heartbreakingly careful, a stark contrast to the wild fury radiating from him.

Then he jerked his hand back, as if burned.

He stood, his voice quivering with barely contained rage.

“Uncle Hank, I entrust my mother to you.”

Hank read the determination and anguish in those eyes—the kind that could consume all.

His throat tightened, but he nodded firmly.

Lin En looked one last time at his mother’s ashen face, as if to burn it into his soul forever.

Then he turned sharply.

There was no roar, no scream—only a whirlwind of killing intent exploding around him.

The rubble at his feet was crushed to powder by invisible force, the shockwave sending townsfolk stumbling.

He looked to the west, toward Skull Ridge.

His legs tensed, body leaning forward.

BOOM—!!!

The stone beneath his feet shattered, cracks spiderwebbing outward.

Lin En’s figure became a streak of light, tearing through the night, the storm of his rage racing toward Skull Ridge.

“BLOOD WOLF!!!”

A howl—like a dying wolf, filled with boundless wrath and the urge to destroy—ripped from Lin En’s clenched teeth, echoing through the night.

It faded into the darkness.

Only after the terrifying light vanished into the west did the crushing pressure and icy killing intent begin to recede, like a retreating tide.

Not even a quarter hour after Lin En’s departure, another roar split the sky.

This time, it was less violent but carried a weight that made the very air tremble.

A red streak blazed across the heavens, landing precisely near where Lin En had struck.

The fiery glow faded.

Vice Dean Morton appeared, following the lingering trail of Lin En’s killing intent.

His gaze swept over the shattered bakery, the corpse of Lynn Dashan, the dying Susan.

Rage smoldered in his heart—a fury not felt for a century.

But what made his heart race even more was the wild, burning residue of Lin En’s Spirit Power.