The morning sun bathed the campsite in its golden light, but its warmth seemed to falter against the sudden chill that permeated the air. Talin, ever the opportunist, decided he had waited long enough for his boss to arrive. The sleepless hours guarding the gate had sapped his energy, and he was in dire need of a diversion.
His thoughts, as they so often did, wandered to Annabeth. A sly grin crept across his face as he considered paying her a visit. After all, she was no ordinary traveler, and her haughty demeanor hinted at noble blood. If he could glean information about her family ties, he might find leverage—or even an opportunity for profit. And if luck was on his side, perhaps he could charm her a little in the process.
As he approached her wagon, his steps were a mix of confidence and weariness. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see a figure seated inside, motionless and composed. His grin widened when he noticed that the driver was seated far off, occupied with his own thoughts. With no one to interfere, Talin straightened his hair with his fingers in a futile attempt to appear presentable.
However, as he neared the wagon, a sudden chill swept through the air, prickling his skin and making his breath catch. He froze, his instincts alerting him that something was amiss. Three steps ahead of him, a radiant, multifaceted object materialized out of thin air and shot into the sky with an almost blinding brilliance.
The object floated high above, shimmering like an enormous diamond. It reflected the sunlight, but in a way that defied logic. Where an ordinary mirror would reflect only the rays striking its surface, this strange object seemed to choose which sides to emit light from, even casting rays from areas untouched by direct sunlight.
The entire campsite paused as if held captive by the sight. Bandits and slaves alike craned their necks to watch the glowing phenomenon. Talin's sharp eyes followed the beams of light as they extended outward, each one landing on a different building within the compound. Not every structure received a ray, and those that did seemed eerily marked.
"What in the gods' names…" he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.
Then, without warning, a deep, primal sense of danger gripped him. Talin's body reacted before his mind could catch up. He dropped to the ground, throwing himself face-first into the dirt with all the urgency of a man who had cheated death too many times to ignore his instincts.
The decision saved his life.
A gale-force wind surged over him, so powerful that it felt as though it might rip the flesh from his bones. The pressure against his back was suffocating, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might be crushed. But before he could process the chaos, a swift and brutal impact struck his ribs.
The force of the kick was unimaginable, sending him hurtling through the air like a ragdoll. His body collided with the ground in a series of bone-jarring rolls before coming to a stop. Pain radiated from his side, sharp and unrelenting, each breath a reminder of the damage he'd sustained.
Talin hit the ground hard, his body rolling uncontrollably in the dirt before coming to a stop. He lay there for a moment, dazed and gasping for air, his body caked in soil. His right hand weakly moved to his chest, probing the area where the kick had landed. The pain was excruciating, sharp and deep, like a stab wound. His fingers trembled as they felt the indentation in his armor.
"Damn it…" he muttered, relief and fear mixing when he realized the iron armor had saved his life. The spot of impact was caved in, a chilling testament to the force of the blow.
Groaning, Talin forced himself upright, clutching his chest. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his ribs, but he gritted his teeth and stood. He scanned the area for his attacker and spotted her.
Annabeth stood beneath the shimmering object that floated ominously in the sky. She watched him with a calm, almost bored expression, like a predator waiting for its prey to make the next move. Her short white dress swayed slightly in the breeze, and her leather sandals barely seemed fit for battle. A dagger rested in a sheath strapped to her leg, its polished hilt catching the sunlight.
As Talin watched, she calmly pulled on a pair of gloves and began tying her red hair into a tight ponytail. To him, it was a mocking declaration: I'm not even trying yet.
Rage burned in his chest, momentarily overshadowing the pain. His pride demanded retribution, but deep down, fear gnawed at him. He'd never seen someone move like that, never felt such raw power.
Before he could form a coherent thought, he coughed violently, blood splattering the ground. His vision swam, but his resolve hardened.
"Shoot first, ask questions later," he growled through gritted teeth.
Determination etched on his face, Talin prepared to fight. Around Annabeth, a baker's dozen of bandits began closing in, forming a loose circle. Most of them had drawn weapons, but a few stood barehanded, likely relying on magic or brute strength.
None of them made the first move. They had seen what happened to Talin and weren't eager to become the next victim.
Annabeth smirked, her voice dripping with disdain. "What's the matter? Did you lose your balls on the way here?"
The taunt worked. Enraged, the bandits let out their war cries and charged.
One of them, standing in her blind spot, hurled a dagger at her. Annabeth turned at the last second, catching the blade mid-air. In one fluid motion, she hurled it back with deadly precision. The dagger struck its thrower square in the forehead, silencing him instantly.
Four more bandits closed the distance, swords raised. One swung at her with a diagonal slash, but she sidestepped effortlessly, delivering a low, brutal kick to the side of his knee. The sickening crack of his joint dislocating was followed by his body crumpling to the ground.
Before the others could react, she snatched the downed bandit's sword and spun in a wide arc. Three heads hit the ground in unison, their owners' bodies collapsing like marionettes with their strings cut.
She returned the blade to its owner by driving it into his chest. "Nice sword," she said casually, stepping over his lifeless body.
Another bandit ran at her, panic evident in his wild movements. Annabeth moved with terrifying speed, closing the gap before he could react. He turned to flee, but her foot connected with his neck in a devastating kick. The force snapped his spine, sending him flying lifelessly into a nearby wall.
A loud grunt came from her side as a bandit, larger than the rest, landed a heavy punch to her ribs. Annabeth staggered, clutching her side, the pain radiating through her body. The strength mage grinned, his fists glowing faintly with an enchanted aura.
"Gotcha now," he said smugly, winding up for another strike.
But Annabeth recovered quickly, shoving him away. As he stumbled back, another bandit lunged at her with a dagger, aiming for her throat. Annabeth's fist shot forward in a blur, connecting with his groin. The bandit crumpled instantly, letting out a pitiful squeal before blacking out.
The strength mage winced involuntarily, clutching his own nether regions in sympathy. Annabeth locked eyes with him, her expression darkening.
"Oh don't worry, you'll get it far worse!" she promised him, straightening up.
The air around her seemed to grow heavier, her anger palpable.