Thanks to the cramped space of the basement, the bandits were forced to take him on one at a time. The first of them approached him confidently, his fist practically blurring as it flew towards James' face at a terrifying speed. Not feeling like taking a punch that strong, James twisted his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the streaking fist as it sailed past him.
Thrown off-balance from the force of his punch, James' attacker stumbled forward. James smirked gleefully as he stepped behind the man, planting his foot on the bandit's rear as he kicked him straight into a row of shelves filled with empty potion bottles.
"One down," the sound of glass breaking echoed throughout the room as the bandit got buried under piles of broken bottles and glass shards, "four to go."
The second bandit was more cautious, choosing to stay on the defensive rather than charge right at James like the first one did. That was a mistake.
James grabbed a stack of papers sitting on a nearby table and threw it at the waiting bandit, obscuring his vision as papers rained down from above. Taking advantage of the bandit's disorientation, James rushed forward and kneed the man right where the sun don't shine.
With a low-pitched whine, the bandit sunk to the ground, clutching his family jewels as he moaned in pain.
"Ooh, that must've hurt," James mocked as he clutched his own prized possessions in feigned pain.
The bandit leader tsked in annoyance as he glared at James, his foot tapping nervously against the stone floor as his two remaining men inched forward warily. Learning from the mistakes of their fallen comrades, they chose to make use of their environment as well, picking up a rotting wooden plank and iron poker respectively.
James just raised a brow at that as he bent down and picked up two broken potion bottles, the jagged edges gleaming wickedly as he tested their weight in his hands.
"You boys wanna play with toys? Then let's fucking play."
The bandits needed no further motivation as they charged at James, the closest one swinging his plank straight at him. James ducked under it and sent a flurry of strikes at the man's unguarded chest, the man's shirt getting torn to shreds as various cuts and wounds opened up on his body.
Unexpectedly, the bandit paid no heed to the damage James was doing to his body and decided to tackle him to the ground. His makeshift daggers flew out of his hands as he fell, shattering against the mossy stone walls on either side of them. This was a very disadvantageous situation for him, as the bandit was twice his size and weight.
The wind got knocked out of him as he was slammed down onto the cold floor, the bandit straddling him and locking up his legs, keeping him from getting up. James gulped as heavy blows started to rain upon him, knowing that if he couldn't get out then he would surely be doomed.
He did his best to block as many of the punches as he could, a few still slipping past and slamming into him. Out of the corner of his eye, James watched as the other bandit stood, poised to spear him with the metal rod in his hand like a human-sized kebab.
Remembering a wrestling move that had been used on him not too many lives ago, James forced his legs and hips up as much as he possibly could, pushing the bandit straddling him forward, and loosening his grip.
With that, James was able to push the bandit backward and hastily get back on his feet. The iron poker that should have run him through scraped against the stone floor instead, sparks sent flying as it made a horrific screech.
James knocked it out of the surprised man's grip, easily taking care of him with a swift chop to the side of his neck, rendering him unconscious before the iron rod could even finish clattering against the ground.
The last bandit still conscious raised his hands in surrender, a rapidly growing dark stain evident on the front of his pants as he did so. With an amused look on his face, James made a show of sniffing the air before turning to look back at the man.
"Did you just piss yourself?" James asked as he stared at the quivering brute incredulously.
He wasn't able to answer, however, as he was knocked out from behind by a kick to the head by none other than the bandit leader himself. The bandit leader sneered at his fallen men, before turning his gaze to James.
"Well done, boy. Well done. But do you really think you can defeat me?" The leader grinned haughtily as he said so, puffing out his chest as he stared him down.
James gave himself a once over, noting that he had a couple of bruises and perhaps a few broken ribs, but nothing too serious. The necklace had been dirtied with specks of blood and dirt, but other than that was relatively unharmed. He was still quite suspicious of the bandit leader, however. After all, there had to be a reason why he was so confident even after seeing all of his men fall that quickly.
Deciding to put his suspicions aside for the moment, James rushed towards the leader, his balled-up fist streaking through the air as it aimed right at the man's undefended chest. He really should've listened to his instincts.
Rather than the satisfying thump that James usually heard whenever he hit someone, he instead heard the grisly sound of cracking bones.
James howled in pain as he clutched his broken right hand close to his chest. Fighting hard to stop the bile threatening to spew out of his mouth, he stared in shock at his ruined hand. His fingers were bent at unnatural angles, some bones even protruding out of the skin and bleeding profusely.
"H-how?"
A hearty laugh answered his question, the bandit leader roaring in unrestrained glee as he eyed James' mess of a hand. James tore his gaze away from the unsightly disaster that used to be his right hand, instead focusing on the laughing man. His eyes narrowed into slits as he discerned just why his fist broke when he tried to punch him.
"You used chantless protection magic?" James gasped as he stared at the bandit leader, a thin skin of shimmering magus energy now wrapped around his body. The blue light the protection emanated lit up his face as he laughed maniacally, his finger pointing at James mockingly.
"Didn't see that coming did you? What, did you think that all bandits don't have magus cores?"
That was in fact exactly what James thought.
He had lived through a total of 35 lives, yet in not a single one of them did he ever end up fighting, encountering, or even hearing about a bandit who could use magus.
"Then again, perhaps that little assumption is pretty well-founded. The only ones with magus cores that do join a merry band of bandits are usually rejects. People that can only produce one type of spell, or have immense drawbacks when using their magus." The bandit leader thumped his hand against his chest, a proud grin adorning his face as he continued, "I happen to be one of the former. A reject that can only perform one spell, but I can do that spell pretty darn good."
He spread his arms wide to show off the barrier surrounding him, the magus shining and clear, indicating that it was a top-tier spell. James wasn't paying that much attention, however, as his left hand reached behind him to take out his gun, the runes pulsing as he took it out and aimed it at the bandit leader.
"That's too bad. Because my gun is pretty darn good too."
The next few moments were hard for James to describe, as everything happened in the blink of an eye. He at least had a moral to take from the whole thing though, which was to never fire a super-charged gun inside a cramped room.
He squeezed down on the trigger, and all of his senses were immediately overwhelmed.
A bright rose-gold light erupted from the barrel of his revolver, bathing the room in color and subsequently blinding him worse than any flash spell possibly could.
His eardrums felt like they were being destroyed as the sound of the shot felt a thousand times louder than any gun he had heard before, the stone walls surrounding him only furthering the ringing as the sound echoed all around him.
The next thing James felt was the heat. The type of heat that burned you to your very soul and left it dry and withered. He was pretty sure that if he got out of this alive, he would end up looking like a shriveled raisin.
When the light cleared, there was no trace at all of the bandit leader... except for a small pile of ash sitting right where he stood previously.
James gulped as he stared at the man's remains, his gaze shifting to his gun which was now seemingly cooling down, the runes no longer glowing. He carefully tucked it behind his back, mulling over what just happened.
'If this gun is ten times more powerful when filled with magus energy... then how powerful was it earlier while it was packed with divine magus energy? What kind of gun can turn a guy into ashes in one shot? A guy inside a high-tier protection spell at that...'
It was a fascinating and terrifying thought, one that both intrigued him and made James never want to think about it again.
James noted that the necklace hung around his neck was now glowing, perhaps revitalized from the divine magus energy that his gun had just released. He wasn't about to take any chances though, so he quickly took it off and slipped it into his pocket. Better it turn something to ash while in his pocket than on his neck.
He grunted as he forced himself to get up, a feat very impressive for someone with a broken hand. Surveying the basement and making sure none of the other bandits were stirring, James hobbled out of the cramped room and back up to the ground floor of the store.
James grumbled as he eyed the heavy rain pouring outside, the water turning the hard dirt into wet mud. In the distance, he could hear faint shouts that were most probably the rest of the bandits' backup.
Not wanting to take his chances hiding it out inside the store, James decided to make a run for it and made his way to the door.
As soon as he stepped foot outside of the building, he was engulfed in pink light and disappeared from sight, the only proof of his existence being the trail of blood he left behind.