"Fuck!" The bandit boss loudly cursed as Frost sauntered closer to their formation with a malicious expression plastered on his charming face. Her body instinctively trembled in fear because she knew the threat that Frost posed. The lord of the Niflheim base camp, commander of the devastatingly powerful ronsos and a mighty B-rank fighter himself who's lauded as a war hero by the local inhabitants. He was not someone a bunch of bandits like them could hold a candle against even if their numbers were doubled or even tripled. They were akin to children playing war before him.
Unfortunately though she and a few of her wiser subordinates knew of Frost the lower rabble did not. They visibly relaxed the moment they saw that their opponent was just one man.
