"So, you're asking me to handle the bandits who are attacking the village?" Ron inquired.
"Yes, we've repeatedly notified the royal guard about this problem, but all they seem concerned with is collecting taxes and nothing more," Rapunzel explained.
"Well, you know nothing in life comes without a price," Ron replied.
"Four gold coins," stated Rapunzel.
"Four gold coins?!" Ron exclaimed, taken aback by the amount.
"We were saving up to hire a private adventurer, but since you've arrived, why don't you take on the task and claim the reward,".
Ron pondered his next steps, realizing that the reward could provide him with the means to return to town and acquire some much-needed equipment.
"I'll give it a try, but I can't make any promises," Ron responded, fully aware that someone's life would likely be taken in the process.
Rapunzel proceeded to explain how the bandits would attack at night, stealing food, money, and even women, and provided Ron with their approximate location.
After receiving the information, Ron made his way out of the village, thoughts swirling in his mind. He found it peculiar how the old man spoke of the Royal Guards' inaction, as it seemed unlikely, they would neglect such a pressing matter.
Navigating through the nearby forest, Ron approached the indicated location. However, he soon detected the presence of several figures lurking beside him.
"They've been waiting for me," Ron muttered, his instincts urging him to sprint away from the impending danger.
Realizing there were seven second-class magicians among his pursuers, Ron swiftly conjured and launched a barrage of fireballs, causing chaos and scattering them.
Amidst the rising dust, Ron swiftly changed course, utilizing wind magic to enhance his speed and propel himself forward.
Fixing his sights on the first assailant, Ron's movements were too swift for his opponent to react. With hands infused with decay, Ron disintegrated the front part of the mage's body, causing his organs to fall lifelessly to the ground.
Witnessing the gruesome scene, fear gripped the remaining adversaries, causing their legs to tremble uncontrollably.
The bandit's taunting words echoed in Ron's ears, setting his blood on fire. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, transforming his fear into an exhilarating surge of determination.
In that fleeting moment, Ron's mind cleared, his thoughts sharpened like a honed blade. This was not the time for reflection or doubt—it was a time for action, for swift and decisive moves.
Without warning, the other five bandits unleashed a storm of magic, casting spells that crackled with raw power. But Ron was no ordinary target. He defied gravity itself, leaping into the air with the grace of a soaring hawk, harnessing the power of air magic to evade their deadly onslaught.
In the heart of the chaos, Ron channelled his inner strength, merging his water and fire magic into a volatile mix. The air crackled with anticipation as the elements intertwined, building up immense pressure and energy.
Then, with a thunderous roar, a wave of scorching steam erupted from Ron's outstretched hands. The explosive force tore through the air, obliterating the remaining four bandits in a cataclysmic display of power. The sheer intensity of the steam explosion left the battlefield enveloped in a hazy shroud of heat and awe.
As the dust settled, only the captain remained, the last bastion of resistance. With a knowing grin, he drew two gleaming daggers, his eyes glinting with a mix of respect and challenge.
Ron's eyes blazed with determination as he met the captain's gaze. The clash of steel and magic was imminent, a dance of blades and sorcery that would determine the victor.
The bandit lunged forward, his blades slicing through the air with lethal precision. Ron summoned a blazing fireball and launched it towards his opponent, but to his astonishment, the captain's daggers effortlessly cleaved through the flames, splitting the fireball in two.
A surge of disbelief surged through Ron's mind. "Nullium," he muttered, recognizing the enchanted material used by skilled swordsmen to counter mages.
Blood trickled from Ron's chest as the bandit's daggers found their mark, the pain fuelling his resolve. With unwavering determination, he fought against the searing agony, his eyes ablaze with a hidden power.
With a swift motion, the bandit pulled back, narrowly evading Ron's retaliation. But little did he know, Ron possessed a secret weapon—his penetrating gaze, capable of unlocking powers yet untapped.
As the clash continued, the battlefield pulsed with anticipation, adrenaline fuelling every move. The outcome hung in the balance as Ron unleashed the full extent of his abilities, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
"Give it up, boy, you're dead," sneered the bandit.
"Oh, then why don't you block this?" Ron retorted, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he unleashed his demonic form once more. His small horns and wings emerged, emanating an aura of danger and raw power that sent shivers down the bandit's spine.
Realizing that Ron's power far surpassed that of a mere third-class magician, the bandit's resolve crumbled. Panic seized him, propelling him to make a desperate choice—to flee from the formidable adversary closing in.
"Damn it! That bastard lied to me, claiming he was only a third-class!" The bandit berated himself, his footsteps quickening as he sought to escape the imminent threat.
Yet, before he could take more than a few strides, an inexplicable sensation gripped him. His legs betrayed him, collapsing under the weight of an unseen force. A profound numbness spread through his lower body, paralyzing him with terror.
"What the...?!" He gasped, his gaze fixating on the sight of his severed legs, held in the vice-like grip of Ron's hand.
The intensity of Ron's crimson eyes burned into his soul, filling him with an unsettling dread. Agonizing pain surged through the bandit's body, wrenching an anguished cry from his lips.
Ron advanced, his demonic countenance devoid of mercy, and with a single devastating strike, shattered the bones of the bandit's left hand, the jagged fragments piercing through the ruptured flesh. Overwhelmed by the excruciating torment, the bandit teetered on the precipice of shock, his senses faltering under the relentless assault of suffering.
"Please... spare me!" he pleaded, tears mingling with his cries, his will to resist shattered like glass.
Ron's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and fury, seizing the opportunity to extract vital information. His voice dripped with a menacing undertone as he demanded answers from the broken bandit.
"Nullium is no ordinary trinket for bandits. Now tell me, who do you work for?" Ron's words carried an air of dark resolve.
"The chief... The village chief hired us," the bandit confessed, his voice trembling with fear and regret, loyalty crumbling in the face of Ron's relentless wrath.
"What?!" Ron's voice thundered, a tempest of anger swirling within him.
"Yes, the chief... He sells people from the farm as slaves. And any low-ranking mages who visit the village are sent here to be killed, their equipment sold for profit," the bandit revealed, his voice a mixture of trepidation and resentment.
Understanding dawned upon Ron, his demeanour taking on an eerie calmness. "I see," he responded, his voice chillingly composed.
"Now, can I go?" the bandit pleaded, desperation coating his every word. A sinister smile played upon Ron's lips as he delivered his final judgment.
"Yes, you can go... straight to hell," he retorted, his eyes blazing with righteous fury.
In an instant, Ron brought his foot down with swift, merciless force, crushing the bandit's skull beneath his heel. Blood sprayed in a macabre display of vengeance.
The rage inside Ron's heart surged like a wildfire, an inferno of wrath that consumed him wholly. It was as if a floodgate had been opened, unleashing a torrential storm of pent-up fury that coursed through his veins.
With each step, his presence grew more daunting as he made his way back to the village, his form returning to its normal state.
[Output: 10%]