"Your power is only dependent on others, and you stretch it as much as you possibly can... then the very moment it snaps, the moment you need to rely on your own strength... You beg and plead... and fear," Ryan's gaze was one of disgust as he regarded the bunch.
They all had no will to fight. No one in their situation would. It was blatantly obvious they didn't stand the slightest chance, and it would only lead to a death more terrifying than they thought possible. Ryan noticed their unwillingness.
"Listen, you have two options." Ryan pulled a knife out from his inventory. "Come at me and fight with all your might to not die," Ryan began, his eyes trailing across the knife which was still stained with the dried blood of the guard he had killed in the dungeon. "Or you stand there and I come make you wish you died."
"If you want my advice... the latter is far worse."
Ryan's words were clear. There was no scenario where they left here alive or died painlessly, unless they fought for it. The blood of their slender companion had created a large pool on the floor, and it was clear which option they'd have to choose.
Hands shaking and hesitant, they picked up their swords and clenched their hands around hilts—five soldiers against one man, and the majority trembled.
"Fuck, die!" One of the men launched at Ryan, sword swinging wide as he aimed to cleave through him, yet his blade met only air. Ryan was now beside him, lodging his knife deep into his arm, then dragging it through his flesh, drawing a scream of agony from the man.
A scream quickly silenced as Ryan's knife shot upwards from under his jaw, skewering his tongue and piercing through the roof of his mouth, as he muffled in pain. Another two rushed at Ryan, yet he swiftly circled them, pulling his blade from the first man's jaw. He swiftly sliced through both their legs at a speed they were unable to react to.
"Stop!" One of the men exclaimed from the other side of the room. Ryan turned to him to see his sword placed to Ruck's throat.
"If you keep going, I'll kill him," the long-haired man threatened. Ryan spared him a gaze for a few moments before turning back down to his three screaming victims before him.
"Do it then," Ryan said.
"W-what?" The man's voice clouded with confusion.
"I said do it. I don't care. My job is to kill the lot of you, not protect him," Ryan shrugged as sweat raced down the man's face.
"B-but the old man sent you, right? If his son dies, you think he'd still pay you?"
Ryan turned to him. If Ruck died, it'd indeed be possible the innkeeper might not help him with meeting the province leader, and he was a nice old man.
"You make a point," Ryan admitted, and with a silent gust, he vanished.
[Soundless Steps]
Ryan's hand covered the long-haired man's face, smashing it into the wall with a sickening thud.
"Okay, let's continue," Ryan declared, malice laced into his voice.
Blood-curdling screams escaped from the residence for hours, screams of utter agony and pain, each escaping a while before eventually silenced. One by one, the screams lessened until there were none left.
Blood covered the entire living chamber; not a single object in the room had not touched crimson. The bodies that lay on the floor were deformed and almost unidentifiable, skin pulled from body and limbs bent in ways they shouldn't, even eyes and hearts lay outside exposed heads and chests.
Almost all were dead, but not before they begged for it. The only survivor of the legion guards was the single woman among them. She kneeled on the floor in resignation and fear as Ryan gripped her hair tightly, and her hand dislocated.
"Revenge is such a beautiful thing," Ryan muttered as he raised his knife, handing it to Ruck, whose eyes were gleaming with a mix of terror and delight. "I'll let you decide for this one."
Ryan let go of her hair, inhaling the ironic smell of blood as he walked out of the building, closing the door behind him.
The woman, her brown hair falling in front of her face, turned to Ruck, her mind swirling with the fact she had a chance at survival. This wasn't that devil that just left; maybe this one would let her live.
"Please..." she begged, her dislocated arms unable to come together. "Spare my life."
"I bet Halsi begged your friends on that day..." Ruck replied as he grabbed her by the hair. "Don't worry, I won't kill you like that," he said, pulling her up.
Outside the house, the night air carried faint echoes of muffled voices and occasional thuds against the walls. Ruck's voice rose and fell in a menacing tone, punctuated by the woman's soft pleas and gasps. The sound of struggle seeped through the cracks, echoes of the violence within. Shadows danced ominously against the window panes, betraying the intensity of the scene unfolding inside.
Each desperate cry, each stifled sob, pierced through the night, a grim reminder of the darkness that lurked within the walls.
As the minutes stretched on, the sounds gradually faded into the night, leaving behind an eerie silence.
Ryan sat outside the building, gazing at the rising sun, the golden rays dancing across his face which was smeared with blood.
Ruck walked out of the building, handing him back the knife. Ryan stared at it for a moment before taking it and turning his gaze back to the sunrise.
"Thank you for getting her justice."
"Do you think... I'm evil?" Ryan asked, his gaze not shifting from the horizon.
"Yes," Ruck replied simply, the only honest reply anyone who witnessed what he did can give. "Maybe I am as well," Ruck added.
A laugh shot out from Ryan's mouth, his face brimming with amusement.
"I pity you, Marcus.... you've made the worst of men."