Morsh, walking towards the smoke, enters a rugged part of the forest where the trees stand tall, and the underbrush is thick and tangled.
He soon encounters two rough-looking men, swords sheathed at their hips. Their clothes were tattered and dirty with their unshaven faces. The hilts of their swords seem worn from frequent use.
Morsh steps behind a large tree, observing the men from a distance. His instincts telling him that these are not good people.
They walk with a swagger, their eyes darting around as if looking for any possible intruders. Their voices are low, punctuated by harsh laughter.
Confirming that there are only two, Morsh jumped in front of them,
The bandits were instantly vigilant, drawing out their swords,
One of them, a burly man with a scar running his cheek. "Who are you, pretty boy? "
The second one, taller and leaner. "What are you doing in this part of the forest... how many are you "
Morsh remains calm, his eyes never leaving the men as he took the fighting stance.
The bandits moved to flank Morsh, the burly one charges first, swinging his blade with a wild, powerful arc. Morsh sidesteps gracefully, landing a punch to his face and seizing the blade as he flew backward, crashing into a tree and losing consciousness.
The taller bandit lunges at Morsh from the side. Morsh spins to meet the attack. Their swords collide with a shower of sparks.
Morsh, using his superior strength and speed, easily parried the attacks.
Realizing he was outmatched, the bandit fights with desperation. Morsh, calm and focused, disarms the bandit with a quickly twist of his wrist, sending the sword flying into the underbrush.
Morsh then punched the bandit in the stomach, forcing him to gasp and collapse, losing consciousness.
"Knocking down people with a punch... this body is strong... "
Morsh then stripped the bandit of his pants and shirt and put them on.
"This should work for now. " Morsh then dragged both bandits to the same spot, looted them, and found a pouch containing a few bent copper coins.
"Letting you live will only bring me trouble. " Morsh drove the sword into the burly bandit's heart.
His expression remained calm, as if he were someone accustomed to taking lives.
Looking at the tall bandit. " Hmm... how about the black mist "
Morsh focused and covered the sword with black mist and plunged it in the heart of the tall bandit,
The dark mist enveloped the bandit's body before returning to Morsh, spreading in his body.
Morsh felt his body growing slightly stronger again, but his mind was flooded with new knowledge, basic swordsmanship, a language he had never seen before, and horse riding.
Morsh was confused but swung his sword, only to be surprised at how closely the technique resembled that of the tall bandit.
"So this mist make me stronger by absorbing the knowledge of the person I kill... " A smile appeared on Morsh's face.
He hid the bodies in the bushes nearby and began moving toward the smoke. Soon, Morsh stumbled upon a hidden camp. As he approached cautiously, he realized it was a bandit hideout.
The camp is spread out in a small clearing, with a few trees and bushes providing some cover. There are several tents pitched around the area, and wagons loaded with stolen goods are parked haphazardly. Smoke rises from a central fire where some bandits are cooking, and the scent of roasting meat mingles with the earthy scents of the forest.
Over twenty bandits were scattered throughout the camp, engaged in various tasks. They looked rough and dangerous, with mismatched, worn clothing and armor. Many bore scars, tattoos, and signs of a life of crime. Their weapons, swords, axes, and bows were always within reach.
In the center of the camp stands a large tent, clearly the command post of the bandit leader. It is more elaborate than the others, made of heavy canvas and adorned with stolen goods and trophies. Guards stand outside, alert and watchful, suggesting that the leader is inside.
Nearby, a large wagon has been modified into a makeshift prison. Inside, several people are huddled together, their faces pale and their bodies thin and malnourished. They are dressed in tattered clothes, their expressions a mix of fear and despair.
Morsh thought, 'There are too many... their leader must be strong to maintain control over this group.. '
'It's not wise to attack... let's get out of here '
Morsh turned and as he was about to take a step, his soul was sucked back to his dark oval soul space followed by the dark mist that had spread around the body.
The dark mist then entered his soul making the soul's color a tiny bit darker.
Pete had taken over the body. He looked around surprised, "How did I get here? "
Morsh: "I took over the body and handled the orcs "
Pete: "So I was not imagining... I heard you, but you are imprisoned in there, how could you take control of the body? "
Morsh: "I don't know that... but you should run away, there is a bandit camp behind you. "
Pete turned, saw the captives and a strange fire burned inside his heart,
Pete, in a heroic tone: "I can't let those people suffer... I am the hero, It's my duty to rescue them "
Morsh: "But you are not strong... don't get yourself killed "
Pete: "Huh... you don't know my strength yet... "
Morsh: "I know... I took over the body and I can tell that you are not strong enough "
Pete ignored Morsh and walked towards the camp with the sword in hand that Morsh took from the bandit.
Pete announced: "I am the hero... and I am here to recue those captives... surrender or face my wrath... "
The bandits quickly grabbed their weapons, aimed their bows at Pete and the melee wielders surrounded him.
Morsh, bewildered by the stupidness: "Why did you announce!!! you could have sneaked in too... "
Pete proudly said: "I am the hero, I will never cower "
Morsh: "But you did cower, in front of the orcs "
Pete gritted his teeth with anger: "That was different "
He lunged toward the bandits, swinging his sword wildly, but there was an unexpected precision in his movements that can't be replicated by a person who never held a sword.
Morsh thought, 'So the body instinctively remembers the techniques.'
However, the bandits had the advantage in numbers. One of them silently approached from behind and struck Pete on the back of the head, causing him to lose consciousness.
Unlike the last time, Morsh didn't take over the body, he was confused too,
Morsh: 'Do I only take over when he is in life threatening situation? '
The bandits then confiscated Pete's sword, tied his hands and legs with rope, and tossed him into the prison wagon.
Pete regained consciousness after about an hour, only to find himself tied up and trapped in the prison wagon he had seen earlier.
The prison wagon was reinforced with rusty metal bars, it is a crude and uncomfortable cage. The interior is cramped, with barely enough space for the captives to sit, let alone lie down. The air inside is stale and carries the faint scent of sweat and fear.
Pete saw several other prisoners, all in various states of distress. Huddled together, their faces were pale and their eyes hollow with despair.
Among the captives, a young girl about 7 years immediately catches Pete's attention,
The girl is strikingly out of place in the grimy wagon. Despite her torn and dirty clothes, the fabric and design hint at wealth and nobility. She has long, blonde hair that cascades down in loose waves, though it is now tangles and unkempt. Her eyes, a deep and vibrant blue, are filled with a mixture of fear and determination.
Though her clothes are in tatters, the girl holds herself with a certain grace and dignity. She is visibly exhausted, but there is a spark of defiance in her eyes that sets her apart from the other captives. She notices Pete's gaze and offers a faint, encouraging smile.
A proud smile appeared in Pete's face,
'So this is my first task, this must be a runaway girl of some noble family and was caught just for my debut in nobility... '
'If I rescue this girl, her family will arrange our marriage quickly, so that they can robe me in early '
Unbeknownst to Pete, the girl's eyes shone a bit and now she was looking at him with a grossed out expression, while Pete stared back at her with a confused look.
Pete then easily broke the ropes and grabbed the iron bars to bend them and make a way,
Morsh: "You can't win... wait for the night and sneak them out "
Pete agreed this time and sat down, waiting for the nightfall, during the time, his eyes kept darting toward the little girl, a strange smile on his face, the girl, sensing his strange gaze, quietly lowered her head onto her knees.