The last of the noblemen, a viscount with short black hair was dragged out of his burning home by the frenzied bandits and beat to death with heavy bats. Once he was confirmed to be dead, the bandits tied his body to a horse and had it run off, dragging it across the ground.
When they were done, the bandits blinked, their senses returning. They recalled how the they all rushed out after the child had ordered them to and their facepalmed. One of them proposed getting back at the child, but they were met with a more righteous vengeance.
Guards of the city appeared from nowhere, riding on tall stallions with the blades held dripping with blood. The bandits pulled out their weapons to defend themselves, but as the horses ran past, their heads rolled across the ground, leaving a trail of blood.
A bandit had a half naked woman pinned to the ground, laughing foolishly as she struggled to wrestle out of his grasp, tears streaming down her face. A child lay motionless beside her, the walls of a building had collapsed and she was caught under the rubble, her innards crushed.
The bandit had appeared as she mourned the dead child, trying to strip off her clothing as the worthless demon pinned her to the ground. She struggled fiercely, horrors filling her mind of what he could do to her in this position, but it was hopeless.
Her ripped her clothing amidst her protests and slapping, but as he lifted his clothes up, a chill ran down his spin. A pike stabbed through the back of his skull, piercing out through his nose as he grew limp and cold, his grip around the woman loosening, his blood dripping on her bare chest.
She screamed as the spear was pulled out, and a ghastly hole revealed in his face. The image burned into her head and her pupils dilated. She pushed the man away from her, scurrying away, her eyes widened as the sound of marching horses drowned her heavy breathing.
The guards continued forth, killing any bandit in sight. The fools trying their hardest assaulting the weak made the easiest targets, and their blood rot the blades. Their mission was to secure all of the nobles, even as the city plunged into a state of chaos.
Frightened screams filled the air but the sound of horseshoes crashing on the ground drowned them, like a pebble cast into a pond. Soon, with the death of more bandits, the screams died down to a considerable length and the guards gained the upper hand over their enemies.
Suddenly, an arrow whizzed through the air, and one of the eleven guards fell sideways, an arrow pierced through the gap in his neck between his breastplate and helmet. As he fell, his horse let out a loud neigh, warning the others who lifted their shields in unison, entering a formation.
Unlike most guards patrolling here, they were trained to high degrees. The bandits leapt out with great speed, but their attacks connected with lifted shields, and as it fell, the formation spun, and the bandits were sent flying in scattered directions, massive gashes left on their bodies.
Arrows flew again, but the guards lifted their shields to block, deflecting the arrows. One of them locked in on the direction of the shooter, then leaped off his horse, smashing through the block and swinging his pike, slapping the edge into the face of the archery bandit.
The man was sent flying until his head smashed into a wall, and the shock ran through his body, causing him to freeze up and collapse. The guard walked to him and finished the job, impaling him in silence, stabbing the man through the heart and into the ground.
Suddenly, the citizen darted out their hiding places — the violated and assaulted, the beaten and wounded — and they watched the guards finish off the remnants of the bandits. Satisfaction grew in their hearts, watching the suffering on the faces of the men as they faced their end.
"Kill the bastards!" a man roared with all his might. The black eye and busted lip he earned from a bandit burned, and he held his side, a few ribs cracked and a knife driven in and out of his sides. It was a pleasure watching the perpetrator get stabbed by a pike, then dragged to his death.
As the people watched, their hopes refuelled, there was a loud bang, like thunder in heaven. All of the people watched, their eyes widening in shock, stepping back as buildings transformed into an armada of monsters in their vision, collapsing upon the guards after an explosion.
The guards were crushed under the walls, suffocated in the stone and their horses cries grew to a silent halt, sending chills down the people's spines. Bandits approached from the darkness, smiling at the death guards and the trembling people, as if it was all part of their plan.
Suddenly, the earth began to tremble.
"Hey, Black!" one of the bandits turned to the other, "I think there is an earthquake somewhere. I believe we could rush off to safety, or we could be caught up in its aftermaths."
"You fool!" the one named black shouted back, turning to the left. The trembling grew and Black frowned, his black hair fluttering in the wind as he caught, sight of a small cloud of dust, rushing at them from the distance, "That's not an earthquake…"
A blur tore through the wind, Black stiffened up. The other bandits stared in his direction as the man fell to the ground, his eyes widened in shock, fixated on the arrow embedded into his head. He wanted to warn the others staring at him, but it was too late.
Thuds sounded in his ears as his vision faded, and their bodies joined him. He collapsed into the embrace of death, not feeling quite as lonely as he expected. His eyes fluttered and he lifted his hand to the sky, trying to grasp at it dramatically, but it severed before his eyes.
Black could not even scream as he felt the horse trampling over him, feeling his body explode in an instant. The slaves who had invaded the area, killed the other bandits, marching on with cleaning up of the city, leaving the people to burst into tears of joy.
The slaves marched on, carrying out the orders of Requiem their Lord. The bandits, assaulted to a point of near extinction by the countless attacks, were forced to retreat. They were met with guards who had gathered at the gates, and they were slaughtered.
Requiem, riding on Dragnur, stepped out into the light. He watched, reeling in the chaos of death, observing as casualties piled around him, the herd of fools thinning. Soon, the chaos of banditry was prevailed on by the forces of justice, 'Ah, what a tale. What a tale!'