Cain found himself encircled by armed bandits, their eyes flashing with malevolent intent. The snow-covered landscape was eerily silent except for the crunch of boots on frozen ground and the distant calls of crows.
"Keep him contained!" the former driver barked, his voice trembling with urgency and fear. He was already on edge, knowing that the odds were against him.
Cain's lips curled into a disdainful smile. "Ha... amateurs," he murmured with a sigh, clearly unimpressed. With a swift motion, he chanted, "Winter Steps: Third Step—Snow Mist."
In an instant, Cain dissolved into the snow, becoming an indistinguishable wisp of mist. The bandits, caught off guard, looked around in confusion. Their attempts to locate him were futile as he moved effortlessly through the snowy terrain, almost invisible.
"Damn it! What are you all doing? We need to keep him contained!" one of the bandits yelled, panic rising in his voice. The bandits scattered, their attempts to form a defensive circle collapsing under Cain's ghostly presence.
Cain struck with lethal efficiency. His blade cut through the air with deadly precision, severing heads and limbs. The snow beneath him quickly turned red as the bandits fell, their bodies crumpling in the cold. It was a massacre, executed with a calm, almost detached demeanor.
"This wasn't part of the plan," the former driver thought, watching in disbelief as the boy—barely older than a child—decimated his entire crew. "That damned Count lied to me. He said this job would be easy."
Desperation seized the driver. He mounted a waiting horse and spurred it into a frantic gallop, trying to escape the nightmare he had found himself in.
"!!! Oh, running away like a rat, huh? Hahaha," Cain's voice echoed mockingly as he materialized amidst the fallen corpses, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. The sight of the driver's futile escape only fueled his amusement.
"Winter Steps: First Step—Flash."
Cain dashed forward with a speed that blurred his form. In a single, fluid motion, he leaped, his blade slashing the horse's neck with a precise cut. The animal collapsed instantly, its blood mingling with the snow. The driver, thrown from the horse, lay on the ground, his right hand now smeared with blood and snow.
"What did you do to my horse?!" he cried out, his voice choked with both pain and fear as he glared at Cain.
Cain's expression was cold and unfeeling, his gaze unwavering as he looked down at the man. Shadows cast by the setting sun partially obscured his face, adding to the menace of his presence.
"Such disdain. Tell me, how do I get to the Three Northern Mountains?"
The driver's eyes widened in terror. "....???? Uh, why do you want to go there? Are you insane?"
"That's none of your concern. If you tell me how to get there, I promise you'll live a little longer."
"Alright, alright! If you go on foot, it'll take you about six days to reach it," the driver stammered, desperation evident in his voice.
"And on horseback?"
"Well, those horses are mine."
Cain raised an eyebrow, considering this. "That's fine. I'll consider it as compensation for your attempt on my life."
"It would take about three days by horse if you follow the same path."
"Okay then, it was nice meeting you. So, goodbye..."
"Wait! I have a daughter... please, let me live."
Cain paused, his mind racing. "Hmm, if I let you live, the Count might find out and threaten my family. But if I kill you here, it might raise suspicions," he thought.
"Tell me, who sent you?"
"No one, no one sent me," the driver protested, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Y-yes."
"Good, but I want you to know something." Cain stepped closer, pressing his sword's edge lightly against the driver's neck, a silent threat. "Lie to me again, and you'll die in a far worse way."
"We're just a group of thieves. We were hired by Count Saimon to kill you. That's all I know. Please, let me live."
"..... Fine, you may go."
The driver struggled to his feet, his steps unsteady. He stumbled away, leaving a trail of blood as droplets fell from his wounded hand and stained the snow. His gaze was distant, and his movements were slow, weakened by his injuries.
"I spared him out of pity, but he won't last long. He's bleeding too much," Cain observed with a detached sense of reality.
Mounting the horse, Cain followed the route indicated by the driver, the weight of his actions settling over him as he rode towards the mountains.
••••
In a faraway, dimly lit room, a man lay on the ground, his breaths shallow and ragged. His vision was dimming, and his body was growing cold.
"Don't worry, Nicol, your father will come to find you," he murmured with a fading voice.
As he succumbed to his injuries, he whisp
ered his final thoughts, "Forgive me, daughter..."
End of chapter 17