As the sun began to set, Laura sat by the side of the road, watching the endless stream of adventurers and mercenaries pass by. Dust swirled in the air as the weary travelers, some wounded and others carrying trophies from their hunts, made their way toward the distant camp. Her patience was wearing thin. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, she turned to James, who was leaning nonchalantly against the stone wall.
"Do you really think he'll come down this road?" she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.
James didn't shift his gaze from the path, arms folded across his chest. His tone remained steady, almost indifferent, as if he had already accepted the uncertainty of their situation. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But if Chen Guozhong's information is right, this is the safest and closest route back to camp. With all these alien species roaming around, Hailey is dead, and Harvey? He doesn't stand a chance out there alone. If he wants to make it back, this road is his best shot."
Laura bit her lip and fell silent again, her mind racing. She knew James was right, but the waiting gnawed at her nerves.
As more F-level mercenaries and adventurers trudged along the road, James's eyes lingered on one in particular: an adventurer dragging the carcass of a red alien behind him. The alien's body, twisted and lifeless, had clearly been dead for some time. The adventurer looked exhausted, moving at a slow pace toward the camp. It was a grim reminder of the dangers lurking in this world.
James glanced at Laura from the corner of his eye. Unlike the others, she never bothered with collecting alien corpses or scavenging materials. He had always found that odd but hadn't questioned it, until now.
"Aren't the parts of these aliens worth a lot?" he asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him. "I've noticed you've never collected any."
Laura's expression remained neutral, though a flicker of something unreadable passed over her face. "Yes, they're worth a fortune," she said. "Even F-class alien species can be harvested for materials that sell for millions."
"Millions?" James raised an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you bothered? You even have that storage bag; you wouldn't need to carry them by hand."
She turned her head to look directly at him, her voice calm but with an edge of something deeper. "Because money is useless."
James blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the bluntness of her statement. "Useless? What do you mean? Since when is money useless?"
Laura let out a small sigh, as if explaining something obvious. "The H-coins everyone scrambles for are nothing but a low-tier currency. Sure, for most people at the F-level, it still has some use. But there are things in this world; important things, that money can't buy." She paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Though, now that I think about it, it's a bit strange for you to be asking this."
James chuckled, brushing off her comment as he adjusted his black robe, pulling the hood over his face. "Don't worry about the details."
Their conversation was interrupted by movement on the road. Both turned their attention toward the new figure pushing his way through the crowd. It was Harvey. He scanned his surroundings nervously before letting out a long breath of relief. His posture relaxed slightly as he hurried toward the safety of the camp, oblivious to the danger still lingering nearby.
But just as Harvey quickened his pace, his foot slipped on loose gravel. He stumbled forward, his body pitching uncontrollably toward the ground. The fall happened in a heartbeat, but the consequences were devastating. With a sickening thud, Harvey landed hard, flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.
Before he could even register the pain, he felt something far worse; an agonizing, searing sensation in his legs. He looked down in horror, his breath catching in his throat.
His legs... were gone.
Harvey screamed, the realization crashing over him like a tidal wave. "Ahhh! My legs! My legs!" His voice was raw with panic and helplessness as he stared at the severed limbs lying beside him, completely detached from his body. The pain was unbearable, but it was the sight of his own mutilation that truly broke him.
In the distance, Laura and James exchanged a brief glance but said nothing.
The mercenaries milling around Harvey cast brief, indifferent glances his way, but none of them moved to help. Their eyes reflected a world hardened by survival, and the sight of a man in agony was nothing new to them.
"Please! Help me!" Harvey's voice cracked as he tried to appeal to their humanity. He clawed at the dirt, dragging himself toward a cluster of mercenaries. "I know the president! You have to help me!"
The words hung in the air, but the response was nothing but cold silence. Not a single soul made a move. The crowd merely watched, their expressions unreadable, as Harvey's pleas echoed across the road.
Then, just when all hope seemed lost, a pair of slender, beautiful legs stepped into his line of sight. Harvey's heart leaped. He reached out, clinging to them as if they were a lifeline, his voice trembling with desperation.
"Please! Please save me!" He begged, gripping the legs with what strength he had left.
But when he looked up, his relief turned into pure terror. The face that met his eyes wasn't a savior's; it was Laura's. Harvey's breath caught in his throat. He staggered backward in shock, his voice breaking into a scream. "You: you're supposed to be dead!"
Before Harvey could even process the situation, a swift, almost invisible slash cut through the air.
'Swish!'
He stared in horror as his own hand, the one he had been pointing at Laura with, flew off and landed in the dirt, blood spurting from the wound. He clutched his bleeding arm, his face twisted in pain and disbelief.
"Ahhh! My hand!" Harvey groaned, tears welling in his eyes from the searing agony.
Laura squatted down gracefully in front of him, her expression calm as she looked into his terrified eyes. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you," she said softly, her voice cold and unhurried, "not to point your fingers at people randomly?"
Harvey's terror only deepened. He scrambled backward, his bloodied stump pressed against his chest as he stammered, "P-please… don't come any closer!" In a panic, he yanked the storage bag from his waist and hurled it at her feet. "Here! Take it! Everything I took is inside; spiritual medicines, blood crystals, they're worth a fortune! It's all yours! Please, just don't kill me!"
The bag landed with a soft thud in front of Laura, but she didn't even glance at it. Her cold gaze stayed fixed on Harvey, watching him grovel and beg for his life. After a long pause, she spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper, but her words cut like a blade.
"If Hailey saw you now," she said, her eyes narrowing, "she'd be disappointed."
Harvey froze at the sound of that name. "Hailey?" he mumbled, bewildered. His mind raced to connect the dots, but before he could comprehend the meaning of her words, he felt a sharp, unfamiliar sensation; a thin line of pain running down from his forehead to his chest.
His vision blurred. For a moment, everything seemed to shift and tilt. It was as if the world around him, and even his own body, was falling apart. He looked at Laura again, but this time, something felt profoundly wrong.
The last thing Harvey saw before darkness claimed him was the sight of his body, split cleanly in two.
A collective murmur spread through the crowd as the onlookers took in the scene, frowning but not shocked. Whether mercenaries or adventurers, they had long grown used to such violent ends in this unforgiving land. Harvey's gruesome death was just another tale of misfortune.
Still, a few of the F-level mercenaries hesitated to leave. Something in Harvey's desperate words before his demise had stirred their greed. The storage bag filled with valuable spoils sat tantalizingly close, and the aura surrounding the girl who had killed him was only that of a high-level G-class. To them, she seemed like an opportunity.
But before they could make a move, James stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he bent down, picked up the storage bag, and dusted it off casually. Without even looking at the mercenaries, he spoke, his voice low and calm, but filled with quiet menace.
"If you don't want to die," he said softly, "then leave. Now."
The group of F-class mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances. They knew that without specialized thermal weapons like thunder and fire bombs, they were no stronger than the alien creatures that roamed these lands. And they had seen enough to know that this wasn't a fight worth picking.
One by one, they turned and left, leaving the road behind them as silent as it had been before.
The tension among the group of mercenaries had finally reached its breaking point. One of them, unable to contain his fear and desperation any longer, gritted his teeth, pulled out a dagger, and in a moment of reckless panic, turned the blade on himself.
With a swift motion, he lunged at James, aiming for a fatal strike.
"Tsk." James sneered, his lips curling in disdain. Though he had certain privileges due to his unique status; ones that forbade him from slaughtering humans as freely as he could alien species, this didn't mean he wouldn't kill when necessary. It was just a matter of… 'circumstance'.
As the mercenary closed in, dagger poised, James's body shifted ever so slightly. His movement was smooth, almost effortless, as he sidestepped the attack with grace. In the blink of an eye, the mercenary's throat met the waiting edge of James's scythe, which hovered there with deadly precision.
'Poof!'
The mercenary's momentum drove him helplessly into the blade, his eyes wide with shock as the scythe carved into his exposed neck. Blood sprayed, and the mercenary collapsed at James's feet, his life draining away in an instant.
[Host devours 73 points of Life force. Life force purification activated. Growth value +146. Life force storage +10.]
James wiped a speck of blood off his cheek, his expression unbothered. "You ran into me yourself," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the lifeless body. "Don't blame me."
His cold gaze shifted to the remaining mercenaries, who now stood frozen, torn between fight and flight. They had seen the ease with which James dispatched their comrade, and their bravado began to falter. Sensing this, James addressed them with a smirk, his voice casual yet dripping with malice. "I told you to leave, didn't I? But since you're still here… each of you owes me one blood crystal. Otherwise, you won't be walking away."
The mercenaries exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale. One of them, reluctantly, dug into his waist bag and produced a blood crystal the size of a baby's fist. He held it out to James, his hand trembling slightly.
James took the crystal, weighing it in his palm. "Is this what you think your life is worth?" he asked, his tone mocking.
The man's jaw tightened, frustration and fear evident in his eyes. With a grunt, he reached into his bag again and produced a smaller crystal, tossing it to James without a word.
James inspected the second crystal, nodding in satisfaction. "Much better." He gestured dismissively. The mercenary gave a disgusted snort, turned on his heel, and walked away quickly, never once looking back.
"What about the rest of you?" James's voice cut through the air like a knife, sending a chill down the remaining men's spines. His words, though spoken with a smile, felt like the whispers of death in their ears.
The other mercenaries, now eager to escape with their lives, hurriedly fumbled through their bags, tossing their blood crystals at his feet. They dared not linger, backing away cautiously, before finally breaking into a run, disappearing into the distance.
Once they were gone, James knelt down and collected the scattered crystals with a satisfied grin. "Not bad," he mused to himself. These crystals wouldn't help him advance in power, but they could be exchanged for Life force; something much more valuable in the long run. He made a mental note to store them away, just in case he needed extra reserves to recover from future injuries.
As he slipped the last crystal into his pocket, Laura, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, couldn't help but let out a laugh. "I had no idea you were such a skilled thief," she remarked, snatching the storage bag from him with a raised brow.
James merely shrugged, spreading his hands in a gesture of nonchalance. "You're welcome," he replied with a casual smile.
But the playful moment was abruptly shattered.
Out of nowhere, a long sword, gleaming with cold steel, sliced through the air, heading straight for James's side. The blade reflected the dim light, a deadly arc that promised a swift and brutal end.
"Look out!" Laura's voice rang out in warning. At the same time, she focused her energy, causing the surrounding air to converge around the sword, attempting to slow its speed.
The sword, however, was relentless. It cut through the invisible barrier of air with ease, and in that instant, the gleaming blade filled James's vision, growing larger with every second.