For a moment, the bandit leader hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to run, to take his men and flee into the night.
But he couldn't. His pride wouldn't allow it. He was their leader, the one they looked up to. If he showed weakness now, if he ran, they would lose all respect for him.
His reputation, the very thing that had kept his ragtag crew of misfits together, would be shattered in an instant.
So, despite the fear gnawing at him, the bandit straightened his shoulders, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled. He couldn't show weakness. He wouldn't.
One of the younger bandits, an eager but nervous one, stepped forward, trying to prove himself. "I'll take him down, boss," he said, his voice cracking slightly as he nervously readied his crossbow.
The leader shot him a sharp look but said nothing. The kid was green, inexperienced.
But perhaps that would be enough. "Hurry up," he growled. "And don't miss."
The young bandit nodded, though his hands shook as he raised the crossbow. His aim was shaky, but he released the bolt with a rapid twitch of his finger.
The shot rang through the air, a deadly streak aimed straight at Alan's head.
Alan didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady on the young bandit, his crimson eyes glowing in the dimming light.
Time seemed to slow for a moment as he effortlessly reached out and snapped the bolt in mid-air, breaking it into two clean pieces.
The halves fell harmlessly to the dirt with a soft clink.
The bandit froze, his mouth agape as he watched his arrow fall apart. Panic set in. "What the hell?!" he sputtered.
Before he could react, Alan was already moving. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his footsteps barely audible.
The young bandit's hands fumbled to reload, but he was far too slow. Alan's fist connected with the bandit's gut, the impact reverberating through the air in a sickening shockwave.
The young man's body convulsed as the wind was knocked out of him. He crumpled to the ground, gasping, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water.
His face was flushed, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth as he fought in vain to catch his breath.
The world around him grew blurry, the pain overwhelming. His body refused to respond, and before he could even attempt to rise, he collapsed, unconscious.
Alan stood over him, his expression unreadable. He didn't waste a second. His eyes swept over the remaining bandits, his focus sharp.
He saw the hesitation in their movements. There was fear there now, a flickering doubt. They knew they were no match for him, but they couldn't back down. Not now. Not with the leader watching.
A short, wild-eyed man rushed toward Alan, daggers in hand. He was desperate, clearly overconfident, but his skills were lacking.
He lunged forward, his blades aimed at Alan's torso. "You're not so tough!" the bandit shouted, his voice high with panic.
Alan's lips curled into a half-smirk, and without breaking his stride, he leaped over the bandit's attack, landing behind him.
Before the man could turn, Alan delivered a brutal kick to his back, sending him crashing into the dirt.
The force of the impact sent the man tumbling several yards, his body skidding and his daggers clattering to the ground.
The bandit groaned as he tried to push himself up, but he couldn't. His back was aching incredibly, his legs too weak to support him.
He collapsed back into the dirt, eyes glazed over in pain. The other bandits took a step back, their faces pale with fear.
Alan didn't bother with them. He turned his attention back to the leader, who was still standing, his sword drawn. The man was shaking now, but his pride kept him rooted to the spot.
"You think you're the only one who can fight?" the leader sneered, though the words lacked conviction. "I've killed men twice your size."
Alan raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice flat. "Then I guess I'll be adding you to my list."
The leader's face contorted with rage, and with a roar, he charged forward, swinging his rusted sword wildly.
The weapon was clumsy, driven more by emotion than skill. Alan barely had to move. With a swift side-step, he dodged the attack, his body flowing like water around the bandit's erratic strike.
In the same motion, Alan closed the gap between them. His fist shot out, slamming into the leader's midsection.
The punch landed with such force that the bandit's body jerked backward as if he'd been struck by a freight train.
He gasped, his breath coming out in a choked wheeze. The sword slipped from his hand as he staggered, his knees giving way.
Alan didn't stop. As the bandit leader collapsed to the ground, Alan moved with lightning speed, delivering a crushing kick to the man's side. The leader's body twisted in the air before hitting the dirt with a sickening thud.
The remaining bandits were frozen, eyes wide in terror. They knew this was the end. The leader was down, and their chances of survival were slim. Alan stood over the fallen man, his face cold and emotionless.
"You've lost," Alan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Go. Take your men and leave. I'll let you live, but you won't get another chance."
The bandit leader, barely conscious, lifted his head, his pride wounded beyond repair. He tried to gather himself, but he couldn't. The fight was over. With a groan, he struggled to rise, his men moving reluctantly to follow his lead. One by one, they backed away, their heads low, their spirits shattered.
Alan didn't watch them leave. Instead, he turned and walked back toward the carriage, his steps purposeful. He didn't need to look back. The bandits wouldn't dare follow.
As he climbed back into the carriage, the driver's wide-eyed gaze met his. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The driver's chest was rising and falling with each shallow breath, his hands gripping the reins as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded. He had already climbed back into the carriage during the confusion.
Alan leaned back in his seat, the exhaustion of the fight setting in. His body ached slightly, but it was nothing he couldn't shake off.
The Capital was still far away, and there was no time to waste. His debts had to be settled and he had to see his sister and his mother again...