Reibar felt it—a faint flicker of heat deep within him. His red mana core now held a glimmer of orange shade. The fire and wind within his core began to resonate, intertwining in a way that felt both alien and exhilarating.
It was as though the core itself was alive, reacting to the mage's death, absorbing the essence of her flame. Reibar's body thrummed with newfound energy, a warmth spreading through him that was equal parts empowering and unsettling.
In that fleeting moment, he understood. The path forward was clear, and he knew exactly what he needed to do.
The first thought that crossed the swordsman's mind was, "Is he one of them?" Panic and confusion swirled within him as he stood frozen, grinding his teeth in frustration. But what happened next utterly shattered his expectations.
The scarred-faced bandit leader was still laughing, unable to contain himself at the absurdity of what he had just witnessed.
"Never in my life," he gasped between fits of laughter, "have I seen a caravan traveller kill one of their own! Alright, alright, haha—I recognize your resolve! I'll spare your life." He doubled over, clutching his stomach, tears of amusement streaking his face as he stared at Reibar.
But Reibar didn't flinch, nor did he seem the least bit thankful for the so-called mercy. Instead, he fixed the scarred man with a glare so cold, so filled with killing intent, that it silenced the laughter.
The air around Reibar began to stir. His feet lifted off the ground as his body floated, suspended by a growing pressure of wind.
His earlier actions had sent a clear message—taking hostages meant nothing to him.
"Archers, shoot!" the scarred man barked, snapping out of his shock. Arrows flew from all directions, aimed at the rising figure. But not a single one landed. Each arrow was deflected by the swirling gusts of wind encasing Reibar's body.
"I won't forgive you for pushing me this far!" Reibar's voice thundered, his fury reverberating through the valley.
The scarred man, attempting to regain control, snarled, "Leave now, or I'll kill these friends of yours!" He gestured to the bound adventurers, using them as leverage.
But Reibar didn't even blink. His reply was ice-cold and laced with disdain. "Do you think I care? After what I just did?"
And it was true. No one—not even the hostages—believed for a second that Reibar would hesitate to let them die if it meant his victory.
Then it happened. The air around Reibar, already dense with pressure, began to rotate violently. The swirling winds grew into a massive tornado, towering above the caravan. Dust and debris whipped through the valley as the oxen screamed in terror, straining against their reins, desperate to flee.
But Reibar wasn't finished. His eyes burned with raw determination as he channelled the fire magic he had obtained. Flames surged through the tornado, transforming it into a blazing inferno—a fiery cyclone that seemed born of hell itself.
The scarred leader's confidence shattered in an instant. His face went pale as he staggered back, screaming, "Run for your lives! He's a demon!"
Panic rippled through the bandits as they abandoned their plan, scattering in every direction. They didn't stop to think or regroup; all they cared about was escaping the fiery wrath that bore down on them. The hostages were left behind, forgotten in their frantic retreat.
Within moments, the valley was empty of bandits. The three adventurers—swordsman, tank, and archer—stood together, bracing themselves to face this so-called demon. They knew their odds were slim, but if they were to die, they would die as heroes.
But then, as suddenly as it had formed, the fiery tornado began to dissipate. The winds calmed, the flames flickered out, and Reibar descended to the ground.
His expression was unreadable as he glanced at the stunned adventurers. Without a word, he sheathed his sword, turned his back to them, and walked away, leaving behind a caravan saved but a battlefield scarred by his overwhelming power.
Reibar felt the weight of his exhaustion. His mana was completely depleted, leaving him drained and unable to even stand properly. Yet, despite it all, he took solace in one thought—three of the four adventurers had survived, and the entire caravan was safe.
That moment of relief, however, was short-lived.
"You wretched demon! Don't you dare harm the travellers!" The young swordsman's voice trembled, his fear evident in his wide eyes and shaking hands. But beneath the fear lay undeniable courage. He stood firm, blade raised, ready to face Reibar despite everything.
Reibar sighed, knowing no words could convince them otherwise. To them, he was a monster now. No amount of explanation would change their perception. Without a word, he silently reached out to Hamira through their mental link. "Get our things from the last wagon."
As Hamira moved to gather their belongings, Reibar drew on the last dregs of his magical energy. Summoning what little wind remained within him, he soared high into the air, landing on the edge of the towering cliff above.
The swordsman's jaw dropped in shock as he watched Reibar ascend without a single glance back. His grip on his sword tightened, unsure whether he should feel relief or dread.
Moments later, Hamira appeared below with two heavy bags in hand and her spear strapped to her back. Without hesitation, she jumped, her powerful leap carrying her effortlessly to Reibar's position atop the cliff.
Once there, she set the bags down and gave him a curt pat on the shoulder.
"Maybe," Reibar muttered under his breath, "we should've just brought horses and travelled alone."
Hamira's tone was blunt as she replied, "Then all of them would've died, not just one."
Her words carried no emotion, no concern for the lives that hung in the balance earlier. Yet, somehow, they comforted Reibar in a way he didn't expect.
He looked out over the valley, the caravan slowly recovering from the chaos below. One lost, many saved, he thought. Even if the price was steep, it was a cost he was willing to bear.
For the first time, Reibar had saved lives through his own strength—without the aid of the headmaster or any of his siblings. A sense of calm washed over him, a rare peace settling in his heart. It felt as though he had finally honoured the memories of Eric, Milio, Gareth, and old man Eldren.
Their faces flashed in his mind, not as ghosts of his past but as silent witnesses to his growth. For once, he felt like he had lived up to their expectations like he had made them proud.
"Next time not even one will have to die" he made his resolve strengthen in his mind.
Little did he know his peace was short-lived as something terrible was approaching.