Bandits' POV
The group of bandits stumbled into a clearing, panting and cursing as they regrouped. The dense forest seemed to close in on them, its shadows oppressive and unyielding. Mickel wiped the sweat from his brow, his expression twisted in frustration.
"I swear, when I get my hands on that brat..." His voice trailed off, his teeth grinding audibly.
"You'll do what, Mickel? Beat him senseless before we even get the chest back?" Tarn sneered, his scarred face illuminated faintly by the torch he carried. "Maybe try thinking before you speak for once."
Mickel rounded on Tarn, his fists clenched. "Don't you start with me. That chest is gone because someone didn't keep watch. We should've gutted whoever was supposed to guard it!"
Jeska, sharpening her dagger with calm precision, chuckled dryly. "And how would that help us now? That 'brat'—" she said the word with venom—"was fast enough to outsmart us. Running around blaming each other isn't going to magically bring the chest back."
"Shut up, Jeska," Mickel snapped, his voice tinged with desperation. "You think I don't know what's at stake here? If we don't get that haul back, we're dead. Either from each other or the Flow Knights breathing down our necks. That chest is our way out of this gods-forsaken life!"
The youngest of the group, Lenn, shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should head back. This forest isn't ours—we don't know the terrain. And whatever took down our guy guarding the chest..."
Tarn's scarred lips curled into a snarl. "Don't be a coward, Lenn. The boy's probably holed up somewhere with the chest. He's bleeding, exhausted. We'll find him, and when we do—" Tarn slammed his fist into his palm for emphasis, "he'll wish he never crossed us."
"Sure," Jeska said dryly, her eyes flicking toward the darkness. "If something else doesn't kill us first. This place reeks of danger, and not just from the kid. You all heard the panther."
Mickel jabbed a finger in Jeska's direction. "Enough of your talk, woman. You've done nothing but criticize while we've been chasing that damned chest!"
Jeska rose, her dagger catching the torchlight as she glared at him. "And I'm the only one keeping my head on straight while you lot bicker like children. If you think charging through this forest without a plan will work, you're stupider than you look."
"Both of you shut it!" Tarn barked. "The boy has a head start, but he's wounded, same as us. We split up, cover more ground, and—"
"Split up?" Lenn asked incredulously. "That's how we get killed!"
Tarn's hand shot out, grabbing Lenn by the collar. "Listen, you little worm. You're part of this crew, and you'll do as I say. We split into pairs, fan out, and flush him out like game. If you're too scared to handle it, you can run back to camp. I won't stop you—but don't expect us to share the haul when we find it."
Jeska sighed, sheathing her dagger. "Fine. Split up. But don't come crying to me when this plan blows up in your face."
The group exchanged uneasy glances but ultimately followed Tarn's lead. They divided into pairs, each lighting torches before disappearing into the suffocating darkness of the forest.
Kaidan's POV
From his perch in the trees, Kaidan watched as the bandits broke apart, their torches bobbing like fireflies in the gloom. His mismatched eyes narrowed as he planned his next move.
"Good," he whispered to himself. "Idiots are doing half my work for me."
His body ached, his energy dwindling after the fight with the panthers. Every step, every motion sent sharp pains radiating through his limbs. But the chest in his cave needed to stay where it was—and these fools weren't about to let him rest.
Kaidan's fingers brushed the hilt of his short sword, its blade slick with dried blood. The weight of his exhaustion bore down on him, but his determination held firm.
Picking Them Off
The first pair of bandits moved cautiously through the underbrush, their torchlight casting long, flickering shadows.
"Keep your eyes open," Tarn growled at Lenn, his grip on his blade tightening.
"I don't like this," Lenn muttered. "It's too quiet."
"That's because you're too loud," Kaidan's voice came from the darkness, cold and sharp.
Before they could react, Kaidan dropped from the trees like a shadow, his short sword slicing through the torch. The flame extinguished in an instant, plunging them into darkness.
Tarn swung wildly, but Kaidan sidestepped, his blade carving a shallow cut across the man's thigh. Tarn howled in pain, collapsing to one knee.
Lenn turned to run, but Kaidan caught him with the hilt of his sword, knocking him unconscious. Tarn barely had time to react before Kaidan struck again, this time driving his blade into the man's side.
As Tarn fell, gasping, Kaidan leaned down. "You should've stayed in your camp."
The next pair didn't fare much better. Jeska's sharp eyes and instincts made her a tougher opponent, but her partner was less experienced.
Kaidan stalked them silently, his mismatched eyes glinting as he waited for the right moment. When Jeska moved too far ahead, Kaidan struck, taking out her partner with a swift blow to the head.
Jeska spun, her dagger flashing in the faint moonlight. "Clever," she said, circling him. "But you're bleeding out, aren't you? How long can you keep this up?"
"Long enough," Kaidan replied, lunging forward.
Their blades clashed, sparks flying as steel met steel. Jeska's movements were precise, her strikes calculated, but Kaidan's relentless attacks left her little room to counter.
With a final, well-placed feint, Kaidan disarmed her, his sword pressing against her throat.
Jeska smirked, blood trickling from a cut on her cheek. "Fine. You win. But you'll regret letting me live."
Kaidan hesitated for a moment before knocking her out with the flat of his blade.
The Final Five
The remaining bandits regrouped, their torches forming a tight circle of light.
"He's picking us off one by one," Mickel growled, his eyes darting to the shadows. "We need to stick together."
Kaidan crouched in the trees above them, his breaths shallow and labored. His body screamed for rest, but he couldn't stop now.
One last push, he told himself. One last effort to secure the chest—and his future.
With a deep breath, he leaped into the fray.