The journey was gruelling. The carriage rattled and lurched over the uneven path winding through the highlands. Mary sat inside, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her head bowed. Though she remained composed, every sharp jostle unsettled her, making it difficult to hide her discomfort.
Lord Tony rode separately, his carriage surrounded by mercenaries and mansion guards. Positioned at the centre of four others, his escort moved in rigid formation—each carriage filled with workers and more hired men.
The workers had been assigned to tend to Lord Tony and the mercenaries during the journey, though none of them knew the true purpose of this expedition. Even Mary had been left in the dark.
She gazed out at the passing landscape, her thoughts drifting elsewhere. If only I had stayed at the mansion… There was a chance Hudson might return there, and the thought made her chest tighten with regret. She wished that whatever project her Lord had would end quickly.
#
Lester crossed his arms, eyes shut, as he waited for the carriage to arrive at their campsite. He cracked one open, glancing at Matthew, who sat hunched over with a bandage wrapped around his head.
"Hey, you should've stayed behind," Lester muttered. "You need rest."
Matthew turned away, his jaw tightening. His battle with the swordsman left him with more scars than he had expected, both on his body and life force.
Lester exhaled. "So? How was the fight?"
Matthew leaned back, pressing a hand to his temple. "Honestly? It was strange."
"Strange?"
"His lifeforce felt similar to what I sensed that night… but not quite the same." Matthew's shoulders sagged. "The man I fought, though… something about him was unnatural." His fingers curled slightly. "I don't even remember his face."
Lester leaned in. "A monster, then? But for someone to leave you in this state..." he gripped Matthew's shoulder—"it must've been one hell of a challenge. I should've been there for you, I'm sorry."
Matthew clasped his hands together, his expression grim. "I've never seen someone dissipate my energy with just their bare hands," he said. "It was… unsettling."
From the other end of the carriage, Gordon let out a hearty laugh. "That little trick rattled you this much? You young ones overthink everything."
Matthew glared at him. "It wasn't just any energy burst. It was an artificial one—generated by my weapon." His fingers twitched. "Over ten times stronger than your usual surge."
Lester's breath hitched. "Wait—the force from those mechanical gloves? The ones Lord Sparrow gave you?" He straightened. "That's near impossible. Back at training, those things could level buildings in seconds."
Matthew fell silent, his thoughts settling into grim certainty. He clenched his fists and exhaled slowly.
"I've been going over it again and again," he said, eyes locking onto Lester. "And there's one thing I know for sure." His fingers tightened. "That man wasn't the Weeping Swordsman."
His jaw tensed.
"That means the bastard is still alive."
#
The carriage rolled to a stop in a vast clearing, where the camp stretched out before them. Green and blue tents dotted the area, housing mercenaries whose sole job was to keep anyone from leaving town. Similar camps encircled Pyrovile, each one filled with Lord Tony's men.
Lester's faction outnumbered the other hired forces, marking him as the
leader of the operation—and the one with the heftiest paycheck.
With a steady stride, Lester made his way into the camp. He had assembled his team per Lord Tony's request—his personal escort to the volcano. Though he had his doubts about the mission, Tony had assured him of their safety. The eruption would begin two hours after the stone was placed, granting them ample time to escape. Multiple carriages were on standby, and with Lord Sparrow's gift, even those stationed in Pyrovile would be able to make it out.
A cluster of muttering mercenaries caught Lester's attention, their disgruntled voices rising above the camp's usual chatter.
"I still can't believe that old man stole our bull," one grumbled, running a whetstone along his blade.
"It's downright preposterous—and stupid, and, and, and downright preposterous I say" another barked, waving his arms in frustration.
The quietest among them leaned forward, a devious smirk curling on his lips. "Listen, fellas, there's only one place that bastard could've gone—the hot springs. Let's go teach him a lesson, shall we? Then as a celebration, we release our tension in those fancy baths."
"Yes Clyde we're right behind you!"
The group erupted in agreement, raising their weapons with a roar.
Lester chuckled, watching them with amusement. It was good to see his men finding some entertainment, even with a looming volcanic eruption hanging over their heads.
A tap on his shoulder made him glance back. Matthew stood behind him, arms crossed. "Shouldn't we be heading for the volcano already?"
Lester shook his head and smacked Matthew's head lightly. "And who said you're coming?" He grabbed Matthew's collar, pulling him in. "Get some rest and keep an eye on the camp. I can't have my men taking any more unnecessary hits, you got that?"
Matthew laughed, prying Lester's hand off. "Yeah, yeah. Good luck with your date with Lord Tony."
Lester scoffed, turning away with a stretch. "Oh, if only it were that peaceful," he muttered. "Today's gonna be a long one, and between the both of us. I'm not looking forward to it."
#
The resort nestled in the hills was a haven of tranquillity—until a thunderous yell shattered the peace, rattling the very walls.
"Hee-haw!!"
Andy whooped, gripping onto the back of a massive bull as it thrashed wildly in the middle of the hot springs. His bare, glistening form shimmered under the steam as he swung his arms, then delivered a mighty slap to the bull's ass. SMACK
The poor beast let out a defeated huff, its eyes welling up.
Around them, a rowdy group of old men—equally buck naked—waved their towels like banners of war, bellowing their cheers.
"Ride it, Andy!"
"Show 'im who's boss!"
"Make that beast respect ya!"
Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Cumbleton lounged lazily on a mat, sipping an ice-cold glass of juice. His companion, another undressed gentleman, stood beside him wearing nothing but a serious expression—and a bowtie.
Cumbleton took a long sip before calling out, "Hey Andy, what the hell you doin' with a bull in here?"
Andy grinned, delivering another authoritative slap to the bull's hindquarters. SMACK
"I found this handsome fella outside. Figured I'd take him for a spin." He chuckled, patting the beast's head like an old friend before—SMACK.—giving it another resounding whack for good measure.
The bull whimpered.
Just then, the door swung open, and a woman in a sharp black suit and glasses stepped inside, her expression unreadable. She walked straight to Cumbleton.
"Sir," she said, adjusting her glasses, "we've received noise complaints. Also, you cannot have a live animal in the hot springs."
Cumbleton lazily swirled his juice. "Huh? What am I paying you for if not to keep the fun going? Come on now, sweetheart, don't be a killjoy. Why don't you join in?" He gestured toward the spectacle. "Hey, Andy! Let the dear lady have a turn on the bull!"
Andy, still clinging to the beast, swung around dramatically. "It'd be my pleasure."
The woman stiffened, a faint blush creeping onto her face as she adjusted her glasses. "I—I can't. That would be… highly improper."
Cumbleton smirked. "Oh, come now, don't be shy. A little ride and dip won't hurt, right?"
Andy noticed her discomfort and steered the bull closer, leaning in conspiratorially.
"C'mon, leave the poor girl alone, would ya?" he said, giving Cumbleton a knowing look. "You should enjoy your soak and juice instead, right?"
Cumbleton let out a deep sigh. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, Andy." He turned back to the woman. "I was out of line there. We'll try to be more quiet."
She gave a quick, grateful bow and hurriedly left—closing the door behind her just as another round of towel-waving erupted from the old men.
Andy stood triumphantly atop the bull, hands on his hips, striking a pose so majestic it would be forever burned into the memories of the elderly men—and, unbeknownst to him, the group of curious and horrified women peeking through a hole in the wall.
"What in the ever-loving Realms is happening over there?" one of the girls whispered.
"A bunch of crazy old men," another replied.
These were the same holes the men had once used to spy on them—holes they had long since sealed. But curiosity was a cruel mistress as always, and now, instead of catching pervy old men sneaking glances, they were met with an even more brain-melting sight.
A potbellied, white-haired lunatic was oppressing a bull.
"Here ya go, Andy!" an old man hollered, tossing a watermelon into the air.
"And here's more!" The others followed suit, tossing an assortment of fruits—apples, pears, and even a pineapple—counting as they did, reaching twenty.
Andy's eyes gleamed. "Let's go, baby!"
He juggled the fruits mid-ride as the bull bucked and spun, desperately trying to shake him off.
Andy turned the once relaxing soak into a high-stakes, nude circus act. The elderly men roared with excitement all eager to see how long Andy would last atop the wild beast.
The women on the other side of the wall?
They were frozen. Mouths agape. Minds broken.
"Th-this is too much," one of them stammered.
"A naked… bull-riding, juggling… oldie?!" another gasped, clutching her heart.
Meanwhile, Cumbleton furrowed his brow. "Where in the world did you geezers find fruits?"
The men laughed, unconcerned.
The bull, on the other hand, was praying. Praying to whatever deity watched over unfortunate livestock. Please. Someone. Anyone. Save me.
And, as if the gods had heard its plea—
The door flew open.
A gang of mercenaries stormed in, weapons drawn.
The raucous laughter of the old men died instantly, their bodies pressing against the wall for dear life. The very sight of sharp, cold steel drained the colour from their wrinkled faces.
The women on the other side had an unfortunate angle.
They saw things... things that came too close.
A symphony of horrified screams erupted as they fled from the wall, towels clutched desperately to their chests.
The leader of the mercenaries, a cocky-looking man with short dark hair, stepped forward with a smug grin. "That's our lunch you're riding, old man."
Andy's juggling came to a sudden halt. He dropped the fruits, his head tilting down toward the bull, which trembled in sheer terror.
"Lunch?" Andy muttered, frowning.
The bull let out a desperate whimper.
"He's mine," Andy said flatly. "Go get your own bull, child."
The leader's eye twitched. His veins bulged.
"You stole our bull, you senile bastard!" he snapped, jabbing a finger at him. "And don't call me a child! I'm Clyde!"
Cumbleton scratched his ear lazily. "You look like one. Sound like one too."
Clyde's fury shifted to him. "I know you! You work for Lord Tony. What are you doing here, especially with this criminal?"
Cumbleton ignored him, sipping his juice with an infuriating level of nonchalance.
Andy raised an eyebrow. "Criminal? Who're you calling a criminal?"
Clyde shot him a glare. "Would you shut up? I'm trying to have a conversation." He exhaled before continuing, "But if you must know, apart from stealing our bull, this isn't your first rodeo. There's no record of you entering Pyrovile. Meaning you were with the bandits that stormed the gates and hit the meaty shack earlier."
Clyde smirked. "Since you're with Mr. Cumbleton, I assume you stashed your carriage somewhere. Explains why we couldn't find it."
Cumbleton folded his arms and smirked. Ah, the beauty of being a genius.
Clyde turned to his men. "Now, normally, we'd arrest you both on the spot, but…" His eyes glinted with something sickening. "Where's the fun in that? I heard there are some good-looking ladies in this resort."
A scream echoed from another room. The sound of ceramics shattering followed.
The women on the other side of the wall tensed, hearts hammering as they heard footsteps storming outside their room.
Clyde drew his sword.
"This is perfect," he sneered. "Three birds, one stone. I get a member of the bandits who fought the Weeping Swordsman, my bull, and—" He hugged himself, licking his lips. "—some ladies to top it off. I also heard you have a beautiful foreigner with you."
He turned toward Andy. "When I'm done here, I'll go—"
In a blink, Andy was in his face.
His fist drove into Clyde's jaw, launching him like a human cannonball straight into the wall.
The entire wall exploded.
The girls on the other side shrieked, scrambling away from the ruckus.
Andy's gaze remained locked on the wreckage, his eyes devoid of warmth.
"Finish that sentence," he said coldly, cracking his knuckles. "I dare you, child."
Clyde coughed, wiping the blood from his nose, his smirk twisting into a scowl. "Now you've done it, old man."
Andy crouched low, seizing Clyde by the hair, his grip firm enough to make the younger man freeze. The mercenaries tensed, their weapons gleaming as they encircled him.
Unfazed, Andy leaned in. "Say another word about my granddaughter or anyone here…" His voice dropped to a whisper, and whatever he said sent a visible shudder through Clyde's entire body. The colour drained from his face, eyes widening with sheer terror.
Then, just as suddenly, Andy stood back up, his usual jovial grin returning as if nothing had happened.
Clyde swallowed hard before forcing a laugh. "You think you can fight all of us on your own? A weak punch like that has given you some false confidence. You're delusional, old man!" He turned to his men. "Right, boys?"
The mercenaries joined in his laughter, though some stole wary glances at Andy.
"Hey, hey." A voice cut through the noise.
Clyde turned just in time to see Cumbleton stretching with a yawn before stepping beside Andy. Two grizzled, naked old men now stared him down.
Cumbleton smirked. "Who said he'll be fighting alone?"
Clyde's laughter faltered. "So what? Two old men still won't be a problem."
On the other side of the broken wall, the girls and elderly onlookers exchanged nervous glances. It would be smarter to beg for their lives. Maybe even flee while they still could. As for the bull, it was too scared to move.
Clyde scoffed and raised a finger. "Listen up, because I'm feeling generous. I'll forgive that punch if you just hand over—"
Andy's head tilted. "Did I or did I not warn you about mentioning my little girl?" His voice was soft, but something in it made Clyde tense. "Kids these days… always looking for ways to piss me off." He clenched his fist. "That punch was weak 'cause I was going easy on you. Test me again, and I'll spank some sense into you."
The bull trembled violently at those very words.
Clyde opened his mouth to sneer, but something changed. The air grew thick. Heavy. The entire room seemed to bend under an unseen force. The energy radiating from Andy and Cumbleton was suffocating, pressing against Clyde's chest.
The mercenaries stiffened. They weren't even the targets of this pressure, yet their hands slicked with sweat.
Clyde fought to keep his composure—then he lunged, yanking a girl toward him, pressing his blade against her neck. He barked out a shaky laugh. "You lose now, old man! Turn yourself in and give up the bull if you want this girl to live—"
Andy appeared before him, fist drawn for a punch.
"I told you not to piss me off, child," he said, hitting Clyde's jaw and launching him out of the resort. A Clyde-shaped hole was found in the ceiling as if carved by an extraordinary designer.
Every single person in the room—mercenaries, onlookers, even the girl he had grabbed—stood frozen in sheer disbelief. Cumbleton taking advantage of the situation knocked out all the remaining mercenaries in the room.
Andy cradled the trembling girl in his arms. She peeked up at him, still dazed. "T-Thank you… um…"
He gave her a bright smile. "Call me Grandpappy."
There was silence. Then, in a burst of energy, Andy thrust a finger toward the group. "Alright, listen up! Grab whatever you can use as a weapon and follow me! We're getting our revenge on these damn mercenaries!"
The crowd hesitated.
Andy sighed and pumped a fist. "We're also robbing the mercenaries clean of their food and money!"
The crowd remained silent... And burst out screaming with newfound rage mixed with excitement. Even the ladies weren't left out.
"GRANDPAPPY! LET'S GOOOOO!"
The resort was shaken with chaos as the crowd stormed every room. Buckets of scalding hot water were flung at mercenaries. Old men lashed out with rolled-up towels, leaving red welts in their wake. The ladies wielded sticks like experienced warriors in battle, beating the lifeforce out of the intruders.
Andy turned to the bull and beckoned it over. The bull refused.
He frowned. "What, you don't wanna ride with me?"
The bull's thoughts spiralled—this human had saved him from being lunch. It'd rather get its ass smacked than fall to that fate.
The beast moved to Andy as the old man sat atop it, petting its fur. A bond between beast and man… a friendship to last a lifetime. It was a beautiful connection, one that—
SMACK!
Andy's palm came down on the bull's rear with a force that sent shockwaves through the room.
"LET'S GOOOOO, GRANDPAPPY!" Andy yelled, throwing a fist as the bull screamed, wishing to be placed in a pot of stew rather than endure this torment.
Andy shot forward on the beast, fist raised high. "We're raiding the mercenary camp!"
The entire hot springs crew roared in agreement, charging out with looted weapons from the mercenaries.
Cumbleton, now fully clothed, adjusted his coat as he watched the army of elderly men heading for the camp. All of them still buck naked.