Kessrin moved like a dancer, his thin sword cutting elegant patterns through the air as he approached. He was nothing like the other bandits. No heavy armor, no brutish weapons. Just silk clothes and a blade that looked too delicate to be dangerous.But Draven could see the magic gathering around him. Wind. Invisible currents that made the man's clothes ripple even though the night air was still."You've made quite a mess," Kessrin said, stepping over bodies without looking down. "Eight of our men dead. Very impressive for someone who was supposed to be just an herb collector.""I'm full of surprises.""So I see." Kessrin's sword came up in a formal dueling stance. "But fighting common bandits is very different from fighting someone who actually knows what they're doing."He struck without warning, his blade lashing out faster than the eye could follow. Draven barely got his sword up in time to block. The force of the blow drove him back three steps, his arm going numb from the impact

The bandit leader walked through the scattered bodies of his men, his massive warhammer resting casually on his shoulder. Each step was deliberate, heavy, like a judge approaching the condemned.Draven studied him carefully. The man was huge, easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway. His arms were corded with muscle that spoke of decades wielding that hammer. Scars covered his face and hands, the marks of someone who'd survived countless battles.But it was his eyes that worried Draven most. Cold. Calculating. This wasn't some rage-filled brute coming for revenge. This was a professional about to do his job."You know," the leader said, his voice surprisingly calm, "I built this organization from nothing. Took years to recruit the right people, train them properly, establish our territory.""Touching story.""And in one night, you've killed almost half of them." The leader stopped about twenty feet away, lowering his hammer to the ground. "That's

Draven lay in the dirt, his vision swimming in and out of focus. The world felt distant, like he was underwater. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of pain through his broken body.Somewhere in the darkness, he could hear Elena screaming. The bandits were dragging her away, and he couldn't do anything to stop them."Get up," he told himself. "Move. Do something."But his body wouldn't listen. The pendant against his chest was cold and silent. Whatever power it had given him was completely spent.His eyes started to close, darkness creeping in from all sides. Maybe this was it. Maybe he'd finally pushed himself too far.Then he heard something that made his eyes snap open.Shouting. Not from the bandits dragging Elena away. From the other side of the camp. Panicked voices, the clash of steel, screams of pain."What the hell?" one of the nearby bandits said. "Who's that?""I don't know! She just came out of nowhere!""Stop her! Stop her before she reaches the boss!"Dra

The crack in the ground spread out from where Aldrus stood, spider-webbing across the dirt in all directions. It wasn't a big crack. Just a thin line that suggested something far heavier than an old man had just put weight on that spot.The bandits stopped laughing.Gorath's eyes narrowed, and he subtly shifted his stance into something more defensive. "You're not just a butler.""Oh, I most certainly am," Aldrus said pleasantly. "I prepare Miss Sylvrae's meals, maintain her equipment, manage the household accounts, and ensure her father's estate runs smoothly. Those are my primary duties."He took another step forward. Another crack appeared in the ground."However," Aldrus continued, "the Thornspike family has certain... expectations of their servants. We are required to be proficient in various skills beyond traditional butler work.""Stop him," Gorath ordered his men. "Now."Three bandits rushed forward, weapons drawn. They surrounded Aldrus from different angles, clearly thinking

Draven opened his eyes as morning light filtered through the tent. His body felt different. Not the heavy, painful weight of yesterday, but light. Strong. Whole.He sat up slowly, expecting pain to shoot through his ribs and shoulder. Nothing. Just a slight stiffness, like he'd slept in an awkward position."What the hell?" he muttered, looking down at himself.The bandages were still wrapped around his chest and arms, but underneath them he could feel that his wounds had closed completely. No pain, no bleeding, no weakness.He unwrapped the bandage on his arm. The deep gash that had been there yesterday was now just a thin pink line. Another day and it would probably disappear completely.The tent flap opened and Aldrus entered carrying a tray of breakfast. He stopped when he saw Draven sitting up."You're awake early," the butler said. "And sitting upright. Remarkable.""I feel fine," Draven said, flexing his previously dislocated shoulder. "Better than fine, actually. I feel like I