'Let's just get rid of all the weaklings and leave the leader for last. I'll use him to understand what that power is,' Ali thought, his black eyes narrowing as he gazed upon the fortress from the high perch of a forest tree. Several bandits were posted lazily atop the outer walls, their attention clearly more on their idle banter than any real vigilance.
[Personal Mission: Clear the Bandits' Stronghold (0/1)]
[Personal Mission: Defeat the Bandit Boss (0/1)]
'I'm starting to like this world more and more,' Ali mused to himself with a cold smirk. 'As long as I'm proactive in killing people, then I'm guaranteed to get stronger. I don't even need a reason anymore—just efficiency.'
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the sharp forest air. The trees rustled softly around him. He stood completely still for one last moment—then disappeared in an instant, the branch he had stood on left with two deep indents where his feet had been.
On the western wall, four bandits leaned lazily against the ramparts, looking as if they hadn't done a day's honest work in their lives. Their greasy hair and grimy leathers matched the filth in their expressions—men who reeked of sloth, cruelty, and the smug confidence of cowards who had never faced a real threat.
"Hey, you think something happened to the other guys?" one of them called out, cracking his neck with a bored sigh. "They were supposed to be back a while ago…"
"You're right," another muttered, his tone bitter. "Or maybe they're just taking their sweet time, enjoying the girls while we're stuck up here, babysitting these goddamn trees."
The others laughed—except the fourth one, who remained curiously silent.
SLICE
A clean, invisible stroke—no louder than the whisper of wind. The fourth bandit's body tumbled forward silently. His head followed a second later, rolling down the slope of the wall, hitting the water below with a muted splash.
"Huh?" one of the others blinked, confused by the sudden noise.
But that was all they got.
Before any of them could turn around, react, or even gasp—Ali had already blurred through the air behind them.
SLICE. SLICE. SLICE.
Necks parted like butter. A thin mist of blood evaporated into the air before a single droplet could stain the stone. Each limp body was gently pushed over the edge with a flick of the Force, sinking quietly into the moat below. No cries. No resistance. Just silence.
In less than three seconds, the western wall had been completely cleared.
Ali perched calmly at the ledge, surveying the rest of the fortress. Three more walls. Four guards each. He took out his Inverted Spear of Heaven. He began to spin the long, chain-linked spear in his right hand. The hum of the weapon building momentum was like a predator's growl—low, deadly, and full of promise.
He took off again, blurring into motion.
Northern wall.
The moment the four bandits came into sight, Ali hurled the spear. It cut through the air like a streak of lightning—too fast to see.
They didn't even scream.
They didn't have time.
All four heads were pierced cleanly in a single, arcing motion—the Force guiding Ali's strike like an extension of his will.
CLINK. WHIP.
Ali twisted his wrist, pulling the chain taut. The corpses crumpled to the ground, silently dropping into the water like discarded sacks.
He moved on—east and south. Each wall was handled the same way. Blinding speed. Surgical precision. Utter silence.
Moments later, Ali stood alone on the southern wall, wiping the blood from the spear's tip. The entire outer defence had been neutralised in under a minute. No alarms. No outcry. Just water rippling below, red and quiet.
'It's like stepping on ants,' Ali mused as he recalled the sensation of slicing through the soft tissue of his enemies. 'The only difference is that I don't get bored of killing…'
He stored the weapon back into his inventory and began walking toward the central keep of the fortress. The main stronghold was a tall, three-level structure of dark stone and old timber, connected to the walls by a long, covered corridor.
The door was open.
Ali stepped inside without hesitation.
'With the Force, I can sense exactly where they are and what they're doing. If I focus enough, I can even track their breathing patterns,' he thought, letting his heightened awareness scan the entire stronghold in moments.
The third level—where they slept. The second and first levels—common areas, the mess hall, the war room, and training space. All of it confirmed by Miles earlier, but now Ali could feel them himself. Dozens of heartbeats. Restless, unaware, alive… for now.
His eyes narrowed. 'Let's start thinning them out'
Like a phantom drifting through a battlefield, Ali descended the narrow stone staircase into the third level of the fortress. His presence was a shadow, heavy and silent. Just as he reached the last few steps, a lone bandit was making his way up, clearly having left something behind.
The man froze the moment his eyes landed on the figure at the top of the stairs.
Ali's imposing frame—tall, broad-shouldered, shrouded in darkness—stood there with perfect stillness.
The bandit's heart stalled. His mind failed to catch up with the reality in front of him. His voice—trapped somewhere in his throat—never made it out.
And then it was too late.
CRACK
Ali moved with the swiftness of a predator. He grabbed the man by the jaw and the back of his skull, and in one vicious, fluid twist—
COUGH
A guttural noise escaped the man as blood spattered from his mouth. His neck had been rotated almost 180 degrees. His chin now hovered above his shoulder blade, his spine jutting against the skin like fractured branches in a broken tree. His body slumped backwards down the stairs as Ali continued forward without even looking back.
Unbothered. Unflinching.
Ali entered the third level's dormitory corridor. The air was stagnant, tainted with the stench of unwashed men and sour ale. Dim torchlight flickered across the damp stone walls, barely enough to illuminate the doorways lining each side.
Room by room, he moved like death itself.
Doors creaked open, and without hesitation, his hand found flesh.
SLICE. SLIT. STRIKE.
A sleeping bandit had his throat opened before he could awaken. Another, seated at a desk counting coins, never even registered the shadow behind him until his vision went black.
Men who passed him in the corridor didn't have time to blink. A sudden coldness, and then nothing.
One minute. Fourteen kills. No survivors.
Not a single scream had made it beyond those stone walls. Ali had killed everyone on the floor with the cold efficiency of a machine.
The third level—cleared.
'Now let's see what's got them so excited…' Ali mused to himself as he wiped the blood from his palm onto the tunic of a lifeless corpse. The sound rising from below was unmistakable—loud, vulgar, and deeply depraved.
Even if his victims on this level had screamed, they would've been drowned out completely by the chaos below.
Ali approached the central staircase, a wide spiralling descent that led into the main hall. He activated his lightsaber but kept it low at his side, its ominous red glow barely visible.
Step by step, the scene came into view.
And what he saw made even him pause.
The main hall was enormous. The bottom floor had been cleared of all furnishings, tables shoved against the far walls to make room for something twisted and cruel. A cage—reinforced with rusted bars and crude steel plates—sat in the centre of the room like a spectacle at a blood carnival.
Inside the cage was a familiar figure.
It was the rabbit Demi-human. The same girl Ali had spared. Her long ears drooped with exhaustion. She gripped the bars of the cage, not with hope, but with terror. Her soft brown eyes were wide with panic and fury.
Surrounding her were jeering men, their disgusting shouts echoing across the hall, spilling from both the bottom floor and the open balcony of the second floor above. Over fifty men leaned against the railing, roaring in drunken excitement.
And just outside the cage—two large bandits were in the midst of a vicious, bare-knuckle brawl.
Each swing of their massive fists sent shockwaves through the crowd. One of them roared as he took a blow to the jaw, while the other spat blood onto the floor and grinned with a missing tooth.
This was no ordinary fight. It was a competition. A savage contest of dominance.
They were fighting for the right to rape the girl inside the cage.
And the crowd loved it.
The men shouted profanities. They threw coins into a metal pot near the cage. Others just screamed, egging the fighters on with no regard for the girl behind the bars.
From her knees, the Demi-human whispered over and over: "I have to get out, I have to get out…" Her thoughts raced with terror. She couldn't imagine the fate that awaited her if either of these monsters won. Her hands bled from gripping the cage too hard, her feet trembling beneath her.
At the far end of the hall, a throne rose above the chaos.
It was constructed crudely, with mismatched planks of blackened wood and splashes of red leather stitched together. Torn banners and bloodied cloths draped over the armrests like hunting trophies.
Sitting upon it was the Bandit Leader.
A hulking man. Muscular. Brutal. Aged in his early forties, with thick scars crisscrossing his bare chest and arms like battle honours. A fresh wound—still bleeding sluggishly—was spread across his abdomen, as if someone had kicked him hard enough to cave his ribs.
By his side rested a monstrous weapon: a jagged black spear, its tip chipped but still sharp, with a small golden ring tied by a crimson ribbon at its base.
Ali squinted at the wound.
'Did she do that to him?' he wondered. The rabbit girl. Perhaps she'd landed a kick. It certainly wasn't a stab wound—that was blunt force trauma. 'There's always something ruining my fun. Maybe I should go straight to the red bull and fight him instead…' he sighed internally.
Below him, a hundred men filled the chamber. He counted them precisely—fifty on the bottom floor, another fifty above on the balcony. Not a single one of them noticed the stranger now standing calmly at the top of the stairs.
They were far too entertained.
CRACK. SMASH.
One of the fighters landed a devastating uppercut, sending the other crashing into the bars of the cage. The rabbit girl shrieked and stumbled backward as blood splattered against the bars.
The crowd erupted.
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