Ace swallowed hard, gripping the carriage’s side as he watched Michael with a mixture of awe and unease.
Lia remained silent but felt just as much as Ace.
The driver, normally chatty, kept his mouth shut, his knuckles white on the reins.
Michael turned to them. “Stay here. Two of my guards will remain with you.”
The way he said it made it clear it wasn’t a request.
Ace hesitated before nodding. “Yeah… that’s probably for the best.”
Lia, still watching the armored undead, spoke up. “Be careful.”
Michael simply smiled. “I will.”
With that, he gestured, and two of the undead stepped back, positioning themselves near the carriage.
Michael then turned to the bandits.
The remaining bandits, barely standing, flinched at Michael’s attention.
“Lead the way,” he ordered.
One of them, his face slick with sweat, hesitated before stumbling forward. “T-this way…”
Michael followed without a word, his remaining two undead flanking him.
A moment later.
Ace exhaled slowly, only now realizing he’d been holding his breath.
“…I knew he was strong,” he muttered. “But it isn’t only him?”
Lia didn’t respond immediately. Then, after a moment, he simply said, “No. It isn’t.”
As the bandits led Michael deeper into the forest, the atmosphere grew tense.
The surviving ones were visibly shaken, stealing glances at the undead figures flanking them.
Fear weighed on their shoulders heavier than the wounds they had suffered.
Michael, on the other hand, remained indifferent. His thoughts were elsewhere.
If the bandits had told the truth, then their camp should be near the cliffs.
A cave hideout made sense; it offered natural defense, shelter, and a place to store stolen goods.
And if they were lying?
Well, Michael had no problem extracting the truth through other means.
After several minutes of walking, the forest opened up to a rocky outcrop.
Near the base, partially concealed by thick undergrowth, was a dark opening.
Michael stopped.
“So, this is it?” he asked, voice even.
The lead bandit, the one who had spoken earlier, swallowed hard. “Y-Yes. The others should be inside.”
Michael studied the entrance.
He could hear faint sounds from within
It seemed the bandits weren’t expecting trouble.
Good.
Michael turned his gaze back to his undead.
“Kill everyone inside,” he ordered.
The two armored figures didn’t hesitate. Like shadows of death, they were ready to strode toward the cave with their weapons ready.
The lead bandit paled. “W-Wait! You don’t understand, there are—!”
He didn’t get to finish.
Michael flicked his fingers, and the undead nearest to him struck.
A clean, brutal motion—breaking the bandit’s neck in an instant.
The others froze in terror.
Michael didn’t bother with them.
After killing thousands of monsters, he couldn’t help but feel numb to the sight around him.
Perhaps it would still affect him if it had taken longer to accumulate such a number, but when it had taken barely a week, the weight of it only grew heavier, worse, made him used to it and became numb.
Michael pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the cave.
The screams started almost immediately.
Panicked shouts echoed from within, followed by the sickening sounds of battle.
The clash of weapons.
The dull, heavy thuds of bodies hitting stone.
The desperate cries of men who realized—too late—that they had no chance.
Michael stood at the entrance, watching without expression.
There was no need to interfere.
The undead were efficient.
Ruthless.
They didn’t stop.
They didn’t hesitate.
And they didn’t show mercy.
Moments passed.
Then silence.
Michael turned his attention back to the bandits outside the cave.
They immediately froze.
Michael took a step forward.
The closest bandit flinched, his body tensed as if to run.
Then, without warning, Michael moved.
His fist struck the first bandit’s chest with a sickening crunch, ribs shattering as the man gasped, eyes wide with shock before crumpling to the ground.
Another barely had time to turn before Michael’s hand clamped around his throat, lifting him off the ground.
The bandit clawed at his grip, feet kicking uselessly in the air.
Michael squeezed.
The body went limp, and he let it drop.
The rest tried to scatter.
Michael didn’t let them.
He lunged, driving an elbow into one’s temple, sending him sprawling lifelessly to the dirt.
Another he caught mid-step, his fingers digging into the bandit’s skull before twisting—bones snapped, and the body collapsed in a heap.
The last one left standing tripped over a root, scrambling back on his hands and knees, face drenched in sweat.
Michael stopped in front of him, looking down.
The bandit’s breaths came in short, panicked gasps.
He opened his mouth, perhaps to beg, but no words came.
Michael tilted his head.
But then he sighed.
“Even if I wanted to keep you alive, I can’t.”
The bandit’s eyes widened in horror.
Michael struck.
A single, decisive blow.
The body slumped, lifeless.
Silence returned.
Then.
[Quest Completed]
[Evaluating Performance]
This was the reason why Michael had paused before killing the last bandit.
Initially, he had considered keeping a few of them alive—evidence for his task, something to make clearing it through the guild quicker. But his quest seemed to have different opinions.
There were several ways to subjugate a bandit group.
However, killing them all was simply the most efficient.
Or rather, the only acceptable way.
Michael exhaled, brushing a speck of blood from his knuckles before turning to the cave entrance.
Now, all that remained was to see what the bandits had left behind.
Without a second glance at the bodies, Michael stepped into the darkness.
Michael stepped inside.
The cave was littered with bodies. Blood pooled across the uneven ground, the stench of death thick in the air.
At the far end, his undead stood motionless.
Michael scanned the cavern.
Suddenly, his eyes landed on the large chests tucked against the wall.
Loot.
Michael finally felt something for the first time.
Excitement.
He quickly walked over.
Michael crouched and placed a hand on the nearest chest.
It was heavy, reinforced with iron, and judging by the scratches around the lock, had been forced open more than once.
He pried it open with little effort.
Inside, gold coins gleamed under the dim light. Pouches filled with silver and copper were stacked beside crude gemstones. A few weapons were haphazardly tossed inside, though none seemed remarkable.
Michael moved to the next chest.
This one contained supplies—dried rations, water flasks, and various trinkets looted from their victims.
Michael checked each chest methodically. Most contained valuables—gold, silver, weapons—but nothing that stood out as truly rare.
Still, the sheer quantity made it worthwhile.
This much gold meant the bandits had been operating for a long time, robbing caravans and traders without much interference.
He moved to the last chest.
Unlike the others, it was smaller, sturdier, and locked with a thick iron clasp. That alone made it interesting.
Michael reached for it, but before he could break the lock, a notification appeared.
[Quest Completed: Bandit Subjugation]
[Performance Evaluation: Excellent]
[Bonus Rewards Granted]
—
Meanwhile, back at the carriage, Ace kept glancing toward the forest, uneasy. “He’s been gone a while.”
Lia leaned back. “With how strong he and his guards are, he’ll be fine.”
Ace nodded but didn’t seem convinced.
He tapped his fingers against his knee before finally whispering, “You think he’s actually… noble?”
Lia’s eyes flicked to him, silent for a moment before answering, “If he is, he hides it well.”
The driver, still gripping the reins tightly, scoffed but didn’t turn around. “Noble or not, he’s dangerous.”
Ace frowned. “That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.”
The driver chuckled dryly. “Depends on what you call bad.”
Ace fell silent. The air around them grew heavy again.
After a moment, Lia spoke, voice quiet. “Whether noble or not… doesn’t change the fact that he’s stronger than any noble we’ve ever seen.”
Ace swallowed, gripping his sleeve. That was true. And that was what unsettled him the most.
Just what had they gotten themselves mixed too.
It wasn’t only Ace who felt this way.
Lia and the driver felt like this too.
Especially at the dead bodies around.
The thought of sneaking away wasn’t in mind with the two “guards” of that “noble”.
—
Michael stared at the notification for a moment before dismissing it. Bonus rewards?
He’d check that later.
Right now, the locked chest had his attention.
He tightened his grip around the iron clasp.
The lock was solid, but against his strength, it was nothing.
With a sharp tug, the metal groaned before snapping apart.
The lid creaked open.
Inside, rows of neatly arranged glass vials reflected the dim torchlight.
Potions.
Michael’s eyes narrowed as he reached for one, lifting it up to inspect its contents. The liquid inside was a deep crimson—unmistakably a health potion. He was familiar with this type.
Prying further, he found that every single vial contained the same thing. There were no mana potions, no stamina restoratives—just health potions.
Michael placed the lifted potion back into the chest.