I stepped out of the carriage, hands raised, my travel bag slung over one shoulder.
The scarred one, which seemed to be their leader, looked as if he is in his, mid-thirties, missing two fingers on his left hand, gestured with his blade.
"Drop the bag. Slowly."
I set it down carefully, using the moment to activate Debug Vision and scan the group.
[Entity Analysis - Bandit Leader "Garl"]
Level: 12
Condition: Confident, alert
Equipment: Iron sword (worn but functional), leather armor (moderate protection) Threat Assessment: High
Shit. Level 12.
I scanned the others quickly.
All others were higher than level 7.
And here I am, with my level 3 ass with 10 STR and mediocre combat skills.
If I tried conventional fighting, I'd be dead in thirty seconds.
"Check the bag," Garl ordered one of his men, a stocky bandit with a club.
The man moved forward eagerly, reaching for my travel bag.
I focused on his boot laces.
[Change: Tied → Loosened]
On his third step, he stumbled, his foot catching on the loose lace.
"Fuck!" He windmilled his arms, trying to catch his balance.
"Watch where you're stepping, idiot," another bandit laughed.
The stocky one's face flushed red with embarrassment and anger as he reached my bag and started rifling through it roughly, more aggressive than necessary.
"Just clothes and some papers. Nothing valuable."
"What about the carriage?" Garl gestured to another bandit. "Check inside."
Two bandits moved toward the carriage. The driver had his hands raised, trembling.
While I scanned the archer that was still positioned at the back, the biggest immediate threat. An arrow could end this before I had a chance to act.
[Object Analysis - Bowstring]
[Durability Change: 78/100 → 45/100]
"Nothing in the carriage either," one of the bandits called out. "Just empty seats."
Garl's expression soured. "A noble brat traveling light. How disappointing." He turned his attention back to me. "Where's your coin purse, boy?"
"Don't have one," I said honestly. "My family isn't wealthy."
"Bullshit. You're wearing noble clothes."
"Old clothes. Hand-me-downs." Also true. "The academy provides everything students need. No point carrying money."
His eyes narrowed. "You're going to the academy?"
"There's an entrance examination. Tomorrow."
He pointed his sword at the driver. "You. Down. Now."
The driver climbed down shakily, his face pale.
"Kill them both," Garl said casually. "Take the carriage and horses. We can sell them in—"
What the?
"Wait." I kept my voice steady despite my heart hammering. "If you kill me, and you're not just robbing some minor noble. You're interfering with academy business."
I began spouting bullshit, academy won't care if some useless prick got shot dead by bandits.
"They track their examination candidates. When I don't show up, they'll investigate."
"So?" Garl shrugged. "We'll be long gone."
"Will you?" I let my gaze sweep over the group. "Someone will talk. Someone always talks when investigators start asking questions. And then it's not just hanging, it's torture first. They make examples of people who target their students."
A nervous young bandit shifted. "Boss, maybe he's right—"
"I said shut up!" Garl's patience was wearing thin.
[Leader: Confident but irritated]
[Subordinates: 3 uncertain, 5 committed]
Not enough doubt to split them. I needed to escalate pressure.
I changed grip moisture on Garl's sword.
Barely noticeable.
"Last chance, boy," Garl said, raising his sword. "Any last words?"
I was calculating my next move when—
The nervous young bandit suddenly spoke up, louder this time. "Boss, I don't like this. Killing noble kids heading to the academy? That's different from robbing merchants."
"Then leave!" Garl spun to face him. "Get the fuck out if you're too scared!"
The young bandit hesitated, then actually started backing away toward the forest.
Two others exchanged glances, clearly wavering.
But the archer still had his bow trained on me, and six bandits including Garl were still committed.
Not enough.
"You're making a mistake," I said quietly. "But if you're committed to it..."
I shifted my weight subtly, preparing.
Garl turned back to me, raising his sword. "Enough talking. Say goodbye—"
I focused on the ground beneath his leading foot.
[Change friction: 0.68 → 0]
As he stepped forward to strike, his leg shot out from under him like he'd stepped on ice.
"Shit!"
His sword swinging wildly off-target, and the blade flew from his hand, clattering across the road.
He hit the ground hard.
The other bandits froze, startled.
I didn't hesitate.
I dove for the fallen sword, my hand closing around the leather-wrapped hilt just as I was about to raise—
Thwip!
An arrow whistled past my ear, close.
The archer.
I rolled, coming up in a crouch with Garrick's sword raised.
[Adaptive Blade Style - Defensive Stance!]
"Get him!" Garl roared, pushing himself up from the ground.
Three bandits charged from different angles.
I couldn't fight them all at once.
I focused on the thin man's axe.
Just as he raised his weapon for an overhead strike—
Crack!
The handle splintered at the weakpoint I'd created, the axe head flying off mid-swing.
"What the—"
He stumbled forward with the momentum, completely off-balance.
I sidestepped and brought Garl's sword down on his exposed back.
He collapsed with a pained cry.
[HP: 200/200 → 195/200]
Pain lanced through my shoulder where the stocky bandit's club had grazed me.
I'd been too focused on the axe man, hadn't tracked the other attacks properly.
Can't take hits.
The third attacker came in with a horizontal slash aimed at my torso.
I executed a Parry, redirecting his blade with minimal force, using his momentum against him.
I thrust forward, catching him in the ribs.
Not a killing blow—I didn't have the strength for that—but enough to make him stumble back, clutching his side.
The stocky bandit swung his club again. I tried to dodge but wasn't quite fast enough—
Thud!
The club caught my left arm, sending a spike of pain through the limb.
Fuck!
I needed to shift tactics. Stop fighting reactively.
I focused on the archer who was nocking another arrow.
[Change: Cautious → Overconfident]
The most expensive edit yet, but affecting mental state was always costly.
The archer's expression shifted subtly. He drew his bow back further than before, really cranking the tension.
Snap!
The string broke with a sharp crack, the released tension whipping back and catching the archer across the face.
He screamed, dropping the bow and clutching his bleeding face.
Garl had recovered his footing and retrieved a knife from his belt. His eyes were full of murder now, no more casual contempt, just pure killing intent.
"You little shit," he snarled. "I'm going to tear you apart slowly."
The remaining bandits circled, more cautious now. They didn't understand how, but they knew I was dangerous.
Which made them more careful.
Which meant more coordinated attacks.
This is bad.
[MP: 37/65]