By the scant starlight and the glow of distant campfires, it was clear these men were pros—moving smoothly, trading hand signs.
Their target was obvious: the wagons that looked easy to hit and worth the haul.
"How we doing this?" Erza pressed close, whisper warm in Shane's ear.
Shane's default was steady—never save your trump card just to look cool at the end.
If you don't know the opponent, go all in.
With that, deep red streamers fell from his shoulders—the low whisper of Arash's True Name.
In a blink, sharp Clairvoyance filmed his eyes. Like a night hawk, his gaze cut the dark—headcount, positions, even the faintest ripples of mana—
Everything.
And when he truly saw their strength, he blinked—and let the form drop.
He felt a bit foolish for setting up so hard. Mages weren't that common.
Aside from the leader's faint mana, the rest were just men with blades.
Even the leader—his mana was only a touch above Shane's.
A quick comparison to Erza at his side… he figured her mana was at least ten times his own.
In other words, on mana alone she was worth ten bandit chiefs. Compared to him… Shane felt a little bleak.
"What's wrong?" Erza cocked her head at his pop-in-pop-out.
He rolled his eyes. True Name could last ten minutes now, but it still cost him. No need to burn it on chaff.
Eyeing her eager stance, he clapped her shoulder and bared a grin. "You can handle this. I'll cover you."
Erza trusted his read without question.
At once she threw stealth aside, lifted her sword with a clear cry, and bounded in like a lithe young panther.
Shane stripped the gray wraps from his right arm, flooded them with mana, and flung them—four glittering longswords spun to hover at Erza's flanks.
The bandits startled at being spotted, but relaxed when they saw the attacker was only a teenage girl. Smirks replaced nerves.
"Quick and quiet—don't let her rouse the camp," the leader hissed.
He didn't finish the sentence. The first man in fell with a gruntless thud, chest caved by a flash of steel.
Then came the truly chilling sight.
Five blades at the girl's side rose like living things and braided into a storm—howling in a lethal dance.
No one took more than a cut. They dropped like grass before a scythe.
Erza was now a bona fide mage; her power, speed, and weapon control were beyond brigands.
The leader blanched, lifting a hand to muster mana for a cheap shot. His spell never formed—a flying blade shrieked for his face and shoved him back, breaking his focus.
After sparring with Shane so long, guarding against ambush was second nature to her.
The fight ended fast. In under two minutes, groaning bandits carpeted the ground, weapons scattered.
Erza dragged the ashen-faced boss to Shane like a sack of grain, dusted her hands, and tilted her chin up—night-black eyes bright like a young leopard after a kill.
"Nice work." He couldn't help a smile at the sight.
"That's so perfunctory!" she huffed—but the glow in her eyes didn't dim. First real magic fight—her heart was still pounding.
Shane didn't argue. He scanned the bodies to the leader and said, "No finishing blows? Leaving them alive? One's enough for questions."
When he'd opened the True Name, the stink of old blood had been clear. He didn't see a reason to pull punches with lifers on the take.
The words iced the barely-conscious leader. Color drained from his face.
He hadn't expected this lazy-smiled boy to be so cold.
"D-don't kill me!" He scrambled on hands and knees. "Mercy, sir! It's our first time—we were forced!"
Erza watched the pleading mess, and killing still didn't sit right. "We tie them up and hand them to the city guard tomorrow?"
"Y-yes! The guard! We'll confess!" the leader babbled, sweat soaking his mask.
Shane drummed his fingers on his arm, thinking. He knew the "first time" was a lie. He weighed whether to spare Erza's feelings.
His flat look made the leader's stomach drop. Desperate, he blurted, "Wait! I—I know something! I know why everyone's headed to Shirotaon!"
Shane's brow ticked. So there was a reason for the heavy traffic.
"Talk."
"There's a rumor—a mysterious tavern in the city!" The man clung to the lifeline, words tumbling. "No one knows where, but they say if you find it, any wish can be granted! Most of the crowd's going for that rumor!"
"Any wish?" Shane snorted.
Urban legends like that were fairy tales for grown children. Even if there was something to it, nothing comes free.
"It's true! I swear!" He gestured wildly. "They say it's worked! One guy got rich in a night. Another's old illness vanished! The story first came from mages and traders—why else would so many flock there?"
Shane rubbed his chin. He didn't buy it—but…
He glanced at the trussed-up men and did the math. Bounties in town, maybe. More solid than a "wish."
Noel, woken by the noise, poked out of the wagon and murmured, "By the kingdom's law, blood on your hands means the gallows."
"All right. You live for now," Shane said at last. "We'll hand you to the guard in the city."
He shrugged. Lines could bend, sometimes.
He thought of the empty coin pouch—and the trial's maybe-house requirement—and sighed. Being broke could break the bravest.
As for the rumor, it went in one ear and out the other—just a campfire story. Even Erza, easiest to fool, looked unconvinced.
His main goal was to scrape up ticket money to Magnolia and head for Fairy Tail.
Maybe he'd detour for Shirotaon's famous hot springs along the way.
~~~
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