While I waited, my eyes remained fixed on the horizon where the mountain path curved. The rhythmic thrum of hooves grew louder, vibrating through the blood-stained earth beneath me. Finally, the group came into view—a disciplined line of riders clad in the steel of a formal military. As the soldiers drew closer, the thunder of their approach slowed to a rhythmic trot, and then a heavy walk, before they finally came to a halt just a few meters from the site of the slaughter.
“Oh, gods. What is this?”
The man who appeared to be the leader of the contingent spoke with a voice that carried the weight of someone who had seen combat, yet even he sounded breathless at the scale of the carnage. He didn't wait for an answer before dismounting, his heavy boots clanking against the gravel. Following his lead, the other riders dismounted in unison, their eyes wide as they took in the piles of bodies and the overturned carriages.
***
Nareth Valmorin
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Status: Normal
Equipment:
Two-handed Steel Sword?
Steel Breastplate
Steel Gloves?
Steel Helmet
Steel Footwear?
Silver Amulet?
Silver Ring?
Job: Knight Lvl 10
***
He was a knight, a step above the common warrior, and the twenty men flanking him were all career soldiers. I watched them fan out, their discipline momentarily wavering as they looked around with raw horror etched into their features. It was a natural reaction; the mountain pass looked less like a road and more like a scene from a grisly horror movie, with seventy lives extinguished in a narrow strip of dirt. The knight, Nareth, remained noticeably calmer than his subordinates, but even through his professional mask, I could see he was deeply uneasy. The air here was heavy with the copper scent of blood and the oppressive silence of the dead.
As Nareth stepped closer, his boots crunching near the mangled corpse of a bandit, he finally spotted me. His reaction was instantaneous. He pivoted, his hand flying to the hilt of his two-handed steel sword. He pulled the blade just enough to let the steel catch the light, but he did not unsheathe it completely. It was a measured, defensive posture. I didn’t take it to heart; given the circumstances, I would have done exactly the same thing. To him, I was a blood-splattered stranger sitting amidst a graveyard.
“I am no enemy, please relax.”
I spoke clearly, making sure my voice didn't waver. I slowly raised my hands into the air, keeping them open and visible, and looked Nareth directly in his grey eyes. I wanted him to see that the "monster" who had done this was currently a man who had no fight left in him. Seeing my compliance and my lack of a weapon in hand, he lowered his guard a fraction and let his sword slide back into its scabbard with a sharp, metallic click.
“I am a knight from the city of Velshara. I came here to respond to the signal from an alarm cup,” he announced. His voice was stern and distant, possessed of the practiced authority of an officer. Even so, I felt no immediate malice from him—only the wary caution of a man doing his duty. “Please drop your weapon and state your name.”
“Okay. Cling! …My name is Han.”
I moved with deliberate slowness, reaching down to unsheathe my sword with two fingers. I tossed it lightly across the gravel, letting it land a few meters in front of me where his men could see it. I kept my right hand raised throughout the process. I stood there, waiting to see how the gears of this world’s law would turn.
Seeing that I was fully disarmed, Nareth reached up and unlatched his steel helmet. As he pulled it off, a cascade of long blonde hair swayed in the mountain breeze. His grey eyes were sharp and analytical, scanning me for any sign of a lie. Meanwhile, the other soldiers moved in a coordinated circle, surrounding me completely. I didn't resist or show any discomfort. I had nowhere else to go, and I was far too tired to play the part of a fugitive.
“Tell me what happened here,” Nareth commanded. He paused, his gaze lingering briefly on the broken bodies of the two merchants who had hired us. “Are you the sole survivor here?”
I told him the story, leaving nothing out. I started from the beginning in Targashar, our departure toward Darsalan, and the moment we encountered the smaller caravan already under siege. I explained the merchant’s greed and our collective decision to intervene, the brutal efficiency of the first wave of bandits, and the terrifying second ambush that had trapped us in a pincer. I described how the battle had devolved into a desperate massacre where we were overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and finally, how I had watched every last one of my comrades lose their lives—including Namo, my slave.
“This is quite a detailed narration. I am glad that you did not hide anything. It could even be said that you are being exceedingly honest,” Nareth remarked. His voice had lost some of its edge, replaced by a subtle tone of gratitude and a touch of pity. “Uh, …umm, my condolences for your losses. It is hard to see someone who would be sad over their slaves.”
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He looked at me with a soft expression, one that suggested he was genuinely moved. I felt a pang of confusion. Had I really let that much of my internal state show? I knew I was sorry about Namo, and the weight of his death felt like a leaden stone in my gut, but I hadn't realized a total stranger would be able to read that grief on my face.
“Thanks for your condolences,” I replied, my voice a strange mix of sarcasm and genuine affection. “I paid quite a bit of money to buy him, you see. But we spent a bit of time together. So, even though he was not a person you could bond easily with, it was still hard to see him die in front of you.”
I meant every word. The "weirdness" of watching someone you knew die was a heavy truth that was hard to shake off. However, the presence of the knight and his soldiers provided a much-needed distraction, grounding me in the reality of the legal process that was about to follow.
“I understand,” Nareth said, his professional demeanor returning. “Then, let me explain the process we will be following from now on. We first will need you to show your Intelligence Card for us to see if you are related to the bandits or not.”
It was a sensible precaution. There was a high probability that the last survivor of such a lopsided fight would either be the most dangerous bandit of the lot or a plunderer who had swooped in to clean the bones of the dead.
“After that,” Nareth continued, “we will separate the belongings of the people here. If there are any relatives to inherit those things, we will let them get those things. If they don’t have someone like that, those belongings would belong to the Lord of the area where they died.”
I nodded. It was a reasonable system, even if I suspected it was rife with corruption. In a world like this, finding the next of kin for a traveling merchant wasn't as simple as a phone call. I was sure some of the higher-value goods would "vanish" into greedy pockets, but for a survivor in my position, it was better than being executed on the spot.
“If you are the owner of the slave you talked about, his belongings will be given to you,” Nareth added. “As for the loot from the bandits, it would be taken by their captor normally. But since you are the only one remaining from the opposite side, all loot from bandits and bounties, if there are any, will go to you.”
I looked over at Namo’s body. He didn't have much—just the iron sword and shield I had bought for him and some leather gear that was now shredded and blood-soaked. As for the bandits, their equipment was likely rusted iron and cheap leather, but there were enough of them that the quantity alone would fetch a decent price. There were also the bounties. If even a few of these men were wanted criminals, the sum could be significant. However, the real prize remained hidden in my inventory: the platinum and gold coins I had salvaged from the merchants. I knew enough about human nature to know that if the soldiers found a platinum coin, it would never make its way back to the merchant's family. It was safer with me.
“Okay. Here is my Intelligence Card. Intelligence Card, open!”
***
Han
Race: Human
Age: 20
Sex: Male
Job: Swordsman
Citizenship: Targonia Kingdom
Status: Freeman
***
Nareth leaned in to inspect the translucent window floating in the air. “Okay. There is no way you won’t have a criminal job after killing these innocent people.”
Seeing the word Swordsman in the job slot seemed to clear the last of their doubts. If I had been the aggressor or a common thief, the system would have forcefully rebranded me the moment the crime was committed. With my status as a freeman confirmed, the tension in the air evaporated.
The soldiers then began the grim, laborious task of cleaning the road. They moved from body to body, stripping the bandits of their weapons and armor while collecting the Intelligence Cards from my fallen allies to serve as a census of the dead. They loaded the scavenged equipment into the remaining carriages, their movements efficient but somber.
Then came the burials. They began digging a massive, wide pit for the guards and merchants. As I watched them work, I realized there were no signs of a religious ceremony—no priests to give a last rite, no headstones, and no markers with "R.I.P." carved into them. This world’s culture seemed to view the afterlife with a pragmatic detachment; they didn't show their grief through markers. They simply returned the bodies to the earth.
I didn't just watch. I picked up a shovel and helped them dig the communal grave. I felt a strange sense of duty toward Kaelen, Selvia, and the others. I had fought beside them during their final moments, and it felt right to contribute to their final rest. When the pit was deep enough, the soldiers laid the corpses side by side. I walked over to Namo one last time. I took back the iron shield and the sword I had bought for him, but I didn't touch his other belongings. They were part of his story, and they were useless now. I stood by as Nareth performed a final check on Namo’s card.
***
Namo
Race: Catkin
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Job: Beast Warrior
Citizenship: Targonia Kingdom
Status: Slave
Master: Han
***
As the dirt began to fall over the bodies, I felt a heavy, hollow sensation. I don't know what kind of faith I held in my previous life on Earth, but I found myself hoping that if some part of a person starts a new journey after their heart stops, Namo was finding something better than the life of a slave.
The bandits were handled with far less ceremony. The soldiers dug a much smaller, shallower hole nearby and threw the bodies in randomly, barely covering them with enough soil to prevent the scent of decay from drawing predators toward the city. It was a cold, practical end for men who had lived by the sword.
After the short, silent funeral, the soldiers dispersed to take control of the carriages. To my relief, the horses had remained unharmed during the skirmish. The bandits had likely left them alive so they could make a quick getaway with the loot, a decision that now allowed the soldiers to salvage the caravan. I wondered briefly if Nareth and his men were genuinely intent on finding the merchants' relatives, or if the "big fat fish" of their inheritance would simply disappear into the coffers of Velshara’s Lord.
I didn't ask. I simply climbed onto one of the carriages, finding a spot where I wouldn't stand out. I sat in the shadows of the trade goods, watching the mountain pass recede behind us as we began the slow journey toward the city. I closed my eyes and waited for the sound of the wheels on the road to lull me into a restless silence.
[Edited]
