The silence of the forest was heavy.
Broken only by the ragged breathing of the bound man.
Arthur crouched in front of him, one knee pressed into the cold snow.
"Let's make this easy…"
He smiled—but there was no humor in it.
"Why were you watching us?"
The man stayed silent.
His eyes darted between the three of them and the surroundings, searching for any opening to escape.
Arthur shook his head, disappointed.
"Looking for a way out won't help. One of us was enough to take you down without effort."
He tilted his head slightly, as if studying him.
"And trust me when I say I'm the most merciful one here. You really don't want these ladies asking the questions."
He paused.
"So—you're going to talk willingly…"
His expression hardened.
"Or do I have to make you?"
A dagger appeared in his hand, reflecting the cold winter light.
The man swallowed.
His body trembled—but he still said nothing.
Arthur sighed.
"Guess we're doing this the hard way," he said, slowly bringing the blade closer to the man's face.
"Wait!" Matilda interrupted.
The man let out a desperate sigh of relief.
Arthur turned to her, curious.
Matilda stepped forward, her gentle smile clashing with the cold glint in her eyes.
"His balls. Cut them off."
She said it casually.
"If he still doesn't talk after that, break his knees and leave him to die in the cold. We don't have time to waste."
Arthur shuddered—not from the cold.
But from how naturally she said it… with a smile.
He looked back at the man.
Tears were already streaming down his face.
Pure terror filled his eyes.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
"Yeah… looks like today's not your lucky day," he said, lowering the dagger.
"Wait! Wait! I'll talk! I'll talk!" the man screamed in desperation.
Arthur stopped.
A small smile formed on his lips.
"Well then… go ahead."
"I—I'm part of a group…" the man began, his voice shaking.
…
A few minutes later—
Thud.
The sound was dull.
A dagger pierced the man's heart the moment he finished speaking.
His eyes widened in horror and disbelief.
He tried to breathe—
But instead coughed up blood.
His body convulsed for a few seconds before going limp.
Then… nothing.
"Let's go. If what he said is true, we need to reach the village as soon as possible," Sabrina said, her voice serious.
"But that's not what worries me," Matilda replied, narrowing her eyes.
Sabrina glanced at her.
"I know. But we can't get involved. Don't forget—we're still hiding from my father."
She crossed her arms.
"A village being taken over by bandits fleeing the conflict to the west isn't big news."
She paused briefly.
"But if we get involved in this treasure hunt in the Shadow Forest, the news will spread everywhere."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, interested.
"You've heard something about this treasure?"
"No," Matilda said. "This is recent. I only receive reports once a month—and there are still a few days left."
She looked away for a moment.
"But if every kingdom is sending teams into the Shadow Forest… then it's probably real."
Arthur crossed his arms.
"Or he lied."
"Maybe," Matilda replied. "But I doubt a group of common criminals would have access to something that important."
Sabrina sighed.
"We'll deal with that later."
"We can't get too involved."
"Our priority is the village."
She looked down the road ahead.
"We need to deal with the bandits."
Arthur stood.
"Then let's move. We might already be too late."
Without waiting, he started walking—then running—north.
"Idiot," Matilda muttered.
"Let's go," Sabrina said, chasing after him. "We're strong enough to handle this."
Matilda sighed.
Then vanished.
…
In the village—
The crackling of fire echoed through the streets.
A house collapsed in flames, sending sparks into the freezing air.
Screams.
Steel clashing.
Magic tearing through the wind.
The bandits were experienced.
But the villagers weren't helpless.
The village chief was fighting three men at once—including the bandit leader.
"No point dragging this out," the leader said calmly, gripping his sword.
"We just want food and money. You can keep your lives."
"And what's the difference between that and starving to death?" the chief shot back angrily.
"Enough."
The bandit advanced.
"You think I'm stupid? Every village chief has a storage item with emergency supplies."
He pointed his blade.
"Hand it over."
The chief blocked an arrow with his shield and dodged a fireball.
"No."
Before the leader could respond—
A scream.
From the chief's house.
His face went pale.
He tried to move forward—
An arrow shot toward him, forcing him back.
One of the bandits stepped out, dragging a woman by the hair.
"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" the leader said, approaching.
"Stay away from her!" the chief shouted.
The man ignored him.
He pressed his sword against the woman's neck.
"What do you say? Her life for the item?"
He smiled.
"A fair trade."
His gaze dropped.
"And judging by that belly… she's pregnant."
His smile widened.
"Two lives, then."
"Please… don't…" the woman begged, crying.
The chief closed his eyes for a moment.
Then snapped the chain around his neck—a black stone hanging from it—and threw it.
"Take it and leave."
The leader reached out—
An arrow sliced through the air toward him.
He instantly stepped back.
"Find that damn archer!" he shouted, looking toward where it came from.
But no one moved.
Everyone was staring at him.
In silence.
The leader frowned.
Tried to turn his head—
But couldn't.
The world spun.
And in the next instant—
His head hit the ground.
Silence.
Then—
Arrows.
Fast.
Precise.
Deadly.
One after another.
One arrow per bandit.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
All three dropped.
No exceptions.
The chaos ended as quickly as it began.
Only the sound of fire remained.
"Thank you for your help," the chief said, looking at the woman who had appeared behind the leader.
But she didn't respond.
She simply disappeared.
He shuddered.
Then ran to his wife.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes… but what happened?" she asked, confused.
He looked around.
Bodies.
Blood.
Silence.
"We were helped… by someone incredibly strong."
"Go home. I'll help the others," he said, picking up his sword and shield and running off.
She watched him go.
Picked up the necklace from the ground.
And limped away.
…
The chief ran through the village.
Cries of pain.
Weeping.
Loss.
He clenched his fists.
Then stopped.
There was a woman.
Beautiful.
Healing a child.
The child's arm had been severed—
But it was being restored.
Not just healed.
Reattached.
He froze.
Who are they…?
He stepped closer—
Then stopped.
Something cold touched his throat.
"Not another step," a sweet voice said.
He froze.
"I just want to thank you," he said carefully.
"Thank us by gathering the injured in the village center."
The blade moved away.
He didn't hesitate.
"Right!"
He ran.
"Everyone! Bring the wounded to the square!"
…
Matilda approached Sabrina, who was holding the unconscious child.
There wasn't a single mark left where the arm had been severed.
"Let's go. There are still others," Sabrina said, walking toward the square.
Matilda nodded.
"Where's Arthur?"
"Chasing the ones who fled," she replied.
When they reached the center, dozens of injured people were already there.
Sabrina handed the child to a woman.
She took them—and broke into tears.
"Those with minor injuries, step back."
"I'll treat the critically wounded first."
She didn't wait for a response.
She simply began.
Moments later—
Wounds closing.
Blood stopping.
Pain fading.
Meanwhile, Matilda approached the chief.
"It's getting dark."
"We need a place to stay."
"Yes! Of course!" he said, running off again.
Matilda watched him.
Then looked away.
"Weakness…"
She crossed her arms.
"…is the greatest sin of all."