Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 101: Banditry

Chapter 101: Banditry

The impact from the bandit’s heavy blow rang down Leif’s arm, the palm of his hand cracking slightly from the sheer force behind it. But he didn’t flinch, in fact by the horrified looks and the quickly spreading shock and panic he could sense rippling through the armed men the display had likely looked more than impressive. If possible he had wanted to avoid a fight, even if that outcome was more than unlikely.

Leif pulled back [Aura of Recovery], then slammed [Aura of Nobility] down onto the heads over every bandit present, the potency of his rank three aura backed by his [Charisma] attribute enough to half suppress every single bandit at once. Using both aura skills at the same time resulted in a diluted mix of both effects, the combination was sloppy and drastically reduced the efficacy of his aura. One day, hopefully soon, when he fused both skills that would no longer be a problem, but for now he would have to use one or the other.

The eyes of the bandit who had swung the cudgel went wide, he tried to pull the weapon free but Leif tightened his grip even as amber blood trickled down the cudgel’s length. Unfortunately for his attacker, using a weapon made of wood against a plant monster was about as likely to work as freezing an ice elemental to death. The cudgel melted as the infused power from the human’s skill faded away, the liquid wood flowed down the bandit’s arm twisting in such a way as to keep it locked in place.

“That was foolish.” Leif said as his grip moved to the restrained man’s forearm, his gaze shifted from the terrified eyes of his attacker, and onto the rotund bandit he had identified as the likely leader. “Drop your weapons, get on the ground. I won’t ask twice.”

A crack sounded as the sling wielding bandit who had taken shots at him before loosed a stone. The projectile whipped through the air, faintly glowing from a skill it left behind a streak of light. But Leif had felt the intention to attack build from the man who had fired, sensed the spike of glee the moment before the stone was loosed. Instead of trying to block, he simply tilted his head to the side, the projectile zipping past him by barely a centimetre.

[Grand Action] focused a considerable amount of his [Charisma] attribute into [Intelligence] making the world seem to slow. Intelligence allowed for the processing of information and stimuli quicker, and the flood of strength granted to the attribute had never been higher. His attributes soared as he let go of the mental restraint holding back [Consuming Aeons] as several things happened at once.

Fifteen opponents. Leif counted, feeling about half that many auras press against his own. They were weaker than his own, maybe rank two at the highest. Just under forty restrained and unarmed villagers were in the vicinity of the fight, though he sensed several already scampering away as the bandits' attention lapsed.

Those with the ability to attack from a range were the greatest threat, even as four men rushed forward to attack. Leif threw aside the man he was holding, sending him tumbling limply down a side street. He reached out with his will and latched onto the wall of the house nearest to the sling wielding bandit, the wall rippled, then exploded outwards to restrain the bandit. He disappeared under a tide of rapidly extending tendrils with a yelp of surprise, followed by a muffled cry of pain.

Four pairs of conjured arms struck out at the four men closing the distance. Leif stepped forward and struck out at each at the same time. An open palm struck the middle of the closest bandit, another had his rusted sword battered aside and a tap to the side of his head. The third triggered a skill and briefly became intangible, a dagger coated in a vile green liquid aimed right at the side of Leif’s hidden neck. The fourth came in low, hatchet aimed for Leif’s shin.

Unempowered by a skill, the axe’s shaft was unravelled via [Wood Manipulation], followed by its wielder having his legs tied together by the remnants of his own weapon, then was shoved away. Leif exchanged places with the intangible man, then when he regained physicality a golden fist lashed out to connect with his gut. The breath wheezed out of his mouth as the dagger wielding bandit doubled over coughing, specks of blood flying from his mouth.

A blade of wind came down from above, the cause was a bandit who had quickly scaled one of the nearby houses to gain a vantage. But the man had no aura skill, and reading his intentions was like reading a picture book. Without looking at the man Leif manifested a barrier of golden energy which briefly flickered into existence, interposing itself between him and the wind blade. Before the wind-aspected bandit could get off a second use of his skill a spear of wood punctured his thigh from below, Leif having called it up out of one of the building's support beams. The man screamed, more preoccupied with his injury than in sending off another blade of wind.

Leif stepped back, vanishing with [The Amber Path] to avoid a blast of flames unleashed from a man to his left, the scion retaliating by telekinetically pulling a lid from an opened crate and sending it spinning into the man’s jaw. He went down, but the next bandit was already upon Leif. A spear tip danced in a blinding pattern, the wielder both absurdly tall and skinny. Water twisted around the bandit’s feet, propelling his movements as the human dashed behind him.

Leif reached for the spear with [Wood Manipulation], but a skill of some kind empowering the weapon quite literally made the task slippery. Several bandits who hadn’t committed to the fight whooped as the water infused spear severed two of Leif’s conjured arms at the wrist, then the man was behind him again. For a brief moment he saw the faint hint of a smirk on the spear wielder's face, then Leif tripped the man by ripping a buried root out of the ground. The bandit’s look of surprise vanished as the man exploded into a geyser of water, his body disappearing, only to reappear ten metres away as his form was recondensed from flowing streams of water.

The spear user winced, the skinny man clearly pained from utilising the movement skill. Leif suspected it had a restriction of some sort that the bandit had violated, but he couldn’t tell for sure. He stretched out his perception, trying to get a read on his surroun-

“Stop!” Yelled a voice, the fight briefly coming to a stop. “Retract your aura or I’ll fuckin kill her! Suppress yourself or this blood is on your hands!”

Leif turned, golden eyes glaring at the short chubby man who was holding the tip of his blade against a plain looking woman’s neck. As if recognising the apparent wisdom of their leader's action, two more bandits likewise grabbed hostages, their weapons held threateningly. For a long moment everything was still, skills were held ready but not unleashed as tension built in the air.

“Fine.” Leif said with a heavy sigh. “Kill them.”

The bandit leader’s eyes widened, then he jerked his head to the side, an arrow just narrowly avoided sprouting from the back of his skull. The arrow’s tip sliced across the side of the man’s head, cutting partially into his cheek as it flew by. Blood sprayed from the wound, coating the ground as the man triggered a skill and summoned a grey barrier around himself. A second arrow impacted the shield a moment later, cracking the skills structure but not breaking through.

One of the other hostage takers screamed in panic at the sudden movement of his leader, the dagger was drawn across the throat of the man he had grabbed. The blade’s edge met a barrier of gold and was unable to harm the panicked looking villager. The third bandit, slightly smarter than the others, immediately let go of his own hostage, his thin blade clattering to the ground. An instant later an arrow took him in the shoulder, the man falling with a soundless gasp as the arrow’s impact stunned him.

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“Ambush!” Roared the leader, as the man whirling around to look for the archer who had attacked him. Several of his men did the same, a burst of rainbow light flashed from a nearby street arresting their attention. But not for long, Leif focused on [Alacrity] and dashed forward, a dozen golden arms bursting from his body, each lashing out to strike at the bandits who were still in the fight.

[Fists of Conflict] activated with each blow sustained, Leif could feel the attention of the men he had struck shift back to him as if reeled in by a fishing line. Several bandits managed to deflect, parry or dodge his sudden attack, but those who didn’t flew back with bones broken and bodies pulverised.

There was a bellow of triumph, then Olav burst into the village square, sword whirling as he challenged two of the bandits who had managed to evade, then back away from Leif’s attacks. The nomad had a wild grin on his face as lightning danced around his body, he moved like a blur, clearly empowered by some sort of skill.

A jet of water in the shape of a spear lanced through the forest of golden arms and right towards Leif, the lanky spearman’s face was distorted in rage as he rushed forward with a wordless bellow. Around him, his fellow bandits who were affected by [Fists of Conflict] making similarly aggressive movements. But other than the spear wielder, none had the levels, skills or attributes to pose more than a minor distraction. With every moment another was sent flying or had their limbs restrained.

===

It is remarkable how quickly things go to shit. Sarb thought, mind racing as he crouched, grey barrier still projected around him. Of course the masked stranger hadn’t been alone, who the fuck would walk into a potential fight that out numbered? Though Sarb suspected that even if he had been alone, there would have been little him or his men could have done. If Sarb was to guess, the man who had somehow pretended to be a healer was likely in his high sixties, maybe low seventies when it came to level. Though these things were often hard to tell.

He knew the archer was somewhere on the rooftops, the fact their arrow hadn’t been able to penetrate his shield likely indicated that they were somewhat below his own level, likely somewhere around the low twenties. There had been a burst of prismatic light somewhere off elsewhere in the village, which brought the total number of foes to four. But at the moment it hardly mattered, there was a maniac with horns wearing nomad attire rushing right at him.

Sarb gripped the hilt of his blade in sweaty hands and dropped the shield skill, his blade met that of the wild looking man. Pain lanced through his arms as the impact rang through them, a moment later sparks of electricity zapped all along his body. Just how much [Might] does this savage have? He thought, even as he was forced to give ground.

The man’s grin stretched even wider, then it was all Sarb could do to survive a barrage of sword strikes that rained down upon him from every direction. He activated his shielding skill only for the nomad to batter through it with only a single strike. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sarb thought, panic well and truly setting in. He needed to get out of here, his men be damned. I need to grab Tio, then use one of my last resorts. We can still get the job done but only if we survive.

“TIO!” He roared, mentally reaching into his ring to retrieve something that could hopefully save him. A pendant, something given to him and part of his upfront payment appeared in his hand, the power contained within causing his hand to tingle. “TIO! Get over here now!”

“B-boss!” One of his men called, Sarb turning to see fear written all across his grubby face. “He-he’s-” But before the bandit could finish the sentence an arrow penetrated his neck, killing him instantly. He couldn’t see what was happening to his brother, if he took his attention from the sword wielding demikin he would be dead. There was no response from Tio, either his brother hadn’t heard him or had fallen, it was too late to hold back now.

Sarb pushed power into the pendant in his hand, and space warped around him. [Warp], as the skill was called, was unique among low level teleportation skills. Unlike most other teleportation skills [Warp] didn’t require a pre-existing anchor in order to be used. The downside was that the destination was random, it was an escape skill for that very reason. So when Sarb vanished in a pop of air, only to appear within the dirty front room of a village homestead he didn’t know exactly where he was, but at least he was out of immediate danger.

He mentally put the pendant back into his storage ring, the enchanted item’s power had been spent and couldn’t be used until recharged. He exchanged it for a low grade healing pill, it would hopefully be enough to staunch the wound on his face. Sarb winced at the acrid taste but swallowed the pill all the same, he needed to leave, and he needed to leave now.

He shuffled over to the door and pushed it open, stepping out into the ill maintained street, almost tripping over a patch of weeds growing from between two cobble stones. He heard shouting and the sounds of battle coming from his left, so he turned and ran right. He made it three steps before stopping dead in his tracks.

Three of his men lay dead in the street, their weapons littered the ground as blood pooled beneath them. A young woman, or was it a man stood above them, their face in a disgusted grimace. Long iridescent hair flowed down their back, seeming to catch the sun’s light in a hundred different ways.

“Oh, hello. Where did you come from?” They asked in a distinctly masculine voice. The spear in their hand raising slightly in Sarb’s direction. The man was strangely still, his form partially ethereal, as if not quite real.

“Out of the fucking way.” The bandit leader spat, putting on every ounce of speed he could to blitz down the foe before him. His sword flickered up, then cut right through the man’s head, severing it in a single, brutal blow. The long haired figure seemed to flicker, as if being distorted. Sarb’s eyes grew wide, only then realising the information his skills and instincts were telling him. Then a flash of prismatic light overtook his vision, a sharp, unbearably painful sensation was the only warning he had before his head was removed from his shoulders.

“There’s no way that worked four times in a row.” The bandit leader heard from behind him as his vision swam and his hearing faded. All sensation felt infinitely far away, everything was becoming cold, so cold.

===

Samil stared down at the headless corpse of the heavyset man. He let out a sigh, turning away to get the grisly sight out of his vision. Killing people was never pleasant, it didn’t matter who they were or how it happened. He was with Leif on this one, though he knew for a fact Liv and Olav thought of situations like this very differently. Besides, as he understood it in most places the penalty for banditry was death, very few places had the desire or infrastructure to incarcerate people.

“I wasn’t even trying to kill anyone, but you guys just kept attacking the illusion.” He muttered, shaking his head, partially in disbelief. The tactic of using illusions and reflected damage was supposed to only work against low intelligence monsters, how on earth had four grown men fallen for the same trick? The man he had only just killed at least had the excuse that he hadn’t seen how the other three men had died.

The sounds of battle had drawn to an end, it didn’t take a genius to know what the outcome would be. Samil noticed something strange, so he crouched down and removed the plain looking ring from the rotund bandit’s finger, then he wandered off towards the village square, trying not to think about the corpses he was leaving behind.

“I hate people sometimes.” He mumbled as he walked past ransacked homes. He lamented that no matter where he and his few remaining family went, people always seemed to take advantage of people. But the world was a vast place, he knew that better than most. Maybe things could be different.