Chapter 494 - 493 - A Quite Victory!
The forest fell into an uneasy silence after the mercenary’s voice echoed between the towering trees. The gentle songs of birds that had accompanied the caravan since dawn had vanished completely, leaving behind only the whisper of the morning breeze weaving its way through the dense canopy overhead. Shafts of golden sunlight filtered through the overlapping branches, scattering patches of light across the narrow woodland road, while the horses pawed nervously at the ground, their ears flicking restlessly as though they too sensed unseen eyes watching from the shadows.
For several long heartbeats...
Nothing happened.
The mercenaries remained in formation around the carriage, every hand resting firmly upon the hilt of a weapon while cautious eyes swept relentlessly across the surrounding woodland.
Then...
A loud, mocking laugh suddenly rang out from somewhere within the trees.
It was quickly followed by another.
And another.
The dense undergrowth rustled violently as figures began emerging from every direction, stepping carelessly out from behind ancient trunks and thick bushes until more than twenty rough-looking men gradually surrounded the caravan from all sides.
Their appearance left little room for misunderstanding.
Most wore mismatched leather armour patched together from countless previous battles, while others had settled for little more than worn travelling clothes reinforced with scraps of metal strapped haphazardly across their shoulders and chests. Rusted swords hung loosely from cracked belts, heavy axes rested casually upon broad shoulders, and several carried hunting bows whose strings had clearly seen better days. Scarred faces, broken noses, missing teeth and unkempt beards gave every one of them the unmistakable appearance of men who had long abandoned honest work in favour of surviving by violence.
One particularly large man stepped confidently toward the centre of the road.
A thick scar stretched from his temple to the corner of his jaw, and a massive iron mace rested comfortably across one shoulder as though its tremendous weight meant nothing to him.
His small eyes slowly swept across the caravan before an unpleasant grin spread across his face.
"Well now..."
His rough voice carried easily through the quiet forest.
"It looks like fortune has finally decided to smile on us."
Several bandits behind him burst into coarse laughter.
The scarred man pointed lazily toward the covered carriage.
"We’re simple men."
He shrugged theatrically.
"We don’t enjoy unnecessary bloodshed."
Another grin revealed several missing teeth.
"So let’s make this easy for everyone."
He casually twirled the mace once before resting it back upon his shoulder.
"Leave the carriage."
"Hand over everything valuable."
"And perhaps..."
His gaze lingered deliberately upon the covered wagon.
"...whatever precious cargo you’re hiding inside."
His smile widened.
"If you cooperate..."
He spread his free hand dramatically.
"...we might even let a few of you walk away."
The surrounding bandits laughed loudly.
One of them shouted that they were feeling unusually generous today.
Another suggested they might even leave the horses behind if the caravan proved cooperative enough.
The atmosphere became increasingly noisy.
As though victory had already been decided.
One of the mercenaries standing near the front of the escort slowly stepped forward.
He was the broad-shouldered man who had earlier been loudly complaining about vegetables in the stew.
He rested his heavy broadsword comfortably against one shoulder before scratching his beard with exaggerated thoughtfulness.
"Hmm..."
He looked carefully at the gathered bandits.
Then let out a disappointed sigh.
"I’ve certainly seen uglier people..."
He paused deliberately.
"...but unfortunately..."
A broad grin slowly spread across his own face.
"...most of them happened to be staring back at me from a mirror."
For one heartbeat...
The forest became perfectly still.
Then—
The bandits exploded into furious shouting.
"What did you say?!"
"You bastard!"
"I’m going to smash every bone in your body!"
The scarred leader’s face twisted violently with rage as he slammed the iron mace against the ground.
"Kill them!"
His roar echoed throughout the forest.
The peaceful morning instantly collapsed into chaos.
Bandits surged forward from every direction, their weapons raised high as furious battle cries filled the woodland. Arrows whistled through the air while axes and swords caught the morning sunlight, transforming the quiet road into a storm of steel and violence.
The mercenaries answered without hesitation.
Their previous carelessness vanished entirely.
Each one stepped smoothly into position as though they had rehearsed the formation countless times before. Steel rang against steel as the first wave crashed into them, and the narrow road immediately erupted into a fierce melee where blades flashed relentlessly beneath the scattered rays of sunlight.
Luca...
Did not move.
He remained standing exactly where he had been beside the carriage, his calm crimson eyes silently observing the battlefield unfolding before him.
Every clash.
Every shout.
Every movement.
Nothing escaped his attention.
His brows gradually drew together.
Something...
Was wrong.
Far too wrong.
His gaze calmly swept across the charging bandits once again.
Their attacks were fierce enough.
Their numbers respectable.
Yet...
They lacked discipline.
No coordination.
No hidden signals.
No attempt to bypass the escort and strike directly toward the carriage.
It resembled the assault of ordinary bandits.
Almost...
Too perfectly.
Luca quietly rested one hand upon the hilt of his black saber.
Without taking his eyes off the battlefield...
He spoke in a voice barely louder than the wind passing through the trees.
"Do not use your aura..."
His gaze slowly shifted toward the surrounding forest.
"...or your mana..."
A brief pause naturally followed.
"...unless it becomes absolutely necessary."
No one answered him.
No one even turned toward him.
To anyone watching...
It almost appeared as though he had spoken to himself.
Yet...
Luca knew better.
His words had reached exactly the ears they were intended for.
Silence quietly returned to his side of the battlefield.
Then...
A faint disturbance brushed against his senses.
Not from the road.
From behind.
Luca’s eyes sharpened instantly.
A figure had silently emerged from the dense undergrowth, using the noise of the battle to conceal every footstep as he crept toward the rear of the carriage. Unlike the others, this man carried no heavy weapon. A slender dagger rested in his hand, its dark blade carefully angled toward the covered window where the Saintess remained hidden.
His attention never once drifted toward Luca.
He had already concluded that the young academy student was merely another inexperienced escort distracted by the battle.
He was wrong.
The instant the bandit stepped within striking distance—
Luca disappeared.
The movement was so clean that even nearby combatants failed to notice it.
A single flash of black steel crossed the morning air.
The bandit’s eyes widened.
He barely managed to register the approaching blade before it swept cleanly across his chest, sending him crashing violently onto the forest floor before he could take another step toward the carriage.
Luca calmly returned the black saber to his side.
His crimson eyes never lingered upon the fallen attacker.
Instead...
They quietly searched the forest once again.
The forest remained consumed by the sounds of battle as steel clashed relentlessly against steel, frightened horses stamped nervously upon the woodland road, and furious battle cries echoed beneath the towering canopy. The peaceful dawn that had greeted the caravan only minutes earlier had vanished completely, replaced by the violent rhythm of colliding weapons and desperate struggles. Fallen leaves swirled through the air with every powerful swing while shafts of golden sunlight pierced the branches overhead, briefly illuminating blades stained with fresh crimson before disappearing once again into the shadows.
Luca’s crimson eyes calmly swept across the battlefield.
His earlier suspicion had not lessened.
If anything...
It had only grown stronger.
The bandits fought fiercely enough.
They attacked with all the desperation expected of men whose lives depended upon robbery.
Yet...
Nothing about them resembled trained infiltrators.
No coordinated formations.
No concealed signals.
No one directing the battle from the shadows.
No hidden assassin waiting for the perfect opportunity after the first distraction.
Everything appeared...
Ordinary.
Too ordinary.
Another bandit suddenly lunged toward him, roaring loudly as he swung a heavy axe straight toward Luca’s shoulder.
Luca didn’t even look surprised.
His black saber moved with quiet precision.
Rather than meeting the tremendous swing head-on, the slender blade slid gently along the wooden shaft of the axe before subtly altering its trajectory. The heavy weapon whistled harmlessly past Luca’s body, its owner stumbling slightly as his own momentum carried him forward.
Before the man could recover...
Luca calmly stepped inside his guard.
The pommel of the saber struck sharply against the bandit’s wrist.
The axe immediately slipped from numb fingers.
Without wasting a single movement, Luca rotated his wrist.
The black blade described a short, clean arc through the morning air.
The bandit collapsed before he even realised he had already been defeated.
Another charged almost immediately.
This one wielded a broad curved sword while shouting incoherent threats, his attack relying entirely upon brute force rather than proper technique.
Luca quietly sidestepped.
The curved blade crashed into empty air.
His own saber flashed once.
Then twice.
The first strike redirected the incoming weapon completely off balance.
The second ended the confrontation before the bandit could even attempt another swing.
A third attacker tried exploiting Luca’s exposed flank.
His spear thrust forward with surprising speed, aiming directly toward Luca’s ribs.
Luca calmly shifted his footing.
The spearhead passed scarcely an inch from his academy cloak.
His free hand immediately grasped the wooden shaft.
A single sharp pull disrupted the spearman’s balance.
The man lurched helplessly forward.
The black saber moved once again.
One clean motion.
No wasted strength.
No unnecessary flourish.
The spearman crumpled silently onto the forest floor.
Another pair rushed him together.
One from the front.
One from behind.
Neither realised...
That Luca had already perceived both of them long before they committed themselves to the attack.
His body flowed naturally between their strikes, each movement connecting seamlessly with the next as though he were dancing rather than fighting. His black saber never paused, weaving elegant arcs through the air with astonishing efficiency, every swing carrying exactly the amount of force required and never a fraction more.
He never summoned his second saber.
He never released his aura.
He never infused mana into his weapon.
Everything...
Every dodge.
Every parry.
Every strike.
Relied solely upon flawless swordsmanship, refined instincts, and physical ability honed through countless battles.
To the surrounding mercenaries...
It was almost unbelievable.
The young academy student standing beside the carriage appeared astonishingly calm amidst the chaos, dispatching every opponent who approached him with movements so economical that they almost seemed effortless.
One mercenary found himself staring for a heartbeat too long before hurriedly blocking an incoming sword aimed at his own neck.
"Damn..."
He muttered beneath his breath.
"He’s fighting without using mana..."
The battle itself did not last much longer.
The bandits had possessed numbers.
The caravan possessed discipline.
One after another, the attackers gradually fell until those still standing finally realised the hopelessness of continuing the assault.
Panic spread through their ranks.
The scarred leader looked desperately around him before grinding his teeth in frustration.
"We’re pulling back!"
His furious roar cut through the battlefield.
"Retreat!"
The remaining bandits wasted no time questioning the order.
Those still capable of running immediately turned and fled deeper into the forest, abandoning both their fallen companions and any thoughts of plundering the caravan.
Within moments...
The woodland road became quiet once more.
Only the heavy breathing of the mercenaries and the restless snorting of the horses disturbed the silence.
Luca slowly lowered the tip of his black saber.
His crimson eyes carefully travelled across the battlefield one final time.
The surrounding trees.
The dense undergrowth.
The distant ridges overlooking the road.
Nothing.
No hidden observers.
No lingering assassins.
No second wave.
After another long moment of careful observation, he quietly exhaled.
"...It really does seem..."
His voice remained thoughtful.
"...that they were nothing more than an ordinary bandit crew."
Nearby, several mercenaries began checking one another’s injuries while gathering discarded weapons from the road. Torn sleeves, shallow cuts, and darkening bruises covered more than one of them, but fortunately none appeared to have suffered life-threatening wounds.
The broad-shouldered mercenary with the thick beard pressed a cloth against a cut along his forearm before letting out a hearty laugh despite the fresh bruise forming across one cheek.
"I’ve had far worse mornings than this."
Another mercenary rolled his eyes.
"Only because you usually start the trouble yourself."
That earned another round of tired laughter.
The broad-shouldered man sheathed his broadsword before looking toward the rest of the escort.
"Enough standing around."
He clapped one of the younger guards firmly upon the shoulder.
"The road won’t shorten itself while we’re chatting."
His voice rang confidently through the quiet forest.
"Let’s move forward."