Chapter 40

Chapter 40
For a significant period, the Blood Sand Bandits had operated as a large organization within the southern desert of the continent.

They commanded a membership numbering in the hundreds, and a majority of their fighters possessed the ability to channel magic into their blades—a capability that elevated them far beyond the scope of ordinary bandits.

Given the substantial power the Blood Sand Bandits wielded, it was inevitable that they would draw the attention of the desert-rooted nation of Colony.

The territory where the Blood Sand Bandits conducted their activities was, after all, the capital city of Colony itself.

As the proverb says, “the nail that sticks up gets hammered down.” It would have been fitting for the nation to move against and eradicate such a sizable bandit force.

Inevitably, when bandits linger, the nation endures some form of damage.

Yet, the reason the Blood Sand Bandits could operate so openly in the desert near the capital was due to their powerful patronage.

And this was no ordinary backing; it came from one of Colony’s most enduring Baba Yagas—the warrior, Kalman Arents.

With Kalman’s support, the group, which should have been eliminated long ago, expanded from a few dozen to several hundred members over the course of a decade.

On this day, however, Draco, the leader of the Blood Sand Bandits and a trusted subordinate of Kalman Arents, found himself in a foul temper.

“Jack is dead?”

“Yes.”

His irritation stemmed from the report that one of his men, sent to raid a caravan, had been killed.

“Ha—”

Draco scowled, his face dark. His anger did not spring from the loss of a brother-in-arms, but from the pointless death of a laborer he had invested considerable effort into training.

‘I was planning to train him further and employ him as an assassin.’
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Draco demanded, “Who was responsible?”

“It appears he was killed by a noble while attempting to target a mage.”

“A noble? Killed Jack?”

“Yes. According to the reports, when the noble invoked magic, a section of the desert itself froze over…”

“What is their name?”

“We are currently collecting information from our contacts within Colony. We should have the details by tomorrow.”

After a brief moment of thought, Draco ordered, “Inform me the instant the information arrives.”

Naturally, Draco had no intention of letting the mage who killed Jack escape unscathed.

‘I must get compensation for the wasted resources.’
Of course, considering the noble’s status in a foreign land, killing them could invite complications, but Draco was not overly worried.

Deaths in the desert were commonplace, and so long as there were no witnesses, most were simply recorded as disappearances.

And Draco was highly experienced in arranging such outcomes.

Once he identified the noble, he planned to bide his time and bury them the moment they attempted to leave the desert.

—If only ‘that’ had not appeared.

“Gahk—!”

Draco spat a mouthful of dark crimson blood, his eyes filled with despair as he looked upon his hideout.

Just ten minutes prior, the secret hideout of the Blood Sand Bandits, which had stood proudly for years, had been reduced to wreckage.

But that was not the full extent of the disaster.

The soldiers he had spent over a decade training were all either buried beneath the sands or crushed against the hideout’s walls, meeting their ends.

And then—

“Hmm, is that all?”

A pair of sharp golden eyes scanned the area before vanishing in an instant.

In a flash of golden lightning, the figure of Seolrang reappeared, holding in her hands—

—the severed heads of two bandits.

The faces of the heads still wore expressions of tense anticipation, as if they were unaware of what had transpired, having lain in ambush near the ruined hideout for a surprise attack.

Thud—
With an air of disinterest, Seolrang tossed the heads away into the distance, leaving Draco staring in disbelief, unable to process the situation.

From the very beginning to the very end—

Everything.

—

‘What… what in the world is this…?’
Draco found himself staring at the grim reaper, who was now slowly advancing toward him.

Step step…
In a single moment, the golden flash of light that had appeared had demolished his kingdom—the hideout he had constructed—and had exterminated the Blood Sand Bandits, the hundreds of men he had cultivated for more than ten years.

Step, step…
The girl with the golden eyes. The reaper.

The instant those sharp, golden eyes locked onto Draco, a primal, instinctual terror shuddered through his entire body.

Even amidst this overwhelming fear, Draco desperately tried to form words—to say anything that might save his life.

“Se, Seolrang! Do you have any idea what you have done?!”

Draco’s voice was thick with desperation. His kingdom of ten years, everything he had built, had collapsed like a sandcastle, but he had not surrendered hope. If he could just survive, he believed he could rebuild his small kingdom once more.

But—

Unfortunately, Seolrang showed no reaction to Draco’s frantic words. She merely raised her blood-soaked right hand and seized the head of Draco, whose stomach had been pierced through.

“If you kill me now, you will make an enemy of Kalman Arents! I am under his protection!”

Sensing death was imminent, Draco tried to invoke Kalman’s name as a last hope for escape, but the pressure from Seolrang’s hand only increased.

“Is it money you want?! Take it! Take all of it! Or is it tribute you desire? I will pay any tribute you demand!!”

His screams grew increasingly frantic, until finally, he began to wail in utter despair as the reality of his approaching death fully dawned on him.

“Why?! Why are you doing this to me?! Why?! Why!!!”

His voice, laden with resentment and frustration, echoed out.

In response—

“Because you laid a hand on my master. And—”

A quiet, muttered whisper reached Draco’s ears. It was not loud, but neither was it faint. Just a soft utterance.

And then—

“Because I do not wish to be scolded.”

With that soft whisper, a memory of red eyes flashing in her mind, Seolrang crushed Draco’s head with a loud *crack*.

Her mission complete, Seolrang disappeared, leaving nothing behind.

In the span of a mere ten minutes, the Blood Sand Bandits, who had terrorized the desert under Kalman’s name for over ten years, were erased from history.

***

The following day.

Alon, feeling the weariness from his long journey finally easing, received two pieces of news.

The first was that entry into the Forgotten City would be impossible for another three days.

The second was—

“Count, I have heard that the Blood Sand Bandits who attacked us have been completely wiped out!”

“…The Blood Sand Bandits?”

It was the same group that had assaulted him recently, now reportedly destroyed.

“Yes, they were utterly annihilated.”

“…When did this happen?”

“From what I have gathered, it occurred yesterday.”

“An entire bandit group is wiped out, and rumors spread within a single day?”

As Alon frowned in confusion, Evan nodded in confirmation.

“The entire city is buzzing with the news. It seems the caravan that arrived earlier this morning shared the information.”

At Evan’s words, Alon felt as if a thousand question marks were swirling above his head.

According to the original story, the Blood Sand Bandits were not supposed to disappear for another three years, and only then by the hand of the protagonist, Elivan.

‘Why on earth have they vanished now?’
With a perplexed expression, Alon tried to reason it out, but—

“I took care of it!”

The answer arrived far more simply than he had anticipated.

“You did?”

“Yep! Didn’t I do a wonderful job!?”

At Seolrang’s innocent grin, both Alon and Evan slowly opened their mouths in astonishment.

“You dealt with the Blood Sand Bandits…?”

“Yup!”

“…Why?”

Alon asked the question instinctively.

“Well, didn’t Master say so?”

Evan glanced at Alon as if to ask, ‘Did you say that?’, while Alon stared blankly back at Evan. But that lasted only for a moment.

“You said you did not want to see them again.”

“I did say that… but—”

“If they are gone, you will not have to see them anymore, right?”

With a wide, guileless smile, Seolrang nodded as if she had just resolved a great dilemma, leaving Alon with the same sensation he had felt when he first met Deus—a feeling that something about this was profoundly excessive.

But his bewilderment soon passed, and Alon, suddenly thinking of something, asked.

“Wait, so you eliminated the entire Blood Sand Bandit group all by yourself?”

“That’s right!”

Seolrang nodded casually, and Alon found himself falling into a stunned silence.

The Blood Sand Bandits he knew of numbered in the hundreds, with most of their combatants capable of imbuing their weapons with magic—hardly a group to be taken lightly.

Furthermore, Draco, their leader, was, as far as Alon knew, someone who would be able to wield an aura blade three years in the future.

And yet, Seolrang had just single-handedly slain hundreds of knight-level fighters, including their leader Draco…?

He understood that the title of Baba Yaga was not given lightly, but… wasn’t this level of power beyond what he had anticipated?

Alon stared blankly at Seolrang, who was grinning cheerfully, and suddenly recalled that in the future, she was destined to become the embodiment of the sin of pride.

‘…’
With that thought, he found his posture unconsciously becoming more respectful.

This occurred three days before their scheduled departure for the Forgotten City.

***

Around the time Alon had departed for the desert city of Colony, a secret meeting was underway in a small tavern located in the eastern part of Teria, the capital of the Kingdom of Asteria.

“So, why have you summoned me, Duke?”

“I did not believe your intuition had dulled to the point of needing to ask, Marquis,” said Duke Rimgrave, the leader of the royalist faction.

At these words, Marquis Philboid, the head of the noble faction, took a seat naturally and spoke.

“I assume this concerns Count Palatio.”

“You are sharp. I called you here because of Count Palatio… or, more precisely, the ‘Kalpha’ group that those upstarts have assembled,” Rimgrave replied.

The marquis nodded, as if no further explanation was necessary.

Having spent decades navigating the treacherous waters of politics, they both understood immediately that the duke was seeking an alliance to dismantle ‘Kalpha’.

The Kalpha group was a troublesome organization that posed a threat to both the royalist and noble factions, and it needed to be broken up as soon as possible.

In their world, yesterday’s enemies could become today’s allies based on interest, so an alliance between them was not difficult to form.

“So, what is your plan?” Philboid asked, getting straight to the point without any delay.

Admiring the marquis’s swift judgment, having already calculated the costs and benefits from just a few words, the duke responded, “I plan to involve Rosario.”

“…Rosario?”

“Yes, to be specific, the ‘Cardinal’ of Rosario.”

The duke began to outline his detailed plan for the marquis.

After some time had passed—

“And what is the demand?” Philboid asked, as if he had heard enough.

“Half of the bribe to fill the cardinal’s mouth.”

“Not a bad price.”

The two nobles exchanged a look of understanding, both smiling with satisfaction.

If their scheme proceeded successfully, the upstart Kalpha group, composed of underworld rabble, would crumble like a sandcastle.

“It will not take long. In fact, I have already made contact.”

“I look forward to the results.”

With that, both men left the tavern wearing smiles, heading in separate directions.

Only two whiskey glasses, still full of drink, remained behind on the table in the rundown tavern.