Chapter 132: “When Strength Fails ☆ The Worst Nightmare Arrives
The first bandit lunged fast, his hand snapping around Fran’s slender arm before she could strike again. Her dagger sliced forward, but the man twisted his body just enough for the blade to miss, his laughter ringing cruelly. "Woops.... I won’t let it hit me, little kitty! Hahahaha!"
With one rough jerk, he pinned both of her wrists together in his massive grip and shoved her back against his chest. Fran kicked, her sandals slamming against his shin, but his strength was overwhelming. She hissed, writhing like a cornered cat, her tail lashing in fury. "Let me go!"
Her struggles only made the bandit chuckle deeper. "Ohhh, Feisty, feisty kitty...., they’ll pay double for you muahhhh hahahha!!."
"Fran!" Dila’s voice cracked, fear and anger boiling inside her chest. Her hands flew to her staff — useless without magic, nothing more than polished white metal. Still, she clenched it tight and swung it up like a weapon but a bit more heavy. Her legs carried her forward before she could think, before her fear could stop her. "Haaaaaaa!" she shouted, her voice trembling yet fierce.
The bandits burst out laughing at the sight. "Ohhh, look at that! The little maiden fights back!" one sneered, stepping into her path with his blade drawn. The sword gleamed under the daylight, blocking her way as easily as if she were a child.
Another bandit slapped his knee, laughing. "A staff with no magic, hah! She’ll snap her arms before she breaks us!"
The leader’s voice cut through their laughter, sharp and commanding. "Don’t you dare hurt her face! She’s our merchandise now.... if I see so much as a scratch, you’ll pay with your lives!"
"Yes, boss!" the men chorused, straightening like beaten dogs. Their eyes burned with greed, but none dared defy him.
Dila froze only for a second, her chest heaving, her knuckles white around the staff. Her blue eyes shimmered with both terror and rage as she placed herself in a stance.... staff lowered slightly, body braced like it were a sword. She wasn’t strong, she wasn’t ready, but at this moment she was all Fran had.
Fran’s breaths came sharp and fast, her wrists straining against the man’s grip. She turned her head just enough to meet Dila’s eyes, fear mixing with desperate trust. "Sister...." she whispered, voice trembling.
And Dila’s heart clenched.
Dila’s chest still heaving as she tightened her grip on the smooth white metal. Her palms were slick with sweat, but her eyes blazed with desperation. She lifted the staff with one hand, heavier than she remembered, and swung with all the strength she could muster. Her right arm trembled as the staff cut through the air in a wide arc toward the bandit’s side.
The clash rang sharp — steel against metal.
The bandit smirked, tilting his blade just enough to meet her strike without effort. Sparks danced for an instant before her strength gave way. "Ohhh.... nice strike, elf girl," he sneered, almost amused, as though humoring a child.
The force of the rebound sent Dila staggering backward. Her sandals scraped against the dirt dry floor. Her staff wobbled, lifted high above her head, pulling her off balance. She nearly toppled, her knees buckling under the weight, breath caught in her throat.
"Ah!"
Fran’s eyes widened in horror as she struggled in the bandit’s grip, thrashing harder. "Sister! Don’t fall!" Her voice cracked, desperate, as if reaching for her would steady her.
Dila clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to collapse. Her arms burned. Her staff quivered in her shaking hands, and for a heartbeat she felt every ounce of her helplessness pressing down.... no magic, no barrier, no shield. Only raw willpower.
The bandit leaned in, his grin wide and cruel. "Come now, little elf. Swing again.... let me see how long you can last." His sword gleamed, steady, while hers trembled with every breath.
But Dila’s blue eyes narrowed, sweat dripping down her brow. She refused to lower her staff. Even if it tore her arms apart, even if she fell, she would stand in front of Fran.
She lifted it again, this time with both hands. Her sandals scraped against the dirt as she braced herself, breath ragged.
"Haaaa! Haaaa! Haaaa!"
Her voice trembled as she struck left, then right, then left again, swinging with everything she had. Each strike rang out as her staff collided against the bandit’s sword, but the man parried with ease, his arms steady, his grin mocking.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Every impact sent shocks up her trembling arms, the weight of the staff dragging her down. Her shoulders burned, her chest heaved, and her footing faltered as she struggled to keep her balance in her sandals.
"Why.... why now?!" Dila’s thoughts screamed in her mind as her eyes blurred with heat. "Why am I struggling so much? At this rate.... I can’t win.... I really I can’t.... Help!"
Her face twisted in despair, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She bit down hard on her lip, her teeth grinding as her heart pounded against her ribs like it wanted to break free.
The bandit blocking her laughed loud and harsh, his sword moving lazily as though swatting at a child. "Hahahahahaha! REALLY Is that all you’ve got, little sister?"
His words cut sharper than his blade.
Around them, the other bandits howled with laughter, pounding their swords against their thighs, mocking her every desperate swing. "Hahahahaha! Look at her! She thinks she can fight!"
Even the leader, leaning back with folded arms, chuckled deep in his throat. "Pathetic.... utterly pathetic. A soft plum elf for selling and for used, nothing more. She’s no fighter, she can fight in bed better hahahahaha!!."
Dila’s chest tightened as their voices stabbed into her ears. Her tears finally spilled, streaking down her flushed cheeks. Her hands shook as she clutched the heavy staff tighter, refusing to let it fall even though her arms begged her to stop.
"No.... I can’t let them take Fran and Me.... I can’t...." she told herself, her voice broken inside her mind, but the cruel laughter pressed on all sides, drowning her in humiliation and helplessness.
Her strength felt like sand slipping between her fingers, no matter how desperately she tried to hold it.
And still, she swung again.
But suddenly she didn’t notice until now...
Her arms throbbed with a deep, searing ache, every muscle screaming as if tearing apart from the inside. Dila swung one last desperate strike.... but the pain spiked through her wrist, and her grip slipped.
"No...."
The world around her seemed to slow. Her eyes widened in horror as her staff slid from her trembling fingers, spinning as it fell, the polished metal clattering against the dirt. The sound echoed in her ears like the toll of a bell marking her defeat.
Her hands hung uselessly in front of her, trembling and numb, as though they no longer belonged to her body. She could barely even feel them. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips parting in broken breaths as she whispered in her mind, "Ohhh no.... oh no...."
The bandit in front of her tilted his head back, grinning wide, his eyes wild. He throws and kicked his own sword to the side with a sneer, raising both hands like claws ready to snatch a helpless rabbit.
"Well, well.... looks like you’ve reached your absolute limit, little elf." His voice dripped with mania, the hunger for power and cruelty sparking in his eyes.
Dila’s heart lurched, her body moving backward instinctively. Her sandals scuffed the dirt until her back pressed against the wooden carriage door from outside. The rough wood bit into her shoulder blades, cornering her, trapping her with no escape.
Her hands curled against her chest, clutching herself tightly as if her own arms could protect her from him. But her body shook uncontrollably, her breaths uneven, sharp, and desperate. Her tears blurred her vision as her terrified blue eyes locked on the approaching bandit.
She wanted to scream, to run, to fight again.... but nothing came. Her magic was gone, her strength was gone, and her staff lay helplessly in the dirt at his feet.
All she could do was tremble, wide-eyed and terrified, as his shadow fell over her.
Then the bandit closed the distance in a heartbeat. His rough hands shot forward, clamping around Dila’s slender wrists and slamming them hard against the wooden carriage door. The impact rattled her bones, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips. Her eyes widened, trembling in sheer terror as she felt his hot, ragged breath creep closer to her face.
His grin stretched unnaturally wide, teeth bared like an animal as his eyes burned red and wild. He leaned in, his voice thick, broken with a feverish obsession.
"Haaa.... haaaaa.... let me taste you...." His words slithered, shaking with madness. "You’re so sweet.... so very attractive.... I want it, I want it so badly.... this is what women must taste like...."
Dila’s stomach twisted in horror, her lips trembling as she shook her head. Her tears finally broke free, trailing down her pale cheeks, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. His grip was iron, pressing her helplessly against the cold wood of the carriage.
"Enough!"
The sudden roar came from behind. The bandit leader’s voice thundered with fury. His face twisted, veins bulging on his forehead as he snapped, "What the hell are you doing?! Don’t damage our product.... or your head will be flying!"
The crazed bandit froze, his eyes flickering with shock. For a moment he panted like a beast on the edge of frenzy, then slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back, lowering his gaze. "Y-yes, boss...." His breath steadied, his manic grin softening into a cruel smirk.
But he didn’t release her completely. Instead, his hands clamped tighter, dragging her away from the carriage with a forced, mocking gentleness. His fingers curled around her wrists like chains as he tugged her toward the waiting group.
Dila stumbled, her body limp, her tears falling freely now. Her throat caught with sobs, her voice breaking into muffled cries she couldn’t hold back anymore.
From the side, Fran screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. Her small hands clawed helplessly against the other bandit restraining her. "No! Nooo! Don’t take her!... Us!!.This isn’t where we’re supposed to be!" Her voice cracked into high-pitched sobs, tears streaking down her cheeks. "We’re supposed to go to the academy.... right now! Let us go!"
Her cries rang through the air, raw and piercing, but the bandits only laughed.
And Dila.... Dila could do nothing but cry, her heart breaking as her body was pulled along like a fragile doll, her strength and will slipping further and further away.
A sudden voice cut through the madness, calm yet sharp enough to freeze the air.
"That’s enough, I’ve seen everything."
The sound carried from the distance, steady footsteps following it. Shadows shifted until a tall figure emerged, his face hidden beneath a cold, expressionless mask. In both hands he held twin daggers, their blades glinting under the light as he spun them effortlessly, each twirl ringing like a promise of death.
A low, eerie laugh spilled from behind the mask. "Hehehehe...."
Dila’s head snapped up, her teary eyes widening in disbelief. Her heart clenched as she recognized that figure, that presence. "Zeon.... are you just.... watching all along!?" Her voice cracked between sobs and rage, desperation trembling in her tone.
Zeon tilted his head, almost lazily. For a heartbeat, silence lingered. Then a deep, mocking laugh tore from him. "I think.... you’re damn right." His voice echoed, layered with madness and calm fury. Slowly, he lifted his right hand and pressed it against the side of his mask, fingers curling across his face as if restraining something inside him. Through the slit between his fingers, his sharp eyes gleamed like fire, locked onto the bandits.
"And now...." His tone dropped, colder than steel. "They will pay the price."
The bandits, who had been laughing moments ago, faltered. Their grins stiffened, steps inching backward as unease stirred in their eyes. Even the air seemed heavier.
"She call you Zeon? And Who the hell are you!?" the leader shouted, forcing confidence into his voice, though his grip on his blade tightened nervously.
Around him, the other bandits scrambled, raising their bows and aiming at the masked man. The creak of pulled strings filled the space, arrows pointed directly at Zeon’s chest.
Zeon lowered his hand from his face, both daggers twirling once more with a smooth, fluid motion. His laugh broke again, jagged and unrestrained. "Hehehehe...." He lifted his chin, his voice slashing through their false bravado.
"Let’s just say.... I’m your worst nightmare right now."
The air thickened, a storm of dread brewing around him as the bandits shifted uneasily, their leader’s bravado cracking at the edges.
And in that moment.... the battlefield shifted.