"Who are you?"
One of the bandits shouted as a silhouette slowly emerged from the darkness. The figure walked forward with calm, unhurried steps.
Moonlight filtered through the branches above, revealing the face of a young man dressed in black. At that very moment, the hatchet embedded in their companion's skull trembled.
The bandits' eyes widened. The weapon suddenly pulled itself free with a sickening sound.
Shluck!
Blood splattered across the ground as the hatchet shot through the air. Like a loyal hawk returning to its master, it flew straight toward the young man.
Without even looking, he casually caught it by the handle.
The movement was so smooth that it seemed as though he had done it a thousand times before.
Amon smiled faintly as he looked at the four remaining bandits.
"Hello there."
He rested the hatchet on his shoulder.
"My name is Amon."
The four bandits instinctively tightened their grips on their swords.
