The mountain pass fell silent.
Even the insects seemed to have disappeared.
The captain slowly raised his right fist.
The caravan immediately stopped.
Years of experience had taught every guard one thing.
When nature became too quiet...
Something was wrong.
---
Roland stepped out of his carriage once more.
"What do you sense?"
The captain's eyes swept across the cliffs.
"We're being watched."
No sooner had he spoken than...
Whoosh!
An arrow embedded itself into the road only a few meters ahead.
It wasn't aimed to kill.
It was a warning.
Moments later...
Figures began appearing atop the surrounding cliffs.
One.
Five.
Ten.
Then more.
Nearly thirty men dressed in mismatched armor and leather emerged from hiding.
Some carried bows.
Others wielded axes and swords.
A scarred man stepped to the front.
His beard was streaked with gray, and a long scar ran across his left eye.
Unlike the others, his equipment was well maintained.
He planted his massive axe into the ground.
"No one move!"
His deep voice echoed throughout the pass.
"We're only here for the goods."
"Cooperate..."
"And everyone walks away alive."
---
Several guards instinctively reached for their weapons.
The captain raised a hand.
"Easy."
His gaze never left the scarred man.
"You've chosen a Merchant Consortium caravan."
"You know the consequences."
The bandit leader chuckled.
"I know."
"But hungry men don't eat consequences."
For a brief moment...
No one spoke.
---
Kieran quietly observed everything.
He wasn't looking at the weapons.
He wasn't counting the enemies.
Instead...
He watched their faces.
Some looked fierce.
Others...
Looked nervous.
One young bandit couldn't have been much older than fifteen.
His hands trembled as he held his bow.
Another repeatedly glanced toward the forest instead of the caravan.
"They're not united..."
Kieran thought.
"They're following him."
---
Roland stepped forward.
"You seem like a reasonable man."
"What brought you to this?"
The scarred leader remained silent.
Then...
He laughed bitterly.
"Drought."
"Our village disappeared."
"No harvest."
"No work."
"No noble cared."
"So..."
"We picked up weapons."
His words carried no pride.
Only exhaustion.
---
Several merchants lowered their heads.
Even some guards hesitated.
Such stories had become more common over the years.
---
The captain sighed.
"You know robbery isn't the answer."
"And starving wasn't either."
The bandit replied calmly.
"So here we are."
---
Silence descended once more.
Kieran slowly stepped forward.
"Kieran."
The captain whispered.
"Stay back."
But Kieran had already walked several paces ahead.
He looked directly at the bandit leader.
"If we give you today's supplies..."
"What happens tomorrow?"
The question caught everyone off guard.
The bandit frowned.
"...Tomorrow?"
"You'll still be hungry."
Kieran continued.
"And the day after that."
"And the day after."
The leader's grip tightened around his axe.
"You think I don't know that?"
"I do."
"Then why?"
---
The mountain breeze gently swept through the pass.
Kieran's voice remained calm.
"Because you're not looking for food."
"You're looking for hope."
The scarred man's eyes widened ever so slightly.
---
For the first time in years...
Someone had spoken to him...
Not as a criminal.
But as a person.
---
One of the younger bandits lowered his weapon.
"...Boss."
Another followed.
Then another.
The leader clenched his jaw.
"Don't."
"We've already crossed this road."
---
Suddenly—
A sharp whistle pierced the air.
The bandit leader's expression changed instantly.
"No..."
The next moment...
Dozens of black-feathered arrows rained down from the cliffs above.
"AMBUSH!"
The captain roared.
"But..."
"They're not ours!"
The arrows struck indiscriminately.
Bandits.
Guards.
Merchants.
No one was spared.
The scarred leader barely managed to push two of his men aside before taking an arrow through his shoulder.
"Who fired those?!"
A cold laugh echoed from the ridge.
"So much talking..."
"I almost fell asleep."
Everyone looked up.
Standing atop the highest cliff...
Was a man dressed entirely in black.
Unlike the bandits...
His equipment was immaculate.
A silver snake was embroidered upon his cloak.
Behind him stood nearly fifty disciplined fighters.
Crossbows already loaded.
The scarred bandit's face turned pale.
"...Black Fang."
The newcomer smiled.
"Thank you for gathering everyone in one place."
"It saved us quite a bit of effort."
---
Roland's expression darkened.
"The Black Fang Bandits..."
Unlike ordinary bandits...
The Black Fang were infamous throughout western Gardenia.
They slaughtered caravans.
Sold survivors into slavery.
And erased entire villages that resisted them.
Their cruelty was well known.
---
The leader of Black Fang looked down at both groups.
"You've all worked very hard."
"So..."
"We'll be taking everything."
His smile widened.
"And to prevent witnesses..."
"...We'll also be taking your lives."
---
Kieran quietly reached for the hilt of the plain sword at his waist.
Not out of anger.
Not out of fear.
Simply because...
There were some people with whom words no longer held meaning.
Hidden among the treetops...
The Nine-Tailed White Fox slowly stood.
Its golden eyes narrowed.
For the first time since leaving the Hidden Valley...
Its killing intent quietly seeped into the surrounding forest.
End of Chapter 52