The bandit with the battleaxe swung wildly again, his fear driving his strength. Faldir moved with the precision of a predator, sidestepping the heavy blade before delivering a swift slash across the Nord's throat. Blood sprayed into the cold night air as the bandit staggered backward, choking on his final breath.
Faldir wasted no time, stepping forward and driving his blade upward, cleaving the Nord's head clean from his shoulders. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, as Faldir turned toward the final bandit.
The last man—a wiry, dark-haired Imperial—fell to the ground in pure terror, his back scraping against the rough earth as he tried to crawl away. His eyes widened with recognition as he took in the cloaked figure before him.
"No... no, it can't be..." the bandit stammered, his voice shaking. "You're supposed to be dead!"
Faldir's silence was more terrifying than any words he could have spoken. The bandit's chest heaved as he scrambled to his feet, holding his hands out in desperation.
"The fighting style... the chains..." the bandit whispered, his voice breaking. "Thanatifóros... Death Bringer. Faldir."
The name sent shivers down the man's spine. To the world beyond the wilderness, Faldir was a criminal, a monster, and a murderer. But to the bandit clans, he was something else entirely—a legend steeped in blood. Thanatifóros. The Death Bringer. A specter of vengeance who left no survivors.
The bandit fell to his knees, his hands clasped in supplication. Tears streamed down his face as he begged. "Please, I... I wasn't part of it. I swear! I wasn't with them when they betrayed you. Lord Yulmauri... it was him, and the others. They—"
Faldir raised a hand, silencing the man with a single motion. The bandit froze, his words catching in his throat. Faldir stepped closer, his masked face looming over the terrified man. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, until Faldir finally gave a single, deliberate nod.
The gesture was clear.
"Go," Faldir said, his voice low and unyielding. "Tell Yulmauri he has a guest."
The bandit hesitated, his body trembling as he processed the words. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the village, his panicked cries fading into the distance.
Inside Yulmauri's hall, the air was heavy with the scent of smoke and stale ale. Yulmauri lounged on a wide chair, a dagger resting in one hand as his other gripped the hair of the woman kneeling before him. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow as she endured his abuse.
At the far side of the room, the woman's husband knelt bound and gagged, forced to witness the scene. His muffled cries went unanswered, drowned out by the laughter of the few guards still in the hall.
Yulmauri leaned back, his wild grin spreading across his face. "You see, this is what happens when you cross me," he sneered, addressing the man without looking at him. "No one steals from Yulmauri and gets away with it."
The door to the hall burst open, slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. The bandit who had fled stumbled inside, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
"Thanatifóros!" he screamed, his voice shrill with panic. "The Death Bringer is here! He's coming for us!"
Yulmauri's grin vanished instantly. His blood turned to ice as he shoved the woman aside and sprang to his feet. The room fell silent, the guards exchanging nervous glances.
"Faldir…" Yulmauri muttered, his voice barely audible. His hands trembled as he gripped his daggers, their edges glinting in the firelight.
He knew what Faldir was capable of. He had heard the stories, seen the aftermath. Whole camps reduced to piles of corpses, with Faldir standing in the center, blood-soaked but unharmed.
"Get out there!" Yulmauri barked at his guards, his voice cracking. "Find him! Kill him before he gets to me!"
But even as he gave the order, Yulmauri's face betrayed his fear. He knew the truth, the same truth his guards knew. Against Faldir, there was no hope.
Still, he tightened his grip on his daggers and turned toward the back of the hall, his mind racing. Perhaps, if he could escape, he might survive the night.
But deep down, Yulmauri knew there was no escaping the Death Bringer.