Chapter 183: Chapter 183: The Deadman’s Ego 1

    The outskirts of the Tower of Nimrod consisted of mountains and hills surrounded by overgrown forests. The roads weren’t paved and the paths were uneven. Made of dirt, the paths were cleared to make way for carriages, the carriages had to plow through the overgrown forest or else they would have to go around the mountains, encountering much dangerous game. Not to mention that the common bandits are hiding inside the forest through the use of caves and interconnected caverns or manmade tunnels.
 
The world is inherently beautiful but it was still cruel as it was. In a remote part of the forests lies a camp filled with burly men wearing fur armor. Some of them wore leather but mostly they were rough-looking individuals that were carrying wild game they hunted. The area was filled with tents made of animal hides. Around the cave, there were women in scarce clothing, tied like dogs, their eyes lacking any light. They were looking with fright at the men that surrounded them. Some covered their breasts, trying to shield themselves from the cold winds of the mountain.
 
The Camp wasn’t acting like usual in any way. It has been two days since they have tried to ambush a carriage that was traveling anonymously through the forest. Who would have thought they would meet the Smiling Swordsman and his fairy? Not only that, they threatened the pair while their precious daughter was around, they then cursed their daughter.
 
Sir Leonel Elior was famed for his smile. Because the moment his smile disappears then it wouldn’t be kidding that his enemies would tremble in fear. The fairy beside Leonel was a warmonger who drew blood in the West and their relationship started when they faced each other in the battlefield. The bandits who drew the wrath of the infamous Warmongers of the past, obviously, didn’t return.
 
It could be said that the bandit tribes were facing a problem that should have been avoided if they choose their targets well. Now, dark clouds loomed around their heads, waiting to pour water and thunder over them. It was simply misfortune that they had to pick a fight with a warband that left them alone. They have the forces but their enemy was simply a band of veterans that have been subjugating monsters outside the outskirts of the Tower of Nimrod and has been killing brigands that dares to attack the towns and villages. Their location was far from where Sir Bors and his war party was, and so they have avoided annihilation and have been able to thrive by pestering the local peasant population of the mountain area. The tribes have been able to leech off the succor of the land and was building its strength in hopes of becoming a war band. The North and West was in turmoil and if they could amass enough wealth and fighting force. They would be able to march to the war lands and become a part of the War.
 
“Damn it!” A giant of a man who stood seven-foot-tall roared as he smashes his club at the survivor of the incident. “Of all people you have to offend!”
 
“We didn’t know, Boss! We didn’t know that it was the carriage of the Elior’s! We didn’t know that it was the Smiling Swordsman! ”
 
“That’s not an excuse! You all fuck us over!” The Giant Man roared, his club pounding the back of the survivor. The survivor’s back arched unnaturally, and his spine stuck out. “You couldn’t recognize the face of the Smiling Swordsman? That bastard who slaughter our brothers back in the East? The worst of all you fools had to anger the bastard!
 
“Half-wits! All of you are half-wits!” He smashed the club on the ground. The other leaders of the tribe bit their finger, gritted, and had wary eyes as they thought about the matter with the House of Elior taking revenge.
 
The Giant Man looked at them, “What do you all think?”
 

“We cannot appease them,” a man said. “We’ve threatened the family itself. We all know what happened to those who had tried in the past! All of the labor done in because of your fools!”

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The Giant Man glared, “You dare?”
 
“I dare!” The man stood up, glaring, his hand on his sword.  “I joined you because of the possibility that we might make it to the war! To think that we would trip up because you didn’t manage your fools better!”
 
“Stand down, Brother,” The Giant man said. “Do not go further.”
 
“You all won’t have to worry.”
 
A nasal voice echoed with a seething tone as the leaders of the bandit clan argued. All they saw was a figure rising from the ground, face covered with an obsidian skull mask, and red glaring eyes that made them unable to stand or mutter. One glance from the being had caused them to be stunned. They could hear the scream of those who they killed shouting at their ears.
 
“I will be all sending all of you to hell.”
 
“W-wait!”
 
“There is no need to wait.”
 
The man drew runes and green rope-like lines lassoed around their necks. With a pull, the leaders of the bandit were hanged and their necks were broken. The only exception was the Giant-Man whose height saved him from being hanged. He took a dagger and cut the magical line, springing out of the tent. Then, he saw the appearance of the Camp that was once filled with bustle was filled with men having their bellies stuck on an obsidian pike. Some were stabbed from the buttocks, the obsidian spikes that came out of the ground were piercing through their mouths. It was a scene from hell itself and the Giant-Man could only gawk at this scene. They didn’t hear any moan or pain.
 
The Giant Man’s head rolled before he could even think of looking at the being that attacked them. The being held no words other than words of parting. His obsidian mask shaped like a skull coldly stared at the Giant Man’s head. He passed by the body of the Giant-Man and turned his eyes to the place where the cowering slaves were.

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