“Boss, are you okay?!
Boss!” At that moment, it wasn’t just Frieren who was stunned—the brawler’s remaining companions were equally shell-shocked.
They simply couldn’t wrap their heads around how things had spiraled into something this shocking.
They certainly hadn’t signed up to play some throwaway villain role in someone else’s hero-saves-the-damsel story.
Among the group, a man who looked like a thief gritted his teeth.
A dagger hung at his waist, and without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped forward, torn between checking on his boss’s condition and wanting to avenge him on the spot.
As far as he was concerned, the boss getting sent flying with a single hit didn’t prove much—the opponent was probably just stronger, his muscles a bit tougher, that was all.
Besides, he thought to himself, aside from Ronan, there was still one more target up ahead.
A woman.
Delicate-looking.
So…
Swish!
He surged forward in a blur, wind whipping around his frame, his eyes locked tightly on Ronan while keeping careful watch on Frieren beside him.
He’d figured he could land the strike in a single blow.
But then.
Snap.
The instant the dagger closed in, Ronan seized the thief’s wrist directly.
Crack.
Not bothering to waste words on him, a sickening crunch of bone rang out, and the thief let out a stifled groan of pain right on the spot.
Having his bones crushed inch by inch was a kind of pain no ordinary person could withstand.
And yet, even suffering through that excruciating agony, he refused to give up his attack.
The dagger slipped free, caught by his other hand.
Gripping it tight, he thrust forward viciously.
“Tch.” Ronan clicked his tongue softly at the sight.
“This guy…” He honestly wasn’t sure what to say—faced with such an overwhelming gap in strength, and the man still refused to back down.
It seemed his past experiences had inflated his confidence beyond reason.
Well, whatever.
Though he felt nothing toward these men, and the attack couldn’t have hurt him anyway, once was enough to confirm his immunity to damage.
Ronan flicked a finger.
Crack.
The dagger shattered into countless fragments.
Amid the scattering shards, a flash of pure shock crossed the thief’s eyes.
The next second.
“Goodbye.” A vicious kick lashed out.
Boom—!
The thief went flying sideways on the spot, his body sailing through the air like a kite with its string cut, crashing straight into the rest of his companions.
At the same time, a spray of blood mist erupted uncontrollably from his mouth.
Seeing this, Ronan shook his head lightly.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Snap.
Invisible heat swept across the battlefield.
In the blink of an eye, flesh, blood, and clothing alike burned down to ash, taking even the bloodstains on the ground with them.
A breeze blew through, leaving only the faintest trace of a bloody scent lingering in the air—nothing else remained.
No…
to be precise, there was still one.
Not far off, in a pool of blood.
The brawler, who’d been half-unconscious until now, heard the commotion and slowly opened his eyes.
As his gaze swept across his surroundings and he saw that not a single one of his companions had survived, his mind went completely blank.
“Wha…
what the hell?!
What in the world!” His heart was consumed with terror and shock; he never could have imagined that a simple robbery would end in something this horrifying.
Did any of this make sense?
He had no idea.
All he knew was that he was finished.
But some faint hope still lingered in him, because he noticed Ronan didn’t seem to have paid him any attention.
So he held his breath, took a deep gulp of air, and, fighting through the searing pain in his body, tried to control his own muscles to stop the bleeding, playing dead.
Looking over the scene before him, Ronan had originally intended to turn and leave with Frieren.
But just then, his gaze flicked slightly toward a corner.
The next second.
A pebble on the ground lifted into the air at his silent command, and with a light brush of his palm, he sent it hurtling toward that spot.
Whoosh!
The pebble shot forward like a bullet leaving its chamber.
It struck nothing— Clang!
A crisp metallic clash rang out abruptly.
Clearly…
someone was there.
“Come on out.” Shhhk.
A man in heavy armor slowly emerged from thin air, as though materializing out of nothing, like a ghost.
Visible to the naked eye, a hole had appeared in his armor, clean and smooth around the edges.
Through the hole, one could clearly see straight through to the other side.
And the size of the hole matched almost exactly with the pebble Ronan had just thrown.
Frieren’s brow furrowed slightly.
Such remarkable concealment ability…
Was it magic?
Or was it something else…
Ronan stared straight at the man and asked: “Who are you?
Why were you hiding there spying on us?
Are you with them?” “Or are you a bandit too?” “A bandit?” The armored man let out a bitter chuckle.
He lowered his head, glancing at the gruesome wound piercing through his own body, his tone betraying an unmistakable note of wariness: “You misunderstand, my lord.
I wasn’t hiding here on purpose—I’m the captain of the guard serving under Viscount Marco, the lord of this territory.” “Earlier, at the grain market, I happened to overhear your conversation with this lady, and chose to follow at a distance.
I never expected…” He paused briefly, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.
“My deepest apologies.” “I never imagined criminals like these still operated within Lord Marco’s own lands—this is a failure on our part, plain and simple.” “You and this lady were put through quite a scare because of it.
I’ll report the full truth to Lord Marco afterward and see that you’re properly compensated.” “For now, if you would, please hand their ringleader over to me.” Because Ronan had moved so quickly, the man hadn’t even had a chance to intervene before the bandits were nearly all dead.
In theory, this kind of violence was strictly forbidden within town limits—otherwise, the bandits wouldn’t have needed to erect a barrier in the first place.
But given just how overwhelming Ronan’s strength had proven to be, the man couldn’t gauge where he stood, and chose to yield rather than press the issue.
“Their ringleader?” Hearing this, Ronan instinctively glanced over toward the brawler nearby.
He’d been about to ask what kind of compensation he might receive, but at that moment, the brawler overheard the captain’s words and immediately realized things had taken a turn for the worse.
Falling into official hands—that was as good as a death sentence.
Given everything he’d done today, it would be either death by a thousand cuts or outright beheading.
There was no time to think it through.
Without even pausing to steady his breathing, he forced himself through the pain and scrambled up off the ground in an instant, sprinting desperately toward the city gates.