Night pressed heavily against the forest, smothering every sound beneath layers of damp, shifting darkness. At the entrance of the old bunker, Arin sat alone on a rough stone ledge, the cold seeping through his clothes. His breathing was slow, measured—an attempt to calm the hammering in his chest.

  Four hundred people.

  Four hundred lives.

  Four hundred threats.

  He repeated the number in his mind until the trembling stopped. Around him, hidden among the trees, his family remained completely still. They were waiting too—waiting to break a boundary none of them had ever crossed: killing another human.

  Arin exhaled, long and steady.

  It has to be done. Better now than living with anxiety forever.

  A soft rustle caught his attention. Then whispers. Then louder footsteps.

  “Aha. They’re here,” Arin murmured.

  Voices drifted out of the dark.

  “Roy, look at that!” a sneering man laughed. “The coward didn’t even shut the bunker door. He’s just sitting there waiting for us. What, did he give up already?”

  Another voice snorted. “Maybe he’s hoping we’ll spare his people if he kneels. Not happening. We’re going to kill you first, forest brat. Then my father will wipe out the rest and take this entire place for ourselves.”

  A third voice chimed in immediately, panicked but greedy.

  “Hey—wait, Roy. That’s not what we agreed. If you lot take the forest, my family gets a share too!”

  As they bickered over the division of spoils, over how they’d kill his family—his family—Arin’s lips twisted upward. A chuckle slipped out, then another, until laughter shook through him like a quake.

  The men froze.

  “You peasant,” Leroy spat, puffing himself up. “What’s so funny? Lost the ability to cry?”

  Arin wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning.

  “No… I’m just amazed. You really think you’re walking out of this forest alive tonight. Honestly, the only reason you three are still breathing is because I hoped you brainless clowns had more useful information.”

  He tilted his head, his smile turning cold.

  “But you’re so far up your own asses I couldn’t help laughing.”

  Unease flickered on their faces.

  “Roy… kill him,” one muttered, his voice shaking.

  Arin sighed. “Well, that was fun while it lasted.”

  He stepped backward—and vanished into the shadow cast by the trees.

  The forest fell silent.

  Then—

  Wind hissed.

  Leaves trembled.

  And three hundred intruders collapsed as if the night had swallowed them whole.

  Five seconds.

  That was all it took.

  The remaining group barely had time to scream before another silent wave of arrows erased them from existence.

  Ten seconds.

  Four hundred bodies.

  No survivors.

  When the last echo faded, Arin’s family emerged from the darkness one by one. Their faces were pale, sickened, their stomachs churning as the heavy scent of blood soaked into their lungs. Iron clung to their tongues.

  One of the elders stepped forward, clearing his throat despite the tremor in his voice.

  “All of you… go home. Rest. We will visit each family tonight. Make sure no one is left alone.”

  The children and teens nodded stiffly, some trembling, some crying quietly, and began walking back toward the village. Behind them, the elite unit assigned to protect the Marshal—the Black Owls—slipped silently into the clearing to clean up the battlefield.

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  Two soldiers surveyed the scene, eyes wide.

  “Man… I’m glad Captain Sofie stopped us when we were here 6 months ago,” one whispered. “Look at this. Arrows in their eyes, throat, or heart… every shot fatal. And all of it done in ten seconds.”

  “What did you expect?” another muttered, shivering. “We’ve all been trained by these cold-weapon maniacs. Every one of them is terrifying. Remember that guy with the greatsword who called himself a baron? Killed a hundred people before they finally took him down…”

  The first soldier swallowed.

  “Yeah… terrifying barely covers it.”

  Clubhouse – That Same Night

  Back at the clubhouse, a wide screen showed the battlefield in stark detail. Sofie’s expression tightened as she watched four hundred lives extinguished in the span of heartbeats.

  Her grandfather, Karl, sat beside her, arms crossed.

  He wasn’t surprised at all.

  “Hmph. Honestly, Karl, they’re not even as impressive as you were back in Ukraine,” he said, stroking his beard.

  “Please don’t flatter me like that,” Herman. Karl said . “They performed… adequately. At least they didn’t hesitate. It helped that those idiots openly bragged about what they’d do to my family.” I would appreciate it if you investigated their families. Somehow they slipped past your screening.” when you were rooting out the corruption and what else did you come here for?

  Herman grimaced. “I will. And… you’re right. That’s not the only reason I came personally.” His eyes drifted toward Karl. “I need more information on soul damage. What you told me on the phone wasn’t enough. We can compensate you.”

  Karl waved a hand. “No need. Just don’t bother us after this incident. The information may be valuable or worthless—depends entirely on the situation.”

  He leaned back.

  “My grandson explained it like this: normally, when someone uses or levels up a skill, the soul forms or strengthens pathways for mana to travel through. Each skill has a natural progression route. But Arin crafted an item two rarities above his current level. His soul didn’t have the pathways for it—so the system forcibly carved them out beyond wat would normally happen. That’s what caused the damage.”

  Herman winced. “And the benefit?”

  “His pathways are now extremely strong. Mana flows through them like water through carved stone. But it isn’t worth the risk—without his physique, he’d be dead.”

  Herman nodded slowly. “Understood. This information… yes, it could be priceless. Or completely useless. Either way—we owe you. I’ll send more metal ore for your forges. But I have to return before anyone notices my absence.”

  He paused at the doorway.

  “And Karl… I hope we speak again soon. Preferably not after another massacre.”

  Karl smirked. “If I didn’t vanish for years, you’d drag me back into the military. And you know I’d rather swallow my boots.”

  Herman laughed. “True enough. Farewell. I’ll also send military counselors—your young ones will need help.”

  “Thanks. Safe travels.”

  Karl watched the Marshal leave, then turned toward the forest path leading home. There, beyond the trees, his children and grandchildren walked in weary silence—knowing sleep would not come easily.

  And in the military camp behind him, the soldiers slept soundly, blissfully unaware that a hundred of their comrades would never return.