Chapter 22: The Bandit Camp
POV: Adam
Three days of careful movement through increasingly dense forest had brought them to the edges of organized banditry, where desperate men preyed on other desperate people with the casual efficiency of predators who'd learned that civilization's collapse created opportunities for those willing to embrace violence.
Smoke. Campfire smoke carrying the smell of cooking meat.
Adam crouched behind a fallen tree that provided perfect concealment while offering clear sightlines to the clearing ahead. The bandit camp spread below them like a textbook example of criminal organization—six men armed with weapons that looked stolen from better-equipped forces, arranged around a fire where something that might once have been human turned on a makeshift spit.
Oh, God. They're cooking someone.
Beside him, Ciri's face had gone pale with recognition that the world contained horrors beyond even what she'd witnessed during Cintra's fall. Her hand found his arm, fingers gripping with desperate strength that spoke of someone discovering new depths of human evil.
Don't look too closely. Don't think about who that used to be.
But the moral weight of what they were witnessing pressed against Adam's chest like a physical force, demanding action that his rational mind understood would be suicidal. Six armed men against two exhausted refugees—the mathematics were brutally clear.
Stay hidden. Let them finish their meal and move on. Our survival depends on not being heroes.
The sound of approaching hoofbeats shattered the forest's peace, accompanied by voices that spoke of fear and desperation in equal measure. Adam's expanded Air Sense detected the emotional signatures of people running from something worse than death.
Merchants. Family. They're about to ride straight into the bandit camp.
A wagon appeared at the clearing's edge, pulled by horses whose foam-flecked sides spoke of hard travel sustained past the point of safety. The driver was a middle-aged man whose face bore the soft features of someone who'd lived comfortably until very recently. Behind him, a woman clutched two children—a boy perhaps eight years old, a girl who couldn't have been more than five.
Refugees from Cintra. Running from the same thing we're running from.
The bandits rose with professional enthusiasm, weapons appearing in hands that had clearly practiced this routine many times before. Their leader—a scarred man whose missing teeth spoke of violence survived rather than avoided—stepped into the wagon's path with casual authority.
"Well, well. What have we here?"
They're going to die. All of them. The parents, the children—all of them are going to die, and we're going to watch it happen.
Adam felt Ciri's tension through the Kindred Spirits bond, her emotional state a mirror of his own internal conflict. The right choice was obvious—stay hidden, let events play out, preserve their own lives at the cost of strangers' suffering.
The smart choice. The choice that keeps us alive.
"Please," the merchant said, his voice carrying the desperate authority of someone offering everything he owned in exchange for mercy he probably wouldn't receive. "We're just travelers. We have coin—"
"Oh, we know you have coin," the bandit leader replied, his smile revealing the gaps where teeth used to be. "Question is: what else you got that might be interesting?"
His gaze lingered on the merchant's wife with implications that made Adam's stomach turn over. The woman pulled her children closer, understanding exactly what was being offered and what refusing would cost.
I can't watch this. I can't sit here and watch this happen.
"I can't watch people die when I can help," Adam whispered to Ciri, his voice carrying apology for the choice he was about to make.
"Adam, no—"
But he was already moving, Air Jump carrying him over the fallen tree in a leap that landed him in the clearing's edge with sword drawn and fury painting his vision red.
Six bandits. Level 8-12 range. I'm Level 11. Possible but dangerous.
"Let them go," Adam said, his voice carrying authority that felt borrowed from somewhere else. "Walk away, and no one has to die."
The bandits laughed—genuine amusement that spoke of people who'd heard similar threats from victims who'd thought courage was stronger than steel. Their leader studied Adam with professional interest, cataloguing threat level and probable resistance.
Young. Alone. Probably has some coin of his own.
"Look what we got here, boys. Another hero."
Air Blade to start. Take down the leader first.
The cutting wind struck the bandit leader center mass, opening robes and flesh with surgical precision that painted the clearing red. But the man was tougher than expected, absorbing damage that would have killed lesser opponents while his subordinates moved to flank positions with coordination that spoke of professional experience.
They've done this before. Multiple times.
The fight that followed was chaos barely contained by training and desperation. Adam used every technique he'd developed over weeks of monster hunting—Air Gust to create space, Wind Barrier to deflect incoming attacks, sword work that prioritized efficiency over elegance.
Two down. Four to go. Ciri's joining the fight.
She appeared at his side like an avenging angel made of steel and royal fury, her blade work flowing with the precision of someone who'd been training for exactly this moment. Together, they carved through the remaining bandits with combination attacks that turned their different fighting styles into complementary advantages.
Air Gust to knock them off balance. Ciri's blade to finish them.
The last bandit fell with Adam's sword through his chest, arterial spray painting the clearing in patterns that spoke of violence concluded rather than celebrated. They stood among the carnage, breathing hard, their clothes stained with blood that belonged to people who'd chosen to prey on the innocent.
Six kills between us. The merchant family is safe.
"Thank you," the merchant said, his voice cracking with emotion that felt genuine. "They would have killed us all."
Probably. Almost certainly.
"Where are you headed?" Adam asked, studying the family with professional interest. Traveling together might provide cover, but it might also slow them down when speed was essential.
"South," the merchant replied. "Toward Temeria. Heard there's safety there."
Temeria. Where we're going anyway.
"We're heading the same direction," Adam said, making a decision that felt right despite its complications. "Travel together? Safety in numbers."
The merchant's relief was visible, shoulders relaxing as the prospect of protection offered hope that individual flight couldn't provide. His wife nodded gratefully, her children clinging to her with the desperate intensity of people who'd learned that the world contained monsters that looked like men.
Four more people to protect. Four more reasons to stay alive.
But looking at Ciri's face—seeing the satisfaction that came from saving innocent lives instead of just running from impossible odds—Adam knew he'd made the right choice.
Sometimes being a hero is worth the risk. Sometimes.
[Experience Gained: 150 XP (bandit combat + saving innocents)]
[LEVEL UP! 11 → 12]
[Free Stat Points: +5]
[Allocation: +2 STR, +2 AGI, +1 STA]
[New Stats: STR 24, STA 33, AGI 29, HP 240, MP 330]
[Reputation Gained: +10 Heroic (word spreads)]
Level 12. Getting stronger. Getting better at this.
They searched the bandit camp for supplies, finding coin and equipment that spoke of previous victims who'd been less fortunate than the merchant family. Adam tried not to think too carefully about where the wealth had come from.
Money is money. We need resources more than we need clean consciences.
"What are your names?" Ciri asked the children, her voice gentle with the understanding that came from recent loss.
"Marcus," the boy said, his voice steady despite everything he'd witnessed. "This is Elena."
The little girl buried her face against her mother's shoulder, too young to understand why the world had suddenly become dangerous but old enough to know that it had.
Innocent. They're completely innocent. And we just saved them.
As they prepared to continue south, Adam felt something shift in his understanding of what their journey would require. Not just survival and evasion, but active choice about what kind of people they would become in a world that seemed designed to strip away everything decent.
We saved them. That matters. Whatever else happens, that matters.
The forest stretched ahead, green and vast and full of possibilities that might lead to safety or might lead to more opportunities to discover who they really were when everything else was stripped away.
Together. All of us now. Moving toward whatever comes next.
Behind them, the bandit camp smoldered with the remains of evil that had been ended rather than evaded. Small victory in a world that needed more victories than it was getting.
Sometimes being a hero is worth the risk.
Sometimes.
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