The adventurer at the bottom is fantasizing again.

Sauron was a professional bandit.

Of course, if you insist on calling him an adventurer, that's fine too.

After all, there's no shortage of adventurers like him.

Upon arriving in Shallow Beach Town, he immediately went to Karl to collect the bounty and then led his men to find a place to hide.

They are wanted in many places, and although they have fled to the northern border, they dare not let their guard down.

Sauron originally planned to infiltrate the caravan, kill them all along the way, and then escape to the frozen frost plains to the north with the goods.

Who would have thought so many things would happen along the way?

First, two inexplicable fellows joined the caravan, making them hesitant to act rashly.

They finally reached a safe place and were thinking of poisoning the dinner, but the merchant Karl was a difficult fellow. He wouldn't even let them get close to the pot, and the dinner was brought to them by the guards.

The rest is history.

Goblins, goblins, and short guys, working together with that seemingly clueless spellcaster, unleashed their full power...

Fortunately, good fortune favors the virtuous, and I, Uncle Soren, still managed to escape unscathed.

Those two fools thought I was trying to please them, little did they know I had my eye on them.

That idiot thought he could get away with it by secretly giving them money. Ha! I can tell at a glance whether there are silver or gold coins in the bag. Once I kill those two guys, I'll have enough money to smuggle myself off somewhere else.

Hmph... By then, the sky's the limit, and who can catch me?

Besides... there's this thing too.

Sauron pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a dark silver metal emblem, about the size of a palm, with some wear on the edges. In the center was a raven with outstretched wings, clutching a broken sword in its claws.

He stole it from a nobleman's house in the capital, but the nobleman went mad and sent people everywhere to hunt him down.

"That guy thought he hid it well, but I still found it. This must be a good thing. Once I get out, I'll find someone who knows its value and sell it to him. Hehe, I'll make a fortune."

Soren was already dreaming of buying a mansion and living a blissful life surrounded by several beautiful women.

Let me finish writing this, kill this kid, and then I'll have everything...

He glared fiercely at the flames rising in the distance.

So what if he's a spellcaster? He'll still die if he gets hit by an arrow. It's not like he hasn't killed spellcasters before.

Soren gestured to one of his men, signaling him to shoot the kid.

His subordinate's father was a hunter who had been skilled with a bow since childhood, so having him ambush the boy would be foolproof.

Seeing that his subordinates understood, he drew the arrow, nocked it on the string, aimed at the old man, and pulled hard.

"Kid, go in peace. I'll carry on your legacy and live well."

"Bang—"

The sound of the bowstring vibrating rang out almost simultaneously.

Two arrows were released from the bowstring from different directions, tearing through the air and leaving two slender shadows in the sunlight.

One was slightly higher, the other slightly lower, and they crossed each other in mid-air, each drawing a smooth arc.

The light reflected from the arrowhead flashed by.

Then they all arrived at old Hunter at the same time.

"Depend on!"

The two cursed at the same time.

"It's alright! We're two against one, and that kid has been fighting for so long, his magic power is probably already depleted, so there's nothing to worry about."

Soren wanted to tear this fool to pieces, but he still had to comfort him verbally.

"But boss, he's gone."

His subordinate reminded him.

"What?"

Soren looked around quickly, but Lorraine was nowhere to be seen beside the old man.

"Damn it, let's go check it out."

......

The lingering echo of the bowstring vibrating still reverberated in the air when Lorraine's pupils suddenly contracted.

Two arrows, two directions.

He stomped his feet on the ground and lunged to the right, rolling along the higher ground where he was standing into the scorched weeds.

The leather armor was already covered in dust from the previous finishing blow, and this roll turned it completely black.

He quickly grabbed a handful of grass ash from the ground and smeared it haphazardly on his face. Now, as long as he didn't move, he almost blended into the ground.

Who would ambush him at this moment?

He didn't remember offending anyone. Could it be that he just happened to run into some kind of robber?

Lorraine took a few quick breaths, her mind racing.

Fortunately, the previous battle wasn't too intense; it was just that the chase had taken a toll on his stamina, and he was still able to wield his sword.

So Lorraine lay motionless on the spot, letting her breathing slowly calm down, but her ears were perked up, capturing every sound around her.

The wind blew from the west, rustling softly over the charred grass stalks.

In the distance, the faint sound of two men talking could be heard, torn apart by the wind, but it sounded somewhat familiar:

"...Two against one...mana depleted..."

"He's gone!"

Lorraine lowered her head, a silent, cold smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

A sneak attack? He's the kind of person who explores every single place he goes to.

He knew the terrain here by heart, otherwise he wouldn't have come up with the idea of ​​burning the rats.

However, Lorraine didn't rush to act. There were two opponents, and he had to make sure he could kill at least one of them.

He had to wait for an opportunity, for the two people to separate, and for them to get closer.

Lorraine hid the rusty throat under the carcass of a giant rat, while pressing his other hand to the ground, feeling the tremors.

Footsteps began to move beyond the weeds.

One went left, the other right; they were searching for him.

Lorraine closed her eyes and sketched the outline of the open space in her mind.

To the right are burnt weeds, to the left are several large, scattered rocks, and behind them is the barn.

Although there was a fence outside the barn, it was probably the only way out.

The footsteps grew closer.

The man on the left had heavier steps, making loud thuds on the ground; he was probably a strong man, and I wasn't sure I could kill him.

The one on the right was different; his steps were much lighter, and he seemed to drag his feet on the gravel.

You are the one.

He slowly arched his back, his two forefeet sank deeply into the mud, his calf muscles tensed, and he was ready to go.

"Um?"

The other party let out a soft, puzzled sound, as if they had heard something.

Lorraine suddenly leaped up from the ground.

He saw a nervous-looking young man staring at him in horror.

Lorraine's Burning Hand

A hand engulfed in flames grabbed his face, the intense heat sizzling as it touched his skin.

A sword light followed.

The rusty throat pierced straight into his throat, cutting off his scream in his trachea. Blood and foam gushed from the wound, dripping down the blade onto the ground.

Lorraine's cold eyes reflected the young man's despair. He slowly placed his flaming left hand on the other man's face and closed his eyes.

"Go in peace."