Bandit Clash (盗賊との戦い / Tōzoku to no Tatakai)

The wind on the plains had a bite to it now.

Grass rolled in dull green waves under a pale sky. In the distance, the outline of distant hills marked where the Celestine Order’s land ended, and the Crimson Legion’s territory began. A rough stone marker stood crooked by the road, half buried in dirt, its paint long since peeled away.

Twenty men and women blocked the path.

They were not soldiers, but they carried the Crimson Legion’s taste for metal. Scrap armour hung off their shoulders. Rusted plates were strapped to arms and legs. Heavy boots had been capped with iron. Knuckle guards and gauntlets gleamed with fresh dents. Dark red Seiki flickered faintly around them like smouldering coals.

The leader stood in the centre.

He was broad through the shoulders, his coat sleeveless and torn at the edges. An iron band circled his right forearm. His hair was tied back with a strip of leather, and there was a scar across his nose that wrinkled when he smiled.

“Last chance,” he said. “Pay the toll or go back to your glass city.”

Hajime stood a few paces ahead of the others, hands loose at his sides. The band around his ribs tugged when he breathed, a dull reminder that Kazuki’s Seiki had held things together, not erased what had happened.

“We already told you,” he said. “We're not here to cause problems. We just need to cross.”

A few of the bandits laughed. Someone tapped a slingshot against his palm. Another dragged the toe of his iron boot through the dirt, eager for an excuse.

Behind Hajime, Izumi watched the line with calm eyes. Her hair moved with the breeze, strands catching the light. She had tied her cloak tighter around herself earlier to fight the cold, but now her shoulders were relaxed, her weight balanced delicately on the balls of her feet.

Rei stood slightly off to the side.

His right arm rested in a sling, wrapped against his chest.

For a few seconds, he said nothing.

Then he let out a quiet breath, reached across with his left hand, and started untying the sling.

Izumi’s gaze flicked toward him. “Rei?”

“Tch,” he muttered. “Uriel must have fixed it while I slept.”

He pulled the sling free and dropped it onto the road.

The arm that came out from the cloth was bruised but whole. The angry swelling from the break in Solarii was gone. His thumb flexed once, testing the joint. The scar across the skin where his teeth had sunk in remained, but there was no trace of the damage beneath.

“That damn angel is always giving Rei the cool powers,” Hajime said.

Rei rolled his wrist slowly. “He likes returning things that belong to him. My body included.”

The leader barked a short laugh. “You talk like you think you're someone important. You Celestine types really don't know when you're in over your head.”

“I'm not a Celestine type,” Hajime said. “We get it. You are from the Crimson Legion’s side. Maybe we can work something out that doesn't involve me breaking all your teeth on the road.”

One of the bandits spat in the dirt. “You hear that, Geralt? He thinks he can break us.”

Another chimed in. “Look at them. A farm boy, a little girl, and one pale corpse. Might not even need all of us to take them.”

Izumi smiled slightly. “Little girl?... I'll have you know I'm seventeen years old, and I'm basically an adult. I'd kick your ass, you hear me!”

The leader lifted his right hand.

Red Seiki tightened around his bandits like a net.

“Take their packs,” he said. “Dead or alive. I don't care. Get them!”

The first slingshot fired.

Hajime moved before the stone reached him. His right hand snapped up, Seiki rushing into his fingers. The impact stung like someone had swung a hammer into his palm, but he redirected it, letting the shot glance off his hand and tear away into the grass.

“Guess that's our answer,” he said.

More stones flew.

Rei stepped forward, putting himself a half step ahead of Hajime and Izumi. His posture did not look aggressive. It looked lazy. His eyes, however, were flat and focused, reading angles before anything arrived.

A stone whistled toward his face.

He tilted his head a fraction. The shot passed his cheek close enough that he felt the air move against his skin, then vanished into the sky.

He raised his voice just enough for Hajime to hear.

“No leaning on Wills. This is a perfect fight for using our pure human instinct.”

Hajime let his Seiki rise a little higher.

Gold-silver light edged his fists, just enough to stiffen bone and muscle. He dug his boots into the dirt.

“Stay behind me for the first rush,” he told Izumi.

She shook her head once. “Did you forget I'm a Lord? I can handle my own.”

The second volley came.

This one rode a wave of dark red aura, each stone wrapped in a rough cocoon of Seiki. The air hummed as they flew. One shot for each of them. The bandits had decent aim.

Rei stepped around his, letting it tear through his coat instead of his skin. Hajime shot his left fist into the path of his stone and shattered it, fragments spraying across his forearm. Izumi bent her knees and let hers hiss through the space where her head had been a heartbeat earlier.

They were still standing when the bandits charged.

Crimson Seiki flared brighter as the distance closed. Boots pounded the dirt. Gauntlets flashed. The leader grinned, confident in the numbers, in the weight of twenty bodies bearing down on three.

Hajime felt his blood wake up.

“Fine. Try not to kill them,” Izumi said lightly. “They're still human.”

“I'll try,” he said.

Rei didn't promise anything.

The first man reached them, a thin, sharp-eyed bandit with metal studs across his knuckles. He aimed for Hajime’s jaw with a wide hook, red Seiki bursting along his arm.

Hajime let the punch land.

Pain popped in his skull. The force drove his head to the side, but his feet didn't move. He took the impact, then turned back and drove his own fist straight into the man’s chest.

His Seiki surged forward in a tight burst.

Ribs broke under his knuckles. The bandit’s breath left him in a grunt that never became a scream. He flew backwards and crashed into two of his allies, taking all three to the ground.

“Next,” Hajime said through the ache.

Two came at him together after that, one from the front, one from his side. He dropped his centre of gravity and met the first with his forearm, letting the blow skate off while his other fist slammed low into a thigh, cracking bone. He pivoted, ignoring the sharp tug in his ribs, and brought his elbow into the second man’s nose. Blood sprayed as the bandit spun and toppled.

Izumi didn't wait for anyone to reach her.

She slipped past Hajime’s shoulder and glided into the opening their broken formation had left. Her Seiki flared gently at her feet, giving her steps a lightness that made her seem to float.

The closest bandit swung a metal rod at her head.

She ducked under it, turned, and drove her heel into his side. Her Seiki flowed down her leg in a sudden, focused rush. He lifted off the ground and collapsed onto his back, gasping. A faint trail of petals shimmered briefly where her foot had passed, then faded.

Another bandit lunged from behind, reaching for her hair.

She shifted her weight and let herself fall backwards, spine arching away from his hand. Her palm slammed into his stomach on the way down. The breath tore out of him, and he folded over her arm. She rolled, using his body to pull herself back up, and flicked him onto his face.

She smiled as she moved.

Not a wide grin. Just the focused, fierce expression she wore when she knew exactly what she was doing and why. These were not giants. These were not demon spawn. These were men who had chosen to prey on countless travellers.

There was no guilt in knocking them down.

Rei met his first opponent with less wasted motion than either of them.

A bandit with iron boots aimed a flying kick at his chest, red Seiki building along the sole of the shoe. If it hit, it would shatter ribs.

Rei stepped forward instead of back.

His hand snapped out and caught the man’s ankle mid-swing. Seiki met Seiki in a harsh crack. The impact sent a sting up Rei’s arm, but he adjusted his stance and used the bandit’s own momentum.

He twisted.

Something in the man’s leg gave with a wet crunch.

The bandit spun sideways and landed like a folded-up lawn chair. His leg bent in a direction it had never meant to go. His scream cut through the chaos for a second before the others drowned it out.

Two more bandits moved in on Rei from both sides.

One swung an iron-weighted chain, whistling for his head. The other drove forward with a short blade wrapped in cloth, the tip glowing faintly with Seiki.

Rei tilted his neck, and the chain passed a finger’s width from it. His hand shot out, catching the chain near the handle. He jerked it once, hard, pulling the wielder off balance. At the same moment, he stepped into the path of the man with the blade.

The knife thrust aimed at his stomach.

Rei shifted his hip and let it glance across the side of his coat. The cloth tore, and the point nicked his skin. He ignored the warmth that followed and snapped the back of his fist into the attacker’s jaw.

Teeth flew as Hajime had promised earlier.

The man dropped.

Rei gave the chain in his other hand a sharp tug. The second bandit stumbled forward. Rei used the slack to wrap the weapon twice around his wrist, then yanked hard, pulling the man in close.

Their faces were inches apart.

“Go home,” Rei said quietly.

He drove his forehead into the man’s nose.

The crunch that followed was sharp and final. The bandit crumpled, chain slipping from his limp fingers.

On the far side of the skirmish, the bandit leader Geralt watched three of his people fall in the first exchange, and his grin slipped.

“Spread out!” he shouted. “Hit them from the sides. Don't line up like idiots.”

His people obeyed.

They had fought together long enough to know how to move on a signal. They broke in a rough arc, some circling toward the flanks, some drawing back slingshots again. The ones with heavier armour moved to tie Hajime up in close quarters. The quicker ones angled for Izumi.

Rei was targeted to drown in numbers.

Five rushed him at once. One went low, aiming for his legs. Two came high with gauntlet swings. The last two hung back, waiting for an opening to strike.

Rei drew in a slow breath.

Uriel’s presence stirred at the edge of his awareness, interested but not interfering.

Not yet.

Rei let just enough Seiki leak into his limbs to sharpen his timing. He met the low attacker with a knee, driving it up into the man’s face. The bone broke under the impact. Blood erupted from his nose as he dropped.

Rei leaned back to avoid a punch, feeling the wind of the fist pass his cheek, then stepped into the second swing, taking it on his shoulder instead of his temple. Pain jolted through the muscle, but his arm still worked. He hooked his fingers into the man’s wrist and turned, pulling him off balance.

The third bandit took the opening, bringing both fists down toward Rei’s back in a hammer blow.

Rei twisted, dragging his captive between them like a shield.

The blow landed full force into the first man’s spine. A harsh cry cut off as his body folded. Rei shoved him into the third attacker, and the two went down in a tangle.

He looked up as the remaining two rushed in together.

Their red Seiki flared brighter now, desperation and anger mixing into their aura. One screamed. The other kept his jaw clenched but poured all his strength into his shoulders.

Rei stepped to the side, placed a hand briefly on the screaming one’s elbow, and redirected his charge into his partner. They collided chest-first. For a moment, they staggered together.

Rei’s fist snapped out twice at one man's throat and another's stomach.

They dropped, eyes wide and watering as they tried to drag air into crushed windpipes.

“Damn useless idiots,” Geralt said under his breath.

Hajime had no time to watch Rei be Rei.

Three bandits were on him now, two with metal guards across their shins, one with heavy iron gloves.

They tried to circle him, driving him back toward Izumi. If they could pin him, they could separate her and pick her off faster.

He refused to yield ground.

The first attacker attacked low, swinging a kick at his injured side. Hajime twisted enough that the boot caught his hip instead of the ribs Kazuki had just finished mending in Solarii. Pain flashed through him, but he used it, stepping into the second man’s space and delivering a hook that caught him just under the jaw.

Seiki flared from his fist, controlled and tight.

The man’s head snapped back. He collapsed without a sound.

The third came in with both iron gloves, trying to turn Hajime’s head into pulp. Hajime met one glove with his forearm, wincing as the impact rattled bone, and turned his shoulder into the second, letting it clip him instead of landing clean.

Hajime's other fist shot forward and sank into the man’s solar plexus. The blow lifted him a full foot from the ground and dumped him on his back.

Hajime sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Bruised ribs really sucks, ya know?”

Izumi heard him and shot him a sideways glance as she ducked under a wild swing.

“Stop letting them hit you then,” she said. “You're not a brick wall.”

“They seem to think I am,” he answered.

Izumi sighed.

Three bandits had chosen her as the easier target, deciding the smaller frame meant less threat. They fanned out with ugly grins, trying to box her in. One had metal spikes strapped to his knees. Another twirled a short baton that shone with a red aura. The third palmed a small knife.

“Little girl,” the one with the baton said. “Hand over your pack, and we might keep you alive.”

Izumi tilted her head. “You should worry about your own health.”

They rushed her together.

She stepped forward into the space between them, dropping her weight as the spiked knees came in from either side. Her left hand shot up, catching the baton wrist. Her right palm slammed into the chest of the knife-wielder.

Her Seiki flowed out in a sharp pulse.

The knife man flew backwards, feet leaving the ground. He hit the dirt hard and didn't get back up.

She twisted her body under the baton arm, dragging the man around, and snapped her elbow into his face. Cartilage crunched. He dropped his weapon and staggered, clutching his nose.

The third tried to drive a knee into her side while she was turned.

She slid away, letting the spikes scrape her cloak instead of skin, then snapped a kick out, heel slamming into the side of his head. His eyes rolled, and he toppled to the ground.

She moved with the kind of grace that made it clear she had trained for situations exactly like this, where numbers did not matter as much as timing and control. Her Seiki did not roar. It shimmered close to her skin, a faint green-pink glow that flickered around her feet and hands when she struck.

Bandits hit the ground around them in uneven patterns now. Some groaned and tried to crawl away. Others lay still, arms and legs at wrong angles.

Geralt watched his numbers shrink and felt something between his shoulder blades begin to itch.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

He had expected soft Celestine knights or Verdant healers. What he had gotten were three monsters who treated his gang like warm-up drills.

He spat, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and jerked his chin at the last cluster of unengaged bandits.

“Close in on the healer,” he barked. “Break her fucking legs. That's an order!”

Four men peeled away from the group near him and sprinted toward Izumi, dark red aura flaring.

She saw them coming.

They reached her in a rough wave, shouting, swinging cudgels, blades, and fists. The distance vanished in a heartbeat.

Izumi exhaled and let her Seiki rise a bit higher.

The impact never came the way they expected.

She slipped between two blows, letting them cross each other’s paths. A fist meant for her head crashed into the shoulder of another bandit. The man howled.

She planted her hands on the ground and spun, her legs sweeping in a tight circle. Her Seiki surged through the motion, adding weight and speed.

Her heel slammed into one man’s shin, breaking it cleanly. Her other foot caught another bandit behind the knee, knocking him flat.

She pushed off the ground and rose in a smooth motion, driving a sharp kick into the third’s chest the moment she was upright. He flew backwards, air leaving him in a strangled grunt.

The fourth tried to grab her from behind.

She stepped to the side and hooked his arm, using his forward momentum to flip him over her shoulder. He landed on his back, and she dropped a knee onto his sternum, pinning him. Her palm hovered just above his throat, Seiki ready.

Geralt froze.

Her eyes were calm.

“You're done,” she told him.

He nodded slowly.

Across the skirmish, Hajime had taken another heavy blow to the side to keep a bandit from reaching her while she moved. His ribs flared with pain sharp enough to blur the edges of his vision, but he stayed upright, bringing his forearm down on the attacker’s neck hard enough to drop the man to his knees.

Rei finished his last opponent with a simple step and a hook to the side of the head. The bandit’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

Dust settled slowly over the road.

Bandits groaned among the trampled grass.

The only ones still standing with any real strength were the three who had started the mess.

Geralt’s jaw clenched as he assessed the scene. Less than a minute had passed, and half his group was either unconscious or too broken to fight. The rest were shaken, glancing at each other instead of at the enemy, measuring their odds and not liking what they saw.

He grabbed the collar of the nearest uninjured bandit and shoved him forward.

“Get back in there,” he snarled.

The man hesitated.

Rei met his eyes.

The bandit dropped his weapon.

“I am not getting paid enough for this,” he muttered, and turned to limp away.

That was all it took.

The thin thread of discipline that held the group together snapped. Two more followed his lead. Another bandit threw his slingshot into the grass and backed away with both hands raised.

“Geralt, forget it,” one of them said. “They're not normal. We'll die out here.”

The leader could feel his control slipping out of his hands. Rage sparked in his chest, hot and choking. If he backed down, he would lose more than a toll. He would lose what little fear his name carried in these borderlands.

He made his choice.

He turned, shoved off the ground, and ran.

He sprinted away from them, down the road that led deeper into Crimson territory, hoping distance would keep his pride intact. He couldn't look back.

Although he really should have.

Rei watched him turn and start to flee.

“Really?” he said.

He bent his knees and pushed off.

He didn't need to call on Uriel. He built up his Seiki within his calf muscles.

The distance between them disappeared almost instantly. To the bandits watching, it seemed like Rei simply slipped out of place and reappeared ahead of their leader.

Geralt skidded to a stop, eyes wide.

Rei stood in the centre of the road with his broken coat and healed arm, relaxed, as if he were deciding what to eat for dinner.

“You tried to rob three people for walking on a road,” Rei said. “Then you failed and tried to outrun your shame.”

Geralt sank into a fighting stance, red Seiki bursting around his fists. “I don't care who you are! I'll take you out here and now!”

“I'm the one Heaven calls forbidden, and Hell calls a mistake... yet both kneel the moment I open my eyes,” Rei said.

Geralt roared and swung. Even though every fibre of his body screamed that the man in front of him could kill him any time.

The strike came in heavy and fast, backed by every ounce of rage he had left. Rei didn't bother to dodge. He raised his right arm and met the blow with his forearm.

The impact shook his bones.

He used the pain.

His hand shot forward, fingers wrapping around Geralt’s wrist. He twisted and stepped past him, pulling the man’s arm across his own chest. In one smooth movement, he yanked down and behind.

Geralt’s shoulder popped loudly.

His scream tore across the plains.

Rei shifted his grip to the back of the man’s neck and pushed, forcing him down onto his knees. Dust puffed up around them.

The remaining bandits froze.

“Listen,” Rei said, his voice low but carrying. “This is the part where you decide if you want to die over greed and ego, or live and pursue something greater than yourself.”

Geralt panted, forehead nearly touching the dirt.

“If you try to stand up and swing again,” Rei went on, “I will break more than your shoulder. If any of you think about ambushing travellers after this, remember how fast I can come back here.”

He pushed Geralt’s head down a little harder.

“Do you understand?”

The leader’s teeth clenched. Pride fought a last, stupid battle inside him, then broke.

“I understand,” he ground out.

Rei let go and stepped back.

Geralt stayed on his knees for a moment, then staggered to his feet, cradling his arm. He looked at Hajime and Izumi, then at his scattered people.

“Pick up whoever can walk,” he said hoarsely. “We're done here.”

No one argued.

They moved through the field of fallen bandits with the careful urgency of those who had just been reminded how close they had come to dying. They lifted unconscious comrades, dragged the ones who could not stand, and gave the trio on the road a wide berth.

In a few minutes, the border path was clear.

The bandits limped away toward the hills, their dark red Seiki dampened, their laughter gone.

Silence settled over the road again, broken only by the rustle of grass and the quiet sound of Hajime exhaling.

He rolled his shoulders, wincing. “I think they got a few good hits in.”

Izumi stepped over to him and brushed some dirt from his sleeve. Her fingers lingered a moment on his arm.

“You didn't let any of them reach me,” she said. “Not that I asked you to, but thanks.”

“No problem,” he cheered.

She smiled, holding back a laugh. “You're one of a kind.”

Rei walked back to them, flexing his healed hand.

Hajime glanced at the arm. “You going to keep complaining about Uriel, or say thanks in your head at least once? I mean, he at least helped you, right?”

Rei looked at his fingers, then at the horizon.

“He did it for himself, not for me,” he said. “I'm not thanking him for that.”

Izumi watched his face. “Even so, it helped.”

“It made it easier to break a toll collector’s shoulder,” Rei said. “He'll take whatever justification that gives him.”

Hajime chuckled, then winced again and pressed a hand lightly to his ribs.

Izumi’s expression softened. “You need to sit for a bit before we keep going.”

“We're close now,” Hajime said. “If we stop every time something aches, we will never make it to Barakos.”

Rei nodded toward the crooked border marker. “Redforge should be less than an hour from here.”

“Assuming we don't run into more bandits,” Izumi said.

Rei shrugged. “I have a feeling bandits will stay clear after the message I gave Geralt.”

Izumi looked down the road where the bandits had vanished, then back toward the Celestine lands behind them. The air here felt different, heavier in a way that had nothing to do with Seiki. The Crimson Legion’s presence lay ahead like a storm front.

They walked past the stone marker and into Crimson territory.

The plains didn't change all at once, but the feeling did. The wind carried a different scent now, something metallic and sharp. Somewhere beyond the low hills, hammers rang on iron. The promise of a city that respected strength more than crowns awaited.

Behind them, the Celestine Order’s lands stretched back toward a broken Solarii that was trying to stand again.

Ahead, Redforge and the Crimson Legion waited, watching to see what three strangers would bring to their gates.