My sword was already in my hand as I charged forward.

  No Virel. No armor. I didn't want to reveal that to them. Not yet. Not unless I absolutely had to.

  But even without Virel's enhancement, I was strong. Way stronger than when I'd first arrived in this world. The levels, the stats, the experience—all of it had pushed me to what felt like early B-rank strength. Against these bandits, where the strongest looked maybe C-rank at best, it was more than enough.

  The first bandit to reach me swung his sword in a wild arc. I sidestepped, brought my blade up, and cut through his guard. He went down clutching his side.

  Two more came at me from different angles. I blocked one strike, felt the impact jar through my arms, then kicked the second bandit in the chest hard enough to send him sprawling.

  Derrick and the others followed my lead, surging forward with renewed confidence. Having someone charge first, seemed to snap them out of their shock.

  Nox was beside me in an instant, his massive jaws closing around another bandit's arm. The man screamed as Nox dragged him down and shook him like prey.

  "Shoot them! Shoot them!" the leader was screaming from the back.

  More arrows flew from the trees. I heard them whistle past, felt one graze my shoulder, drawing a line of hot pain. Another caught me across the thigh, cutting deep but not hitting anything vital.

  I gritted my teeth against the pain and kept moving. The wounds hurt, but they weren't serious. And I could feel my regeneration already working, knitting the flesh back together. I just had to make sure no one from the caravan noticed.

  A bandit with a spear thrust at me. I knocked the point aside with my sword and closed the distance, driving my blade through his shoulder. He dropped his weapon and fell.

  Behind me, one of the guards cried out. I glanced back to see him go down, an arrow in his leg. But the other guards were holding their own, working together to keep the bandits from overwhelming us.

  Nox was a whirlwind beside me, his size and strength making him nearly impossible to stop. He bowled over bandits, his claws and teeth finding flesh. One man tried to stab him with a dagger—the blade skittered off his hide harmlessly.

  The bandit leader was backing away now, his confidence crumbling as his men fell around him and around the coordinated defense we'd mounted.

  "Fall back! Regroup!" he shouted.

  But his men were already breaking. The combination of my assault, Nox's ferocity, and the guards fighting back had shattered their numerical advantage. Some tried to run. I let them go, focusing on the ones still fighting.

  A woman with twin daggers came at me fast, her movements skilled. She was the strongest one I'd faced so far, probably C-rank herself. She landed a cut across my forearm, then another along my ribs before I could adjust to her speed.

  The pain was sharp, immediate. Blood soaked into my shirt.

  But I was faster. Stronger. I caught her wrist on her next strike, twisted hard, and drove my sword through her chest. She made a choking sound and collapsed.

  I glanced down at my injuries. The cuts were already closing, the bleeding slowing. Good. Just had to keep moving, keep everyone's attention on the fight, not on me.

  Derrick finished off his opponent and moved to help Noel, who was struggling against a larger bandit. Together they brought the man down.

  The leader was running now, heading for the deeper forest.

  "Nox, get him!"

  The great wolf launched himself forward, covering the distance in seconds. He tackled the leader from behind, driving him into the ground. The man screamed as Nox's jaws closed around his shoulder.

  I walked over, breathing hard, my sword still raised. Around me, the guards were finishing off the last of the bandits who hadn't fled.

  The leader was trying to crawl away, Nox's weight pinning him down. "Wait! Wait, please! We can negotiate! I have—”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I didn't let him finish before I brought my sword down. He jerked once, then went still.

  Nox released him and stepped back, blood on his muzzle.

  I stood there for a moment, catching my breath. The forest was quiet now except for the groans of the wounded and the sound of a few bandits crashing through the undergrowth as they fled.

  I looked down at myself. My clothes were torn, blood-soaked. But underneath, the wounds were nearly healed. Just faint pink lines where the cuts had been.

  I quickly adjusted my shirt, covering the worst of it, making sure nothing obvious showed.

  Slowly, I turned back to the caravan.

  Bodies littered the road. At least fifteen dead, maybe more. The rest had fled into the forest.

  The caravan guards were catching their breath, checking each other for injuries. Derrick had blood on his sword arm but seemed otherwise intact. Noel was pale but standing.

  Hugo emerged from behind one of the wagons, his grandchildren clutching at his legs. He looked at the carnage, then at me.

  "Well," he said quietly. "I suppose I got my money's worth."

  I wiped blood from my face with the back of my hand.

  "The wounded guards need attention. Check the wagons for damage."

  "Right. Yes." Hugo seemed to shake himself out of his shock. "Everyone, check for injuries! Help the guards!"

  I walked back to Nox, running my hand through his fur. "Good boy."

  He rumbled in response, clearly pleased with himself.

  Derrick approached, breathing hard. "That was... thank you.”

  Noel walked over, looking shaken but trying to smile. "You were amazing. Just... cutting through them. And your wolf!" He looked at Nox with newfound respect and a healthy amount of fear.

  "Are you hurt?" I asked.

  "Just bruises. Nothing serious." He paused. "You're bleeding though."

  I glanced down at my torn, blood-soaked clothes. "Most of it's theirs."

  "Still. We should check—"

  "I'm fine," I said firmly. "Just scratches. Nothing serious. Help your wounded first."

  Derrick nodded. "Two guards took arrows. They'll live, but they need patching up." He looked at me again. "You took hits too. I saw that woman with the daggers get you."

  "Surface wounds," I lied. "I've had worse."

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but one of the injured guards groaned and he turned away to tend to them.

  I let out a slow breath.

  "Can we keep moving?" I asked Hugo.

  "Give us a few minutes to tend to the wounded and check the wagons. Then yes, I want to put distance between us and this place." He looked at the bodies again. "In case any of them come back with reinforcements."

  Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road. The wounded guards were patched up and sitting in the wagons. The horses were nervous but manageable.

  I rode at the rear again on Nox, keeping watch.

  The guards were quieter now, more subdued. Noel stayed closer to the wagons instead of drifting back to chat with me.

  I looked down at my armor, there were holes everywhere.

  I sighed.

  I'd just bought this before leaving Oakenford.

  Being an adventurer was expensive.

  =====

  Felix stared at the report grimly. Being the mayor of Ashborough, he'd had his fair share of problems over the years. Budget disputes, trade disagreements, the occasional monster attack on the outskirts. Normal problems for a border town.

  But he never expected to be involved in another war. Not after the destructive Mage Wars decades ago. Not in this lifetime. He was old, for gods' sake. Too old for this.

  "Are you sure about this?" Felix asked again, for the third time.

  "I'm afraid so, sir." It was a young man who spoke. Roland, one of the town's scouts. Barely twenty, but sharp-eyed and reliable. He stood before Felix's desk, travel-worn and exhausted, but his expression was dead serious.

  Felix set the report down and rubbed his temples. "Eastern Empire forces. Three divisions, you said?"

  "At minimum. Possibly more." Roland shifted his weight. "They're still weeks away from Thornwood Pass, but they're moving faster than anyone predicted. Building supply lines, establishing forward camps. This isn't a raid or a show of force, Mayor. This is preparation for invasion."

  "And Drakmoor?"

  "Also mobilizing along the western border. Not moving yet, but ready." Roland's jaw tightened. "It's like they're waiting for something.”

  Felix felt a chill run down his spine. If the Eastern Empire pushed from one side while Drakmoor attacked from the other, the Kingdom of Argus would be caught in a vise. Ashborough, sitting on the southern border between Argus and Valenhall, would become a strategic point. A target.

  "How long do we have?" Felix asked quietly.

  "Six months. Maybe less if they accelerate." Roland paused. "The capital knows. They're mobilizing the army, calling up reserves. But it takes time to move that many troops."

  "Time we might not have."

  "No, sir."

  Felix stood and walked to the window, looking out over his town. Ashborough had stood for two hundred years. Survived the Mage Wars, survived bandit raids, survived famines and plagues. His family had been mayors here for four generations.

  And now it might all burn.

  "What about adventurers?" Felix asked. "The guilds?"

  "They're preparing too. Adventurers Guild is offering premium rates for escort missions, border patrols, anything that keeps supply lines open. Crown Guild is organizing mage battalions." Roland hesitated. "But it might not be enough, sir…”

  "Send word to the council," Felix said finally. "Emergency session tomorrow morning. We need to discuss evacuation plans for civilians, reinforcing the walls, stockpiling supplies." He turned back to Roland. "And send another scout team to monitor the Empire's movements. I want to be updated."

  "Yes, sir." Roland saluted and turned to leave.

  He left, closing the door behind him.

  Felix stood alone in his office, staring at the report on his desk. Numbers. Troop movements. Supply estimates. Cold, clinical facts that spelled out the coming storm.

  He was too old for this.

  But age didn't matter. War was coming, whether he was ready or not.

  He picked up his pen and began writing letters. To the capital, to neighboring towns, to the guilds. Ashborough would not go down without a fight.

  Even if it cost him everything.