40 A Strange Weapon
Nolan's mind raced, desperately searching for a way out. With no weapons and only seconds to act, his situation was dire.
He tried to assess if there was any weapon nearby, his eyes scanning the ground for a fallen sword, a spear, or even a rock he could use.
But then, something unexpected happened.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, and in a blink, the nearest bandit dropped to the ground.
Before Nolan could even process what was happening, more arrows zipped through the sky, striking the bandits heading his way with deadly precision.
One by one, his enemies fell like broken dolls, obliterated before they could even react.
Nolan blinked, astonished.
Where were these shots coming from?
Wasting no time, he activated his magic.
Everything around him slowed down, the battlefield moving as if it were shrouded in a thick fog.
Only he moved normally.
He used the interval to check if any arrows were aimed at him, but none came his way.
The nearby bandits collapsed before they could get any closer.
By the third second, he let time flow again.
*Who the hell…?* Nolan thought as he adjusted his stance.
Every three seconds, he slowed time for a brief moment to check if anyone was targeting him.
Everything seemed clear, but he didn't dare lower his guard.
Carefully, he moved toward his knights' formation, taking advantage of the chaos to get to safety.
That's when he saw where the arrows were coming from.
In the distance, a group of mounted archers was approaching.
Their shots were precise, calculated, mowing down the bandits with a skill he had rarely seen.
The projectiles pierced the helmets of the enemies, taking them out with chilling accuracy, even from a distance.
Realizing the situation was quickly becoming unsustainable, the bandits tried to flee, but they were hunted down like defenseless prey.
The sound of arrows slicing through the air was almost hypnotic, like the beat of a war drum.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
The relentless sound of bodies hitting the ground resonated with a rhythm that could only mean one thing: the bandits were being slaughtered.
Those who dared to retreat or raise their weapons were struck down in the blink of an eye.
Just when it seemed the battle was over, a dull, dry sound echoed in the air.
Bang!
Nolan felt the sound rip through the battlefield, unlike anything he had ever heard before.
It wasn’t the whistle of an arrow or the roar of an explosive spell.
It was something... new.
His eyes instinctively darted to the last bandit who had fallen. But there was no arrow sticking out of him.
No. Something else had taken him down, something Nolan didn't recognize.
The knights, who had maintained their composure until now, immediately surrounded him to protect him.
Despite the surprise, they maintained strict discipline, following protocol.
"Are you alright, Lord Nolan?" one of the knights asked, his voice deep and concerned.
Nolan was breathing heavily, the strain of constantly using his magic had taken its toll.
"Yes... I’m fine," he replied, slightly panting, trying to keep his voice steady. "Thank you for... your support." His words were measured, but his mind was still fixated on what he had just witnessed.
What had taken down that last bandit?
As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the fallen body in the distance. There was no sign of an arrow wound, no indication of a spell he could recognize.
So what...?
Before he could analyze it further, the group of mounted archers began approaching.
They carried a royal banner waving high.
Nolan relaxed his shoulders slightly upon seeing the emblem.
The archers stopped a few meters away, swiftly dismounting and approaching him with respect in every movement.
The one who appeared to be their leader, a slender woman with sharp eyes, offered a brief bow before speaking.
"Lord Nolan Rook," she began, her voice clear and authoritative. "We apologize for not introducing ourselves sooner. We’ve been escorting you since you left the city. We didn’t notice anything unusual, but decided to keep our distance for safety."
Nolan stared at her, his expression impassive.
"So, you knew something like this might happen?"
"It was a possibility," the archer leader admitted. "With the current tension at the borders, we didn’t want to take unnecessary risks." She paused, then gestured toward a couple of women in her group wearing white robes. "We brought healers just in case. Do you need medical attention?"
Nolan looked at his injured wrist, still throbbing with pain. But he shook his head.
"No. I’m fine." He then nodded toward his knights, who still stood firm, some injured but still on their feet. "Take care of my men first. They gave everything in this battle."
The healers rushed to follow his order, bowing respectfully before tending to the wounded knights.
Nolan looked at the archer leader one last time and nodded, grateful for their support.
"You’ve done an excellent job. I don’t know what would have happened without your intervention."
"We’re just doing our duty," she replied almost mechanically, before giving him a small bow.
With the danger seemingly eliminated, Nolan began walking back to the carriage.
But then, something shiny caught his attention.
On the ground, near where the last bandit had fallen, there was a strange object, unlike any weapon he had ever seen before.
Some sort of... metallic cylinder, compact in shape. He leaned in slightly, his sharp eyes evaluating the strange weapon.
Could it be... some new type of encapsulated spell?
He sensed no trace of mana in the object. But before he could investigate further, he remembered Emily was still in the carriage, alone and scared.
The exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he forced himself to move.
Nolan returned to the carriage, opening the door gently. Emily was curled up in a corner, her face buried in her knees.
When she saw him, she looked up, her eyes filled with worry.
"Are you alright? Did you get hurt?" she asked nervously.
Nolan smiled, forcing himself to appear relaxed.
"No, I’m fine," he replied softly. "It’s all over now." He sat across from her, his expression calm.
But inside, his mind was still burning with questions.
Who had sent so many bandits?
This wasn’t a simple robbery. It was a planned and coordinated attack.
As the carriage resumed its journey, now escorted by more guards, Nolan couldn’t stop thinking about the attack.