The Familiar Gale Bandits

A bad feeling.

Something was very wrong...

In the pitch-black basement, only scattered candle flames lit the surroundings.

Metal bars surrounded all four sides, like a gigantic iron cage.

As the famed Master Thief, Hank Manan looked around at everything, a powerful sense of danger continuously welling up within him.

Though this was a prison, it was very clean, equipped with a toilet and food. There were no torture devices hanging on the walls, not even a trace of blood on the floor. Yet Hank Manan would rather return to that stinking, filthy dump from before than remain here for even a second.

Based on his years of experience, this abnormality meant something deadly was approaching.

Among the several dozen people imprisoned in the cage, aside from him, a few others had also noticed that something was wrong, their expressions exceptionally grim.

One of them was an extraordinarily brawny middle-aged man, several scars crossing his face. At a glance, it was clear that he had been through countless battles and possessed immense combat experience. He walked up to Hank Manan and whispered sternly, "I know you. Hank Manan, the notorious thief who drifted between several kingdoms. You committed over a thousand crimes and were only caught after failing to steal the Duchess of Maldon's jewels.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Heto Yasar, captain of the Wolf Hunter Mercenary Group's Second Battalion. I possess the strength of a Great Knight.

"I trust you have already noticed how unusual this place is. I think we need to cooperate, or I fear none of us will escape."

With that, he extended his hand.

Hearing that the other man possessed the strength of a Great Knight, Hank's gaze sharpened. After thinking for a moment, he also extended his hand and shook Heto's, confirming their partnership.

After the handshake, Heto's expression relaxed. He pointed slightly at the people around them with his finger. "I don't think this is simple. We may have been dragged into some kind of cult ritual. Among those escorting us earlier, I saw a familiar face. Though he had disguised himself somewhat, I recognized him because I had encountered him long ago—Salter, the Warlock wanted by the Church. They say his personality is utterly twisted, and over a thousand people have died at his hands.

"And I have observed the people in this cage. Every one of them is well-trained, capable at the very least of killing a fully armed Soldier with their bare hands. That just so happens to make them the finest sacrifices for a Cult Sacrifice Ritual..."

Hearing this, Hank's expression grew even uglier. He did not know this Warlock Salter, but the title of Warlock alone was enough to show that he was no decent sort. Among the mysterious community of Spellcasters, Warlocks had by far the worst reputation. Every one of them had blood all over their hands; calling them butchers would be praise.

And according to the information he had overheard in the previous cell—

The one who had ordered his transfer was a Prince of the Duchy of Maldon. That meant there was a high chance this Warlock was allied with the highest ranks of the country. For Hank and the others, that was absolutely terrible news.

Under such circumstances, becoming sacrifices in a Cult Sacrifice Ritual was by no means idle speculation. The likelihood was extremely high.

During his years as a Master Thief, Hank had personally witnessed the bottomless depravity of the upper-class aristocrats countless times!

Those upper-class aristocrats who, in pursuit of so-called immortality, could even throw their own kind into the pot—holding blood sacrifices was nothing strange at all.

It could be said that if he himself had not likely been on the list of sacrifices, Hank could not even be bothered to inquire about such matters.

Seeing Hank's grim expression, Heto asked, "The metal bars of this cage are made of Saya Iron, and every one of them is as thick as two adult fingers held together. Even ten wild elephants might not be able to bend them. We simply cannot destroy them barehanded. Can you find a way to open the lock?"

Under Heto's disappointed gaze, Hank sighed and shook his head. "No way. I already inspected it carefully. This type of lock was specially made by a family of locksmiths that has served the Duchy of Maldon's royal family for generations. There are at least a hundred components inside. Ordinary locks cannot compare to them at all. Even with professional tools, I would not be fully confident of opening it, let alone empty-handed like this."

Thus, both of them fell silent.

The others had also mostly begun forming their own small groups. For a time, more than twenty little factions emerged within the cage holding several dozen people.

Conflict naturally began to arise as well, with arguments and mutual provocations breaking out incessantly.

If they had not suddenly been transferred into such an obviously unusual place, leaving everyone with a greater or lesser sense of unease deep in their hearts, people with their temperaments would have started fighting long ago. A few deaths and injuries would have been entirely normal.

Creak...

As they argued until they were red in the face, foul insults pouring forth one after another, the sound of an iron door opening suddenly came from the pitch-black end of the corridor before the cage, its edge scraping against the ground.

All the prisoners instantly fell silent. After exchanging looks with one another, they all turned their gazes toward the corridor.

Accompanied by the completely undisguised sound of footsteps, a red-haired young man entered everyone's sight. He was tall and slender, flawlessly handsome, and dressed in luxurious black clothing covered in gilded patterns.

Whether in appearance, attire, or that more intangible aura, Hank had never seen anyone who could compare with the person before him. There was an exceptionally distinctive presence about him. The instant he stood there, everything around him automatically became mere backdrop, and everyone's gaze was drawn to him as though he were the Center of the World.

Moreover, Hank did not know whether it was an illusion, but once the other party entered, he felt as if the temperature of the air had suddenly dropped considerably. Even the flies and mosquitoes that had just been buzzing in midair vanished without a trace, as though they had hidden away.

Glancing slightly to the side, he discovered that Heto's eyes were filled with terror, as if he had seen a ghost. The scars on his face twisted like caterpillars, while a layer of sweat had somehow seeped out across his bald head and was slowly dripping to the ground.

Though he did not understand what had happened to Heto, Hank instinctively knew danger had arrived. He did not dare make any unnecessary movements, merely lowering his head and hiding his body behind the prisoners in front of him.

Tilting his head as he looked over the many imprisoned people, Orsaga ignored their wary and hostile stares. He merely nodded in satisfaction and commented, "The quality is not bad. It seems Salter handled the matter with great care."

In truth, he knew that Jem, the Crown Prince, must have contributed the most. But he did not particularly care about that. So long as they completed the task he had assigned, he did not care what tricks the two of them got up to. Given this world's concentration of magic power and the stage of its civilization's development, aside from some old monsters whose existence he was not even sure of, he had no need to care about any threats.

If widespread slaughter would not provoke an excessive reaction from the world and drastically shorten the time he could remain here, he would never have adopted such a mild approach, hiding behind the scenes as some hidden boss. He would have long since stepped onto the stage and done whatever he pleased.

But since his objective had yet to be completed, he did not particularly want to make any big news in the near future and draw a whole crowd of random heroes who would form a party specifically to come defeat the Devil King.

At least not before he completed his predetermined objective.

Sensing Orsaga's gaze, as though he were appraising livestock awaiting slaughter on a chopping board, a plainly featured, short and stout man in prison clothes stepped forward. Beast claw marks remained over the position of his right eye. He spoke to Orsaga with a serious expression, "Spare me. I know where Prince Lilia hid the treasure he reserved for himself when he rebelled against the Kingdom of Maldon 275 years ago!"

Over the past few days, Orsaga had roughly read books such as A Brief History of the Kingdom of Maldon, Detailed History of the Continent, and Myths of the Continent's Peoples, absorbing all sorts of information about this world. Though he knew what the man was talking about, he still could not summon the slightest interest.

The gold, silver, and treasures humans cherished held no value whatsoever in the Bottomless Abyss. They were not as practical as a few corpses.

So he shook his head and said calmly in a somewhat hoarse voice, "Prince Lilia? I have no interest in his so-called treasure. Those things are meaningless."

The middle-aged man did not become angry upon hearing this. He merely looked seriously into Orsaga's eyes, then lowered his voice after a moment of thought. "The captain of the Gale Bandits is my biological elder brother. He commands over a hundred battle-hardened mounted bandits. If Your Excellency lets me go, not only will you gain Prince Lilia's treasure, we can also do one thing for you free of charge. Whether it is murder or robbery, we can do it."

"Gale Bandits? That name sounds a little familiar..."

Orsaga stroked his chin as he spoke thoughtfully.

Seeing Orsaga's somewhat hesitant expression, the other man's face brightened, believing he had been tempted. He added, "Our Gale Bandits are the largest bandit group along the Duchy of Maldon's border. Aside from the regular army, no one is our match!"

"Oh, is that so?" Orsaga nodded, then shook his head. "But it still means nothing to me. After all, you are the people in this kingdom who best meet my standards. Compared to that value, everything else is useless."

After saying this, he ignored the man's ugly expression and turned his gaze toward the others.

Taking a light breath, Orsaga revealed a faintly intoxicated smile on his handsome face. "That familiar scent of sin makes me miss the Abyss a little. Though a few of you do not smell quite so pure, by human standards, most of you are unquestionably villains. Being able to serve a purpose in my hands should be an honor for you as well."

As soon as he finished speaking, under everyone's terrified gazes, a faint gray-black mist automatically spread from Orsaga's body. It transformed into lines of varying number and, ignoring their struggles, merged into every single person's body.

After finishing, Orsaga ignored the panicking crowd as they checked their bodies. A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "I hope you can hold out for a few more days. Farewell, everyone."

Then he turned and left without the slightest hesitation.

When he was about to walk out through the iron door, Orsaga suddenly realized why the Gale Bandits, that kind of border bandit group, had seemed familiar to him.

More than ten days ago, when he had gone to set fire to the border forest, he had encountered them along the way, so he had conveniently delivered them salvation...

Amen! How merciful I am as a demon!

Later, I should find a Bald Monk to issue me a certificate for delivering all living beings from suffering. Working without a license is rather improper, after all.