Rusty crouched low in the undergrowth, his metallic frame merging with the darkness of the night. Ever since his meld skill had improved, he had been able to hide more effectively and even move without giving himself away. His form distorted slightly while in motion and he was never fully invisible, but the effect was convincing enough to deceive most.

The shadows clung to him like a cloak. Gleam hid within the darkness as well, aided by her own magic. Together they remained concealed, the air around them muffled by silencing spells, as they watched the bandits feast and brawl around their bonfires. The sight was strange, for none of the men looked wary in the slightest, as if the thought of being attacked had never crossed their minds.

Mugs slammed together, greasy meat was torn apart with filthy hands, and laughter rolled through the camp like a drunken chant. Many of the bandits staggered where they stood, half-conscious yet still gripping blades that had tasted blood not long ago. Rusty's eyes glowed faintly. Their numbers were greater than he had first expected, nearly twice as many as the reports had suggested.

"This is more than the limit."

Just as he had suspected, something unusual was happening here. This exceeded what the nobles would normally overlook, and he felt certain that if he ventured deeper into the camp he would uncover the cause. The fresh blood on their weapons suggested that they had recently robbed a merchant or kidnapped someone. If he could discover who their victim had been, he might find his answer.

Yet with so many torches and fires burning, even his refined elemental meld skill would not make slipping through the camp easy. He waited twenty minutes, but the group showed no signs of settling down. At last fortune intervened. One of the bandits staggered away from the firelight as nature called. He wore a full set of iron armor along with a helmet, the same type that Rusty had stored away and could easily recreate.

Rusty followed the staggering bandit while keeping to the shadows. Each step he took through the undergrowth left no sound, and his shadow-blurred body blended into the trees. The man stumbled toward the edge of camp, muttering curses under his breath, one hand fumbling with the straps of his armor as he searched for a spot to relieve himself.

When the man finally stopped, leaning against a tree and undoing his belt, Rusty moved. A metallic arm shot out, catching the bandit around the throat. The man gasped, but before he could shout, Rusty tightened his grip. It took a moment but eventually the man's legs gave out and he passed out. He was not dead yet but in this state he was a perfect possession target.

Rusty dragged the limp body deeper into the darkness, away from the flickering glow of the campfires. He removed the helmet from the man's head and placed it on his own. Once it settled, the metal shifted until it matched the style of the man's helm. It was a Barbute with a cross-shaped cutout for the face.

"Let the possession begin."

Thanks to the heads of Edmund and Oswald, his possession skill had advanced. In the past, he had taken over a member of the thieves' guild, but the time he could remain inside that body was short. Now things were different. Even if a full day passed, he would likely still be able to control this bandit.

The helmet locked firmly over the bandit's skull. At first, the man twitched as if trapped in a nightmare, but soon his movements stopped. Memories rushed into Rusty as his mind overpowered the host. Once the process was over, he gained a rough understanding of the situation in the camp. However, it was still wiser to confirm the scattered thoughts the man had left behind.

"Gleam, stay hidden. If someone sees you, it could cause trouble."

"(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)"

"Remember to wait for the signal. If anything goes wrong, I will need your help."

"( •̀ᴗ•́ )و"

There was always a chance he would be discovered once he entered the camp. Although he now carried the man's memories, he could not expect to fool anyone who knew him well. If that happened and the bandits attacked, the only option would be to flee. Their numbers were great and their strength uncertain. If their leader was strong enough to face a monster of rank D or higher, then the situation would become dangerous.

Just like in the past, the sensations these humanoids felt were uncomfortable to him. The man was drunk, which complicated matters, but Rusty's possession managed to sober the body through magical control.

"How do these humanoids live with this sense of smell? Disgusting."

"There are more smells out there, Rusty. Not everything stinks. And you should cover up this man, otherwise the other bandits will discover us instantly."

Rusty adjusted the borrowed armor while enduring the stench of sweat and urine. During the struggle, some of it had ended up on this body, but there was little he could do besides fixing his fly as Alexander instructed him to. His two guides could not remain close to him, so for the time being, he needed to cancel his skill that kept them in this world.

"Now, let's do it."

The drunken noise of the bandit camp grew louder as he approached, and for a moment, he felt the body's heartbeat pulse in rhythm with his footsteps. The possession was working perfectly, and no one seemed to pay much attention to him. He moved forward into the camp through the exit the man had come from. Once inside, a voice suddenly called out.

"Oi, Kellen! Where've you been pissin' off to?"

One of the men shouted while holding a half-empty mug of ale. His face was flushed and his grin was wide. Rusty forced the body to laugh as he tried to imitate the mannerisms stored in its memory.

"Nowhere, just pissin. What? Did you wanna see it?"

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He pointed toward his groin while locking eyes with the other bandit. The men around him roared with laughter and raised their mugs in cheer, but the one he had addressed did not look too amused by the crude joke.

"What did ya say, ya bastard?"

The drunk man did not look too pleased as his face turned redder. The other bandits started cheering while he stumbled forward. Rusty had not expected this reaction to his retort, but it was clear that the man was furious with him.

"I'll knock yer teeth out!"

"Fight!"

"Fight, fight!"

The bandits cheered louder as the drunk man charged at him. More men appeared from the sides and behind, eager to get a closer view. They wanted to form a ring around them and enjoy the sight of two drunks trading blows, but Rusty could not allow himself to draw attention. He needed to end this quickly.

The man lunged like a thirsty dog, his fist shooting forward. Rusty shifted to the side and avoided the strike. His arm moved on reflex, landing a perfectly timed counterpunch. The blow connected with a sharp metallic crack that sent the man flying into a cluster of stools and a table.

For a heartbeat, the camp fell silent as everyone stared at the man crashing through the air. His mug spun loose from his hand and splashed over another bandit. The moment the stools splintered, the crowd erupted into manic cheers. Hands slapped shoulders, mugs were raised high, and someone clapped Rusty on the back.

"Well, blow me down! Kellen, boy, ya still got it!"

Rusty froze for a moment, but then quickly grabbed a tankard of ale and drank with them. These men were simple and easy to fool. They did not even bother to help their unconscious companion and instead went back to singing and drinking. Rusty stayed with them for a few minutes, copying their mannerisms, before slipping away to wander through the camp.

'I need to be careful… My helmet was almost knocked over.'

For Rusty, who relied on his helmet as the catalyst for the possession skill, the risk was clear. If the helmet was removed, he would quickly lose control of the borrowed body. Fortunately, he had blended perfectly into the surroundings and had enough time to make his way through. This was still only a reconnaissance mission, since he was not yet sure if it would be wise to attack the bandits directly. Their behavior suggested weaknesses that could be exploited, such as their heavy drinking.

The way the alcohol moved through his body felt strange, and he could not understand why these humanoids chose to consume it. The ale tasted foul, smelled worse, and turned anyone who drank it into a weaker fighter. Even so, this brew allowed him to move through the place without being disturbed.

Beyond a circle of bonfires, the light thinned and the noise faded. Lanterns swung from crude posts, and several wagons stood in a loose semicircle with their sides cut open to display what was inside. One contained tapestries, while another held broken crates with scattered grain. The boxes bore the merchant guild's mark, making the origin of the carts obvious.

"There is more… Where are the people?"

Blood stains appeared here and there, though not enough to suggest a massacre. Rusty knew how the humanoids operated. They were driven by profit and would sell even their own kind for coins. If his assumption was correct, then perhaps a place nearby held captives. He did not truly care about freeing anyone, yet he saw potential advantages. Rescuing a wealthy merchant might earn him a reward, and released prisoners could serve as a useful distraction.

There were more wagons than he had expected. Leather tarps sagged over crates, and the merchant guild stamp he had glimpsed before appeared again on several broken boxes with half the seals hacked off. It was clear this had been going on for some time, since some of the goods looked aged and others bore stamps from cities unknown to him.

Eventually, he moved on toward a larger structure, guarded by someone who at that moment was passed out drunk. It looked like a large shed, and it was quite occupied. He did not enter fully but only pushed the latch aside to peek in. Just as he had suspected, there were people inside. They were behind metal bars, but also bound and beaten.

Rusty could see several faces, along with broad-shouldered barbarians marked with the war paint of the nearby tribe he had once visited. Beside them were merchants, one dangerously thin and another heavier but no healthier. Women were there as well, along with a few children, all tied up or shackled.

As soon as he saw them, a memory surfaced in the mind of the possessed bandit. He saw himself dragging one of the women out of that very room. Even when she kicked and screamed, and a child tried to stop him, he had kicked the child aside and continued. The bandit leader had ordered Kellen to bring him some entertainment, and when it came to these bandits, that could only mean one thing.

'I never understood those strange bodily rituals they perform. Still, I cannot help them yet. They will have to wait.'

Rusty closed the latch and leaned back. His eyes turned to the largest building in the center of the bandit fort, the residence of the bandit leader. From what he knew, this leader was unlike the rest of the humanoids, much larger and marked by animalistic features that filled the others with fear. He would be the greatest obstacle, but after seeing everything, Rusty believed it would be worth the risk.

The carts carried large quantities of goods that he could claim, and the bandits' weapons could be taken as well. Since they had robbed many merchants, they surely held treasure too. Coins, precious metals, and jewels were likely hidden in the bandit leader's lair. If he took everything, he would never again need to worry about paying the merchant guild, for the wealth would last him for years.

There was no reason to linger any longer. He had already seen most of what he came for and had a clear idea of how to handle the encampment. With that in mind, he moved toward one of the wooden fort walls, away from the other bandits, and waited. His signal was simple. He knocked three times on his helmet, and a minute later Gleam appeared before him.

"( •̀ᴗ•́ )و"

"Not today, Gleam. We need to get a few things from the settlement first. We will come back on another night, but for now we will retreat."

"( ˙◠˙ )"

"I know you want to test your new spells and skills on them, but there are too many. We need to thin their numbers before we engage. Their leader seems strong, but do not worry. You will not have to wait long."

Gleam wiggled her antennae and finally agreed. Rusty then removed his helmet from the possessed man's head. The bandit's body slumped forward. He was not dead, only unconscious, and he would remember nothing when he woke. Once Rusty was free, he activated his loadout and took on his smallest form. A moment later, he and Gleam were soaring through the air once again.

The night air carried them swiftly back toward the settlement. Gleam's wings glittered faintly in the moonlight, and a trail of blue mana followed. Rusty sat quietly and enjoyed the silence after his summoned guides were dismissed. He replayed the camp layout in his mind and knew what to prepare before attacking.

"No need to fight them directly, I will get the experience points anyway."

The forest thinned and the settlement came into view. The sun was rising, but they still managed to reach their hidden exit tunnel and return to the lair unnoticed.

Once people were out and about, Rusty went to a shop and bought several herbs and potions adventurers used against monsters. He carried them back to the lair. Preparing them was simple. He boiled the herbs in a cauldron and added a few other ingredients to make the brew effective. With this concoction, he planned to make his attack much easier. He was unsure whether it would affect everyone, but if enough of the bandits drank it, his victory would be assured.