CHAPTER 55: DEAD LEADER

Aziz and the bandit leader advanced toward each other, like two lightning bolts about to collide in a stormy sky.

Yet, the difference between them was as clear as day and night.

While the leader displayed the overwhelming fear and desperation of imminent death, Aziz maintained an almost unsettling calm, wrapped in an aura of absolute confidence, as if this ridiculous confrontation was just a small obstacle in his path.

CLANG!

The metallic clash of blades echoed loudly through the clearing, cutting the silence with a sound that seemed to announce the end of an era.

That single contact was enough for both to know, with crystal-clear certainty, who held the mastery of this battle. For Aziz, victory was inevitable. For the leader, a bitter certainty of impending defeat.

Without giving his enemy even a moment to think beyond his own survival, Aziz advanced like a lightning strike — relentless and precise — delivering a cut to the leader’s right cheek.

The leader recoiled, pressing his hand against the bleeding wound, the pain clear on his face hardened by experience.

"Now *that’s* a match, haha," Aziz teased, a playful smile coloring his words, as if mocking the very gravity of the situation.

The leader’s gaze clouded, darkening with rage and humiliation. Being treated like a toy by someone younger than him ignited his hatred and impotence.

As he tried to protest, sudden dizziness overwhelmed his vision. The next moment, his body was hurled backward, out of his control.

CRACK!

The brutal sound of impact against a tree resounded, followed by the agonizing snap of breaking bones.

"AAAGH!" The cry of pain cut through the air, desperate and full of agony.

He tried to stand, but failed miserably. Looking down, he saw his leg twisted at an unnatural angle, the terrible certainty that it was broken overwhelming him.

Raising his eyes, he saw Aziz approaching with steady steps, unhurried, as if this man’s fate was already sealed in his hands.

Despite his will to deny it, deep down the leader knew his life was no longer under his control.

Stopping a few meters away, Aziz cast a look of pure disdain — something he had never directed at anyone before.

"What a disappointment..." he murmured, watching the leader who already seemed to have accepted his own death.

"Don’t just sit there on the ground looking like a victim. Get up and fight!" he commanded, throwing the sword the leader had dropped.

The leader turned his face toward the sword, instinctively grabbed it, and saw his reflection on the gleaming metal.

An arrogant smile, full of repulsion and masking weakness, appeared on his face.

"Am I really going to die like this?" he thought bitterly, recalling the man he was and the one he had become.

Aziz shook his head at the leader’s defeated attitude, as if he had lost before the fight even began.

"I’ll give you one last chance: get up and fight with everything you’ve got, or stay down and be tortured to death. Which do you choose?" His icy voice seemed to freeze the very soul of his adversary.

The leader nodded with difficulty, rising with the sword for support, a smug smile returning to his face.

"If I’m going to die, I’ll do it my way," he said, closing his eyes as blue mana flowed from his core through his body, strengthening his muscles.

When he opened his eyes again, a resigned determination shone in them — not to win, but to give his all in this final act.

Aziz grinned amusedly, as if watching a novel character live his last Chapter.

There was no time left for distractions.

The leader advanced, a shimmering layer of blue mana flowing through his body.

Aziz stood still, attentive like an oracle, predicting every attack with cold precision.

CLANG!

Their blades clashed again, evenly matched in strength.

The leader attacked with frenzy, feinting and shouting, but Aziz was an unshakable wall — an impenetrable fortress.

No strike managed to harm him, even as he accepted the blows with an irritating smile on his handsome face.

In the leader’s mind, memories flowed like an old movie: grueling training, still vivid dreams, the discovery of his limited talent.

He thought this was just a temporary obstacle for growth, but now he recognized his mediocrity.

Looking at the young man before him — strong, charming, and fearless — stirred a bitter mixture of anger and envy.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

He channeled that rage into fury, attacking with more strength, speed, and will.

But his efforts were useless. His strikes, once calculated, had become desperate swings, as if hoping for luck with every wild swing.

Noticing the leader’s exhaustion and despair, Aziz decided to end the fight.

"Enough of this crap," he thought, stopping his defense.

CLANG!

He struck horizontally with renewed force.

"Now it’s my turn to attack, get ready!" he warned, shifting to an offensive stance.

The leader’s bloodshot eyes widened, but there was no time for shock.

Aziz’s sword descended like an inevitable death sentence.

CLANG! CRACK!

The leader defended with all his might but heard the snap of his shoulder dislocating.

"Argh! Damn it!" he grunted, jumping back.

But Aziz advanced again, his face bored.

SHRRK!

The wet sound of the blade slicing through flesh and muscle.

"AAAGH!" The visceral scream of pain echoed as he looked to the side and saw his arm was gone.

Aziz showed no mercy.

He advanced and landed a brutal punch on the leader’s face.

BAM!

The impact echoed, breaking teeth and making the leader stagger backward, tasting blood and metal in his mouth.

He spat blood and teeth, knowing his death was approaching like an irrevocable sentence.

He tried to defend himself with his only remaining arm, but it was useless.

He was now a weak, wounded prey cornered by a fierce predator.

Aziz channeled silver mana into his sword and delivered a precise strike.

CLANG!

The sword flew from the leader’s hand.

Glancing at the weapon, he realized he wouldn’t reach it in time to defend the next attack.

And he didn’t.

Aziz advanced, cutting the leader’s remaining arm.

SCHLUNK!

The cut was clean, expertly opening flesh and muscle.

"AAAAGH! MY ARM!"

Aziz didn’t care.

Kicking the leader in the chest, he knocked him to the ground.

He stood over him, looking down calmly, showing no satisfaction in winning the fight.

He pressed the blade’s edge to the leader’s neck.

The leader smiled, a disdainful smile, accepting the end.

"Kill me, I lost," he murmured.

Aziz raised an eyebrow, amused by his adversary’s weakness.

He pulled the sword away and asked coldly:

"Who said I’d give you an easy death?"

The leader’s eyes widened, stammering with fear.

"B-but you just wanted me to fight, right?!"

Aziz laughed.

"Hahaha, you scum, at first I wanted you to fight a bit," he ran the sword lightly across the leader’s belly, "But now you’re going to pay for what you said to my companions. And I know you abused many women, right?"

The leader averted his gaze, confirming the accusation.

Aziz smiled maliciously.

"You’ll suffer now."

Terror overwhelmed the leader.

What followed was a scene of terrifying torture.

Hoarse screams and pleas echoed for nearly an hour.

Sounds of flesh being cut and bones crushed mixed with Aziz’s wild laughter.

After spending so much time with Isis, he had acquired some of her sadistic nature, though he didn’t mind.

At last, a sepulchral silence fell over the forest.

"Haaah... finally over," Aziz murmured, observing the unrecognizable body of the leader.

It was impossible to distinguish skull, limbs, or torso — only a disgusting mass of flesh and bone.

Swinging his sword to clean the blood, Aziz stepped back and turned to check if Liora and Agnes had finished off the other bandits.

But when he turned, he saw them leaning against trees, arms crossed, watching him calmly, without judgment.

He felt a little embarrassed that they had witnessed his sadistic side.

They approached to better assess the leader’s state.

They looked at the mass of flesh with a terrifying calmness, then at Aziz without saying a word.

He thought they were judging him for overdoing it.

Scratching his head, he prepared to explain.

But before he could say anything, Agnes took a white cloth and began wiping the blood from Aziz’s face.

He widened his eyes, not understanding what she was doing.

"Blood, your face is dirty," she said calmly.

Aziz stood still, letting her do as she wished.

When finished, she pulled back her hand with the now red cloth and looked at Aziz’s now clean and handsome face.

"Thank you," Aziz said, looking at the bloodstained cloth.

Agnes smiled shyly.

"Don’t worry, that scum deserved all that and worse," Liora said, pleased with the outcome.

"We have no doubt he abused many innocent women," Agnes added, disgusted by the memory.

Aziz nodded, relieved not to be judged.

The trio exchanged glances and, agreeing there was nothing more to do there, decided to move on.

"Let’s go," Aziz said, sharing the thought with his companions.

Liora and Agnes nodded, and the three followed the road toward the missions they had chosen at the guild.