I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 91: The Next Day Trip, Already Encountered Trouble Part 2

Smoke curled from the hillside, thick and black against the pale afternoon sun. Shouts turned to screams as the second wave of bandits stumbled in confusion, clutching ears and limbs, several writhing on the ground as flames licked the underbrush.

The explosion had shattered more than just bones—it shattered their momentum.

From his crouched position behind the rock, Inigo peeked over and gave a satisfied nod. "Hell of a message."

Korrik grunted from the front line, brushing off a smear of blood that wasn’t his. "Got any more of those?" he barked while parrying a spear strike and slamming his shield into the attacker’s chest hard enough to snap ribs.

"Plenty," Inigo muttered.

Another flick through the system interface. His fingers twitched instinctively, already familiar with the routine.

[Item Purchased: M18 Smoke Grenade – Red]

[Deploy? Yes.]

A red canister materialized into his palm. He tossed it just ahead of Korrik’s position. With a pop and hiss, thick red smoke billowed upward, obscuring the center of the field.

"Inigo, what are you doing?" Arienne called over the chaos, now floating higher off the ground, her golden aura warping the air around her.

"Making it harder for them to see," Inigo shouted back. "Just shoot anything that walks out of that smoke angry!"

Korrik took the cue immediately. As a disoriented swordsman stumbled through the haze, Korrik’s axe met his chestplate with a sickening crunch. Another emerged and got a face full of holy light from Arienne’s staff, the blast sending him flying backward in a spray of seared flesh.

"Lyra!" Inigo barked.

"Already on it!" she replied, having repositioned to higher ground once again—this time atop a ridge of rock twisted by age and erosion. Her bow sang with tension as she loosed three arrows in rapid succession. One pinned a rider to his mount, the second pierced another through the thigh, and the third found the throat of a bandit mage mid-incantation.

"They’re falling apart!" she yelled, nocking another arrow.

Arienne raised her staff again, the tip gleaming like a miniature sun. "Keep them contained. I’ll purge the field."

"No!" Inigo shouted, ducking under a thrown dagger. "Wait until they cluster again—we’ll flush them toward you!"

He ran low along the treeline, bullets from enemy crossbows whizzing past. At the MRAP, he yanked open the side panel and reached into a compartment. From within, he pulled out a rectangular black case with three glowing indicators.

[Deploy Wheelson]

He activated the drone. The drone unfolded from the ground with a high-pitched whir, rotors spinning to life as twin barrels emerged beneath its shell.

The drone zipped upward and hovered above the battlefield like a hunting falcon.

"Target hostiles," Inigo commanded.

Beep.

The drone responded with rapid-fire bursts, its twin guns barking in short controlled bursts. Two riders fell before they could retreat. Another cultist took a round through the thigh and collapsed. The drone banked and circled back, scanning for fresh targets.

"Since when do you have a moving crossbow?" Korrik shouted over the din, grinning through bloodied lips.

"Trade secret!" Inigo called back.

But the bandits—what was left of them—weren’t giving up. The masked figure from earlier had emerged again, this time with several elite fighters in black cloaks and bone-inlaid armor. They moved in unison, fast and coordinated, cutting through the smoke with deliberate precision.

"They’re regrouping behind that fallen oak!" Lyra called. "Looks like the command group!"

Arienne touched down lightly beside Inigo, her aura dimming. "Then we strike now. Together."

Inigo checked his mag. One bullet left.

"Got a plan?"

"I bring the light," she said simply.

"Then I’ll bring the noise," Inigo replied.

Together, they advanced through the underbrush. Korrik, hearing the shift in tone, disengaged from his last opponent with a brutal backhand and fell in step behind them. Lyra flanked from the left, arrows glowing with minor enchantments Arienne had blessed earlier.

Ahead, the elite squad had formed a semi-circle around their leader—a tall, horned man in layered black robes with pale eyes and cracked lips, muttering in some foul tongue.

"Inigo," Arienne whispered, "that’s not a summoner. That’s a warbinder."

"What’s the difference?"

"Summoners open portals. Warbinders pull things through them—and bind them to objects or people. That’s how they control the mercs. They’re bound."

Inigo grimaced. "So we break the caster, we break the magic?"

"Exactly."

"Well then," he muttered. "Guess it’s time for another trick."

He pressed a button on his belt, opening a small side pouch.

[M84 Stun Flash Grenade - Purchase confirmed]

He pulled the grenade-sized device and lobbed it over the rock formation.

Pop!

FLASH!

The blast seared white light across the clearing, even brighter than sunlight. Shouts followed. The warbinder hissed, shielding his eyes too late.

Arienne stepped forward and drove her staff into the ground.

A wave of radiant energy surged forward like a cresting tide. The air shimmered. Light exploded outward in concentric rings, striking the bound warriors. Their enchantments cracked visibly—tiny glyphs breaking like glass on their armor. One screamed as his sword burned his hand, another collapsed as his chestplate shattered from within.

"Now!" Arienne commanded.

Korrik charged with a thunderous roar, smashing through the first stunned elite and bashing another into a tree.

Lyra’s arrows flew in rapid volleys, targeting unprotected spots. The warbinder snarled and raised a blade of etched bone—but Inigo was already moving, fast and low.

He pulled the Desert Eagle’s slide back, aimed at the warbinder’s legs, and fired.

The last round caught the man just below the knee. Bone splintered. The warbinder collapsed, shrieking. Inigo crossed the distance in seconds, pressing his boot on the man’s chest.

"Undo the magic," he ordered.

The man coughed blood, spitting curses in some arcane tongue.

Arienne raised her staff, eyes blazing.

"Last chance," she warned.

The warbinder’s pupils dilated, and he whispered a final word.

The air turned cold.

His body convulsed—and erupted into black smoke.

Inigo stumbled back, coughing, as the smoke vanished like mist on the wind.

Lyra ran up beside him. "What just happened?"

"Suicide spell," Arienne answered grimly. "He’d rather die than be interrogated."

Korrik stood among the wreckage of fallen enemies, his chest heaving. "So that’s it, then?"

"No," Inigo said. "That was only one cell. Someone’s organizing these attacks."

Lyra nodded, retrieving a strange sigil from one of the corpses. "We’ll find out who. This emblem... it’s not local. These aren’t just bandits."

Arienne crouched beside one of the fallen elites, checking the binding marks. "These people were enslaved through magic. Warbinding is outlawed in every major kingdom. Whoever’s doing this... they’re powerful. And they’re willing to break every code there is."

Korrik looked toward the now-quiet ridge. "We have to postpone our trip for now and deal with this issue. You know what will happen when we leave this right? They are just going to start again."

Inigo looked at the MRAP, now scarred but intact. He holstered his sidearm and gave a short nod.

"I agree, let’s find out the one responsible and end this."

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