Plundering Worlds: I Have a Shotgun in a Fantasy World-Chapter 53: Ambush

The moment Kael’s blade cleared the scabbard, the alley erupted into motion.

Kogan and Griggs dropped from their positions, boots hitting the ground with heavy thuds. Bren emerged from behind the crates, knives already in hand.

Kael vaulted down from the rooftop, landing in a crouch. His Qi stirred in his core, warm and ready.

The two figures facing Silas moved fast. The first lunged, hands reaching for Silas’s throat.

Griggs was faster. He stepped between them, shield raised. The man’s hands slammed into the steel with a dull thud. Griggs planted his feet and shoved forward, throwing him off balance.

Kogan surged past him, war hammer already swinging. The hammer came down like a thunderbolt.

Crack.

The first man’s skull caved inward. Bone shattered. Brain matter sprayed across the snow. He dropped like a sack of meat.

The second man spun toward Kogan—

An arrow drove straight through his eye and lodged deep in his skull. Half the shaft still protruded from the socket. He jerked once, then collapsed.

Silence.

Kael stood behind Silas, his sword still raised. Bren flanked the other side, knives ready, but there was nothing left to do.

Kogan straightened, breathing steady. He looked down at the corpse at his feet, then at the other one. "That’s it?"

Griggs lowered his shield, his expression flat. "Too easy."

Silas stared at the bodies, then at Kogan. "I thought these things were supposed to be dangerous."

Kael’s gaze swept over the two corpses. They were thin, malnourished, their limbs bent wrong, but their movements had been clumsy and desperate. Weak—nothing like the farmer.

Kael’s frown deepened. He’d expected resistance, a fight, something that would require him to step in. But these two were fodder.

"Captain?"

Kael turned toward Kogan. "Stay alert. Something’s—"

A heavy impact split the air—a dull, sickening thud from above, bone and flesh striking frozen ground.

All of them froze.

The sound echoed once through the alley, then died into silence.

Then the smell hit him—sharp, metallic. Blood. Fresh blood. And it was coming from behind them.

Kael’s head snapped around. "Jarek!"

Silence.

The rooftop where Jarek had been perched was dark and empty.

Kael’s chest tightened. "Jarek!"

Silence again.

Kael moved. He turned and sprinted back toward the alley entrance, his boots pounding against the frozen ground. Kogan and the others followed.

They reached the spot where Jarek had been stationed.

Kael stopped, his breath misting in the cold air.

At the base of the building, something lay in the snow—a body, face down, arrows scattered around it. The quiver was empty, the bow broken in half.

But something was wrong.

Kael walked forward slowly and crouched down.

The body ended at the shoulders. The head was missing—just a ragged stump where the neck should be, bone splintered, flesh torn. Blood had pooled beneath it, frozen dark in the snow.

Kael recognized the jerkin, the belt, the boots.

Jarek.

Behind him, Bren cursed quietly.

Kagan’s jaw tightened. "Ambush."

Kael stood slowly, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. The Qi in his core flared—hot, sharp, coiling like a serpent ready to strike.

Then—footsteps. Multiple sets. From the alley behind them.

Kael turned.

Six figures stepped out of the shadows—tall, lean, their movements fluid and controlled. They wore better clothes than the first two: wool coats, leather boots. Their faces were clean and human, but their eyes held something else.

Kael saw it immediately.

Hunger.

The figure at the front was a woman. She stepped forward, her dress stained dark at the hem. In her left hand, she held something by the hair.

A head.

Jarek.

The lips were gone, torn away, teeth exposed in a permanent grimace. The skin around his mouth was ragged, chewed down to raw flesh. His eyes were half-open, glassy, staring at nothing. Blood clung to his jawline in dark, half-frozen clots.

The woman lifted the head slightly, almost proudly.

She was chewing something—slowly, deliberately. She swallowed, then licked her lips, stained red with fresh blood.

"Mmm." She smiled. "Tender. Soft."

Her gaze slid to Kael, settling on his mouth. "I wonder..." She stepped closer, the fog curling around her ankles. "I wonder how yours would taste."

Kael’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles going white. The Qi in his core surged, pressing against his ribs, burning hot beneath his skin.

His breathing slowed—controlled. Each exhale carried a thin wisp of vapor into the cold air.

But his eyes...

The woman tilted her head slightly, watching him. "You look angry, Captain."

She gestured to the others behind her—five men, armed. Two held swords, one carried a hatchet, two had daggers.

"Tomas Greave." She nodded to a middle-aged man on her left. The merchant.

"Peter Greave." She gestured to a younger man beside him. The son.

"And the rest." She waved dismissively at the others.

She looked back at Kael, her smile widening. "You remember me, yes? I saw you this morning and told you such a frightening story about the poor boy, about the shadows in the alley."

She tilted her head. "Did you believe me?"

A pause.

"You should have. Every word was true." She laughed—thin, brittle. "Except the part about being afraid."

She tossed Jarek’s head aside. It rolled across the snow and came to rest against the wall, face up, eyes still half-open.

She looked back at Kael. "You’ve caused us quite a bit of trouble, Captain."

Kael’s voice was quiet, deadly calm. "Kogan. Griggs. Protect Silas."

Kogan planted his hammer on the ground. "Understood."

Griggs raised his shield and moved to Silas’s side.

Bren stepped up beside Kael, knives ready. "Captain—"

"Stay with them."

Bren hesitated. "But—"

"Stay with them."

Bren’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and backed toward the others.

Kael stepped forward alone.

The woman’s smile widened. "Is that supposed to frighten me?"

Kael’s blade angled low, tracking her center. His stance shifted—weight balanced, knees bent.

The Qi in his core began to move, up his spine, down his front, circulating steady and controlled.

But beneath the control—rage, coiling and burning, held in check by sheer will.

Kael’s voice was quiet, final. "Come."

They came as one—six bodies surging forward through the snow, boots hammering, weapons raised, moving with that wrong, inhuman speed.

Kael flowed.

The man broke left, sword high. The blade came down in a brutal vertical slash, fast enough to split stone.

Kael’s weight shifted, right foot sliding back, hips rotating.

The sword bit into empty snow. His blade swept horizontal, clean and fast, catching the merchant at the neck.

The head tumbled.

The woman’s smile faltered.

Another charged from the right, dagger reversed. Three strides and he was on Kael, the blade thrusting low.

Kael turned into it, his sword coming up with a sharp clang, deflecting the dagger in a shower of sparks.

The man stumbled forward, off-balance. Kael’s blade angled toward his ribs, forcing the pivot, then punched straight through his chest.

For a brief second, the young man’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Then Kael pulled the sword free. The man sagged where he stood, legs giving out beneath him, and collapsed into the snow.

The third man came from the left with a hatchet raised overhead, each step cracking against frozen ground. The hatchet descended in a brutal arc.

Kael pivoted, quarter turn, weight dropping. The hatchet buried itself where he’d been standing. His sword reversed, cutting upward, opening the man’s throat from jaw to collarbone.

He stepped back immediately, boots sliding over frozen ground, letting the spray fall short. The blood struck the snow where he had been a heartbeat earlier.

Three down.

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

She moved—fast. Her boots barely touched the ground as she closed the distance in a blur, coming from Kael’s right flank, dagger low, aimed at his kidney.

The merchant lunged from the front, sword thrusting toward Kael’s chest.

Kael’s peripheral vision caught both. He shifted back, half a step, hips rotating. The woman’s dagger grazed his coat, slicing fabric. His longsword came up, deflecting the merchant’s blade to the side with a sharp clang.

The woman’s dagger came again from behind, aimed at his skull.

Kael twisted. His sword came up, backhand grip, steel meeting steel with a sharp clang.

At the same instant, his left hand drew his dagger—reversed grip. The blade flashed.

It entered the merchant’s face at the cheekbone, then kept going through flesh, through bone, through brain. The dagger carved a brutal arc from jaw to crown.

Half the merchant’s face slid away—teeth, eye socket, skull fragment, all peeling off in one grotesque sheet. The other half of his head remained intact for a heartbeat, staring and confused, before the body collapsed.

Blood poured from the wound, a thick, dark torrent that drenched Kael’s chest, his neck, his jaw.

The woman stumbled back, eyes wide. "What—"

The son swept in from the side with a raw, broken roar. Sword raised, the blade cutting horizontal toward Kael’s neck. Kael ducked, his knees bent, weight dropping. The sword passed overhead. His blade swept upward, catching the son’s elbow mid-swing.

The joint separated with a wet crack. The forearm flew through the air, still gripping the sword. Blood jetted from the stump, spraying across Kael’s shoulder and face.

He stepped in before the son could scream. The dagger drove into his chest, sinking to the hilt between the ribs. Kael twisted his wrist and tore upward. Steel ripped through muscle and bone, splitting the sternum, carving up through the throat. The cut opened him from chest to neck in a single savage pull.

Blood erupted in a violent spray, drenching Kael from head to toe, soaking his hair, his face, his clothes until he stood there red and dripping.

Kael stood there for a heartbeat, breathing hard. The Qi in his core roared, wild and barely leashed. His hands were shaking—from rage, nothing else.

Five down.

Kael let the dagger fall from his hand. It struck the frozen ground with a dull clatter.

The woman turned and ran.

Kael’s Qi surged. Heat flooded his legs, his muscles coiled, then released. The snow beneath his boots shattered—hard-packed frost cracking with a sharp report as his foot drove down. Powdered snow burst outward in a white spray, the frozen crust spiderwebbing beneath the force.

Three strides.

The woman glanced back—

His sword swept horizontal, waist-high. The blade cut clean through both knees in a single arc. Her legs separated, the lower halves tumbling away. Blood erupted from the stumps.

She collapsed, shrieking, tried to crawl, fingers clawing at frozen ground.

Kael stepped on her back. She stopped.

He crouched and grabbed her right arm. "Please—please—"

His sword cut through the elbow. Blood sprayed across his hands, warm and slick. She screamed.

He grabbed her left arm. The blade cut through. The second forearm fell into the snow.

The woman lay limbless, shrieking. Blood pooled around her, dark red and steaming, spreading in a widening circle.

Kael stood and looked down at her. Blood dripped from his jaw, his hands, his sword.

He pressed his palm against one of the stumps. Heat radiated from his hand, intense and searing. The Qi burned through flesh, cauterizing the wound. The woman screamed.

He moved to the next stump, then the next, then the last. The bleeding slowed to a trickle. Enough.

Kael stood, looked down at her once more. Blood dripped from his jaw, his hands, his sword.

His voice was quiet, cold. "You’ll live." He turned and walked away. "For a while."

Behind him, her screams echoed through the alley.

Kael’s expression remained flat, but his hands were shaking. The Qi in his core roiled, hot and wild, barely contained. He forced it down—slowly, carefully. By the time he reached the others, his breathing had steadied.

Kogan stared at him—at the blood covering him from head to toe, at the bodies behind him, then back at Kael’s face. "Captain..."

Kael’s voice was even, controlled. "Collect Jarek’s body. Retrieve his head."

Kogan nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Kael walked toward where the woman had thrown Jarek’s head. It lay against the wall, half-buried in snow, face up, eyes half-open and staring at nothing. The lips torn away, teeth exposed, the skin around the mouth ragged and chewed to raw flesh.

Kael crouched down beside it. For a moment, he just stared. His jaw tightened. His hands were still shaking. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the snow beside Jarek’s face.

"I’m sorry," he said quietly.

He reached out, his hand slick with blood, and closed Jarek’s eyes. The lids were cold, stiff, frozen. He picked up the head carefully, cradling it in both hands, then stood and walked back toward the others.

Behind him, the woman’s screams continued—weaker now.

The snow continued to fall.

[Aether: 17.9]