The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 46: Lost

Chapter 46

"Simple," Gazel said, happiness swelling in his chest. "Because I believe today is my lucky day."

He grinned.

The bandits were stunned.

What kind of person smiled at the thought of being robbed and possibly killed. Was this kid insane. Were they dealing with some kind of lunatic.

Gazel, on the other hand, looked genuinely pleased.

He tilted his head and asked the question that mattered most to him.

"Hey," he said casually. "You guys have a base, right?"

The bandits exchanged glances, then one of them laughed.

"You bet," one said with a confident smirk. "A base packed with our brothers. Just as wicked and dangerous as us. So if you think someone is coming to save you, forget it. No one can."

He leaned forward.

"Now drop your belongings. If you know what is good for you, we might let you go."

Gazel listened patiently, then asked another question, smiling like he was chatting with friends.

"You must have a lot of loot there, right?"

That was enough.

One of the bandits snapped.

"I’ll teach you a lesson," he snarled and rushed forward.

The next moment, a loud crack echoed through the alley.

The bandit dropped like a falling leaf, eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Silence.

Gazel’s smile never faded.

"Anyone willing to take me to your base," he asked calmly, "because I need to get myself a few things."

The remaining bandits froze.

They had not even seen him move.

One second their man was charging, the next he was down. Too fast. Too clean. Impossible.

Was this kid some kind of spirit. Something mystical.

No. That was nonsense. Things like that only existed in stories.

Their fear turned into rage.

They charged together.

Bad idea.

Cracks rang out again. One after another, bodies hit the ground. No screams. No struggle. Just collapse.

Soon, only one bandit remained conscious.

His face was swollen beyond recognition.

Gazel crouched in front of him and smiled, warm and gentle.

"You would not have happen to remember where your base is, would you?"

The bandit’s eyes filled with terror.

This was not a child. This was not human. If he refused, he would die here. Right now.

Betraying the lord meant death too, but that would come later. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

So he chose to live.

He nodded desperately.

He led Gazel away, sending a signal ahead to warn the others.

Gazel noticed.

He did not care.

After all, he had been hunted for days by trained soldiers and had not suffered a single injury.

These bandits were nothing.

-----

As Gazel stepped into the large cavern that served as the bandits’ base, he immediately felt it.

Amusement.

Bandits surrounded him from every side, more than thirty of them. Their grins were vicious. Weapons of all shapes and sizes gleamed in the firelight. Their gazes locked onto him like wolves staring at prey.

A short man stepped forward, eyes sharp, posture proud. He looked Gazel up and down, then turned to the bandit beside him.

"This is the evil spirit," he asked.

The man beside Gazel nodded stiffly.

Gazel blinked.

Then pointed at the short man.

"Tell me that is not the leader," he asked, genuinely baffled.

The bandits stared at him like he had lost his mind.

The short man nodded.

Gazel looked at him again, then grinned wide.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "nice meeting you, shortie."

Silence.

The leader’s face twisted with rage.

"Kill him," he roared.

Every bandit charged at once.

Gazel whistled.

"This will be quick."

And it was.

The cavern erupted into chaos. Cracks echoed. Bodies flew. Screams cut short. One by one, the bandits were wiped out cleanly, efficiently, brutally.

When it ended, Gazel stood alone.

The base was his.

Their hard earned loot became his. Gold. Food. Clothes. Weapons. Everything.

For the first time in his life, Gazel lived in luxury.

He ate whatever he wanted. Wore fine clothes. Slept comfortably. He even had more than thirty servants at his command.

Former bandits.

Now slaves.

They cursed the day they met him, but not one dared raise a hand. They had seen what happened to those who tried.

For a few days, Gazel almost forgot.

Forgot about the Bulwark. Forgot about becoming a Shural. Forgot about the path ahead.

It was tempting.

Very tempting.

But on the seventh day, he snapped out of it.

There was no time to waste. Who knew what would happen if he arrived too late. Who knew if he would even be accepted.

On the eighth day, he packed his things and left.

The bandits watched him go. Their faces showed disappointment, but their eyes betrayed relief.

The evil spirit was finally leaving.

Gazel did not care though, he was done playing around.

--------

Days later, he rested beneath a tree, staring into nothing.

"I am really cursed," he muttered.

This time, the reason was simple.

He had lost the map.

The one the white freak had given him.

He was not completely lost, but close enough. He still walked in the direction the map pointed to, but whether he would ever reach his destination was uncertain.

As Gazel continued pondering, a small rat scurried out of the bushes. It walked straight toward him, then stopped and looked up at him with an innocent little face.

Gazel raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, little fella," he said lightly. "Are you lost too. Guess that makes it two of us."

He chuckled softly.

"We are both lost, huh. Same situation."

He spoke as if comforting the rat, as if relieving it of some invisible worry.

The rat kept staring.

Unblinking.

Too still.

Gazel frowned. After a moment, he sighed.

"Well, that is enough sentimentality. You can go now."

He reached out to push the rat away.

Then everything went wrong.

The rat’s eyes turned bloodshot.

Before Gazel could react, it bit down hard on his palm.

"Shit."

Pain flared, sharp and sudden. Before he could even yelp, Gazel saw something that froze his blood.

The rat did not pull away.

It sank into him.

Its body slipped beneath his skin, crawling through his palm like liquid, disappearing inside his flesh.

Panic exploded.

Gazel clawed at his hand, then his arm, ripping at his own skin in desperation. But the thing kept moving. Deeper. Faster.

Judging by the direction, it would reach his heart in minutes.

If that happened, he was dead.

Fear surged through his chest, choking, suffocating.

Then he heard footsteps.

Crunching leaves.

Someone was approaching.

Gazel looked up.

A young man stood there, a wide grin stretched across his face. His eyes gleamed with excitement.

He unsheathed the short blade at his side.

"Do not worry, friend," the man said cheerfully. "I will put you out of your misery."

Before Gazel could speak.

Before he could move.

The blade plunged straight into his chest.

TO BE CONTINUED