"We're being watched," Levi replied, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest. "Multiple hostiles. At least… thirty, maybe more."

"Thirty?!" Kai's face paled. "Where?"

Before anyone could answer, the trees around them rustled, and figures began emerging from the shadows.

One. Five. Ten. Twenty.

They kept coming until exactly thirty-two people had surrounded Levi's group in a loose circle, blocking every escape route. Each one wore mismatched armor and carried weapons that ranged from simple swords to elaborate spears. But despite their bandit-like appearance, their coordination was too good, their positioning too professional.

These weren't random thugs. This was an organized force.

And at Level 7 Genetic Soldier or above, every single one of them was a genuine threat.

"Well, well, well," a voice called out, dripping with false friendliness. "What do we have here?"

A man stepped forward from the encirclement—clearly the leader based on how the others deferred to him. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with a scarred face and cold gray eyes that assessed them like a butcher checking his meat. His cultivation was at least Level 9 Genetic Soldier, possibly even Level 1 Fiend Warrior.

Three other figures moved to flank him—his lieutenants based on their positioning. All three were Level 8 Genetic Soldier, and all three carried themselves with the confidence of experienced fighters.

"Looks like we've got some lucky little cultivators who managed to snag themselves a Golden Wyvern," the leader continued, his eyes locking onto the caged cubs. "And two cubs at that! My, my. You guys have been very busy."

Marcus's grip tightened on his broken spear, which he'd been carrying despite its uselessness. "We don't want trouble. We're just passing through on our way to Whitehaven City."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't want trouble," the leader said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nobody ever does. But see, here's the thing my crew and I, we've been tracking that Golden Wyvern for weeks. Been planning to take it down, harvest the valuable bits, maybe capture the cubs if we got lucky."

He spread his hands in a mock-apologetic gesture.

"And then you kids show up, swoop in, and steal our prize right out from under us. That's just… well, that's just rude, isn't it?"

"We didn't steal anything," Ren said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "We tracked the wyvern independently, risked our lives to hunt it, and earned everything we took. You have no claim here."

"No claim?" The leader laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Boy, the only claim that matters out here is the claim of strength. And looking at you five…" His eyes swept over them dismissively. "I'm seeing a lot of exhaustion, a lot of injuries, and not a whole lot of fight left."

He took a step forward, and his thirty-two subordinates mirrored the movement, tightening the circle.

"So here's how this is going to work. You're going to hand over both those cubs, nice and peaceful-like. You're also going to tell us where you stashed the wyvern's corpse so we can harvest it properly. And then you're going to empty your spatial rings of any cores, scales, or other valuable materials you might have picked up."

"And if we do all that?" Marcus asked quietly.

"Then we let you walk away with your lives," the leader said. "Oh, you'll be poor, and you'll have wasted all that effort for nothing, but you'll be breathing. That's more than you'll get if you refuse."

Another of the lieutenants, a woman with twin axes and a cruel smile, added, "And just so we're clear—if you make us take it by force, we're killing all of you. Can't have witnesses running back to the academies talking about how we 'robbed' them."

The third lieutenant, a massive man with a warhammer easily two meters long, cracked his knuckles meaningfully.

Marcus's face had gone pale, but his jaw was set with determination. Lyra looked terrified but defiant. The Feng twins had moved closer together, their elemental energies already beginning to gather.

They were preparing to fight, even though it was clearly hopeless. Thirty-two Level 7+ cultivators against four exhausted Level 6-9 students and one severely injured Levi.

The math didn't work.

But Levi could see in their eyes that they weren't going to surrender. They'd risked everything for these cubs, fought a legendary beast, survived impossible odds. They weren't going to just hand it all over to bandits.

Marcus took a deep breath, then spoke with quiet intensity. "Never."

The leader's smile vanished. "What?"

"I said never," Marcus repeated, louder this time. "We earned this. We fought for it. We nearly died for it. And we're not giving it to a pack of cowards who were too scared to face the wyvern themselves."

"You little—"

"We won't waver," Marcus continued, his voice growing stronger. "We won't surrender. You want these cubs? You want our hard-earned materials? Then you're going to have to kill us for them. And I promise you—we'll take at least a dozen of you down before we fall."

Silence fell across the forest.

The leader's face had turned red with anger. His lieutenants looked insulted, their weapons rising in preparation for violence.

The thirty-two subordinates shifted into combat stances, Astra energy beginning to swirl around their weapons.

Then Levi spoke for the first time since the bandits had appeared.

His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but it carried across the clearing with perfect clarity.

"You should leave."

Every eye turned to him.

The leader blinked, then laughed—a short, sharp bark of disbelief. "What did you say?"

Levi lifted his head, his eyes meeting the leader's without a trace of fear or hesitation.

"I said you should leave. Now. While you still can."

The leader stared at him for a long moment, then burst into genuine laughter. His subordinates joined in, the sound echoing through the forest like a pack of hyenas.

"Oh, this is rich!" the leader wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. "The injured kid thinks he's scary! Boy, I don't know what painkillers you're on, but—"

"I'm giving you one chance," Levi interrupted, his voice dropping even lower. "Leave now. Or I'll kill you. All of you."

The laughter cut off abruptly.

The forest went dead silent.

The leader's face slowly transformed from amusement to fury. His aura exploded outward, and Levi's assessment was confirmed—Level 1 Fiend Warrior. Stronger than he'd hoped.

"Kill me?" the leader said softly, dangerously. "Kill all of us? Kid, I don't know who you think you are, but—"

"I just killed a Level 3 Fiend Warrior Golden Wyvern in combat," Levi said flatly. "I wouldn't havw been able to do that if I dine possess the strength to kill a Fiend Warrior and right now, I'm the one who's really, really tired and in a very bad mood."

He took a single step forward, and as he did, he activated his Slaughter Domain.

"WENG!"

An invisible pressure exploded outward from his body, covering exactly twenty-five meters in all directions!

Within that sphere, the very air turned heavy and oppressive. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees. And most importantly, every bandit within range suddenly felt their strength, speed, and defenses decrease by thirty-five percent.

But worse than the stat reduction was the killing intent.

Levi had accumulated twenty-nine Slaughter Marks—fourteen from his previous kills, and fifteen from the Golden Wyvern alone. The concentrated killing intent from that many marks manifested as an almost physical weight, pressing down on everyone nearby.

The weaker bandits actually staggered, their faces going pale with instinctive fear. Several of them took involuntary steps backward, their weapons trembling in suddenly sweaty hands.

Even the three lieutenants looked shaken, their eyes widening as they felt the overwhelming pressure of someone who had killed powerful beings and absorbed their life essence.

Only the leader managed to keep his composure, though even he had gone noticeably paler.

"That… that killing intent…" one of the lieutenants whispered. "How many has he killed?"

Levi's lips curved into a smile that made one's skins crawl. It was as though he wasn't human as he stared at them.

"Do you really want to find out?"

The leader's jaw clenched. His pride warred with his survival instincts. His subordinates were looking to him for direction, waiting to see if he would back down or commit to the fight.

Finally, his rage won out over his caution.

"You arrogant little shit," he hissed. "You think some intimidation tactics are going to scare us? We've been hunting dimensional beasts for twenty years! We've killed Fiend Warriors before! We've faced down things that would make you piss yourself!"

He turned to his subordinates and roared, "KILL THEM! Kill them all except that cocky bastard—I want him alive so I can make him watch while we torture his friends! And if anyone tries to run, hunt them down and bring me their heads!"

"Kill!"

"Attack!"

"For The Boss!"

The thirty-two bandits charged as one, weapons raised, Astra energy blazing!

Marcus immediately activated what remained of his techniques, golden energy flaring around his broken spear. "Formation!"

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