The gentle murmur of the stream filled the air as Arthur leaned against a wooden supply crate, listening to the merchant with mild interest. The midday sun cast warm light over the resting caravan, the horses idly munching on grass while the guards took a break from their long journey.

  "So, Northpoint is basically a battleground for power?" Arthur mused, tapping a finger against the hilt of his sword. "Sounds like a fun pce."

  The merchant, a middle-aged man with a slightly round belly and a thick mustache, chuckled. "Fun if you like living dangerously. The Noble Faction controls the city for now, but the Merchant Union and the Adventurer Guild are always stirring things up. Who knows? Maybe in a few years, the whole city will belong to one of them."

  Arthur nodded, taking it all in. Politics wasn’t really his strong suit—he had been more of a numbers guy back in his old life—but knowing who pulled the strings was always useful. In a world where strength and connections mattered, staying informed was a survival skill.

  He gnced toward the trees, where Bel had disappeared earlier. She had gone ahead to scout, her skills as a ranger making her the perfect choice to ensure the road ahead was safe. Even after six months in this world, Arthur still couldn't get over how effortlessly she moved through the wilderness.

  A few minutes passed. Then, just as he was about to check on her, a rustle in the underbrush caught his attention.

  Bel emerged, her long blonde hair slightly messy from the wind, her eyes sharp and focused. "We've got company," she said, her voice calm but firm.

  Arthur straightened. "Bandits?"

  "Maybe," she replied. "I saw tracks up ahead—multiple sets. They're fresh."

  The merchant paled. "Gods help us…"

  Arthur smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Rex. If they're stupid enough to attack, they’ll regret it."

  He pced a hand on his sword, readying himself. Looks like this journey was about to get interesting.

  Arthur stretched his arms, letting out a small chuckle as he walked over to Bel. She was crouched near her backpack, double-checking her quiver and daggers with the smooth efficiency of someone who had long since accepted this world as her new reality.

  "Hey, babe," Arthur called.

  Bel turned to him with a warm smile, her green eyes glimmering in the dappled sunlight. Dressed in a snug leather top, short ranger’s shorts, and thigh-high boots, she looked more like a character from a fantasy game than an actual adventurer. The outfit certainly wasn’t medieval—more like a mix between practical gear and something out of a cospy convention. But Arthur wasn’t compining.

  Spoiler

  [colpse]She walked up to him and, without hesitation, leaned in and pced a quick, teasing kiss on his lips. "Baby, you should concentrate more on the coming fight than ogling your wife," she said with a pyful smirk.

  Arthur ughed, shaking his head. "Hard not to when you look like that."

  Bel rolled her eyes but grinned. "Fttery won’t save you in a fight. Focus."

  "Alright, alright." He raised his hands in surrender. "So, how many are we looking at?"

  Bel crossed her arms, thinking. "Not more than eight to ten, judging by the tracks. Could be a small gang trying to pick off an easy target."

  Arthur smirked. "With the caravan guards backing us up, this should be a piece of cake."

  "Let's not get cocky," Bel warned, but there was a confidence in her voice too.

  They exchanged a knowing gnce before getting back to their final preparations, checking their weapons and making sure everything was in pce. Whatever happened next, they were ready.

  The caravan slowed to a halt. Up ahead, a thick tree trunk y across the dirt road, clearly pced there on purpose. Arthur narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t exactly the most creative ambush, but it did the job—no wagon was getting past without moving that log.

  Around the blockade stood a group of men—ragged, desperate-looking, and poorly armed. They weren’t trained fighters. Arthur could tell from the way they held their weapons—pitchforks, rusted swords, and the occasional dented helmet.

  "Great. Peasant bandits," Arthur muttered under his breath.

  From the safety of his wagon, the merchant leaned out, raising his voice. "Friends! There’s no need for violence! We’re only travelers. If you let us pass, I’ll pay a fair toll!"

  The bandits exchanged gnces. Arthur could see the greed in their eyes. They had sized up the caravan, noting the small number of guards. They weren’t interested in a "fair" price. They wanted everything.

  One of the taller bandits, a burly man with a crude axe, stepped forward. "Leave the wagons. Take the horses and walk. Do that, and maybe we let you live."

  Arthur sighed. "Well, that settles that." He gnced at Bel, who already had her bow in hand. He gave her a small signal—a slight nod.

  Bel smirked, whispering an incantation under her breath as she nocked an arrow. A faint glow surrounded the tip as she drew back, her green eyes locked onto the fallen tree. Then, with a sharp twang, she let it fly.

  The arrow struck the log dead center. For half a second, nothing happened. Then—

  BOOM!

  The explosion sent wood and dirt flying, shattering the blockade and taking down several bandits in the bst. Those closest to the explosion were thrown to the ground, their ears ringing.

  The moment of confusion was all Arthur needed.

  "Mage! They have a mage!" one of the bandits shouted—probably the leader.

  Arthur grinned, drawing his sword. "Too te."

  He charged forward, cutting through the dust and smoke, aiming straight for the leader. Behind him, the guards and remaining adventurers surged into battle.

  And just like that, all hell broke loose.