The remaining two bandits raised their weapons dramatically. "For the glory of the ROCKET!"
The clearing fell into a strange, tense lull.
Ronan tightened his grip on his sword while Derrik rolled his shoulders, breathing heavily. Mira wiped dirt from her eye, daggers at the ready, as Lyra clutched her staff and Tobin tried to steady his racing pulse.
In the middle of it all, Null simply watched, his red eyes shifting between the last two standing thieves. He let out a silent sigh.
'Fantasy Omniscience-san, Is it just me, or are these guys suffering from a severe case of eighth-grade syndrome?'
[Analysis confirmed, The behavioral patterns match what your world categorizes as "chuunibyou." They are emulating the legendary bandit organization you inquired about earlier—the group that claims possession of the supreme artifact known as "Rocket."]
They were grown adults, yet they were dramatically crossing their weapons like actors on a stage. One pointed his axe toward the canopy, shouting about unfolding prophecies, while the other slammed his sword against his shield to praise the "path of the rocket."
Null tucked a strand of his hair, 'Yeah… definitely chuunibyou.'
[Correct. They believe imitating the speech and demeanor of their idols brings them closer to that perceived greatness.]
'So they're basically cosplaying their heroes,' Null thought.
"…You know," he murmured quietly, "bandit role-playing is a strange career choice."
Hearing him, Lyra laughed slightly.
"For the unseen heavens!"
"For the hidden ROCKET that watches the world!"
He almost felt bad for them. 'Also Satellite, The word you idiots are looking for is satellite. I'm ninety percent sure the leader of that legendary gang is another otherworlder.'
Suddenly, the two theatrical bandits spun around and waved—not at Ronan's team, but deeper into the clearing.
"Great one!"
"O Herald of the Rocket!"
Their voices carried an absurd amount of reverence. "These fledgling warriors have proven themselves worthy! They have shattered three pillars of our shadow court! We humbly request—that you enter the stage!"
For the first time since the skirmish began, a lone figure moved.
Until now, a man had been sitting quietly on a fallen log near the campfire, completely ignoring the brawl. A half-empty wine bottle rested beside him, and a small metal cup was hooked in his fingers. He hadn't flinched when the first bandit fell, nor had he blinked when the others were knocked out. He had just observed the fight as if it were a cheap street performance.
Now, the man stood up, his motions lazy and unhurried. He drained the last drop of wine from his cup and flicked it aside. It struck a rock with a sharp clang and rolled into the dirt.
He cracked his neck, the sound of shifting joints echoing faintly through the trees, and stepped forward. He had dark brown hair, sharp eyes, and a crooked grin that showed too many teeth.
But it was his hands that made the novices freeze.
As he flexed his fingers, his nails lengthened into thick, curved black claws. The skin around them darkened as coarse fur spread along the backs of his hands. A beastman. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable.
"Are you the leader?" Ronan asked, his voice tight.
The beastman didn't answer right away. He rolled his shoulders and glanced at the three unconscious men on the dirt, letting out a loose, amused sigh. "Honestly. You boys really went and lost to a bunch of kids."
The two remaining bandits straightened up. "Great one! These are no ordinary hatchlings! They possess the spark of destiny!"
The beastman waved a clawed hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah."
He stepped past them, leaves crunching under his heavy boots as he approached the party. The heavy scent of wine lingered around him, but his eyes were completely clear, sharp, and predatory. He stopped ten meters away, tilting his head to study the novices.
"Five kids," he murmured. "One healer. One nervous crossbow. One stone-head. One stealth girl." His gaze landed on Ronan. "And a leader trying very hard to look confident."
Ronan didn't break eye contact, but his sword rose slightly.
The beastman's eyes finally shifted toward Null, lingering for a beat before his grin widened. "And you."
Null blinked. "Me?"
"An interesting one," the beastman scratched his chin with a claw. "With a face like that, I bet you'd sell for a hefty sum in the slave markets."
Null rolled his eyes. 'Why is everyone in this world so fixated on my appearance? It was the exact same story back on Earth.'
[Master, Threat assessment updated. This individual possesses significantly higher combat capability than the previous five.]
Yeah, Null thought, his hand resting loosely on his sword hilt. I figured.
The beastman rolled his neck one last time with a loud crack, raising a single clawed hand toward them. "Alright, kids," he smirked, his posture tightening. "Let's see if you're actually worth all the dramatic speeches those idiots just gave."
Null was a little surprised. At least this guy seems to have some common sense left in him.
The beastman moved first.
No warning, no dramatic shout. One moment he stood ten meters away; the next, he vanished.
Ronan barely raised his sword in time.
CLANG!
The impact exploded through the clearing, the beastman's claws crashing into the blade with frightening force. Sparks burst from the metal, and Ronan's arms buckled instantly.
"Too slow, kid." The beastman twisted his wrist, sliding his claws down Ronan's blade before slamming them into his chest armor.
THUD!
Ronan was thrown backward three full steps, his boots carving deep grooves into the dirt.
"Big brother Ronan!" Lyra cried.
But the beastman was already a blur of muscle and claws, shooting toward Derrik.
"STONEHEART—!" Derrik barely activated his perk before a fist slammed into his guard, bending his wooden staff under the sheer force.
BOOM.
"Nice trick," the beastman grinned, driving his knee into Derrik's stomach.
WHAM.
The breath blasted out of Derrik's lungs, followed immediately by a spinning backhand that sent him staggering sideways like a toppled statue.
Then Mira struck. Her Ghoststep activated instantly, flashing her across the clearing like a silent arrow. Both daggers aimed straight for the beastman's spine.
CLANG.
Without even looking back, the beastman caught one of her daggers between his claws. "Sneaky."
His free hand snapped backward. Mira twisted aside just in time, but the claws still grazed her shoulder, tearing her sleeve and leaving a thin line of blood. She flipped backward, skidding across the dirt with a sharp gasp. "He's fast."
Too fast.
Ronan wiped blood from his lip, Derrik staggered upright, and Mira joined them a second later. The three novices instinctively regrouped—weapons raised and breathing hard.
Across from them, the beastman casually cracked his knuckles. CRACK. CRACK.
"That's it? I was expecting more after all that 'destiny' talk these idiots gave."
Behind him, the two remaining bandits burst out laughing. "HAHA! The hatchlings tremble!"
Even the ones pinned to the ground earlier started shouting again. "CRUSH THEM! SHOW THEM THE PATH OF THE ROCKET!"
Null stared at the captured bandits beneath his boot, his eye twitching slightly.
Seriously? The man under his heel was still trying to shout, "THE SHADOW COURT SHALL—"
Thunk.
Null casually tapped the back of the man's head with the pommel of his sword, and the bandit went limp instantly. "Quiet."
The second captured bandit tried to keep yelling. "THE ROCKET—"
Thunk.
"You too."
Silence returned, save for the two standing bandits who were still howling with laughter. "LOOK AT THEM! THE GUILD SENT CHILDREN!"
The beastman stretched his arms lazily, flexing his claws. "Seriously though. You kids actually thought you could take down a real bandit crew? These idiots might look like drunk lunatics, but we've been raiding together for a year. Experience beats talent nine times out of ten."
Behind Ronan, Lyra was already working. "Gentle Bloom!"
Soft green light spread across the clearing. Her healing magic flowed over
Ronan, Derrik, and Mira, fading their bruises and steadying their breathing.
Ronan exhaled slowly. "Thanks."
Derrik rolled his shoulders. "Still hurts."
"But it's manageable," Mira added, flexing her arm.
The beastman watched them calmly, then laughed. "Look at that. The flower heals the heroes. But it doesn't change the ending."
The two bandits behind him raised their weapons again, shouting more theatrical nonsense.
"You children stepped onto the wrong stage!"
The beastman grinned wider. "You know what your mistake was? Arrogance. You thought a handful of guild kids could drag us to the Justice Regulators." He tilted his head, his claws scraping against each other with a harsh metallic skrrrk. "Bad news. You're the ones walking into a grave."
The forest fell quiet again. Ronan raised his sword more carefully this time, Derrik stepped up beside him, and Mira circled slowly to the side while Lyra and Tobin steadied themselves from the rear.
The team had regrouped, but the weight of the air in the clearing had completely changed.