That night, the back-alley gang of bandits had no idea that this would be their last night.
In a dilapidated building they called their headquarters, laughter and the clinking of glasses echoed. They partied, drowning themselves in money earned through dirty schemes—the sweat and suffering of the people of Ofia they had mercilessly extorted.
Elsewhere in the city, in shadows almost untouched by light, Sieg stood before his small army.
The force was not large—just twenty-five personal guards, plus the Auditore hidden among the shadows.
A small number.
But that was intentional.
If they had stormed with a large force, the bandits would have had time to prepare, build defenses, or even escape. In an instant, the situation could turn against them. But with a swift and precise strike, they would have no chance to react.
And more than that… this was a message.
That with just twenty-five people, Sieg could shatter the chains that had long bound his people.
Sieg stepped forward, scanning his soldiers one by one. Faces tense, yet full of resolve. The torchlight cast long shadows on the ground, creating an atmosphere both quiet and heavy.
"Listen."
His voice was calm, yet carried a weight that immediately drew everyone's attention.
"Tonight will be a small step… for me, and for all of you."
He paused briefly, ensuring each word sank in.
"A small step… to change the face of this region forever."
A few soldiers exchanged glances, their breaths growing heavier.
"You've surely heard it from Captain Harris," Sieg continued, his voice slightly deeper. "But I will emphasize it once more."
His gaze hardened.
"What we do tonight is not merely to eliminate bandits."
He clenched his fists.
"This is about breaking the chains that bind our brothers… our families… and our homeland."
The atmosphere grew even quieter.
"The chains of structural corruption… that have drained them dry for far too long."
Several soldiers lowered their heads, jaws tightening. Those words were not just rhetoric—they were the reality they saw every day.
Sieg drew a slow breath.
"Not many nobles would speak like this in front of soldiers like you."
He looked at them more intently.
"But you are not just soldiers to me."
His tone shifted—firmer, closer.
"You are my people."
The statement hung in the air, leaving a clear impact.
"And you must understand… the work you do tonight is noble."
He took a step forward.
"So…"
His gaze swept across the formation, slow yet sharp, ensuring no one looked away. Torchlight reflected in their eyes, revealing a mixture of tension, doubt, and a resolve beginning to form.
"Are you ready?"
Silence.
The night wind rustled through the leaves. No one answered. Only the heavy breathing of the soldiers was heard, one by one, as if they were weighing his words in their hearts.
But slowly… something changed.
Separated breaths began to merge, forming a single rhythm. Their once-wavering gazes hardened.
Their resolve had solidified.
Sieg observed the change calmly, then narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Gentlemen…" His voice was low, yet cut through the silence. "I can't hear you."
A few soldiers exchanged glances.
"Yes, Prince…" they replied, still restrained, as if not yet daring to fully commit.
Sieg let out a quiet snort, clearly dissatisfied.
"Are you children?" His voice rose, sharp as a whip slicing through the night air. "Where is your voice!?"
The silence shattered.
"YES, PRINCE!!"
This time their voices echoed louder, more alive, filled with emotions previously held back. Some clenched their fists, others stomped their feet harder against the ground.
But Sieg didn't stop.
He stepped closer, looking at them one by one, as if challenging them to push further.
"Louder," he said coldly. "Let tonight know… who we are."
For a moment, their breaths caught—
Then, with the same drive, they shouted even louder than before.
"YES, PRINCE!!!"
The sound shook the air, piercing the darkness, igniting a spirit that could no longer be extinguished.
Sieg gave a faint smile. Not a warm smile, but the satisfied smile of a leader seeing his troops ready for battle.
"Good."
He raised his hand slowly, signaling them to calm down. Instantly, the roar subsided, replaced by a heavier silence—the calm before the storm.
"For our homeland," he spoke, this time lower, yet somehow deeper.
"FOR OUR HOMELAND!!"
Their voices echoed once more, now without hesitation.
Sieg lowered his hand decisively.
"Move out."
The command was simple… but absolute.
In an instant, the formation began to advance. The guards spread according to their roles, their steps fast yet controlled. Metal clinked softly, fabrics shifted without excessive sound.
Among them, the Auditore disappeared first—vanishing into the shadows like ghosts who had never existed. They were the spearhead, opening the path before the rest arrived.
Sieg walked in the center, unhurried, yet every step deliberate. His eyes fixed ahead, toward the darkened city… toward the den of filth he would destroy tonight.
…
The bandits' headquarters was hidden in a back-alley inn. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary inn—shabby, crowded, and unassuming. Yet inside, the upper floor served as rooms and a workspace for the merchants controlling it all.
On the lower floor, the bandits gathered. They came from various places—thugs, hired killers, and former knights dishonorably discharged.
The label "knight" in this world was not an empty title. They were recognized individuals, powerful people capable of wielding Aura—a force that allowed their bodies to surpass ordinary human limits.
And now… some of them stood on the wrong side.
Raucous laughter and clinking glasses filled the room. They drank, gambled, and enjoyed the fruits of their dirty work without the slightest remorse.
Upstairs, the atmosphere was very different quieter, yet far more disgusting.
Merchants lounged at a large table, with luxurious food and drinks before them. Around them, village girls forced to serve moved with vacant expressions—some were kidnapped, others part of the slave trade they ran.
"The people of Melancia are truly fools," one merchant laughed, reclining casually.
"As long as we control the supply, they'll keep crawling like dogs," another replied, raising his glass.
Laughter erupted again.
"Their king? Hah… that farmhand puppet doesn't deserve the title of king!"
"And the prince…" one of them sneered. "Sieg, right? That brat who doesn't even understand how the world works yet."
"Just let him play ruler of the region," another sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "As long as he doesn't interfere with our business, he's nothing more than decoration."
Laughter once again filled the room, thick with arrogance and disdain.
A young female servant entered, her steps unsteady, carrying a bottle of expensive wine on a tray. Her hands trembled slightly, but she tried to keep the contents from spilling.
"Hurry up," one of the merchants grumbled, not even turning to look.
She immediately began pouring wine into their glasses, one by one, keeping her head bowed to avoid anyone's gaze in the room.
"Look at them," said one merchant with a crooked smile, his eyes glancing at the village girls standing in the corner. "So innocent… yet still useful."
A few others chuckled softly.
"The people of Melancia might be poor… but at least they have something worth enjoying," another added, his tone degrading.
One of them roughly grabbed a girl's arm, causing her to nearly lose balance. She could only restrain herself, her face pale, eyes fixed on the floor, too afraid to resist.
"Look at this," he said laughing, as if showing off his possession.
The others merely watched—some laughed along, others preoccupied with their drinks—no one cared.
In that room, no one saw them as humans.
Only commodities.
"These girls alone could fetch a high price outside! Hahaha! Really, that's the only good thing about this kingdom!"
Their laughter erupted again, harsher and more uncontrollable. They continued mocking, insulting, and degrading the people of Melancia, as if it were common entertainment.
In the corner, the girls remained silent. Some lowered their heads, others bit their lips to restrain emotion. They were clearly offended… yet powerless.
Then, one by one, the merchants raised their glasses.
Drinking the wine just poured.
Seconds passed—
And suddenly, something changed.
Their movements froze.
One of them tried to stand, but his body stiffened. The glass in his hand fell, shattering on the floor, yet he couldn't even react.
"What… is… this?" His voice trembled in panic.
The others felt the same. Their bodies wouldn't move, as if control had been stripped from them. Yet their consciousness remained intact—and their mouths could still speak.
"What are you doing!?" one shouted, eyes bulging at the girls.
The room that had been filled with laughter now thickened with tension.
One girl stepped forward.
She removed her mask—a shadow technique that altered the perception of anyone around her, making her unrecognizable at first glance.
Her eyes shifted.
Cold. Sharp. Emotionless.
"Now, look who's foolish," she said quietly.
She was no ordinary village girl.
She was one of the Auditore.
At the same time—
From the lower floor, the sounds of chaos began to erupt. Screams, clashes, and the noise of resistance broke out simultaneously, shattering the night that had been thick with arrogance.
The attack had begun.
And this time… they had no chance to fight back.