Asher floated high above in the sky, his gaze fixed on Finch below, his mind slightly surprised, no, impressed. Honestly, he hadn't expected such brutality and battle acumen from Finch. Yet there he was, standing amid the carnage, his entire body drenched in crimson as though he had just single-handedly wiped out an entire nation.

No matter what Finch's current ranking was among the first-year students, it didn't change the undeniable fact that he had been recognized by Cindralis herself as a talent. Out of thousands of talented individuals, he was chosen and even granted the chance to participate in the event, an honor few could ever dream of.

Originally ranked two hundred and thirty-fourth, Finch had already proven himself as a genius to a certain point. If someone of his caliber couldn't handle a mere group of bandits, then such a title would be nothing but an empty boast, a disgrace to his name.

Besides, his performance wasn't entirely surprising. He was able to fight one versus twenty so effortlessly because of the drastic difference in their Life Ranks. Asher had long suspected that Finch had already ascended to the Brightstar Life Rank, though which particular sub-rank he occupied, Asher couldn't tell for certain.

From his position in the air, Asher allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. This was the first time he had ever seen someone wield a chain as a weapon in such a manner. Normally, one would attach a dagger, sickle, or some other peculiar blade to the end of the chain to improve versatility. But Finch? He used nothing else, just a single chain, and he did so with such creativity and mastery that it bordered on artistry. Every motion was deliberate, every swing calculated, as though the chain itself was an extension of his will.

'Impressive,' Asher thought, his eyes glinting as he stared at the massive dome of intertwining black chains below.

Finch, standing in the center of that dome, raised a single hand. Instantly, the black chains responded, moving like living serpents. They retracted and coiled upon themselves, reducing in size and length until they returned to their original form, a single, ordinary-looking black chain resting in Finch's grasp.

Asher and William descended slowly from the sky, their feet barely disturbing the air as they landed beside him. Finch was already attempting to wipe away the blood that stained his arms and chest, but before he could, William lifted his hand slightly. The blood that clung to Finch's skin and clothes shivered and then flowed away as if obeying an unseen command. It gathered mid-air before scattering into fine crimson mist.

"You didn't show a single ounce of mercy," William said, his tone calm yet edged with curiosity. His dark eyes swept across the battlefield, the decapitated, disfigured, and mutilated corpses that littered the ground. Innards spilled freely, painting the earth in grotesque shades of red and brown. The metallic stench of blood hung heavy in the air, almost suffocating. "Do you hate bandits that much?"

Finch clicked his tongue softly. "Tsk. I do. A few years ago, my father, sister, and I were ambushed by bandits on our way to another Barony, back before I awakened. During that attack, my sister lost an arm." His voice hardened, and his grip on the chain tightened ever so slightly. "I told you this story before. You should already know why I hate them."

William nodded slowly. "You did tell me," he admitted, "but I didn't realize that incident had carved such hatred into you."

Their conversation was interrupted as the mercenaries, those who had been fighting the bandits at the beginning, staggered toward them. Asher noticed that although they bore minor wounds, a few of them were bleeding heavily. They looked exhausted but grateful.

"Thank you for saving us," one of them said, stepping forward. He seemed to be the leader, clad in battered armor with a spear strapped across his back.

"You're welcome," Finch replied with a short nod, his tone neutral.

Before anyone could say more, the carriage door behind the mercenaries creaked open. Several people stepped out, ordinary civilians who had taken shelter inside while the mercenaries fought. They looked around with wide eyes, clearly confused and frightened by the carnage that surrounded them.

Upon hearing a brief explanation from the mercenary leader, their faces paled. Then, as if realizing the magnitude of what had just happened, they bowed deeply toward Asher, Finch, and William in gratitude.

"Are you coming from Rivelle Barony?" Asher asked, his voice calm but firm as his gaze shifted toward one of the civilians, an older man with graying hair and weary eyes. Even without scanning their Astra flow, Asher could tell that none of them were awakened; they were ordinary people who had failed their awakening ceremonies.

"We are," the old man replied, forcing a smile. "The beast and monster tide is coming, and the devastation will be immense. Rather than stay and be caught up in the chaos, we decided to leave Rivelle immediately and cut our losses before losing everything." His tone carried both fear and resignation, the kind only a man who had lived through too many dangers could possess.

Asher, William, and Finch exchanged brief glances and nodded in understanding. It was a logical decision. Yet, they all knew that this path, fleeing through the wilderness, was just as perilous. Bandits had surely anticipated such movements. They would be lying in wait along every trade route and side road, preying on fleeing civilians, robbing, killing, and worse.

Even if these mercenaries and their clients had somehow managed to survive this bandit attack on their own, the next encounter might not be so merciful. Another ambush awaited further ahead. Still, none of that truly concerned Asher or his companions. Their mission did not involve rescuing travelers or cleansing the roads of bandits.

"How long have you been traveling since you left Rivelle Barony?" Asher asked, his tone thoughtful, trying to gauge their distance from the Barony.

"We've been on the road for over a day now," one of the mercenaries replied respectfully. "That includes the resting and sleeping periods we took."

Asher nodded, his purple eyes drifting to the horses harnessed to the carriage. They were normal steeds, exhausted, panting, and drenched in sweat. They could barely travel for a few more hours without collapsing. Not like the Enduron Horses, creatures bred for endurance, capable of running tirelessly for a full twenty-four hours without faltering.

'We should arrive at Rivelle in a few hours at most,' Asher thought silently.

"Thank you again for your help," one of the civilians said, bowing low once more.

"You should return to Rivelle Territory," Asher said immediately, his tone cutting through their gratitude.

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