Hando sat atop a restless black horse at the edge of the forest path, the wind tugging at his ragged black cloak. He was no longer the proud leader of a fearsome bandit group of the Helbei Mountains. Now, he served under Larty—no, he survived under Larty. His role was simple: follow orders and, in return, reap the promised reward of power.
Behind him, over two hundred bandits stood in a loose, ragged formation, gripping mismatched weapons. Their expressions were hard and hungry—some excited, others anxious. The heavy carriages behind them creaked to a stop. Inside the iron-barred cages, the monstrous Rust growled low and guttural, the sound vibrating through the ground like a distant avalanche. Even the bandits shifted uneasily, keeping their distance from the carts.
Hando narrowed his eyes.
The town was now in full view, its barricade tall and reinforced. Wooden stakes, barbed wire, and sharpened trenches surrounded its perimeter. Beyond the defenses, squat stone buildings rose with slanted roofs of metal sheets and rusted chimneys. Iron plating reinforced wooden walls, and smoke drifted lazily from metal forges scattered among cobbled alleys. Watchtowers of timber and iron stood like sentinels, their tops lined with mounted ballistae and blinking signal lights.
Even from afar, Hando could see vague figures of people standing atop the walls, their weapons aimed in his direction. They had likely already noticed their position. But Hando didn't care—he didn't feel threatened at all. In a few hours, the gates and walls of the town would be razed to the ground.
"Position!" Hando barked.
The column halted. Their group was stationed at the town's main entrance, while two more groups waited at the west and east sides, forming a siege.
The orders were simple: capture the town, and kill as many as possible.
With the Rust—monstrous red creatures—on their side, controlled by a strange device, confidence ran high among the bandits. The plan was to release the Rust first, keeping the Awakened warriors, who had been brought in from outside, occupied. Each group had more than ten of these creatures—more than enough to stall the defenders, reduce their numbers, and sow chaos throughout the town.
As planned, Carson was already inside, working with their contacts. His mission was clear: capture the Association's Awakened warriors. Once the Rust were released, Carson would strike, either taking the target by surprise or ambushing them while they were distracted.
Hando had seen it firsthand—Carson could shift his form, his movements so fast they left behind ghost-like afterimages. When Carson entered his Berserk state, he could split into five indistinguishable copies—more than enough to overwhelm any Awakened trying to contain the Rust.
Their intel claimed there were only four or five Awakened in town. Even if there were more, it didn't matter. Carson carried a weapon capable of killing everyone if things went south.
As the leader of the expedition, Hando felt a thrill of arrogance surge through him. A wicked glint flickered in his eyes as he looked down at the town for daring to resist.
To him, the town was nothing more than a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. Although the defenders had a few Awakened, they couldn't possibly turn the tide. The bandits had numbers, the Rust, and Awakened whose power surpassed the norm.
He had witnessed the cruelty and power of Larty, Lino, and Carson. They were nothing like average Awakened. He had seen them extract a strange energy from civilians and use it to empower themselves. They called it Berserk—a state that made an Awakened five times more powerful. The same extraction could also be used to acquire new abilities.
After this mission, Hando had been promised a place in the next batch—one that would grant him strength equal to an Awakened.
Hando knew just how terrifying Awakened warriors could be. After they had first emerged, his bandit group had stayed low, wary of the government's reach. But that changed when they met Larty and joined his organization. Their strength—and arrogance—had returned. After this, he would finally step into the ranks of a warrior.
He glanced at the cages. The Rust were already snarling, sensing their time had come. Each group of attackers had more than ten of the creatures—twenty-foot-tall humanoid beasts with rust-red skin and glowing red eyes. Magic burned inside their veins—unstable and feral. Their elongated arms dragged across the cage floors, claws scraping metal.
"Open the cages!" Hando shouted.
The bandits moved instantly, unlocking the latches with trembling hands. One by one, the Rust emerged, each thud of their steps cracking the ground. They snarled at their captors until Hando raised his right arm.
The soulstone in his palm shimmered in sync with the one embedded in the creature's neck.
The Rust froze mid-snarl, heads snapping toward the red light. Hando's voice boomed:
"Go. Attack the town. Leave none alive."
Then, one of the bandits fired a blazing arrow into the sky, signaling the other groups to begin their assault.
The Rust let out a unified, ear-shattering roar. Then, as if hypnotized, they sprinted forward, tearing across the fields toward the barricaded town. From all three directions, they charged.
As the monsters rushed forward, the bandits followed close behind, waiting for the signal from inside the town to enter the battlefield.
In the watchtower, a soldier spotted the creatures and rang the alarm.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Get to your positions!"
The call echoed across the town. Soldiers scrambled into place.
At the front gate stood Tanti. To the west, Grayson waited. On the east side stood Thilde and Captain Rither, who had just arrived and quickly got into position. Allie remained in the center of town, ready to treat the injured. Another Awakened, Galeal, stood near the shelter, prepared to defend in case of a breakthrough.
Their expressions shifted with tension the moment the red creatures came into view—Rusts, charging like a wave of scarlet scavengers.
The soldiers had heard of them before—the reports of monstrous beasts that tore through scouting units, leaving only blood in their wake. They had read the survivors' accounts: beasts with rust-colored skin, eyes like molten fire, and maws large enough to swallow a man whole. But seeing them now, thundering toward the town with claws outstretched and jaws wide open, was something else entirely.
Some soldiers instinctively took a step back, the sheer size and savagery of the Rust forcing their instincts to scream. Others trembled as they struggled to hold their bows steady, eyes locked on the monsters barreling toward them. One young archer whispered under his breath, voice shaking, "Th-They're even bigger than the reports said…"
Beside him, a grizzled veteran growled, "Shut it. Aim for the eyes or joints. These bastards can bleed."
Another soldier, pale but resolute, exhaled slowly and muttered, "They're just beasts… we'll be able to kill them too… right?"
Yet, despite the creeping fear, not a single one abandoned their post. Not a single foot stepped back from the line. Their hands might have trembled, their hearts might have raced, but they stood—shields raised, bows drawn, weapons ready.
Overhead, the horns of warning howled across the barricade.
From the towers, archers prepared to fire. Flames flickered on arrow tips. The town, though trembling, was far from defenseless.
And the Rust—those mindless, raging beasts—were about to learn that firsthand.