Clash with the Red Hawks
693 Words
The morning sun was barely above the trees when Ethan began moving. His breath was steady, his steps silent as he trailed the Red Hawk caravan.
The mercenaries were disciplined—every few minutes, one would glance back, scanning the path. Their armor clinked faintly, their boots beating a steady rhythm on the dirt road.
The girl sat in the last wagon, her wrists bound, eyes downcast. But Ethan had seen the fire in them. She was no ordinary prisoner.
The system flickered:
[Quest Activated: Rescue the Captive.]
[Warning: Hostiles: 8 Mercenary Fighters | Level Range: 6–10.]
[Success Chance: 23%.]
Ethan swallowed hard. Twenty-three percent. Those weren’t odds—they were a death sentence.
But then the system chimed again:
[New Feature Unlocked: Combat Guidance.]
[During battle, system can highlight enemy weaknesses.]
A faint grin tugged at his lips. “Then let’s raise the odds.”
He waited until the caravan reached a narrow stretch of road, flanked by steep hills and heavy brush. When the guards relaxed their stance, Ethan struck.
A rock flew from his hand, clattering against the opposite slope.
“What was that?” one guard barked, stepping toward the noise.
Ethan burst from the underbrush. His branch-turned-staff slammed against the guard’s helmet, cracking it sideways with brutal force. The man crumpled.
“Enemy!” another mercenary roared, drawing steel.
The system’s overlay lit up in Ethan’s vision—red circles marking the weak joints of the mercenaries’ armor.
[Target Weakness: Knee joint—strike to cripple mobility.]
[Target Weakness: Exposed neck artery.]
Ethan moved before he could think. His staff swung low, cracking against a knee. The mercenary collapsed with a grunt, only to receive a crushing blow to the temple that left him sprawled in the dirt.
Gasps and curses erupted. Swords hissed free.
Eight against one.
But Ethan’s blood was roaring.
The first mercenary lunged, blade slashing down. Ethan sidestepped, the system guiding his timing with precision. The staff slammed into the man’s ribs, bones cracking.
Another swung wide. Ethan ducked, rolling past the blow, his branch smashing into the back of the man’s skull. He went down hard.
The caravan descended into chaos. Horses reared, the wagons rattled. The girl’s eyes widened as she pressed against the bars of her cage, watching.
Ethan’s chest heaved. Each strike burned his muscles, but the system’s voice cut through the haze:
[Stamina 62%...]
[Critical Threat approaching—Left flank.]
Ethan spun just in time, his staff intercepting a downward s***h. Sparks flew as wood met steel. The force nearly drove him to his knees.
The mercenary snarled, pressing harder. “You picked the wrong prey, boy!”
Ethan’s arms trembled, but the system flashed:
[Weak point: exposed wrist—counter recommended.]
He twisted, smashing the branch into the man’s wrist. The sword clattered to the dirt. With a shout, Ethan rammed his shoulder into the mercenary’s chest, sending him crashing back.
Four down. Four remained.
But Ethan’s breath was ragged, sweat pouring. His body screamed with every movement.
The system chimed again:
[Emergency Option Available: Spirit Core Surge.]
[Warning: Severe fatigue will follow.]
Ethan clenched his teeth. “Do it.”
Power roared through his veins, his vision sharp, his limbs light. The staff moved like lightning, each strike precise, brutal, final.
When the last mercenary fell, silence descended.
The wagons creaked. The horses snorted nervously. Ethan stood swaying, staff dripping with blood, his chest heaving.
The girl stared at him, wide-eyed. For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Ethan smashed the wagon’s lock, shattering it free.
She stepped out, her chains clinking. “Who… who are you?”
Ethan managed a faint smile, though his legs trembled. “No one important. Just someone who refuses to kneel.”
Before she could answer, the system chimed again—harsh, urgent.
[Warning: Enemy Reinforcements Approaching.]
[Estimated Arrival: 3 minutes.]
The girl’s face paled. “The captain… he’s coming.”
Ethan’s pulse quickened. If these fighters had been this strong, what kind of monster was their leader?
His grip tightened on his staff, eyes blazing.
“Then we don’t have much time.”
End of Chapter 9
- Writer
