13 First mission, part 2.

I think I know what that side effect was all about.

I was excited about this mission. I was about to have to kill dozens of men who likely won't be able to resist, and yet my main concern was if that was going to be any fun. Eris wasn't kidding, this Sutra really does make you more violent. And I really couldn't find it in me to care.

I was currently in the depths of the woods, a bit of a ways west of the village. I had been moving around through the trees, Tat guiding me along through strong sections of the trees. If the old man's estimate was right, I would be on top of the bandits' camp soon. And as if on cue...

"Oi, the hell you think y'all are doin', napping? You lot are suppose to be keepin' eyes on them villagers. Can't have the sect breathin' down our necks."

"Ah, shut it Jorge. Ain't nothin' but old men and cowards in that village. An' after the little show me and the boys did, they ain't even have the stomach to look at tha gate. Anyhow, we wanna be here when Boss cuts us loose to have fun with them girls."

"You know damn well that ain't happenin'. Them girls be property of that demonic cultivator fella. And he's paid a hefty note for them, intact. Boss'd strangle ya if you asked him somethin' stupid like that. Honestly, you wanna piss off one of them cannibal skin-walking bastards? You go right ahead, but give everybody else fair warning."

The two kept on with their talk, but I was now lost in thought. From what I heard, it sounds like the ladies are all still fine. That's reassuring, but...

Demonic cultivator. Shit fuck holy god motherfucking damn it.

I read a bit about them in my novice guide. To paraphrase, they were extremely cruel cultivators who all practice some manual or skill which requires them to harm others. There are all kinds, from mass murder fueling vitality, to serial assaults stealing life-force from victims. Unanimously, though, they all excelled in murder. They were considered among the most dangerous threats in cultivation.

If one of those types were around, and backing this bandit group... Rescue just got more difficult. Saving them wouldn't be enough. The village would still be just as vulnerable as before, especially if a strong cultivator was kicking the door in. Maybe I could rescue the women, and bring the entire village to the sect. Report a demonic cultivator to the higher-ups, and boom, they'll send someone capable enough to handle it. Yeah, that sounds like a decent plan. Let's go with that.

My mind made up... I finally get to move to the fun part.

...

Life for Jorge had never been particularly successful. Born to indentured servants, he was raised as a farmer. He was thirty when the Grigory Sect bought the farm he worked, and he was displaced. No one would take him. He had no skills, outside of using his strength. But he wasn't anything close to a cultivator. So he fell into a pit of despair, drinking stolen booze for days on end.

That is, until he was accidentally recruited into a bandit clan.

But... He found it easy. And it gave him plenty of spending money, something he has never had in his entire life.

But now, he was not sure if he had made the right choices in life.

In front of his eyes, stood half of his former friend, Wu. He had been talking about something stupid, and then... The top part of his body was just... gone. It was stunning, really, how suddenly death could find you. All around him, he saw a vaguely human shape blur from person to person, and none of them were left intact when the blur moved on. Trevor had his arms ripped off. Hannah had her jaw ripped clean off, and embedded in her throat. Isaac had it the worst, though... His chest was cracked open like a box, and his organs had fallen to the ground a full minute before the rest of him.

And then, before Jorge could process, the blur was in front of him. A behemoth of a man, radiating a peaceful wrath, like viewing a hurricane captured in glass. It was mesmerizing, but the sadistic grin the man wore drove any thought of survival out the window.

It... was not a swift death, for Jorge. The beastial thing called a man simply toyed with him, cracked his spine to paralyze him, tore his arms off, and impaled him to a tree. He was still alive as the beast vanished, in pursuit of stronger, more fun prey.

...

I came to my senses, covered in blood and entrails. When did I-. Had I blacked out? I remember... I had used form one against the first man, and I remember his body just... ripping apart, like an old shirt. He tore from shoulder to hip, straight into two pieces. And then... I felt thrilled. And that's it. Then I was here.

This is... I cannot allow this to happen twice. Ugh... I don't even have a chance at being able to figure out this mess. Eris, what happened?

[Sir, you gloriously dealt out a measure of punishment fit for a child of the Void. You reaped 113 victims. No civilians were harmed, either.]

What? The report assessed that there should've only been about thirty or so bandits. But... Eris said I didn't hurt anybody who wasn't a bandit. Why was the report so wrong?

"The fuck?"

A deep voice entered my ear, as I turned and saw a man enter the camp from the forest. He was equipped with armor incredibly similar to the bandits, and I could feel... He was a cultivator. Not too strong, though. I could probably take him.

"You... Did you do this to my boys? You know how bad you fucked up here, man?" The man spoke bluntly, before raising a large hammer and glaring at me. I felt his energies move. Mortal Energy. But there was something wrong about it. It felt heavy.

And then the man dashed, closing the distance as his hammer swung, carving a gouge in the earth with a tremendous upward swing. Dirt rained from the air, but I kept my eyes locked on to him as I dodged.

With a thought, the Masseter was in my hand. A moment passed, and a thick wave of Mortal Energy struck me across the chest. It didn't harm me, but it felt as if... No, I'm sure of it. He had tried to invade my dantian. Unfortunately for him, I don't have one.

I replied in kind, releasing an immense wave of both Earthly and Mortal Energy outward. In my mind, the image of Broly came to me, like I was flaring my ki. A small smirk was in my mind, and I had to dismiss it from my brain when I was struck, hard.

I flew through the air for a dozen meters, striking against a small cabin to stop. Fucking ouch. Guy must be cultivating something serious. He hits like a freight train. I dislodged myself from the wall, stretching slightly and popping my neck before I dropped into my stance.

In an instant, I used Cutting the Front, and thick Mortal Energy rushed forth, crashing into the bandit leader's hammer. A second kick, and I heard the hammer crack. A third, and it shattered, the remnant energy from that kick slicing a wound into the bandit's chest. He staggered back, and I closed the distance in an instant with Battle Step. With a grab, I reached through his fresh chest wound, and gripped his ribcage.

"Adam Style, First Form. Chest Breaker."

And with a simple flex of my arm, I ripped out his ribcage by the sternum. Blood sprayed, and organs fell to the ground in a messy display. Inwardly, I hated myself. Why did I have to say something so lame at the end? Why do I need a special move all the sudden?

I shook my head, hoping to forget the embarrassing end to the rather brutal evening, as I stepped up to the largest building in the camp. The prison.