Now, just hand over all of those riches, and we might spare you.

The camp was alive with grim activity as the first light of dawn cast a dim, eerie glow over the valley.

Guards moved about with stern expressions, dragging a line of boys and grown men from their tents.

Their hands were bound, and their faces were etched with hopelessness as they were herded towards the nearby mine.

The camp, it seemed, was not just a hideout for the bandits but a hub for forced labor, where the strong preyed on the weak to extract the valley's riches.

The guards pushed and prodded the prisoners, who stumbled forward, their bodies already weakened from previous days of grueling work.

The sound of chains clinking and the shuffling of feet filled the air, mingling with the distant clang of pickaxes striking rock from the depths of the mine.

The mine's entrance loomed like a mouth ready to swallow them whole, its darkness a stark contrast to the cold morning light.

In his tent, Vakar, the Vulture of the Valley, was engaged in a hushed conversation with a man dressed entirely in black.

The man's hood obscured his face, but the glint of hidden weapons at his waist was unmistakable.

He knelt before Vakar, his head bowed in deference.

Vakar's voice was low but filled with malice as he gave his command.

"You can leave now. Make sure his death is as painful as possible."

The hooded man nodded silently. Then, without a word, he seemed to dissolve into the shadows, vanishing as if he had never been there.

The darkness swallowed him whole, leaving no trace of his presence behind.

Vakar watched the space where the man had disappeared, a cruel smile curling his lips.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the woman lying on his bed.

She lay with her back to him, her body uncovered and exposed, facing the opposite side of the tent.

"Woman, you can leave my tent. I need some space," Vakar ordered, his voice cold and dismissive.

When she didn't respond, his irritation flared.

"I'm talking to you, woman!" he snarled, reaching out to grab her shoulder, intending to turn her body towards him.

As he forcefully turned her over, her body rolled limply, her eyes staring blankly into the distance.

The life had left her, leaving behind a haunting emptiness in her once defiant gaze.

Her lips were parted slightly, stained with blood—a clear sign that she had bitten through her own tongue to escape the horrors she had endured.

Vakar stared at her for a moment, the realization slowly dawning on him. Then, instead of anger, a twisted smirk spread across his face.

"The bitch bit her tongue," he muttered, almost amused by her final act of defiance.

He stood up, brushing off his hands as if to rid himself of the unpleasantness.

Without another glance at the lifeless woman, he called for his guards. "Take the body away," he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.

The guards entered the tent, their faces unreadable as they lifted the woman's lifeless form.

They carried her out without a word, leaving Vakar alone in his tent, his thoughts already shifting back to his plans for Oasis of Lunaris,

oblivious to the growing darkness that his cruelty was sowing around him.

The past week had been quiet for Oasis, but not without its challenges.

After his deadly encounter with Garron and the Crimson Hand, he had stayed within Belvan, avoiding unnecessary attention.

He spent his days in the town, moving through the bustling markets,

eavesdropping on conversations, and gathering snippets of information from travelers and locals alike.

The townspeople whispered about bandits' corpses found in the nearby forest, not knowing that Oasis was the one who had dealt with them.

The Vulture of the Valley, had sent an assassin to track down the threat. But the assassin had come up empty-handed.

The description of Oasis was vague and misleading,

as the bandit Oasis had spared hadn't dared to mention that the formidable warrior who had defeated them was, in fact, just a twelve-year-old boy.

Instead, Vakar and his minions imagined Oasis as a seasoned veteran, an adult man who had somehow eluded their grasp.

Oasis had blended into the town's rhythm, learning its layout and the people's habits.

He knew where the best places to gather information were and had even become a familiar face in the inn where he stayed.

As he walked through the marketplace near the north gate of Belvan, Oasis couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

The marketplace was alive with activities, vendors shouting to attract customers, and children darting between the crowds.

But Oasis noticed the shady figures lurking in the shadows, their eyes following his every move.

They were the same people he had seen before, trailing him since his arrival at the inn.

Their constant surveillance had become more than just a nuisance; it was an annoyance that Oasis was growing tired of.

Deciding he had enough, Oasis made his way out of the marketplace, heading toward the north gate.

The moment he left the town, he felt one of the shadows peel away, likely to report to their boss that Oasis had finally left the safety of the town.

Oasis continued walking until he reached a small lake on the outskirts of Belvan.

The lake's surface was calm, reflecting the sky, while the area around it was a mix of rocky terrain and sparse vegetation.

As he admired the view, Oasis's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, taunting voice echoing across the lake.

"Oh, if it isn't the arrogant brat from the inn," the man's voice boomed, filled with a mocking tone.

Oasis turned to see the source of the voice, recognizing the man immediately. 

The man's face twisted into a smirk as he approached, flanked by a few of his companions.

"I finally caught you, slippery bastard," the man sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice.

Oasis, keeping his composure, made a slight bow and greeted the man, "This young one greets the elder."

His humility only fueled the man's arrogance.

"Ha ha ha! The young one is humble today, huh?" the man laughed, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Remember, kid, you humiliated this great one in the inn, flaunting your riches in front of the young lady."

"Now, just hand over all of those riches, and we might spare you."

As he spoke, the man's hand drifted toward the sword at his hip, his companions closing in around Oasis, their intentions clear.