The world came back to Inigo in fragments—dust floating in shafts of morning light, the groan of twisted wood, and the coppery tang of blood in the air.
He blinked rapidly, lying sideways in the now-toppled carriage. The padded seats were half-crushed against the wall, and Garrick lay slumped near the opposite side, blood streaking from a gash on his forehead. The carriage had flipped, shattered planks jutting through its base like broken ribs.
Inigo's ears rang. His HUD flickered erratically before stabilizing.
[WARNING: Ambush Detected]
He pushed himself up, coughing from the dust.
"Garrick!" he hissed, crawling toward the older man.
Garrick stirred with a grunt. "Still breathing," he muttered, clutching his side. "Blast took us clean off the trail."
"What the hell was that?"
"Bandits," Garrick said. "Knew the risk. They must've been trailing us since yesterday."
Outside, the clash of steel and the thunderous blasts of magic filled the forest. Screams followed. Shouts, then gurgled cries. One by one, they were silenced.
A heavy knock pounded on the warped side of the carriage.
"Well then!" came a gravelly voice, too loud, too cheerful. "Hope you two are still breathing in there. Let's not make this awkward. Crawl on out. We don't have all day."
Neither of them moved.
"Alright, be stubborn. Doesn't matter. My mage here's got a spell loaded up that'll turn your carriage into splinters and soup. You've got five seconds."
Inigo glanced at Garrick.
"If we surrender," he said quietly, "do they let us live?"
Garrick didn't hesitate. "No. Bandits don't like witnesses."
Inigo's pulse quickened. He stared at the broken ceiling, the light filtering through cracks. He had only just arrived in this world. He hadn't even seen the capital yet. He wasn't about to let some roadside thugs end his new life before it even began.
"No," he said coldly.
He thought to himself. "I didn't die once to die again. Not here."
[Equip: Combat Uniform – Active Mode]
A shimmer of blue light cascaded over him, swapping his travel clothes for sleek tactical gear.
[Purchase Confirmed: Flashbang – 60 Tokens]
[Purchase Confirmed: Smoke Grenade – 40 Tokens]
[Purchase Confirmed: R-Sense Combat Radar – 300 Tokens]
[New Balance: 1413 Tokens]
The attachment materialized on the side of his M4. A small digital screen blinked to life, scanning the terrain outside.
Blips. Dozens of them. Red dots circling the carriage from all sides.
"Twenty-five," he muttered. "They're surrounding us."
Garrick stared at the screen like it was divine magic. "What is that? A spell?"
Inigo chambered a round in his rifle. "Something like that."
Suddenly, a blade pierced through the side of the carriage—then another. Sharp steel lanced through the wood, inches from his face. More followed, like spears testing the space inside.
The M4A1 barked in short, controlled bursts. Bullets punched through the planks, the red blips blinking out one by one. Shouts rang from outside.
"What the hell was that?!"
"Magic! He's casting something!"
The retaliation came swift. A ball of crackling red energy slammed into the side of the carriage, ripping through a corner and sending splinters flying. Garrick shielded his head, groaning as more dust rained down.
Inigo pulled the pin on the flashbang, cracked open the broken carriage door, and lobbed it outside.
A deafening *bang* and a burst of white light followed.
Then came the smoke grenade.
A hiss. A thick cloud poured across the forest floor, swallowing everything in a grey haze.
Inigo stepped out like a ghost in the fog.
The HUD marked every hostile through the smoke—blips blinking red, some stunned, some charging blindly.
He moved as if possessed.
The first target rounded the corner. Inigo's rifle snapped up. Two shots to the chest. One to the head.
Another figure emerged from the mist, sword raised.
Inigo crouched and fired—three more down. The radar kept feeding data, guiding his angles. He was in his element.
Another blast of magic tore through the air, singing past his shoulder. He ducked behind a wagon wheel, peeked out, and dropped the caster with a single squeeze.
Garrick stumbled out behind him, sword drawn but stunned. "Gods above..."
The bandits were panicking. One called for a retreat. Another tried to rally. It didn't matter.
Inigo was already moving.
He slid behind a fallen barrel, picked off two silhouettes trying to flank, then rolled out and double-tapped the one holding a flaming orb.
The system was guiding him, sharpening his aim, enhancing his reflexes. Every motion was fluid—controlled. As if he had trained for years.
The rest began to scatter.
He dashed forward, eyes locked on the radar. One final blip behind the last wagon. The leader.
Inigo didn't hesitate.
He flanked wide, came around, and met the stunned gaze of a tall, grizzled man in fur armor.
"What are you?! What magic is that?"
That must be the leader. Speaking with him now would destroy his momentum. He has to be on the move always. So without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
The leader fell down to the ground lifelessly and Inigo didn't stop there. He exhausted his ammunition at the fleeing bandits, reloaded, and then resumed firing.
And suddenly—it was over.
Twenty-five red blips. All gone. Then—notification from the system started appearing before him.
[+3500 Tokens – Heroic Action Bonus]
[+200 Tokens – Civilian Saved]
[+5000 = Enemy Killed]
Inigo stood still, chest rising and falling, the rifle lowered slightly. Garrick caught up to him, eyes wide.
"...What in the hell are you?"
Inigo turned slightly.
"Someone who really didn't want to die today."
Garrick sauntered towards him and scanned the surroundings. All the bandits that attacked them were dead in a just a mere moment. Typically, a veteran knight or mage would take quite some time to defeat those numbers, but Inigo did those in just a mere minute.
He then looked at the thing that Inigo was holding, it was a different one compared from the ones he used during the attack in the village yet they had the same function, it made a loud noise and the enemy was dead.
"Has anyone on our side survived?"
Inigo's question broke Garrick's train of thoughts. He looked around to see if someone on their side survived, and as his head swept around, his facial expression turned depressing.
"No—I don't think so..."
Hearing that, Inigo froze.
If I didn't go to the capital... they might still be alive.
Inigo stumbled back, away from the bodies, the broken wagons, the pools of blood soaking into the earth. His legs felt weak. Not from exhaustion. From guilt.
Garrick noticed. "Inigo?"
He didn't answer. Just sat down on a piece of broken timber, his weapon resting across his knees.
The high of battle was gone. His adrenaline had drained. And all that remained was the hollow ache in his chest.
He buried his face in his hands.
Garrick approached, wincing as he limped, his side still bleeding slightly under the bandages Inigo had hastily wrapped earlier. "They died because the bandits attacked. Not because of you."
"No," Inigo whispered. "They were after us. They were waiting for this caravan. If I wasn't here..."
The older man's tone was firmer now. More commanding.
"There was a journey to the capital. Whether you were on it or not, these people were going to be ambushed. This was always a possibility."
Inigo didn't respond right away.
"Maybe..." he said after a long moment, "maybe you're right."
But it didn't erase the weight in his chest.
"Our only choice is to go to the capital and report the incident. But first, we have to bury those who are dead."
Inigo exhaled. He was just reincarnated in this world, and it was already depressing.