Flames danced in the darkness. Nick’s breath was ragged, each desperate attempt to inhale bringing with it the acrid stench of burning oil and charred flesh. He coughed, a wet, hacking sound that echoed off the crumbling walls of the alleyway. The enforcers’ footsteps crunched on the gravel, slow and deliberate.
“I guess this is how it ends,” Nick rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His body screamed in agony, the fire consuming him, but his mind remained sharp, focused on the approaching golden masks partially obscured by the darkness.
He laughed—a broken, mirthless sound that was closer to a gasp of defiance. “You haven’t won yet. Your magic can stop our bullets and turn my traps against me, but that’s all you can do!” He coughed again, blood splattering the ground as he struggled to stay upright. “In the end, you’re nothing but weak men, hiding behind magic and lies.”
The flames licked at his legs, curling upward, relentless in their hunger. Nick felt his skin blistering, the pain a constant reminder that this, his greatest failure, could still be turned into his greatest success. The longer he kept them here, the more likely it would be that his wife and daughter escaped.
His vision blurred as the heat intensified, the world around him wavering like a mirage. “I’ve had worse days than this, you know,” he snarled, forcing the words past his cracking lips. “I’ve fought too long… too hard… to be afraid now. Death doesn’t scare me. You can kill a man, but you can’t kill an idea. That tyrant will never win.”
The enforcers stared at the burning husk of a man with apathy, yet none of them moved to give chase to the other insurgents. One enforcer with a smaller build pressed their fist over their heart—a salute, almost as if acknowledging the warrior’s final stand.
Nick could barely keep his eyes open, the world fading into a haze of red and orange. His last thought, as the flames claimed him, was of the two people he would never see again. With a final, shuddering breath, his mind slipped into darkness.
It’s been said that being burnt alive is one of the worst deaths a person can experience. Nick wasn’t sure what he was expecting—perhaps nothingness, or a sense of peace. At the very least, he expected an end to the pain.
He wasn’t expecting the cool touch of earth beneath his body, or clean, fresh air carrying the scent of pine and moss. His eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his thoughts as he stared up at the towering trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.
“What…?” He blinked, trying to reconcile the serene forest around him with the hellish inferno he suffered through just moments ago. He pushed himself up on shaky arms, every movement a phantom reminder of the burning agony. But there were no burns, no scars—nothing to show for the fire that consumed him.
Nick’s heart pounded as he looked around, disbelief mingling with a cautious dread. After everything he’d seen and heard in his life, he knew that there couldn’t be a god. Without a god, how could there be an afterlife?
If this wasn’t the afterlife, then… somehow, he was still alive.
In a place that he didn’t know.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he rose to his feet. The forest was quiet, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. He scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was, but nothing seemed familiar.
How was he alive? And more importantly, where was he?
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint noise, a twig snapping underfoot. His instincts kicked in, his hand moving to where his gun should be. But it wasn’t there. His heart raced as he crouched low, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the sound.
A moment later, rough voices echoed through the trees, growing louder as they approached. Nick’s eyes caught movement—a group of men, armed with swords, axes, and other crude weapons. They wore pristine, white bandanas covering their hair. Most of them had grizzly, unkempt beards, and their outfits were best described as worn and torn traveler’s clothes.
‘Are they other insurgents?’ Nick wondered.
“Spread out,” one of them barked, his voice gruff. “I smell fire. There’s someone nearby.”
The first man came into view, his back turned as he scanned the ground for tracks. Nick stepped out from his hiding place with his hands raised and declared himself. “I am Nicholas Draegan with the Resistance. State your name and affiliation.”
The unkempt man whirled around, his rusty sword raised high. His movements seemed incredibly slow. Nick sidestepped and slapped the man’s hand, sending the sword spinning into a nearby bush.
“I found him!” the man shouted.
Within seconds, Nick was surrounded.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” another man said as he approached. “You’ll have to excuse our rude introduction, but our boss went missing recently, you see. And then a mysterious stranger walks into our territory… You wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?”
Now that the men were closer, Nick noted that every one of them had a tattoo of a unicorn with an axe for a horn on their right arm. This felt more like a gang than a military force…
“What is your name and affiliation?” he repeated.
The man grinned, revealing rows of yellow teeth. “You seem confident, traveler. Are you an adventurer, by any chance? Or perhaps a mercenary?”
‘Adventurer… mercenary…’
A wild thought crossed Nick’s mind that he almost wanted to dismiss. But considering his current circumstances, he decided to ask a question that would help confirm his suspicions.
“Are you a bandit?”
The man laughed. “I prefer the term ‘Alternative Revenue Specialist’. Sometimes, I call myself an ‘Independent Wealth Manager’.”
Nick internally sighed. “Damn it. You’re a real, honest to god bandit.”
That was all he needed to know about the situation for the moment. It was time to take control, answers could come later.
He lunged forward, striking the first bandit he encountered with a quick jab to the solar plexus. To his surprise and horror, the bandit flew several feet and crashed into a tree before crumbling to the ground.
*Ding*
=You have defeated (1) Bandit.=
“…LitRPG?”
A dozen silhouettes burst out of the trees and bushes from all directions. A soft thrum of a bowstring echoed. Yet everything seemed to be moving slowly to him. The charging bandits, the arrows in the sky… he could see all of them like a slow-motion scene in an action movie.
The next bandit drew closer and Nick struck him with a quick jab to the chin. He moved on after noting the loud snap from the bandit’s neck.
“Fireball!” one of the bandits shouted.
A weak, barely flickering ball of flames flew toward Nick.
“So you’re magic users,” he growled. Any lingering hesitation was gone. These bandits deserved to die.
As he stared at the approaching fire, his body shook with phantom pain. Yet he growled in defiance.
“You think you can stop me with a fireball like that?” he shouted.
*Ding*
=Fireball=
-Active Skill-
->Mana: 20%
->Rank: 1/-
->Description: Throw a f*cking fireball.
“What the…”
The moment he saw the window, his suspicions were confirmed and exceeded all at once. Everything clicked into place.
These bandits were extras that barely deserved any further description, mere plot devices that would teach Nick about his powers. He had a new spell to try out.
He ignored the approaching bundle of explosive flame and pointed a finger at one of the bandits.
“Fireball.”
A small, flickering flame appeared at the tip of his finger, hesitant and unsteady like a candle in the wind. A huge wave of energy drained from his body and energized the flame, shaping it into a tiny, pulsating sphere of fire about the size of a baseball.
With a flick of his finger, the fireball launched forward. The bandit exploded, his torso disappearing in a torrent of bloody flames. In contrast, the bandit fireball struck Nick and harmlessly spluttered out like a weak spark.
The battlefield almost seemed to freeze as all the bandits stared at Nick in horror.
He pointed his finger at another bandit and declared damnation.
“Fireball.”
Then another.
“Fireball.”
And another.
“Fireball.”
=You have defeated (3) Bandits.=
Three bandits exploded violently, the flames lingering on their mutilated bodies for a moment before disappearing in a huff of smoke. Each fireball drained him more than the last, leaving him lightheaded. By the fourth cast, a buzzing pressure built in the back of his skull, and a strange sensation of emptiness clawed at him. He instinctively knew that one more would push him over the edge.
Two windows popped up at the edge of his vision.
=Level up! Fireball is now Rank 2/-.=
-Power and speed slightly improved.-
=Level up! Fireball is now Rank 3/-.=
-Power and speed slightly improved.-
=Fireball=
-Active Skill-
->Mana: 20%
->Rank: 3/-
->Description: Throw a f*cking fireball.
Nick blinked. The fireball skill leveled fast. “Not bad,” he muttered, satisfied. He didn’t know how much of a difference a couple of levels would make, but he was curious to find out.
The bandits all threw down their weapons and raised their hands in the sky. “We surrender!” they shouted almost in unison.
Nick stared at the smoking remains around him with dull eyes before turning his gaze toward the cowering rats.
“Take me to your hideout,” he ordered.
The bandit who seemed to be acting as the leader nodded quickly. “Yessir. Right away, sir.”
With a sharp look at his compatriots, the acting leader issued the order. Though still trembling, they moved to obey, casting nervous glances at the remains of their comrades. Nick followed behind them, keeping a wary eye on their movements while thinking about the implications of what just happened.
“W-what’s your name, stranger?” the acting leader asked, trying to fill the silence with conversation.
“Didn’t I already tell you?” Nick replied coldly, his voice steady.
The bandit swallowed hard and nodded, wisely choosing not to press further. They continued in silence for a few more minutes until the trees began to thin out, revealing a small clearing ahead.
“There it is, sir,” the acting leader said, pointing with a trembling hand. “Our hideout.”
Nick stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the camp. It was a shabby, makeshift setup—a few tattered tents, a couple of crates stacked haphazardly, and a campfire that had long since burned out. A couple of rough-looking men and women were lounging around, but they quickly scrambled to their feet when they saw Nick approaching.
“Get everyone out here,” Nick ordered. “Now.”
The acting leader repeated the order and, within a minute, most of the remaining bandits had gathered in the clearing, their weapons discarded, and their hands raised in surrender. A lone bandit staggered in late, a glazed, drunken look in his eyes as he ambled forward.
“Fireball.”
The drunken bandit exploded.
=You have defeated (1) Bandit.=
Nick’s vision swam for a brief second as a wave of dizziness hit him, and a chill crept into his limbs—he’d used up nearly all of his remaining mana. He felt the well inside him run dry, dangerously close to zero. That was his last cast for now.
“You’re late,” Nick said to the smoking corpse.
The remaining bandits cowered in terror at the ruthless act.
“Is this all of you?”
“Y-yes, sir,” the acting leader stammered. “This is all of us.”
Nick nodded slowly, his mind already working on the next steps. He needed to secure whatever resources these bandits had, and then figure out his next move. But first, he needed to establish control.
“Listen up. I’m taking everything you’ve got—food, weapons, supplies. If anyone tries to hide anything from me, you’ll end up like that fool over there,” he said while pointing with his chin toward the former drunken bandit.
The bandits nodded furiously and began to move, gathering up their supplies and piling them up. As they worked, Nick scanned the area, noting down what they brought him and making internal calculations.
One of the bandits—a scrawny, jittery man—hesitated as he handed over a small, leather-bound book. Nick’s eyes narrowed as he snatched it from the man’s hands.
“What’s this?” he asked, flipping through the pages. It was written in a language he didn’t recognize.
“Just… a skillbook, sir,” the man stammered. “I-I found it in the boss’s packs. Don’t know what skill its for, but you said you wanted everything…”
Nick’s eyes flickered over the faded pages, filled with strange symbols and unfamiliar script. It looked like some kind of manual or guide, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He tossed the book on a nearby pile of supplies.
“Keep ‘em coming,” he told the scrawny bandit.
As the last of the supplies were gathered, Nick turned his attention back to the acting leader. “You said your boss went missing. Where did he go?”
The acting leader shifted nervously, glancing at the other bandits before answering. “We… we don’t know, sir. About a week ago, a vampire visited our hideout and met with him. He said he would be right back, but he’s still gone. It’s been more than three days, so he should be back by now…”
‘A vampire…’
There were too many hazards in this place that he didn’t know anything about. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if the path he started on was really the best way forward when he had so little information. Bandits wouldn’t know everything, but they had to know more about this place than he did.
“A vampire, you say?” he repeated while studying their reactions. A few of them shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances. Clearly, this vampire was no ordinary threat to someone at the level of a bandit.
He decided to slightly change gears and give them an olive branch. “I need information, and now you all need supplies. Why don’t we sit down and have a nice, long chat?”
The bandits stared at him with shock and more than a little confusion.
“W-whatever you want, sir…” the acting leader replied. “But…”
“But…?” Nick repeated with a frown, his hand raising as if to cast another spell.
“Can we, uh… keep the explosions to a minimum? We’re running a little low on numbers, and it’s bad for morale…”
Nick blinked, shocked at the audacity of this man, and then grinned. “I like your guts.” He lowered his hand. “Then let’s have a nice, fruitful chat. If your information is useful for me, I’ll let you keep some of the supplies and weapons when you leave.”
The acting leader smiled in return and gestured to some makeshift wooden chairs. “Shall we?”
Nick took a seat with the acting leader opposite him. The rest of the bandits stood around them with nervous expressions as Nick opened the dialogue.
“Let’s start with the most important question,” he said.
The acting bandit leader gulped nervously and nodded.
“Is there some kind of world-ending threat on the horizon? A demon lord that needs to be defeated? Something that would cause a hero to be summoned from another world?”
“…What?”
Project Knightfall 