The Blood Sand Bandits were a large organization that had been active in the southern desert of the continent for a very long time.
The number of members they commanded exceeded hundreds, and among them, most of the combatants were capable of imbuing their swords with magic—making them a force far too powerful to be considered mere bandits.
Given the massive power the Blood Sand Bandits possessed, it was only natural that they caught the attention of the nation of Colony, which was rooted in the desert.
After all, the area where the Blood Sand Bandits were operating was none other than Colony’s capital city.
Like the saying goes, “a nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” It would have been appropriate for the nation to take action and eliminate such a large bandit group.
After all, when bandits loiter around, the nation inevitably suffers damage in some way.
However, the reason the Blood Sand Bandits could continue to operate so boldly near the capital’s desert region was because they had powerful backing.
And not just any backing, but from the most long-standing Baba Yaga of Colony—none other than the warrior, Kalman Arents.
With Kalman supporting them, the group that should have been wiped out long ago grew from dozens to hundreds over a span of ten years.
Today, however, Draco, the leader of the Blood Sand Bandits and Kalman Arents’ trusted subordinate, was in a very bad mood.
The reason was that one of his men had gone out to raid a caravan today and was killed.
Draco scowled in irritation. His frustration wasn’t from the loss of a comrade, but because one of the laborers he had painstakingly raised had died meaninglessly.
‘I had planned to train him a bit more and use him as an assassin.’
Clicking his tongue, Draco asked, “Who killed him?”
“It seems he was killed by a noble while targeting a mage.”
“A noble? Jack?”
“Yes. From what I heard, when the noble used magic, the middle of the desert froze over…”
“What’s their name?”
“We’re currently gathering information from our contacts in Colony, and we should have details by tomorrow.”
After a moment of contemplation, Draco responded, “Let me know as soon as we get the information.”
Naturally, Draco had no intention of letting the mage who killed Jack off the hook.
‘I must avenge the waste of my resources.’
Of course, considering the noble’s status in a foreign country, killing him could lead to all kinds of complications, but Draco wasn’t too concerned.
Killing someone in the desert wasn’t particularly unusual, and as long as there were no witnesses, most deaths in the desert were treated as disappearances.
And Draco was one of the most experienced at such acts.
Once he figured out the noble’s identity, he planned to wait for the right moment to bury him when he tried to leave the desert.
—If only ‘that’ hadn’t appeared.
Draco coughed up dark crimson blood as he looked in despair at his hideout.
Just ten minutes ago, the secret hideout of the Blood Sand Bandits, which had proudly stood for years, lay in ruins.
But that wasn’t all.
The soldiers he had spent more than ten years raising were all either buried in the sand or crushed against the hideout walls, meeting their end.
“Hmm, is that all?”
A pair of sharp golden eyes scanned the surroundings before vanishing in an instant.
With a flash of gold lightning, the figure of Seolrang reappeared, holding in both hands—
—the heads of the bandits.
The two heads retained expressions of tense anticipation, as if they were still unaware of what had happened, lying in ambush near the destroyed hideout for a surprise attack.
Seolrang, disinterested, tossed the heads far away, leaving Draco with a look of disbelief, unable to comprehend the situation.
From start to finish—
‘What in the world… is this…?’
Draco found himself staring at the grim reaper, who was now slowly approaching him.
In a single moment, the golden flash of light that had appeared had destroyed his kingdom—the hideout he had built—and wiped out the Blood Sand Bandits, the hundreds of men he had cultivated over more than ten years.
The girl with golden eyes. The reaper.
As soon as those sharp, golden eyes fixed on Draco, he felt a shiver of primal fear run through his entire body. An instinctive fear.
Even amidst this terror, Draco desperately tried to speak—to say something to save his life.
“Se, Seolrang! Do you even know what you’ve done?!”
Draco’s voice was filled with desperation. His kingdom of ten years, everything he had built, had crumbled like a sandcastle, but he had not given up. If he could survive, he believed he could rebuild his small kingdom again.
Unfortunately, Seolrang showed no signs of reacting to Draco’s frantic words. All she did was raise her blood-soaked right hand and grab the head of Draco, whose stomach had been pierced through.
“If you kill me now, you’ll be making an enemy of Kalman Arents! I’m under his protection!”
Sensing his impending death, Draco tried to invoke Kalman’s name, hoping to escape, but the strength in Seolrang’s hand only tightened.
“Is it money you want?! Take it! Take all of it! Or do you want a tribute? I’ll pay whatever tribute you want!!”
His screams grew more frenzied, and at last, he began to wail in despair as he fully realized his approaching death.
“Why?! Why are you doing this to me?! Why?! Why!!!”
His voice, full of resentment and frustration, rang out.
“Because you laid a hand on my master. And—”
A muttered whisper reached Draco’s ears. It wasn’t loud, but neither was it small. Just a quiet murmur.
“Because I don’t want to get scolded.”
With that soft whisper, recalling her red eyes, Seolrang crushed Draco’s head with a loud *crack*.
With her mission complete, Seolrang disappeared, leaving nothing behind.
In mere ten minutes, the Blood Sand Bandits, who had terrorized the desert under Kalman’s name for over a decade, vanished from history.
Alon, feeling the fatigue from his long travels melt away, received two pieces of news.
The first was that entering the Forgotten City would not be possible for another three days.
“Count, I heard that the Blood Sand Bandits who attacked us have been completely wiped out!”
“…The Blood Sand Bandits?”
It was the group that had attacked him not long ago, now apparently annihilated.
“Yes, they were completely wiped out.”
“From what ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) I’ve heard, it happened yesterday.”
“An entire bandit group wiped out, and rumors already spread in a day?”
As Alon furrowed his brow in confusion, Evan nodded.
“The entire city is buzzing with the news. Apparently, the caravan that arrived earlier today shared the information.”
At Evan’s words, Alon felt as if a thousand question marks were hovering over his head.
The Blood Sand Bandits weren’t supposed to disappear for another three years, not unless they were dealt with by the protagonist, Elivan, as the original story dictated.
‘Why on earth did they suddenly vanish?’
With a puzzled expression, Alon tried to figure it out, but—
“I took care of it!”
The answer came far more simply than expected.
“Yep! Didn’t I do a great job!?”
At Seolrang’s innocent grin, both Alon and Evan slowly opened their mouths in astonishment.
“You dealt with the Blood Sand Bandits…?”
Alon asked instinctively.
“Well, didn’t Master say so?”
Evan glanced at Alon as if to ask, ‘Did You?’, while Alon stared blankly at Evan. But that only lasted for a moment.
“You said you didn’t want to see them again.”
“I did say that… but—”
“If they’re gone, you won’t have to see them anymore, right?”
With a wide, innocent smile, Seolrang nodded as if she’d just solved a grand dilemma, leaving Alon with the same feeling he’d had when he first met Deus—a feeling that something about this was just… too much.
But that moment of bewilderment soon passed, and Alon suddenly thought of something and asked.
“Wait, so you wiped out the entire Blood Sand Bandit group all by yourself?”
Seolrang nodded nonchalantly, and Alon found himself falling silent without realizing it.
The Blood Sand Bandits he knew numbered in the hundreds, with most of the combatants capable of imbuing their weapons with magic—hardly the kind of group to be taken lightly.
Moreover, Draco, the leader of the bandits, was someone who, as far as Alon knew, would be able to wield an aura blade three years from now.
And yet, Seolrang had just single-handedly killed hundreds of knight-level combatants, including Draco, their leader…?
He knew that the title of Baba Yaga wasn’t something one could earn lightly, but… wasn’t this a bit stronger than he had expected?
Alon stared blankly at Seolrang, who was grinning carefreely, and suddenly recalled that in the future, she would become the embodiment of the sin of pride.
With that thought, he found his posture becoming more reverent.
This was three days before their departure for the Forgotten City.
At the time when Alon left for the desert city of Colony, a secret meeting was taking place in a small tavern in the eastern part of Teria, the capital of the Kingdom of Asteria.
“So, why did you call for me, Duke?”
“I didn’t think your intuition had dulled to the point where you had to ask, Marquis,” said Duke Rimgrave, leader of the royalist faction.
At those words, Marquis Philboid, leader of the noble faction, sat down naturally and spoke.
“I assume this is about Count Palatio.”
“You’re sharp. I called you because of Count Palatio… or more precisely, the ‘Kalpha’ that those brats gathered together,” Rimgrave replied.
The marquis nodded, as if no further explanation was needed.
Having spent decades navigating the treacherous world of politics, they both easily understood that the duke was seeking an alliance to bring down ‘Kalpha’.
The Kalpha group was an obnoxious organization that posed a threat to both the royalist and noble factions, and it needed to be dismantled as soon as possible.
In their world, yesterday’s enemies could become today’s allies depending on their interests, so it wasn’t difficult for them to join forces.
“So, what’s your plan?” Philboid cut straight to the point without delay.
Admiring the marquis’ quick judgment, having already calculated the costs and benefits in just a few words, the duke responded, “I plan to involve Rosario.”
“Yes, to be specific, the ‘Cardinal’ of Rosario.”
The duke began to lay out his detailed plan for the marquis.
After some time had passed—
“And what’s the demand?” Philboid asked, as if there was no need to hear anything further.
“Half of the bribe to stuff the cardinal’s mouth.”
The two nobles exchanged thoughts, both smiling in satisfaction.
If their plan went well, the upstart Kalpha group, made up of rabble from the underworld, would crumble like a sandcastle.
“It won’t take long. In fact, I’ve already made contact.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
With that, both men left the tavern with smiles on their faces, heading in different directions.
Only two whiskey glasses, still filled with drink, were left behind in the rundown tavern.

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