I can evolve everything

When the three of them had almost finished eating, Karen wiped her mouth with her sleeve and looked at the old village chief who had been waiting at the door, not daring to leave.

"Tell me about those bandits," Karen continued, asking the village chief. "Where are they? How many are there? What's their equipment like?"

The old village chief swallowed hard, organizing his thoughts:

"Sir, the bandits' hideout is in the mountains about ten miles to the north, where they have built a camp."

"How many people are there?"

"There are probably... about thirty of them." The old village chief thought for a moment. "The leader is one-eyed. I heard he used to be a deserter."

"Are there any mages? Or warlocks?" Karen continued to ask.

"N-no... I've never heard of it." The old village chief shook his head. "If they had a sorcerer, they would have robbed a large merchant caravan long ago."

"They're just a bunch of rabble," Ella chimed in, making her assessment.

"Thirty people." Karen nodded thoughtfully. "A bit troublesome, but not many."

He turned to the old village chief and said, "Alright, you can go now."

"Yes, yes! Thank you, sir! May the earth protect you!"

The old village chief thanked him profusely and left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The mill returned to silence.

Karen didn't rush to rest; he silently looked at Ryan, who was sitting quietly on the haystack.

"We'll make our move first thing tomorrow morning," the old knight said without looking up. "Raine, you don't look quite right. What's wrong, are you nervous?"

Upon hearing this, Ryan gave a wry smile:

"A little, sir. After all, this is my first time facing a real..."

He wanted to say "murder," but he swallowed the words back.

Although he was ruthless during the assessment, it was still a competition.

And tomorrow, bloodshed is certain.

"That's normal." Ella sat on the millstone beside her, swinging her long legs. "If you're not nervous, then you're sick. You're either a born killer or a brainless idiot."

"You don't seem nervous at all," Renn said, looking at the half-elf girl.

Ella blew away the crumbs from her nails and said casually:

"I'm used to it. Before I was this tall..." She gestured to a height only as high as a table, "I made my living by working with adventurers. After seeing so much of it, I'm not really bothered by it anymore."

Her tone was calm, as if she were telling someone else's story.

But Ryan could see a hint of indifference in her red eyes.

That is indifference to life, and indifference to one's own fate.

"Don't listen to this girl's nonsense." Karen stopped wiping her sword, glanced at Ella, and said, "Fear is a good thing. It makes your heart beat faster, makes you stronger, and keeps you alert to danger. A true knight is not one who is without fear, but one who learns to use fear, not one who succumbs to it."

The old knight stood up and walked to Renn.

"Listen, kid. I'll be at the forefront of tomorrow's battle. You just need to support me from behind."

"I will." Ryan took a deep breath and nodded.

"As for you, Ella," Karen turned to the half-elf girl, "your sword is swift, and your movements are agile. You'll flank me. Don't let those pitchforks poke my ass."

"Yes, ma'am." Ella jumped off the millstone and agreed with a smile.

"Alright, time for bed."

Karen placed the greatsword beside her, pulled the wool blanket over herself, and lay down directly on the pile of straw.

"Although this place doesn't seem to pose any threat, the rules can't be broken. We'll take turns keeping watch."

He closed his eyes, and his voice became somewhat indistinct.

"Ella's first shift, Ryan's second shift, and I'll cover the last one. Three hours each. Don't fall asleep, or I won't be responsible if a rat bites your ear."

"it is good."

Ryan and Ella responded.

The oil lamp in the mill was blown out, leaving only the whistling sound of the wind whistling through the wooden planks.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The following morning, fog enveloped the wasteland.

The three men left their horses in a sheltered spot, about a kilometer away from the bandits.

The woodland near the location described by the village chief was covered with dead branches and pebbles, but under Karen's leadership, the three of them were still able to move forward silently and slowly.

Karen walked at the very front.

Karen avoided the brittle branches with each step, landing first on the outside of his foot and then rolling to the entire sole, distributing his weight evenly. Therefore, even in chainmail and a trench coat, his footsteps were barely audible.

Ryan followed behind, trying his best to imitate that gait.

Soon, the outline of the camp appeared in the fog.

"Look there." Karen held up a finger and pointed to a pile of rocks.

Renn squinted.

Behind the pile of rubble, half a head could be vaguely seen bobbing around, and white mist occasionally spewed out.

"A sentry." Karen pointed to another spot. "Look to the left, up in that tree."

Renn turned his gaze away.

Hanging among the branches was a dark shadow, which, if it didn't move occasionally, could easily be mistaken for a huge bird's nest.

"That's a hidden sentry," Karen sneered. "Looks like these bandits have some class; they've set up a rather elaborate setup."

He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over Ryan and Ella.

"No crossbows, no ranged cover. We have to sneak in."

Karen looked at Ryan and pointed to the sentry post behind the pile of rocks.

"That one's yours. Ella's in the tree. Be quick and quiet."

Renn paused for a moment, then subconsciously touched the longsword at his waist: "Me?"

"This is the best opportunity," Karen continued without turning her head.

"That guy's dozing off. Fifty meters away. Do you want us to have a bloodbath in the bandits' den later, or go see him now? The choice is yours."

Raine glanced at his hands. The lack of ranged weapons meant he would have to fight in close quarters.

"I'll go," Renn said in a low voice.

Raine took a deep breath and slowly crept over.

He climbed the fifty-meter distance in five minutes.

When he finally reached the back of the pile of rocks, he could even smell the sour stench emanating from the sentry.

The robber was leaning against a rock, holding a hunting bow in his arms, his head nodding off. At that moment, his carotid artery was completely exposed, leaving him utterly defenseless.

Renn's heart skipped a beat.

This was the first time he had ever been so close to taking someone's life. Not in a virtual game, nor on a distant shooting range. This was a living, breathing person, with body temperature.

But the next second, the image of a withered tree with a skinned corpse hanging on it flashed through my mind.

"call……"

Raine held his breath and slowly drew the longsword from his waist with his right hand.

At such close range, a longsword was not easy to wield, but he had no other choice. He gripped the hilt in reverse and used his other hand to brace the middle of the blade, treating it like a short spear.

Suddenly, it sprang up.

The bandit was startled awake when his left hand covered the sentry's mouth and nose. His eyes widened as he tried to scream.

But Ryan didn't give him a chance.

With a burst of power from his right hand, the tip of the sword swiftly pierced through!

"Pfft."

With a dull thud as the blade sliced ​​into soft tissue, the robber's body convulsed violently, his legs kicking wildly.

Ryan pressed down on him with his weight, his knees against the other man's chest, preventing him from making any more noise.

A few seconds later, the struggle in her arms gradually stopped.

Renn released his grip, letting the robber's corpse slide limply to the ground.

Looking at his hands covered in blood, he suddenly felt as if something was about to rise from his stomach. It was a physiological discomfort, an instinctive aversion to cannibalism.

But he didn't vomit; he just breathed in large gulps of air.

"Thump."

A muffled thud came from under a tree not far away.

Ryan turned his head and saw Ella jumping down from the tree.

There was a corpse in the grass under the tree, with Ella's short dagger stuck in its throat.

The girl pulled out a dagger and wiped it on the corpse's clothes, as if this was just an everyday occurrence.

"Well done."

Karen had appeared behind the two of them without them noticing.

"This is murder." Karen crouched down, looking at Ryan's pale face. "Remember this disgusting feeling. If one day you no longer feel disgusted by killing, and even feel pleasure from it, then you are no longer human."

Ryan nodded, his voice a little hoarse: "I've got it."

"Let's go. Drag the body into the bushes. Don't let the smell of blood waft in."

"Keep up."

Karen whispered, touching the side of the camp gate.