CHAPTER 196: PAYBACK

"Lina? Who the fuck is that?" Kairos felt a mixture of anger, annoyance, and pain.

"Acting ignorant, huh?" Gabriel only smiled. He tightened his hold on the leg and then—

SNAP!

The shin bone shattered. Kairos’s eyes went bloodshot; his body convulsed from the shock, nearly blacking out, but Gabriel yanked him upright by the collar again, refusing to let him slip into unconsciousness just yet.

"And that," Gabriel said in a deathly cold glint, leaning in so that his next words were the only thing Kairos could hear, "was for every child you and your men hurt in this camp."

"Y-you... you demon." Kairos glared daggers at him. "J-just kill me... and be done with it..."

Gabriel tightened his grip on the collar and began dragging him back toward the camp. His broken legs scraped over the rocky ground, drawing fresh howls of pain with every bump.

"I intend to," Gabriel answered coldly, "but not here. You’re going to answer for your crimes back at camp."

Kairos’s fingernails tore at the dirt as he was pulled along, leaving a smeared trail of blood and dust. He sobbed, pleaded, and cursed.

"Y-you’ll regret this! My brothers will flay you alive! I’ll k-kill you! I swear I’ll—"

Gabriel delivered a sharp backhand to his jaw without breaking stride. The bandit boss’s head snapped to the side, and he grunted in pain.

That quieted him down.

By the time Gabriel reached the main camp, dragging Kairos, the battle was effectively over.

Refugees—men, women, and children in torn clothes, gaunt from hunger—were slowly coming out of hiding. They gathered at a distance, unsure and trembling, hardly believing that the sounds of gunfire, magic attacks, and clashing steel had finally ceased.

Scattered around were the bodies of bandits. Many were dead; some injured moaned softly, unable to muster the will to fight further. A few were on their knees with hands on their heads, surrounded by stern-faced refugees who had picked up fallen weapons.

It was a scene of oppressors and oppressed, the balance of power reversed in the span of one dawn.

Ragnarok99 and BrawlerX were busy corralling a group of defeated bandits near a pile of crates. At the sight of Gabriel pulling in Kairos, they and several refugees turned their heads.

Gabriel stopped in a relatively open area, roughly where Bai Young had fallen. Only a dark scorch mark and a few charred pieces of his attire remained of the martial artist—plus the pair of golden swords lying abandoned on the ground. Gabriel made a mental note of those weapons; he’d collect them soon.

He then released Kairos, flinging him forward like a sack of garbage. The bandit boss hit the ground with a thud, crying out as his broken bones jostled.

He tried to crawl, but with both legs shattered it was a pathetic display—he could only drag himself a few inches, leaving a smeared trail of blood.

A ring of refugees and adventurers encircled the scene at a respectful distance. Their faces were a mix of triumph and uncertainty. The tyrant of the camp was down, but none dared approach him, not until Gabriel delivered judgment.

Kairos rolled onto his back, blinking up at the sky.

Gabriel stepped forward and planted a boot on his chest, pinning him easily. Kairos coughed blood and weakly lifted a hand, as if to beg one last time.

"P-please... spare me... I can make it worth your while... I-I’ll be your slave, anything... just don’t kill me..."

But neither Gabriel nor anyone present looked at him with empathy.

From the back of the circle Lina, the little girl who had helped them, pushed her way forward.

After waking up, she had been searching for the strangers. Seeing the large crowd gathered, she decided to check it out.

What she saw made her eyes widen with shock and her small hands fly to cover her mouth.

The sight of Kairos helpless and at Gabriel’s mercy was almost unbelievable.

"H-how did he... when?" Lina had hundreds of questions, but she could only bite her lips and watch the moment unfold.

Meanwhile, Gabriel swept his gaze across the refugees.

He saw in their faces the suffering this man had caused. Women with bruises. Men missing limbs from "punishments." Children with sunken, malnourished bodies.

There would be no mercy for such a creature.

"Mercy?" Gabriel turned back to Kairos. "Why should I show you any mercy?"

Kairos opened his mouth, perhaps to spew more excuses or beg, but only coughed up blood, unable to speak.

Gabriel’s eyes were deathly cold as he announced:

"I won’t kill you."

Gasps of surprise passed through the refugees, and even the players exchanged confused glances.

"What does he mean?"

"Is he going to let him live? That bastard killed my father!"

"Burn him!"

"Death!"

Kairos himself looked astonished, a flicker of hope in his swollen eyes. "Y-you... won’t...?"

Gabriel’s lips curled in disgust. "No. They will."

He lifted his boot off Kairos and stepped back. Then he addressed the crowd, loud and clear.

"People of this camp! The ones who suffered under this man’s rule—come forward."

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then an old man with bandaged ribs limped forward. His gaunt face was set in a hard line. Behind him, a middle-aged woman with a badly bruised eye stepped forth, fists clenched. A few others gathered courage and followed—three, five, then a dozen figures stepping into the circle.

Kairos’s eyes darted around, realizing what was about to happen. "No... no, you can’t...!" he screeched, trying to drag himself backward with his hands. "Keep them away from me! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!"

Gabriel said nothing. His cold gaze stayed fixed on Kairos as he raised an arm slightly, giving permission to the crowd.

For a single frozen second, the refugees hesitated, many of them never having raised a hand in violence before. But then Lina took one step closer to the man who had caused her so many nightmares, and threw the first stone.

It struck Kairos on the forehead, leaving a smear. The little girl’s face was contorted with righteous anger.

As if a floodgate had opened, the other refugees surged forward with whatever they had—makeshift clubs, rocks, their bare fists; anything they could find.

That day, the tyrant of the bandit camp roared in pain!

***

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