Previously, Clayton hadn't sensed any surveillance when entering the city center. But the moment he stepped beyond the outer ring of the city, that feeling hit him—like a pair of unseen eyes watching him from afar.

At first, he'd been relieved, thinking no one was tailing him. But now? Now he wanted to curse.

"Don't these people have anything better to do?" he grumbled inwardly. "Still spying on me even after I've left?"

Then something struck him. The aura of whoever was following him felt... different—not like any of the others he'd sensed before. Ever since he'd learned how to craft magic scrolls, his senses had grown sharper. Judging by his intuition and magical perception, Clayton estimated the stalker to be around the level of a three-star apprentice mage.

But instead of fear, a surge of excitement filled him. His anger still simmered beneath the surface—and now, finally, he had someone to unleash it on.

Good. You came to me, he thought.

Meanwhile, the two bandits watching from a distance heard Clayton's words, laced with bold arrogance. They exchanged baffled glances.

"Damn, this brat's full of himself," one muttered to himself. "A one-star apprentice mage, and he dares to look down on us?"

"Hey, kid!" the other shouted. "Let me show you what true despair feels like!"

"Earth Magic: Earth Pillar!"

Boom!

A massive stone pillar erupted from the ground, slamming toward the spot where Clayton stood. The earth cracked open, and dust filled the air.

Clayton dodged just in time. Though unharmed, his cart was destroyed—reduced to splinters. The four mini skeletons hiding inside were now fully exposed.

Seeing this, Clayton's fury boiled over. Without hesitation, he activated his Water Circulation Armor.

Streams of shimmering blue water coiled around his body, elastic and softly glowing.

One of the bandits—the sharp-eyed one—sneered. Clearly unimpressed by Clayton's so-called protection, he lunged with blinding speed, arm swinging.

"Eagle Claw!"

Swoosh!

The razor-sharp claw slashed forward, nearly grazing Clayton's neck. Though he dodged, the attack still scraped against the surface of his Water Armor.

It didn't pierce deeply, but it was enough to make Clayton's heart pound.

Just a little closer... and that would've been the end of me...

But the bandit gave him no time to recover. He pressed on, his strikes relentless, pouring down like a storm. Clayton barely kept up—dodging, defending, struggling to stay on his feet.

Then, the ground beneath him suddenly trembled.

"Earth Magic: Local Quake!"

The earth shook violently. Clayton lost his footing and crashed to the ground. His limbs tangled awkwardly—he couldn't stand, couldn't block, couldn't run.

The sharp-eyed bandit crouched low, seizing the opening like a hawk closing in on its prey.

"Eagle Claw!"

Swoosh!

Clayton could only watch in frozen horror. Most of his Water Armor had been shattered in the fall—it wouldn't hold up against another blow.

In that moment of helplessness, time seemed to slow.

He saw the claw coming—slow but inevitable.

His heart pounded. His body wouldn't move.

And despair wrapped around him like a cold, suffocating fog.

The sharp claw shot forward—fast and unrelenting—ignoring Clayton's reflexive reaction. Just as he thought his life was about to end, a small white figure slammed into him, intercepting the attacker's deadly blow.

Crack!

It was the mini skeleton—instantly shattered on impact, but it had blocked the fatal strike. The sharp-eyed bandit's smug grin vanished, replaced by a stunned expression.

Clayton, who had already resigned himself to death, couldn't hide his overwhelming relief. The tables had turned. The bandit's stance was wide open—vulnerable.

Clayton didn't hesitate—he launched a counterattack.

From a distance, the sleepy-eyed bandit realized his partner was in danger and rushed forward, preparing to cast a Magic Wall spell. But Clayton moved faster. In the blink of an eye, he was already right in front of his enemy.

Without pause, Clayton swung his sickle.

The sharp-eyed bandit's eyes widened. But even in surprise, his trained combat instincts kicked in. He had purposely kept his knees bent—his stance low to the ground, giving him the flexibility to spring back or dodge.

He gathered all his strength to jump.

Clayton gritted his teeth. If the bandit managed to leap, the strike would miss.

But just before the bandit could push off the ground, a water projectile flew in and slammed into his knee.

Snap!

The blow shattered his balance, ruining his escape.

Seeing the opening, Clayton followed through.

Swoosh!

The sickle sliced cleanly through flesh and bone. The sharp-eyed bandit's head flew, and blood sprayed in all directions.

The sleepy-eyed bandit froze in disbelief. They were veteran fighters, hardened by skirmishes with mercenaries and even knights—yet here they were, losing to a mere one-star apprentice mage.

Realizing the danger, the sleepy-eyed bandit turned to flee. But before he could get far, three water projectiles struck him in rapid succession.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

He staggered, screaming in pain.

"Arghhh!"

Clayton dashed toward him. The bandit, sensing death, raised his hands and pleaded.

"Hey, brother… I'm sorry! I didn't know who I was messing with. Let's just call it even, alright? No hard feelings—we don't have a real grudge—"

Clayton scoffed, eyes burning with fury.

"No grudge? You tried to kill me. You think the world's that kind? You try to end someone's life, and just say sorry when it doesn't work?"

"No! I get it now! I swear I'll never do it again…" the bandit begged, tears streaming down his face.

But Clayton didn't care. He raised his sickle.

The bandit's pupils shrank. In a final panic, he shouted,

"Wait! If you spare me, I'll tell you a huge secr—"

Slice!

Too late. The sickle tore through him, cutting off the last word—and his head.

Plop!

His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless and soaked in blood.

Clayton waited a moment, making sure both enemies were truly dead. Then he finally exhaled. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the dirt.

"I'm… still not used to this…"

He retched, vomiting until his stomach was empty. This was only the second time he'd killed someone. Days ago, he was just an ordinary man. Now, here he was—covered in blood, a killer in a magical world.

But he didn't leave right away. The place was remote—perfect for catching his breath.

Once he recovered, Clayton walked to a nearby cliff and dug a large hole. One by one, he dragged the corpses over and buried them, covering the site with his Farmer's Magic. Then he sprinkled the deodorizing powder Hank had given him to neutralize the stench of blood.

"Good thing you died by my hands. If you were useless parasites in life, at least in death, you'll become fertilizer for this world."

With everything taken care of, Clayton returned home with his three remaining skeletons.

The sky was already dark when he arrived. After locking the door, he took out the loot he had taken from the bandits. Unfortunately, there were only two spatial bags—each with a three-cubic-meter capacity.

As he checked their contents, Clayton's anger flared. The bags were filled with piles of wheat and various farming tools.

Now it was clear—these bandits had been targeting farmers, stealing their harvests after killing them.

He clenched his jaw, rage boiling in his chest. Their deaths had been far too easy. But he forced himself to calm down. He knew the truth: it wasn't strength that had won him the fight—it was luck and desperation.

He had fought two three-star apprentice mages… and survived.

Ironically, the courage that saved him had come not from power—but from ignorance.

If the bandits had gone all out from the start, he'd be lying dead in the woods.

The thought made him shiver.

"Thank goodness… I'm still alive."

He breathed deeply, then returned to checking the loot. One bag in particular stood out—it was stitched to another and had a unique design.

Upon closer inspection, it still had the same three-cubic-meter capacity, but something felt... different. Inside, he found a living tea tree and three star-one-lower clay pots.

Then it hit him—this was no ordinary spatial bag. It could store living things.

Overjoyed, Clayton couldn't help but test it. He called over his beloved dog, Dingo, and gently guided him into the bag.

A few moments later, Dingo popped back out—confused but unharmed.

Clayton chuckled at the dog's bewildered face and repeated the process a few more times, laughing quietly.

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted from his shoulders.