Reincarnation of Nikola Tesla in another world-Chapter 17: The bandit arc- part 1

The merchant fumbles through his tunic, hands shaking. He pulls out a small pouch of coins and holds it out like a peace offering.

One of the barbarians sneers. "That all you got?"

"I swear!" the merchant pleads. "That's everything!"

The leader steps closer, his shadow swallowing the merchant whole. He says nothing.

Thensteel flashes.

The driver's head jerks back. Blood spurts from his throat, staining the dirt black in the moonlight.

The merchant screams.

The leader laughs. A deep, manic sound.

The merchant falls to his knees, sobbing. "I did everything you asked! I gave you everything!"

"Yeah," the leader muses, wiping his blade on the driver's cloak. "And then what? You run to the guards? File a report? Maybe they post a bounty. Then we get to deal with a bunch of overpaid mercenaries swinging their swords at our heads."

The merchant shakes his head violently. "No! No, I swear, II have people waiting for me! Important people! If I don't return, they'll come looking."

The leader's grin fades.

He steps forward and grabs the merchant by the hair, yanking his head back. The blade rests against his throat, cold and sharp.

"Do I look like an idiot?" the leader whispers.

The merchant's breath comes in ragged gasps. "II'm not lying! If I die, people will notice!"

Silence.

The bandits hesitate. They're not smart men. Their brains work slow, grinding against each other like rusted gears.

One grunts, "He's bluffing."

Another mutters, "What if he ain't?"

The leader watches the merchant, searching his face for cracks in the lie. His grip on the merchant's hair tightens, the edge of his blade pressing just enough to draw a thin red line across the skin.

Then, finallyhe smirks.

"Fine. You walk free."

The merchant's body goes limp with relief.

"But listen close, little man," the leader continues, voice suddenly cold, sharp as broken glass. "If our bounty goes up... if anyone comes sniffing around because of you... we'll burn your home to the ground."

The merchant's breath hitches.

"We'll take everything you own. Sell your kids into slavery. And as for your wife..." The leader grins. "She'll get work. Just not the kind you'd want."

The merchant nods frantically. "I won't say a word! I swear it!"

The leader flicks his hand. "Then get lost."

The merchant stumbles back onto the cart, shaking so badly it takes two tries to grab the reins.

The bandits step aside, watching as the cart tears down the road, disappearing into the night.

The coleader lets out a whistle. "Softhearted today, huh?"

The leader sheathes his blade. "Dead men don't talk. But scared men?" He grins.

"They keep their mouths shut forever."

---

We sit in the crowded public carriage, its rough wooden walls jolting with every bump as the horses pull us along. There's no luxury herejust a plain wooden box packed with three men, four women, and two restless kids, along with Brom, Aldric, and me.

At the front, two horses trot steadily, guided by a fat driver who grumbles with every tug on the reins. The carriage moves at a steady pacefast enough to remind you that time never waits.

I steal a glance at Brom. He's looking back at the city with sad, faroff eyes. He bows his head, a small, wistful smile on his lips, and closes his eyes as if trying to shut out old memories.

At the back, Aldric is a live wire. Squeezed against the wall, his eyes are wide with wonder as he shouts over the clatter, "Kim, this ride is wild! damn fast!" His voice drips with excitement and mischief. He goes once to the front admiring the view and then goes back admiring the speed. The other passengers are sick of him and leave him be.

I lean back and pull out my carving knife. Boredom gets the better of me, and I begin to etch runes along the rough wooden panel near the wheel's shaft . It is a simple spin rune. In a rare moment of distraction, my mind drifts back to 1920the days when I rode in a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. Back then, shock absorbers, a proper differential, and even self propelled trolleys made every ride feel like gliding on air. Now, this clattering carriage reminds me just how far we've fallen.

As the carriage nears the town border a lonely wooden post marking the end of this familiar town.

---

history -101

In this world, runes were first discovered carved into the ruins of ancient monuments , etched on stones, doors, traps, and even weapons. Some runes work by drawing power from mana crystals, while most need a runestone to function. The simpler a rune is, the less energy it uses.

There are three types of runes discovered over time:

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1. Mana Crystal Runes:

These are the basic runes that need only a mana crystal to work. For example, the spin rune is simple and was likely designed for beginner rune carvers. Even though someone like Kim might seem to handle them with ease, every stroke must be exactly right. A tiny error—a misaligned line or a slip in the rune's "grammar"—renders the rune useless.

2. Protection Runes:

These runes are found in the traps of ancient forts. They are more complex because they require a runestone to activate. Often, you'll see a string of symbols carved together—almost like an ancient code. Only the truly skilled can carve these correctly, and the many instructions on a single trap must work in perfect harmony to function.

3. True Runes:

These are the pinnacle of runic magic. Unlike the others, true runes are reserved for dragons to communicate or command their surroundings. Carving a true rune is no simple task—it requires special materials: a phoenix feather as a quill, azure dragon scales for ink, or even leather from a sacrificial animal for parchment. Even when all the elements are present, writing a true rune drains an enormous amount of mana. The magic unleashed is almost as powerful as if a dragon had spoken it, though it falls just a bit short.

The academy doesn't teach true runes because they have little practical use in everyday life—and mana crystals are far too expensive to waste on such elaborate magic.