The luxurious merchant caravan rolled steadily along the trade route.

It’s reinforced wheels kicked up sand under the hot midday sun.

Lindir Rein lounged inside his opulent carriage. He was a wealthy merchant lord dressed in fine silks and shiny gold chains that barely contained his bulging belly.

Four tall, graceful elven warriors flanked the wooden wagon. They were elite sellswords hired specifically for this long journey to the annual warrior tournament.

One of the elves rode her white horse closest to the open window.

Her name was Lirael. She was a silver-haired beauty with beautiful features and a slender, athletic body wrapped in fitted leather armour.

"Lord Rein," Lirael said, looking straight ahead. Her voice was melodic but carried an edge of superiority.

"The young talent this year is truly exceptional. Prince Aelrindor himself is participating in the games. They say his spear work has reached the level of a true high elf champion."

Rein chuckled and wiped sweat from his red face with a perfumed handkerchief.

"Warriors are always good for business, my dear. The nobles will bet fortunes on the tournament results. And the beastmen tribes."

His eyes slid lewdly over Lirael’s tight armour, lingering on her perky breasts.

"And I’ve heard the beastmen tribes are already drooling like dogs in heat. They can’t stop talking about how badly they want to drag proud elven warriors like yours into their camps and breed you until your bellies swell."

Lirael’s lip curled in utter disgust.

The other three elves exchanged angry looks.

"Crude animals," one of the male elves muttered, tightening his grip on his leather belt.

"They always forget their place in the world."

Suddenly, ten ragged figures burst out from the nearby treeline.

"Die, you pointy-eared whores!" one of the fake barbarians bellowed, waving a rusted axe.

"We’re gonna fuck every hole you’ve got before we slit your throats!"

Another laughed maniacally as he charged.

"I’ve always wanted to stretch an elf pussy! Come here, silver-hair! I’ll pump you full until you’re leaking!"

They were clearly overacting, their eyes filled with fear even as they tried to play the part of mindless savages.

"Ambush," Lirael shouted, drawing her elegant silver blade in one fluid motion.

The four elven warriors moved with grace. They formed a tight defensive line in front of the carriage, and their swords flashed in the bright sunlight as they prepared to cut the uncoordinated attackers down.

Before they could charge forward, three arrows whistled through the air with deadly precision.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

Each arrow struck an elven warrior right in the side of the neck. The iron tips did not bite deep enough to kill instantly, but they severed important tendons and flooded their bloodstreams with a fast-acting paralytic poison.

Lirael widened her eyes in shock as her sword arm went entirely numb.

The other elves staggered backward, their usually graceful movements turning sluggish and clumsy in a matter of seconds.

"What... is happening?" Lirael gasped, dropping to one knee as the strength drained from her legs.

The fake barbarians swarmed them immediately.

Because the elves were in a highly weakened state, the proud warriors were cut down with brutal efficiency.

Screams of dying merchants filled the air as three of Rein’s personal guards were slaughtered near the cargo carts.

Rein tried to crawl deeper into his carriage to hide among his pillows, his face pale with absolute terror.

As he closed his eyes and braced himself for death, a towering red-haired figure exploded out of the treeline.

BOOM!

Kane’s iron battleaxe smashed straight into the lead thug’s skull, exploding his head in a fountain of blood and brains that splattered across the fancy carriage.

"Kill them all," Kane roared, pointing his dripping axe at the remaining bandits.

Ten of his real barbarians burst out from behind the trees with savage, terrifying war cries.

Their iron weapons flashed as they tore into the attackers. The fight was over in less than twenty seconds.

Brak slammed the last surviving thug onto the road and planted a firm boot right on the man’s bleeding neck.

Kane stepped forward, his twin axes dripping fresh blood onto the grass.

His red hair caught the sunlight like fresh fire.

He looked down at the trembling merchant lord with a calm, almost friendly smile.

Rein stared up at the barbarian warlord, and his voice shook uncontrollably.

"W-who the fuck are you?!"

Kane crouched down and rested one bloody axe casually across his knee.

"Are you okay?" Kane asked, speaking as if he had not just painted the road red with human remains.

Rein swallowed hard, nodding his head rapidly.

"Yes. Yes, I am alive. Thank the gods you arrived."

"Good," Kane said, glancing at the tournament banners visible on some of the spilled wooden crates.

He looked back at the terrified merchant.

"Looks like we are heading to the same place. Funny how the world works sometimes."

Rein blinked, his greedy mind trying to catch up with the sudden shift in reality.

"You are going to the Elven Empire? But you are a barbarian. They don’t let your kind through the main gates without a royal escort or a wealthy merchant sponsor."

"That is exactly why I am talking to you," Kane smirked, standing up to his full height.

"Your elven guards are dead or dying. You have a cart full of expensive goods and zero protection on a road crawling with bandits. I have ten strong warriors who need a ticket inside those shiny silver gates. We help each other out, lord."

The fat merchant looked at the dead elves bleeding out on the dirt, then at Kane’s muscular warriors.

He realized he had no other choice.

If he refused, this smiling giant would probably just chop his head off and take the wagons anyway.

"I can sponsor you," Rein agreed quickly, wiping his sweaty palms on his silk pants.

"I can register your men as my personal mercenary company. It will get you through the border checkpoints without any questions from the royal guard."

"I knew you were a smart man," Kane laughed, patting the merchant roughly on the shoulder.

Lirael groaned on the ground nearby, clutching the arrow wound in her neck.

Her paralyzing poison was slowly wearing off, but she was far too weak to stand up and fight.

Kane walked over and looked down at the silver-haired beauty. Her sharp features were twisted in pain and profound humiliation.

She glared up at him with hatred. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

’She’s strong,’ he thought, his eyes slowly dragging over her waist, the flare of her hips, and the way her armour hugged the swell of her firm tits.

’Good. Breaking proud elven warriors like you is always more satisfying.’

He crouched down beside her and reached out, tracing a rough finger along her jawline.

She tried to pull away, but her muscles refused to obey her commands.

"You have beautiful eyes," Kane whispered, his voice dripping with sensual promise.

Sira stepped out from the treeline, her new bow resting casually over her shoulder.

She looked down at the paralyzed elf with unforgiving eyes.

"Are we keeping this one, Chief?" she asked, a hint of jealousy in her tone.

Kane rose to his full height, still staring down at Lirael like she was already his property.

"Yes," he said with a possessive grin.

He glanced at Brak.

"Tie her hands tight. Throw her in the back of the supply cart. We’ll use her as our ’elven escort’ to get through the gates."

Rein was frantically ordering his surviving drivers to reorganize the wagons, his face pale with terror.

Kane wiped the blood from one of his axes onto his thigh and screamed with a lazy confidence.

"Move out."