Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 142: Through the Thicket of Fear

A blazing bonfire pushed back the dense shadows and chilled air that had settled over the forest. Gathered around it, over a dozen men sprawled in the flickering light, exchanging wicked stories and raucous laughter as they feasted on monstron and drank deeply from mugs of mead.

In the distance, the horses were tethered to barren trees, their restless neighs punctuating the night as they grazed on what little grass remained through the winter frost.

While Robin Hood and his loyal followers were locked away in a nearby wagon, Thalia was bound to a tree stump just within the bandits' constant gaze. As close as she was, the warmth of the crackling fire barely reached her unfortunately, leaving her shivering in the frigid cold. Her teeth chattered relentlessly as the frost bit into her skin. Her wrists were raw and bruised, the ropes cutting deeper with each attempt to loosen them.

"Are we going to be alright?" one of the bandits asked, taking a swig of mead that left a frothy trail in his puffy beard. "We lost our scanner recently, so we can't confirm if the girl's part of the guild or not."

"We could always, you know... hiccup... ask her," muttered another man, his unsteady posture and drooping neck clearly showing that he'd had one too many to drink.

"And you honestly think she'll just cooperate?" a third man shot back.

A fourth man chugged down an entire mug of his delicious beverage, letting out a loud, satisfied burp. "We could always break her little fingers one by one until she talks," he suggested, his grin unsettling.

Thalia's eyes widened in terror at the thought.

The leader, unfazed, casually used a knife to carve into the wild boar roasting over the fire, slipping a juicy morsel into his mouth with the tip of the blade. "Damaged goods don't sell as well," he said coolly, wiping his mouth. "So no one touches her. As for the scanner, we're desperate. We'll take the risk."

"The boss is right," another man agreed, his eyes sharp and calculating, a glint of intellect behind his weathered face. "With the surplus of slaves flooding the market due to the supply chain crisis at Wavecrest, it's crucial that our stock remains premium quality to outshine the competition. So, like the boss said, don't lay a hand—"

"Hiccup!"

The drunken bandit, clearly beyond any semblance of reason, staggered toward the squirming captive. Ignoring the warning, he licked his lips, a lecherous glint in his eyes. "It'd be a waste," he muttered, his voice slurred and thick with alcohol, "to sell her off without a little fun first." He crouched in front of her, his smirk twisted with intent.

The bandit with the sharper mind sprang to his feet, his eyes narrowing in fury. "Are you deaf?" he snarled, his voice thick with contempt. "The boss just told you not to ruin the merchandise!"

"Relax, you kiss-ass," the drunken man retorted with a leer, his hand inching toward the woman's gag. "It's no big deal... I'll just have a little fun with her pretty little mouth. What's the harm?"

"...A little discipline to break her spirit wouldn't hurt," the leader mused, tilting his head back as he tore another piece of meat from the spit and slipped it into his mouth. "The buyer will appreciate it, but don't get carried away—don't ruin her mind completely."

The smarter bandit clicked his tongue in frustration, then slumped back down with a sigh of defeat.

"Kekekekh," the drunkard snickered, his tongue lolling as he turned back around to face the horrified girl. "You heard him," he murmured, his voice dripping with menace. "You and I are about to have some fun." His face twisted with sadistic pleasure as he leaned closer, his breath rancid. "If you bite me, I'll make sure to pull out every last one of your teeth... slowly."