Castor organized himself a set of sticks, stones, and weeds. That's all he needed to make himself an impromptu weapon. And that's all he was going to use.
The greatest challenge proved in finding a stone bristle enough to allow Castor to form it by striking harder stones against it... yet durable enough to not break while working the wood.
Thankfully, the island proved to be abundant in both sticks and stones, allowing him to finish this part of the job relatively quickly.
Soon, the main stick that would serve as a handle of the spear was cleared out from all the side branches and major unevenness. Then, Castor continued to strike his stone down like a chisel, trying to cut a small bit of it in half right at the top of the stick.
'That should work,' Castor thought, chiseling his earlier stone knife to make its bottom thin enough.
Once the stone took the form of a massive arrow's head, Castor slammed it down the chiseled opening in the spear before wrapping all the weeds that he had around it.
"It's crude even for a stone's spear, but it should do the work,' Castor thought as he inspected the weapon.
The only reason why he managed to finish it so quickly was thanks to years of experience of working with all sorts of materials that his craftsman barrier unlocked.
Basically, he now wielded the hands of a man who could form the metal with a single smack of his hammer, sew elaborate outfits with just some twig and needle or cook the royal-grade feasts with commoner-grade ingredients.
And with hands like that, creating a simple stone-spear didn't prove to be challenging at all.
"It's only going to last for a short while," Castor muttered, using his experience as a spear hero to inspect his own weapon. "Good thing that Beast Brawler and the Spear Hero barriers both include some anti-human hand-to-hand techniques," Castor muttered before shaking his head.
Now that the spear was done, nothing was stopping Castor from moving on to the next part of the plan.
Nothing but his own mental state.
'Spilling so much blood so early on... It's not going to be good,' he thought, tightening his grasp over the spear. 'But it's not like I have any choice,' he told himself, raising his head high and moving out.
Castor never managed to get that far into the forest depths. That's how it seemed to the former scared slave personality of his. Yet, as he retained the memories of everything leading to the slave's death, he could retroactively map out the path that he took before.
Soon, by simply retracing his steps, Castor managed to reach the outskirts of the camp he saw before. As he approached it from the forest side, he was perfectly hidden amongst the trees, able to observe his next target before actually attacking.
"Is that..." he muttered after watching the camp for only a few moments.
The guards were stationed between every tent. Some were swarming the areas between the camp and the line of the forest, the area that used to be covered with their supplies.
'Did they move the camp back?' Castor asked himself, comparing what he saw right now to what his former self remembered from before.
'It seems like they are on a super high alert,' Castor thought, gritting his teeth.
'That makes it too difficult to approach from this side,' he thought before looking to the side.
When he first found out about the camp, he approached it from the beachside. And from the looks of things, that was also the area with a relatively lower level of security.
'That means they are expecting the attack from the forest... but why?' Castor thought, only for his expression to mellow down as he felt the urge to slap his own forehead.
'Judging from all I heard about this island, they have to be scared shitless about anything extraordinary happening here. Me killing the beasts and unlocking the barriers had to make them piss their pants,' Castor almost laughed out loud upon this realization.
'I guess it's my own fault, then,' he thought, pulling back towards the forest.
He wasn't scared of their numbers. That he could easily take care of. What Castor didn't want to do, though, was to challenge all of those people at once with just a crude spear in his hand!
That's why, if he wanted to clear this place out of witnesses, he had to claim a proper weapon.
Making one from what the forest could offer... was possible, but it would take weeks to set everything up properly. Not even his crafting skills would allow him to speed this process up.
But there was no need to rely on the forest in terms of weapons.
'Isn't there an entire army of people just waiting to give up their own blades?' Castor smirked as he reached the beach and used just the tiniest amount of his mana to stick his spear to his back.
If he wanted to approach the guards close enough without making them alert the entire camp, he had to act a little sneaky.
Soon, Castor's new, confident self reverted back to how he was as a slave. He trodded on the beach with a scared look on his face, and his eyesight stuck at the level of his feet.
And soon enough, someone from the camp noticed him, rushing forward.
'Just wait for a good moment,' Castor thought, calmly watching how two guards donning imperial armors rushed to his side.
'Look how eager they are to recover every last slave,' he thought, peaking from underneath the cover of his hair.
Then, the guards reached the perfect distance.
Castor quickly grabbed his spear and forced it away from his back. Using the momentum of this action, he drove the spear forward, right towards the face of the closer of the guards.
"What?" the guard only managed to utter a small shout of disbelief when Castor's stone's edge cut his face open.
The strength of the attack put too much stress on the weeds holding Castor's spear together. They all started to snap, indicating that one more attack would be all the spear could handle.
'Next,' Castor didn't change his expression at all, still keeping up with the helpless and desperate slave act. At the same time, he pulled the spear back, swung it around his hips, and pushed it from an upper hold into the stomach of the other guard.
The spear shattered. Hitting the chain mail, the edge of his weapon fell apart, turning the sharp damage that Castor wished to inflict into a blunt one.
Thankfully, the shock of the attack alone was enough for the guard to lose his stability.
"Give it to me," Castor muttered softly, snatching the man's spear directly from his hand. He then kicked the guard on the ground before driving his newly obtained weapon into his throat.
The mean reached out for Castor's face...
And then his arms fell to the floor. The man died before he could even attempt doing something.
Someone noticed Castor's appearance. Someone else cried out in shock; another one sounded the alarm. Meanwhile, Castor kneeled before the corpses and looted them of what was currently of value.
'Strange,' he thought, looking down at the guard's hand. 'I don't recall imperials using bucklers,' he thought, snatching the piece of armament and raising up.
Castor ended up with a bloodied spear, a helmet on his head, and a buckler. That was all he needed for the carnage to come.
A group of guards was already making its way towards him. The girl that screamed out before was still stuck in place, her eyes glued to Castor's chest as if she suddenly fell in love.
'Well, I do have a gladiator's look,' Castor thought with a smirk. 'I guess I'm not tanned and oiled enough to get her interested yet,' he added jokingly in his thoughts before taking a step towards the approaching guards.
"Oh golly!" he shouted towards the approaching warriors. "Just look at it!" he shouted, raising his head towards the sun. "It's a warcrime o clock!"