Felix’s breath misted in the dawn chill, standing over Mela. Her labored breathing was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.


    Felix strapped his katana to his side. Kneeling beside her, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. His dark eyes lingered on her, then he rose with resolve.


    “I’ll be back. Just need to take out some trash,” he muttered coldly.


    Stepping outside, the morning air bit at him. Distant barking dogs grew louder. Felix mounted his horse, his heart racing in sync with the approaching pack.


    Through the dense underbrush, his gaze darted around. He spotted a steep hill ahead and ascended. From this hidden vantage point, the forest opened to reveal a sprawling scene below. A hundred mercenaries ransacked a wheel carriage, goods scattered across the ground. Felix’s eyes narrowed. The mercenaries were too close—too close to the cave and to Mela. This wasn’t just a raid; it was a coordinated hunt.


    He scanned the clearing for the leader and found him perched atop a boulder, surveying the chaos with detached satisfaction. This wasn’t some ordinary bandit chief. He was orchestrating the mayhem with sinister intent. The mercenaries weren’t looting; they were hunting someone. Felix felt a surge of panic. He couldn’t let them find the cave. Mela was vulnerable, and the consequences would be dire.


    Felix weighed his options. Acting now was risky, but delaying could be fatal. He tightened his grip around the hilt of his katana.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Turning his horse back into the underbrush, he retraced his steps toward the cave, leaving the animal behind. Every moment was precious—he needed to act swiftly. The weight of his mission pressed down like an iron shackle. Each second that ticked away was a death sentence for Mela.


    He moved back through the forest, and as he approached the clearing’s edge, Felix descended the uneven terrain with careful haste, every step measured to avoid detection.


    Crouched in the underbrush, muscles coiled, Felix’s thoughts flickered to Mela—her broken body, shallow breaths. Failure was not an option.


    With a deep breath, he rose and strode into the open, exuding cold, lethal confidence. The mercenaries froze, their attention snapping to the lone figure advancing toward them. Dogs barked and snarled, their agitation matching the shifting air.


    Felix’s voice rang out, fierce and commanding. “I’M THE BLOODHOUND OF THE SILVER MOON! STEP FORWARD IF YOU WANT TO DIE!”


    The mercenaries hesitated, confusion shifting into fear. He stood before them, katana drawn, unyielding stare sending a ripple of dread through the crowd, spreading like wildfire.


    Silence hung—a hush rippled through the mercenaries. Fingers twitched over weapon hilts. One took an instinctive step back.


    Until the leader turned to face him. Eyes narrowed beneath the ornate helmet, a smirk tugged at his lips, but Felix caught the flicker of unease beneath it.


    The mercenaries began to draw their weapons, movements hesitant but resolute. Felix remained unfazed, eyes locked on the leader, body poised for action.


    “Come,” Felix growled. “Let’s see how long you last.”


    The storm had gathered. Felix was its eye.