《Terrorizing Conqueror》


 [B-1] Chapter 1 — Newcomer

    City of Commerce ¡ª Bellmare, Kingdom of Ceirth,


    Blackstone Inn,


    Late Summer, Dio''rj, 1402 Year Cycle


    Groups of adventurers thronged the dimly lit tavern.


    There were a handful of customers sitting at the few round tables, mostly men. The atmosphere suited the kind of people who constantly put themselves in dangerous situations.


    And as one might expect from the rowdy people of their profession, the place was filled with sounds of gossiping.


    The disgusting stench of stale sweat and cheap booze did nothing to stop one group of adventurers from gluttonously drinking down their beer and reciting their various heroic and blood-pumping adventures to their acquaintances.


    Though, surprisingly, there were exceptions as well.


    A four-man party sitting two round tables away from the bunch¡ªwho were having a boisterous conversation¡ªsilently sipped their ale.


    From their sour expression, it could be reasoned they did not do well on their recent mission and thus were not in the mood for boasting.


    The interior of the tavern was spacious. The first floor was a pub with a bar in the back. Behind the bar were three built-in shelves lined with bottles. The door to the side of the bar led to the kitchen.


    In the corner of the pub was a stairway that wrapped around on itself partway up. The second and third floors were an inn.


    Almost all the windows were closed, giving the indoors dim lighting. Those who were used to the bright light outside wouldn''t be able to adjust immediately, but for these adventurers, who were already adapted to fighting monsters at night, it posed no problem.


    The tavern was lulled into silence when the door to the tavern was slammed open.


    ¡ªA man entered the tavern.


    All the eyes were on the man, many aggressively appraising him.


    He was a handsome man with olive skin, black eyes, and hair still black as a night untouched by the gray shadows of dawn.


    He wore indigo silk tunic, his pants tight fawnskin adorned with a belt of silver.


    A golden sword could be seen dangling on his hip.


    Unperturbed by the dangerous glares directed his way, the man walked towards the innkeeeper with a calm glide.


    The innkeeper standing there at the back was wearing a grimy apron. He had a big chest and his sleeves were rolled up; revealing thick vascular forearms.


    This man with a mop in one hand, who seemed more like a hired thug than the innkeeper, hadbeen openly observing the raven-haired newcomer.


    "You need a room, eh? How many nights?" his gruff voice boomed.


    "Three nights would do."


    The bouncer-looking owner answered crudely:


    "...one-star ranking, huh? It''ll be three coppers for a single room. Food is oatmeal¡ªwell, some days it''s leftover loaf instead of oatmeal¡ªand vegetables. If you want more than that, meaning meat, you gonna have to pay two coppers extra."


    "Good enough. I only require a single room. And add the extra two coppers to the total amount as well," the man said.


    "Three nights is fifteen coppers¡ªup front, naturally." The innkeeper stuck out his hand.


    "Here you go," the man said as he casually pulled a leather pouch from his pocket, took out a silver coin, and dropped it into the innkeeper''s rough hand.


    The innkeeper stuffed it into his pocket without a word, and when he brought his hand out again, it was clutching a few copper pieces. "Okay, then, five coppers is your change."


    He dropped the coins into man''s hand and set a key on the counter with aka-ching. "Up the stairs and first on your right. Put your luggage in the chests built into the beds. I don''t think I have to tell you, but don''t go near other people''s rooms for no reason. If somebody thinks you''re up to something, there''ll be trouble."Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Worry not."


    ??????


    Once the man was gone, a loud conversation began.


    "So who''s that guy?"


    "How would I know?"


    "Maybe he''s a spellcaster?"


    "But he carried a sword with him?" "There''s no need to rush to conclusions. We need to confirm it first before we decide on how to treat that guy."


    The conversations being had conveyed confusion, and curiosity.


    Actually, everyone had already concluded that the newcomer was not a typical adventurer. The first tip-off was his impressive clothing. Silk tunics and pants, with jewels embedded in them, did not come cheap.


    And more importantly, it was his calm demeanor that caught their interest. Being stared at by a dozen seasoned veterans was enough for a normal grown man''s leg to go weak.


    But certainly ¡ª that man was not normal ¡ª despite their glares, he had remained unfazed.


    "So who''s going to test him?" Everyone at this inn was friendly with one another but, of course, they were also rivals. If a new guy showed up, they would all want to know how strong he was, so someone had to take the risk and spar with the man.


    "I will do it," a man sitting in the corner said. He was burly with brown hair peeking from under his helmet and had a wiry mustache.


    "You sure, Kruz?"


    "Yeah, due to the recent lack of missions, I am getting quite out of shape. Need to crack a bone or two to get this rust off me."


    "Fine, then. We''ll leave him to you."


    ??????


    The wooden door gently clapped shut.


    The only furnishings in the room were one small desk and two simple wooden beds with chests built in. Since the shutters were open, sunlight and air from outside came indirectly.


    Malazan looked around the room and sighed.


    ''Ah, it''s not like I have the luxury to be disappointed.'' He knew he was at an inn on the outskirts of the city and couldn''t expect much, but this setup still managed to put him off guard.


    "Your arrival was not well met." A disembodied voice echoed in the room.


    "A new tiger has encroached upon their den, so, of course, they would feel endangered. Though little do they know it''s a dragon instead." Malazan laughed as he looked up at the ceiling to find a cloud of darkness looming over him.


    As if alive, the cloud descended on the floor with a slightfa-thudand the darkness went away.


    In its place, a figure could be seen standing. Unlike Malazan, the man was hardly handsome with his oddly colored hair and freckled face.


    He wore a tunic of mottled dark gray cotton, thin but cut for easy movement, pants of the same material, a harness with a score of throwing weapons, most of which the men of today''s era won''t even recognize.


    His very presence seemed to reek of bloodlust.


    "Do you want me to kill them?" Cloven asked as he threateningly waved a blade around.


    It was fairly short, thin, slightly curved blade made of mithril and held by a grip wrapped in high-cost, onyx goat leather.


    The razor-sharp point made this dark weapon a perfect choice if one wished to puncture his enemies to death with ruthless speed and precision, which perfectly suited an assassin like him.


    Malazan googled. He stared intently at Cloven.


    "What is it?" Cloven asked while avoiding eye contact.


    "Sometimes I wonder," Malazan said, "whether there''s anything inside that skull of yours or not. I already told you we must not attract too much attention onto us, lest we are rendered unable to fulfill our plan. And so, killing all of our potential acquaintances is the very opposite of not inviting unwanted attention."


    "So what do we do now?"


    "Rise up in ranks. Enough so that we are looked upon with admiration, and a bit of fear would also do us no harm. Our first step is to gain a reputation in this city as adventurers."


    "We?" Cloven asked.


    "Yes, we. Sooner or later, I will be asked to join a party, and refusal won''t be in my favor. A two-men is conspicuous, but a lone man more so." Malazan stood up and closed the stutters. The light that came in through the gaps in the shutters was not enough to banish the room''s darkness completely, but for anyone spying on them, this room would probably be too dark to see much of anything.


    "I see. How do we do it? Creating a party with you, I mean."


    "Just make your entrance tomorrow morning. I will cover it up by saying you are my comrade at the guild."


    "Then, what about my class?"


    "Register as a rogue," Malazan said as he put his hand against his chin, adopting a ruminating stance.


    A party made up of a rogue and warrior would earn people''s scorn unless they moved up to at least three-star ranking. Until then, trouble would come after them on regular basis.


    We need to hurry up, huh?


    Malazan smiled wolfishly to himself.


    ?????


    Hmm, so I need to make an example out of this guy, huh?


    A burly and cheaply armored adventurer was standing in front of him, blocking his way to the exit door. The man smelled like onions and looked like the kind of guy one wouldn''t want to mess with.


    "So what do you want?" Malazan asked.


    "Eh? Whatcha think? I want you to pay for the beer glass that you threw onto the floor." The man named Kruz said as he looked at Malazan with a threatening gaze.


    Looking down on the wooden floor, Malazan could see the residue of the intentionally splattered beer and shattered pieces of its container. This man was honestly looking for a fight with him, that much he could conclude.


    He looked around to see the members of Kruz''s party either smiling nastily or staring at him.


    Neither the innkeeper nor any of the customers went to intervene. At a glance, it seemed like they either didn''t care or were looking on in amusement as if something interesting had started, but there were a few people with sharp gazes mixed in, watching his every move.


    ¡ªAnd then.


    "Hah! Ha-ha-ha!"


    ¡ªMalazan burst out laughing.


    "...What?"


    "You''re a fool," Malazan said. "A buffoon performing for men who are too afraid to put themselves at risk."


    "You...shut the fuck up." A dangerous glint appeared in the man''s eyes in response to Malazan''s taunting.


    "Shutting the fuck up is not in my nature, alas. Of course, you don''t have to listen. Now, you might think otherwise, but that wouldn''t matter because I couldn''t give a damn."


    Before the man could react, Malazan rammed his fingers through his visor and grabbed the nosepiece. He yanked the man forward and twisted.


    The man slammed into the ground with a grunt. Malazan drew a knife from Kruz''s belt and held it to the man''s eye, his knee resting on the side of Kurz''s helmet, holding it in place.


    "Do you yield?" Malazan asked.


    The man''s breaths were labored. "I give up! Forgive me!"


    "Sure, you''re forgiven." Malazan released him and stood, brushing the dust from the leg of his breeches. He didn''t offer to help the man stand.


    All men were silent, frozen in surprise and fear.


    "Just make sure you pay the innkeeper for that beer," Malazan said.


    "O-of course. We will take care of that.U-uhh, we¡¯re sorry on our friend''s behalf." They all apologized as they backed away several steps.


    It looks like I am going to have a lot of fun during my stay here.

 [B-1] Chapter 2 — Quest

    The Kingdom of Ceirth''s city of Bellmare was situated at the border between the Republic of Altertis and the Kingdom of Djafu. It was protected by three layers of walls.


    The zones between each layer had their own unique characteristics.


    The outermost walls were used by the merchants of the Kingdom and it''s neighbouring nations, so that''s where the storehouses were.


    The innermost wall housed the administrative zone. This zone has its own warehouses for food, and was heavily protected by the kingdom''s soldiers.


    The zone in between these two areas was the residential area for civilians. When you hear the word city, this was the zone that matched it.


    Of the several plazas within this zone, the biggest one was called the central plaza.


    In the center square, the area''s largest, vendors at open-air stalls offered a wide range of goods, including everything from fresh vegetables to prepared foods.


    In the crowd of people, shopkeepers earnestly peppered passersby with lively sales pitches; elderly shoppers looking for the freshest produce haggled with merchants; lured by the grilling aromas, young men purchased kebabs dripping with juices.


    The city was bursting with midday liveliness and it seemed that the din in the square would continue on into the evening.


    However, the peace was disturbed by the emergence of acertain pair from an adjacent building.


    One of the pair was a handsome man and had something about himself that stole the people''s attention.


    It was not just due to his handsomeness, there was something about the manner in which he walked. His movements were slow and deliberate, which seemed to betray his immense confidence.


    The golden sword dangling on his hips seemed to somehow compliment his walk, further boasting his calm aura.


    The warm look in his blue eyes got quite a few women in the center swooning.


    The man''s partner was wearing a silky, black, long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants. The belt around the pants waist was a simple, black band. If judged by facial features alone, he had a face that''d get lost in a crowd.


    Yet, he still attracted attention. And it was all because of his crimson eyes, which seemed to suck the very souls of those who made eye contact with him.


    The two of them looked out over the square, and the handsome man set off walking first. Witnesses followed the departing figures with their eyes, murmuring rumors among themselves. It wasn¡¯t that they were frightened or put on guard by the weirdness of the pair, but that they had seen a curious sight.


    The reason they weren¡¯t more unnerved was because the building from which the pair had emerged was a place where people who specialized in monster extermination looked for work, the Adventurers Guild. It wasn¡¯t at all rare to see strange people coming and going from there.


    Those with sharp eyes had been able to spot the one-star tattoo around each of the pair¡¯s necks. It was clear, then, that the only reason they were getting attention was because of the man''s appearance and his partner''s crimson eyes.


    The pair walked silently down the not very wide street. Puddles in wagon wheel ruts reflected the sunlight. It wasn¡¯t a proper paved road but a mix of dirt and mud that made it hard to walk. One wrong step and there was nothing to do but trip, but perhaps due to their superior senses of balance, these two walked with the same gait they would have used on cobblestones.


    Moving with a light step, the crimson-eyed man checked to make sure no one was around and then spoke to the handsome man. ¡°Why were they staring at me like that?"


    "Well, maybe it''s because of your boundless charm," Malazan tried his best to stifle his laughter, but a slightpfftstill made its way out of his mouth.


    "It was a dry joke." Cloven said disdainfully.


    "Being a bit sensitive won''t hurt you, you know?" Malazan coughed.


    "By the way, what do you think of this place?" He changed the topic with an abrupt question.


    "It''s nauseating. The people here reek of rotting stench" Cloven said with a frown.


    "I see. Still, there''s nothing you can do about it. Just don''t go stiring up trouble," Malazan said merrily.


    Cloven nodded, signaling his understanding.


    Seeing this, Malazan decided to put the matter at rest. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could sense a lot of stares directed his way, mostly from women charmed by his looks.


    The fact he was receiving this kind of attention was not enough to cause the slightest bit of ripple in his heart.


    Throughout his life, he has been constantly reminded of how special his looks were.


    He had felt smug at first, but the novelty worn off too quickly to completely savor it.


    Suddenly, he saw that Cloven had slowed down, almost to the point of halting his walk, a drastic change compared to his previous pace.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "What?" He asked.


    "Err..why did you not register as a Spell-Lord? You''d have been immediately promoted to seven-star ranking with your status alone." With innocent curiosity painted on his face, Cloven turned back to look at him.


    This guy¡­is a masterpiece.


    "Don''t be foolish! There are no true Spell-Masters in this kingdom, much less a Spell-Lord! If my status were to be exposed, we''d have an army at our doorsteps the next morning." The young man named Cloven, who had the bloodlust of a thousand demons, was a lost cause when it came thinking straight.


    If he were asked to assassinate someone, I''d doubt any could do a job better than him. The boy has a natural talent for killing people, it is in his blood.


    However, there was still a lot he needed to be taught about the world.


    Understanding the gravity of the situation, Cloven nodded.


    "Besides, I had already decided to register as a warrior the moment I defeated the man at the inn. I had demonstrated a bit of my physical prowess in front of the adventurers present there. And it does not need to be said out loud that spellcasters who are good at melee combat are almost non-existent."


    After all, if one had time to train one¡¯s body, one could easily spend that time on learning magic.


    That was simple common sense that applied to everyone but him.


    He continued, "Not to mention, there are no six-star adventurers in this kingdom, so I don''t need to tell you what would happen if a seven-star adventurer suddenly appeared out of thin air?"


    The Adventurer Guild categorizes its members with a star ranking system. The system is divided into a total of seven ranks. Each adventurer has a star tattoo magically imprinted on their necks, which increases in number in accordance with their ranks.


    It goes like this: One-star, two-star, three-star, four-star, five-star, six-star, and seven-star.


    These tattoos are used to rank adventurers, with one-star being the lowest and seven-star the highest ranking tattoo. And they can be only removed by the spellcaster who imprinted them, or by someone whose magic is overwhelming powerful in comparison to the said spellcaster.


    Higher ranking adventurers can choose harder jobs which offer greater rewards. This system was established to prevent adventurers from losing their lives in vain.


    Since he recently registered as an adventurer, Malazan only has a one-star tattoo that is assigned to beginners.


    People like him can be classified as newbie adventurers who are just hoping to earn money and fame, and some of them probably would.


    But the casualties are a lot more in comparison to the successful ones. The life of an adventurer was quite dangerous and for the most part ¡ª boring. It was a practical and dull career.


    In short, adventurers were ''mercenaries who deal with monsters''.


    Although they do explore the ruins of countries destroyed by the ancient beings, and do seek unknown treasures in secret realms; but they are basically monster hunters.


    All monsters had unique abilities, so there was a need for people with a wide variety of skills to handle them.


    Different from the heroes mentioned in the legends, the governing organizations disliked the existence of armed groups outside their control.


    Even setting financial concerns aside, the social status of adventurers was still low.


    There were other reasons why countries didn''t take in adventurers en masse. Instead of hiring permanent staff with high salaries, it was better to outsource the work to local adventurer guilds, which made more sense as a business.


    For companies that can operate without the adventurers guild or a nation that can clear monsters with their military, the status of adventurers was even lower.


    "What about our quest, then?" Cloven asked, dragging Malazan out of his reverie.


    "We will see to it right now." Accepting quests from the guild was one of the ways to get promoted, so they''d gone ahead and chosen a one-star mission.


    They were to kill a group of half dozen goblins, roaming near the outskirts of the city, who were creating trouble for the caravans on their way to the city. It is said that most rookie adventurers lose their lives to these creatures.


    But exterminating such low ranking beasts did not pose any danger for them. In fact, it could even be said that it was a disgrace for them to dirty their hands to deal with such creatures.


    But what did Master Julian use to say, when in Uspetan, do as the Uspetanians do? Honestly, he didn''t really pay attention to the master''s lectures most of the times. Heck, he even used to sleep through some of them.


    "Let us be on our way, then."


    ??????


    Arriving at the outskirts of the city, he found out howwrecked the forest was.


    Malazan was greeted by destroyed and fallen trees, the aftermath of a fight between adventurers and beasts, possibly trolls or ogres from the size of the grooves on a few trees.


    It seemed like rabbits, birds, squirrels, and mice had taken over this area and declared it to be their territory. Underbrush were scattered a few miles away. Though one thing that remained unchanged was the crispy grass under their feet.


    "A devasted forest," Cloven said.


    Malazan nodded. "I''d have to concur."


    "Come on, let''s search for those gob-"


    "Ugh¡­Alina¡­hurry up, heal Giraud!"


    And I was interrupted. Sounds like a fight is going on.


    "I may have to put you through some work today, Cloven." He smirked mischievously at Cloven.


    Why bother doing something bothersome yourself when you could get someone else to do it for you. Ah, it is in times like these, that I love my decision of taking the boy under my wing.


    "Oh," Cloven exclaimed monotonously while maintaining his poker face.


    Tch, the man is no fun.Looking to his right, he saw thickets masking the fight taking place behind it, preventing him from seeing it.


    "¡¸Enhance Eyesight¡¹!" Several series of symbols passed through his eyes, arranging them in an unknown sequence, in less than 0.0001 seconds.


    Malazan could still see the thickets, but he could see through them. It was like looking through glass. You could tell the glass was there, but it didn¡¯t impede your vision.


    Malazan glanced inside a hole dug into the ground, and as expected, this applied to everything.


    The darkness welcomed his eyes now. His eyes were sharper, clearer¡ªhe could see further, like the village located eighty kilometers away, like the old woman humming a tune in her kitchen, like the man swinging his sword in impatience. It was intoxicating.


    Everything became vivid. His very vision was altered. Malazan eyes turned from azure to golden. Complex patterns appeared inside them. And he seemed to unknowingly radiate a frightening presence.


    "Ugh¡­" Cloven trailed off in agony.


    Malazan murmured. "Much better. Now then, what do we have here?"


    His eyesight bypassed the bushes and trees, and he saw seven giants attacking a party of four adventurers.


    The giant beings were between 270-300 cm.


    They looked a bit retarded with their jaws sharply protruding out.


    The bulging muscles on their arms were as thick as tree trunks, and the muscles almost reached the ground since the giants¡¯ backs were hunched.


    They carried clubs that looked like they had ripped them straight off a tree and wore only an untanned animal skin on the waist.


    Their skin, full of warts, was burnt-brown in color. Their thick chests and abdominal muscles seemed rather tough with their pecs and abs built tightly. They looked very strong, and were a cross breed between apes and humans ¡ª Demihuman monsters known as ogres.


    One of the party members looked heavily injured, and would possibly bleed to death if someone didn''t cast healing magic on him.


    "Interesting." He smiled to himself.

 [B-1] Chapter 3 — Savior

    They shouldn''t have accepted this mission in the first place. Surely, they could have saved themselves from this tragedy, Alina thought.


    Alina didn''t want to die, and she knew that her other party members wanted the same.


    For once, she regretted going on a mission.


    The previous day, the Guild had issued a request. To sum it up, it said that a two-star or above adventurer party was required to exterminate three ogres in the plains.


    According to their sources, they''d witnessed the migration of a wandering ogre tribe and, for reasons unbeknownst to them, seen three orgres separating from the tribe and choosing to stay behind.


    The request stated that the adventurer party who accepted the quest had to eliminate these monsters before they could wreck havok in villages nearby.


    The reward was good and for a two-star party like theirs, taking care of three wandering ogres was not an impossible task. Even if they were some minor errors in the report, they could somehow cope with unwanted situations, at least that''s what they had thought before.


    Yet now, here she was, regretting her stupidity. If only she could turn back time, if only she could tell her comrades how ignorant they were.


    Coming here unaware of the danger, they had started searching for the ogres ¡ª Not that finding monsters of their size was any difficult. After a quick scout round the plains, their rogue, Giraud, had returned with information of sighting two ogres just a hundred yards away. Apparently, one less than expected.


    Knowing this, they had further lowered their guard. A folly they are now dearly paying for.


    Arriving at the place, they had been welcomed by misfortune. Seven ogres had encircled them. Three and four from the front and rear respectively.


    Seeing that, Giraud had jumped in panic. "I swear there were only two when I came here!" He had gesticulated wildly in order to defend himself.


    Having had worked alongside him for the last two years, they knew he hadn''t been lying. Besides, there was nothing for him to gain by betraying them.


    Not to mention, they had known it would do them no good if they didn''t focus on the matter at hand.


    The rules of Adventurers Guild stated that if the level of difficulty of the mission was higher than the initial assessment, the adventure party should avoid any sort of confrontation and immediately head back and inform the guild.


    Adhering to the rules, they''d tried to run, but to no avail. Although ogres were monster with low intelligence, they still held an overwhelming edge over human in terms of physical abilitie


    "Ugh¡­Alina¡­hurry up, heal Giraud." She heard one of her teammates shout, causing her senses to return to her.


    Taking the stock of her surroundings, she was overwhelmed with desperation and fear.


    Having tried lunging past the encirclement, Giraud was now lying on the ground, his arm bleeding profusely.


    Her rest of the teammates ¡ª Reeve and Sanse were engaged in a fierce battle with the ogres. Though as far as she saw it, they wouldn''t be able to hold out for much longer.


    I must do something, Alina thought. She was a cleric, so it was up to her to heal her teammates'' injuries.


    Stiffing her upper lips, she gathered all the courage she could muster and strode towards Giraud. She needed to be in close range to cast a healing spell.


    Alina was just a rank-one cleric, so she knew she wasn''t capable of casting her spell from a long distance.


    O'' Almight Gurushu, please listen to the plea of your devoted worshipper and grant her your protection,she prayed to her god.


    Unfortunately, it seemed like even her god had abandoned her, as an ogre immediately hurtled towards her.


    Seeing it bolting towards her with such velocity caused her to stumble and trip over a rock.


    She felt as if someone had striked her head with a hammer as she hit the ground. The concussion was so strong that she nearly passed out.


    She tried to move but failed. Her knees were bruised and her whole body felt numb.


    Her ears could sense the ground underneath her vibrating.


    Thud.Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.


    The ogres and her death were getting nearer by each passing second.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "AlINA!" Shouts echoed in the distance. Shouts to which she was unable to respond.


    Soon, she felt it, for the first time in her life. The fear of death.


    "No, no, no, no!" Tears crawled down her cheeks.


    Shewanted to live. She wanted to go home. Otherwise, what will happen to her little brother waiting for her at home?


    What fate will be in store for that poor child?


    She dreaded the mere thought of it.


    Looking up, she saw an ogre standing before her, brandishing a club.


    The club swung, sparkling in the sunlight as if to say that taking her life in a single stroke would be an act of mercy.


    Alina shut her eyes. She didn¡¯t want to be biting her lower lip. She just had no choice but to accept what was about to happen.


    If she had even a little power, she probably would have been able to shove the figure away and escape¡­


    But she was powerless.


    And so there was only one ending.


    She would die. Her comrades would die. Her little brother would probably starve to death.


    The club came down¡ª


    ¡­The pain still hadn¡¯t come.


    She unscrunched her eyes.


    The first thing she saw was the club, stopped mid-swing.


    The next was the figure holding the club. The ogre was practically frozen. His eyes seemed to have lost focus.


    A golden sword was jutting out from the area where his heart must have been located, blood dripping down from it.


    And then¡ª


    Like a puppet with its strings cut.


    ¡ªHe fell down.


    "By the bells of Altertis, you guys look like a mess! Cloven, take down the three ogres to the right. I will take care of the rest." A calm voice¡ªthat sounded out of place¡ªwas heard.


    Alina struggledto look sideways and caught the sight of two other adventurers forty yards away. She felt a momentary rush of euphoria, which ended shortly afterwards when she saw the one-star tattoo on the two individuals'' necks.


    Her heart sank. Maybe she was really destined to die here.Wait, no! One of them killed this ogre from such a long distance away just by throwing his sword. Maybe they can really save us.


    Alina pinned all her hopes on the fantasy that they were not ordinary adventurers.


    Though soon she would realize that she had grossly underestimated these two.


    Aline focused her eyes on the raven-haired adventurer. There was something peculiar about him that she couldn''t quite put her finger on. Something told her that he was a lot more dangerous in comparison to the ogres.


    As soon as she laid her eyes on him, the man looked directly at her. Alina was quite some distance away from them. More importantly, she was lying down the ground, and it wouldn¡¯t be easy to spot her, considering the shape she was in.


    It could have been a coincidence that he looked at her, but something told her that wasn''t the case.


    The raven-haired man came walking at a brisk pace.


    It was at an incredible speed. Whenever she blinked, he had closed an incredible distance as if he was teleporting.


    Even though he was just walking normally, he moved at a speed that the brain refused to register.


    Soon, he was standing near the dead ogre. He bent down a little and grabbed the golden sword out of the ogre''s body.


    "Could you hold out for a little longer?" He turned to look at her.


    "Uhm, y-yes." She replied in a flustered manner.


    "Glad to hear that. Don''t worry, you''ll be just fine." The man smiled warmly.


    Yes, he actually smiled. How could someone be capable of smiling in such a dangerous situation, she wondered.


    But what felt even more strange was how her heart had felt relieved after seeing his smile.


    She suddenly felt a sense of security she had never experienced before.


    The man walked towards the ogres at a leisurely pace.


    No one, looking at his gait, would imagine he was headed into a fight against charging monsters.


    It looked more like he was taking a stroll through the meadow than navigating a combat zone.


    As the nearest ogre was getting closer, the raven-haired man tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and readied his stance. Aline gasped.


    She sensed it and her comrades must have felt it, too. That man, who only had the one-star tattoo imprinted on his neck, was emitting the pressure only those of very high-rank adventurers would be able to create.


    The atmosphere gradually changed to one filled with killing intent, the previous tension surrounding the battlefield was further intensified.


    Even a goblin, with its low intelligence, would consider twice before charging at him. But the ogres continued to barrel, too dim-witted to second-guess his strength.


    It looked like the ogres would get the first attack, but then the raven-haired man rushed at them.


    He was like a hurricane. Then, in an even faster flash of silver, the sword in his hand flew through the air as if it were cutting space itself.


    The attack was too magnificent. Regardless of the fact that she hadn¡¯t even been cut, Alina felt the sudden presence of death right beside her, so much so that every hair on her body stood on end.


    The man shifted his attention from the ogre before him to another ogre.


    As if waiting for him to leave, the top half of the slashed ogre stayed on for a while before finally falling to the ground; the bottom half was still standing.


    The spray of blood, slop of innards, and diffusion of an awful stench throughout the area were the signs that this was neither a dream nor an illusion.


    The downward diagonal slash made a clean cut.


    It was over in that single swing. She couldn''t comprehend what she was seeing. Or rather, she refused to comprehend it.


    Not that such a feat was impossible to accomplish. The crux of the trick was to use both the slash¡¯s centrifugal force and sword¡¯s weight to attack; it wasn¡¯t meant to be wielded with only one arm¡¯s strength.


    Hence either the raven-haired man''s sword was enchanted with powerful magic, or his strength in one arm was overwhelmingly stronger than a normal warrior using two hands. Or maybe even both.


    Seeing this shocking scene, the ogre unconsciously stopped, made an expression of horror and backed away.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Do your huge bodies only amount to this much ?¡± His quiet, casual voice floated over the battlefield.


    Even just that question scared the ogres¡ªbecause they¡¯d just seen how overwhelming the gap in strength was between him and them.


    He advanced like greased lightening to close in.


    ¡°Waarghh---!


    The ogre let out a howl that was a cross between a wail and a shout, raising the club in its hand to face the man who was attacking. But everyone knew that was too slow.


    The man once again swung the sword in his hand horizontally after he got close.


    The top half of the ogre spun in the air and landed at a different spot from its lower half.


    That was a horizontal slash, slicing the ogre in half with one strike.


    "¡­Is he even human?" Alina couldn''t help but murmur out loud.


    The man took a step forward, the ugly faces of the ogres froze stiff and they backed further away.


    Then, as if to crush their morale further, the man''s sword swung in a huge arc. No one could hear anything but the sound of it slicing through the air and then something heavy falling to the ground¡ªtwo things, in fact.


    As everyone expected, the number of ogre corpses had decreased. Now the only ogres remaining were the two cowering before the raven-haired man.


    Alina was stunned once again. No words came out of words her mouth. In fact, she couldn''t even find words to describe what she had just seen.


    She wondered how someone so powerful was only a one-star adventure. It didn''t make sense. His power must rival the twin knights of the capital, if not surpass them.


    "You will do well to tell me as to why you didn''t you move, Cloven." An icy voice travelled out through the air.


    Alina directed her line of sight to the other man who had been standing there silently since the battle had commenced. Due to the spectacular display, his presence had been unknowingly ignored.


    "You were having so much fun killing these monsters that I thought my interference would spoil your mood." He replied in a low raspy voice.


    "Is that so?" The raven-haired man mused.


    "It is already spoiled, anyway. Finish off these two. I''ve had enough."


    Just after the raven-haired man finished talking, the image of the man wearing baggy pants blurred.


    "¡­huh?" Alina exclaimed. She saw him suddenly appear above the heads of the two ogres with a black dagger in his right hand.


    Even before her mind could register what was happening, two giant heads flew in the air, accompanied by two fountains of blood pouring upwards and the sound of bodies falling to the ground.


    "What the hell?!" She heard her one of her teammates, Reeve, shout. She couldn''t blame him, though. In fact, she wanted to know what had just happened as badly as them, if not more.


    What occurred in last five minutes had turned all her beliefs upside down. She knew that she will never forget this moment for the rest of her life. It was firmly imprinted in her memory.


    "So you aren''t slipping, after all." the raven-haired man clapped.


    "Tch-" was the only response he got in return.


    Unaffected by the sneer, the man looked around to survey the battlefield before walking towards Giraud. She saw him give Giraud a Healing Potion, which he gratefully accepted with trembling hands.


    Soit''s finally over. And I am still alive, huh?


    Alina heaved a sigh of relief.


    Drowsiness promptly overcame her. She touched the back of her head and found out that she had been bleedinga little toomuch.


    She triedher best to fight off the fatigue, but shortly afterward her mind chose to concede to the call of sleep as she fell unconscious.

 [B-1] Chapter 4 — Reward

    Horrified, the boy ran. He ran and ran until his stomach started to ache and he struggled to breathe for air.


    The scent of blood and urine thickened in the evening chill. The sky above appeared as though it had absorbed all the blood shed in the battle that took place here and painted itself in it.


    It was sickening. Yet, it seemed to comfort him in some sort of way.


    Various questions plagued the boy''s mind ¡ª Question to which he did not have answers of.


    After looking around, terror welled up inside him. All he saw was red. Rivers of red blood enveloped the battlefield.


    Covered in their own entrails, soaked in blood of their comrades, deads bodies were bestrewed on the ground.


    These soldiers¡ªwho might have lived a good life if they didn''t participate in this battle¡ª now had expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces, which served as the testimony to the hellish experience they must had gone through.


    Weapons were everywhere ¡ª sticking out of bodies as if they were pin cushions, some still within the grasp of dead hands.


    The bodies lying here were enough to create mountain out of them. It was as if Death himself had strolled through the battlefield, and no one had even tried to stop him. Everywhere, the boy saw Spellcasters, Paladins, Knights, Warriors, Clerics, dead.


    The sight of a dozen or two vultures feasting upon the flesh of these dead soldiers almost caused him to throw up.


    The boy found himself running towards a hill with all his might. At a distance of just 110 yards, it did not take him long to reach the top of the hill.


    Looking at a man in front of him, the boy stood there, motionless.


    Theman in question was genuflecting with his arms swaying loosely to sideways, as if they had lost every sense of movement.


    One might even mistake him to be offering a prayer if it weren''t for the ghastly condition he was in. Four weapons were stabbed into him. Two swords: First one thrusted deeply into his right shoulder, severing his scapula. Second one in his heart, rupturing all the arteries.


    One arrow tearing right through his lungs. And a spear jutting out across his back, severely damaging the spinal cord.


    Blood trickleddown from his neck. His hands were burnt off, which was possible caused by a Fireball spell. But despite that fact, he was still holding tightly onto a golden sword, as if he wanted to convey that it was his last vestige.


    Several bodies were littered around his body. Different from the ones he encountered before, they were in a much more unrecognizable state. Some head their heads cut off while a few had their whole body mashed into the very picture of cruelty.


    The boymoved close until he was just one foot away from the man''s body. Trembling, his hands reached out to the man''s shoulders, shaking them a little.


    "¡­Big brother?" The boy''s voice was low, to the point where it almost sounded like a whisper.


    Silence. It was all he got in return.


    The boy jerked the man''s shoulders once again, but with a lot more force this time.


    Responding to this forceful movement, the man''s body fell to the ground.


    "Brother?! Brother!? BROTHER!" Malazan woke up and found himself gasping for air.


    Looking around, he saw he was still in his room. He touched his face and found it soggy with sweat.


    How shameful. To think those dreams still haunt someone like me.


    Malazan poured a glass of water for himself, and drank from it.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "What happened?" A coolly voice resounded in the room.


    He turned to face Cloven, who stood there in the corner with his usual straight face.


    "Mind telling me when you got here?"


    "Just now. I thought I heard you shouting."


    "You thought wrong. Anyway, how goes the mission I gave you?" Malazan asked as he slowly got out of his bed.


    "It''s done. Their memories of yesterday have been erased."


    "That''s good to hear. We can''t have them spreading rumors about our strength. We must keep our powers hidden. Uncertainty can sometimes be a powerful element of surprise. By the way, which spell did you use?"


    " ¡¸Memory Tempering ¡¹"


    "A fifth tier spell, huh?"


    Memory Tempering, as its name applied, was a fifth tier spell which was used to temper with a person''s memory. Although it wasn''t able to temper an individual''s memories to a large extent, it worked quite well if one just wanted to play with memories of four-stars and below ranking adventurers.


    One downside to it was that it didn''t work on rank-five and above individuals. But there are many other higher-tier spells who can counter it''s downside.


    "Even if we know there is no one stronger than us out there?" Cloven asked.


    "No, my apprentice. There is, or rather are some who are stronger than us. You shouldn''t forget to take ''their'' existence into account. Besides, one must always assume there is someone stronger than him out there. Can''t have your master here lying in a coffin just because he got arrogant." Malazan shrugged and started adjusting his clothes.


    Malazan''s countless experiences had forged him into an extremely cautious individual, so one couldn''t fault him for being so paranoid.


    "But those beings you speak of are not even mortals." Cloven said, bemused.


    "But that doesn''t mean they won''t interfere with the mortal world. When we make our move, they will definitely join the fray. That said, it''s still too early to think about these matters. Come, let us go collect our reward"


    Cloven nodded and followed Malazan out of the room.


    ??????


    After entering the building, Malazan saw the counter where three ladies received adventurers with smiles.


    There were warriors in full body armor, agile looking people with a bow and dressed in light armor, people in priestly attire accessorized with religious symbols... and spellcaters with long robes and staffs.


    There was a large door to the left and a bulletin board to the right. He didn¡¯t see them yesterday, but there were several parchments pasted on it and groups of adventurers were talking in front of them.


    Many looked at the one-star tattoo on Malazan''s neck and he could feel them gawking at his entire body, similar to the atmosphere at the tavern the day before yesterday.


    Malazan observed these adventurers from the corner of his eyes. The tattoos on their necks were of two-star and and three-star, there were no one-star tattoos. Yet, without even feeling out of place, Malazan and Cloven calmly walked up to the counter.


    A group of adventurer just departed, leaving one of the female receptionists free. After reaching her he asked:


    "Sorry to interrupt you while you are busy, milady. We have completed our job and would be grateful if you could hand over our reward."


    "O-of course, Sir. Please show the evidence to the other counter over there." The receptionist blushed as she pointed towards a counter to the right.


    Malazan glanced to where she was pointing and saw a big line of adventurers standing in front of the counter. It seemed that their number won''t be coming any time soon.


    Ugh, I don''t have time for this.


    "Excuse me, but I and my comrade here are running short on time. Could please you do me a favor and check the evidence yourself?" Heleaned closer, their faces drawing near, and grabbed her hands gently.


    The receptionist shrieked and blushed even


    further. "S-sir, but I am do not have the authority to-"


    "Please." Malazan tightened his grip and his dashing blue eyes directly made contact with hers.


    "I-i will do it! Please sperate your hand!" Thereceptionist''s face was now as red as tomato. Her face was now held low and she couldn''t even find the courage to look into his eyes.


    Prefect.


    "I thank you, milady. Please let me know if you ever need my help." Malazan winked, delivery the last blow which destroyed all her defenses.


    "U-um, okay. Please hand over the evidence to me."


    "Of course." Malazan reached out to a sack attached to his waist and placed it on the counter.


    "Six goblins, right?" The receptionist said as she inspected the goblin ears.


    "Indeed, my good lady." He gave her one of his gentle smiles.


    "Here is your reward: Twenty coppers." She put the coins in front of them, which Malazan unceremoniously accepted.


    "Once again, I''d like to offer you my gratitude. I will definitely repay you when I come back next time."


    "Y-you d-don''t have to do that, Sir."


    "A gentleman never lets a favor go unreturned. Surely, you wouldn''t want me to go against my principles?"


    "Cheh¡­ a gentleman my ass!"


    "Shut up, Cloven!"


    "Of course not! You misunderstood me!" The receptionist panicked. It could be seen that she didn''t know how to handle this situation.


    "Hahaha¡­alright then. I shall assume you now have no more protests." Malazan laughed as he made his way out of the Guild, followed by Cloven from behind.


    ??????


    ¡°That man is so cool!¡±


    ¡°Totally!¡±


    "Hey, Lettrie! You are so lucky! He even flirted with you!"


    "H-he did not!!


    "Don''t lie! We saw him holding your hands with our own eyes!"


    As Malazan left the Adventurer Guild, the other two receptionists gathered around the receptionist named Lettrie, and bombarded her with various questions.


    "Lettrie, what did he say?"


    "Did he ask you out for lunch?"


    "What are you going to say the next you meet him?"


    They acted more like girls who had met the prince they pined for rather than women of poise and intelligence. A few of the adventurers in the line had jealous frowns on their faces, but they didn¡¯t say anything because they themselves could see how elegant and handsome Malazan was.


    "No, no, and no! He didn''t say anything of that sort!"


    "You are lying again! Anyway, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he was the third son of a noble!"


    Nobles who don''t inherit the household usually become butlers. Some even receive a part of land if their household is wealthy enough to support it.


    But, that option is only available for the second sons of nobility. Third sons are worse off. Most of them are only offered a paltry sum of money, which is barely enough to open up a small shop.


    Yet, there are a few of them who choose a different route: They become adventurers. Noble heirs, irrespective of their status, are required to go through knight training.


    They are also taught some basic Knight Arts. Like how a spellcaster casts spells, knights make use of Arts to enhance their strength. So usually, the third son of a noble commands strength which makes him eligible to become an adventure, even if he may fit into only one-star category.


    The aura of elegance that Malazan emitted, and his formal way of speaking, was what caused these receptionists to think he had the blood of a noble pumping through his veins.


    "Lettrie, you must let me handle his requests when he come backs, okay?"


    "W-why should I do that?!"


    "What are you panicking for? Didn''t you say there was nothing going on between the two of you? Don''t tell me you lied to us?"


    "¡­I-it''s not like that¡­" Lettrie didn''t know what was going on with her. Her mind was in flutters, and she couldn''t make sense of this emotion she was experiencing. It made her heart race. It felt as if her whole world has suddenly been filled with various colors.


    Don''t tell me I have been smitten? Who is that man?


    Although she didn''t want to admit it, she was really looking to meeting Malazan.

 [B-1] Chapter 5 — Geve the Guardian

    Capital City ¡ª Flerith, Kingdom of Ceirth,


    Outer region, Blackwood Pub


    Early Summer, Fue''oi, 1402 Year Cycle


    "One more glass, please," the man said as he threw the empty wine glass onto the wooden floor. The glass shattered, causing those in the pub to look towards the sound''s origin. Though after seeing who it was, they quickly turned away their faces in fright.


    ''Damn cowards, the lot of them¡­'' the man disappointingly muttered under his breath as though he had expected this unusual reaction. He hoped that one of them was courageous to come looking for trouble with him, so that he could vent out all the bottled up resentment inside him, but alas, it does not seem possible.


    "So¡­did she defeat you again, Master Geve?" The bartender inquired, unperturbed by the man''s rude behavior, as he placed another glass of Mistborn wine on the table. He wore a dark tunic with complimenting black leggings. His appearance and body language radiated an air of good upbringing.


    Picking up the glass placed in front of him, Geve brought it close to his face, staring at it as if searching for answers to comfort himself. The bartender remained silent at the side, letting the man be.


    "More like she beat the shit out of me. Aahhh, what a miserable life I have," the man despondently answered, breaking the long awkward silence.


    "Surely, you jest, milord. Many people would want to bang their heads into walls after hearing you, one of the Twin Knights, say that," The bartender said with a wry smile on his face.


    The Twin Knights, the mere mention of this duo would invoke feelings of reverence, fear and admiration in the hearts of public. They were recognized as the strongest force of the Kingdom of Ceirth, employeed by the King as the two Highest-General of the Royal Knights. It was because of their reputation as rank-five knights that the King and the royal family was able to maintain their position. Not to mention, they also served as a deterrence to the surrounding states that might otherwise harbor wicked plans.


    ¡ªYet, here was one of the Twin Knights, Geve the Guardian, sulking in defeat.


    "Ugh¡­what Twin Knights? It should be more like the Single Knight...or maybe The Knight¡­wait, but that doesn''t sound nice. Ughhh, I don''t give a fuck anymore!!" Geve drank all glass empty in one fell swoop. Just thinking about her smug smile when she pointed her sword against his throat¡ªduring their last duel¡ªinfuriated him to no bounds.


    "Forgive me for not knowing my place, General Geve, but why don''t you give up on trying to defeat General Adelena? It is not like both of you are enemies, anyway," the bartender inquired, his voice coated in curiosity.


    "It''s because of my pride as a man, Edelor! How could you even not know of something as important as this?! Wait, don''t tell me you''re a eunuch?! Hmm, no wonder your voice sounds a bit feminine!" Geve nodded to himself, seemingly proud of himself as though he had unravelled a great mystery.


    "T-that''s not the case¡­hah, nevermind," Edelor gave up after seeing Geve lost in his reverie. It was a well-known fact that General Geve was not himself when he got drunk.


    Suddenly, the door to pub creaked open and a young boy entered. His skin was pale, to the point where it seemed as if the boy the never seen the light of day. Wearing a bright blue robe, he griped a small staff in his hand. His emerald eyes glistened in the darknesss of the pub.


    With an arrogant glide, he made his way towards where Geve was sitting."Geve, why are you loitering in a place like this? I have been searching for you everywhere!" The boy yelled.


    "When will you start calling me General Geve, you brat?!" Geve directed a sharp glare his way.


    "When you stop calling me a brat," the boy sneered.


    "Oh, if it isn''t young lord Silvar."


    "Hello, Mister Edelor. Sorry to disturb you while you are at work," the boy named Silvar bowed his head in response to the bartender''s greeting.


    "Hohoho, don''t worry, young lord. As you can see, I am just accompanying Master Geve in his drinking bout," Edelor said with a generous wave of his hand, dismissing the boy''s apology.


    "I see," Silvar flashed a happy smile in response.


    "By the way, brat, how did that master of yours allow you to come outside of the palace?" Geve asked, sounding interested. Spellmaster Malus, the court magician, was known for being strict towards his disciples, never letting them go out of the palace.


    So seeing one of his disciples¡ªa brilliant one at that¡ªrooming outside like this was not a sight one got to see everyday.


    "Humph, glad you asked! I broke-through to rank-one arcane spellcaster a month ago. Master Malus praised me, saying that I was a rare prodigy to become a rank-one spellcaster at such a young age, so as a reward for my hardwork, he gave me permission to leave the palace once in every six days, " Silvar answered heatedly, his voice loud enough to reach every corner of the pub.


    Shocked gasps and sighs of admiration resounded throughout the place, which further stroked Silvar''s ego.


    "So what of it? It''s not like you became a rank-one spellmaster like him," Geve harrumphed in annoyance.


    "Y-you¡­do you even know how difficult it is to became a rank-one spellcaster, much less a rank-one spellmaster?!" Silvar retorted in fury. It felt like someone had poured cold water on his newfound thunder.


    "Humph," Geve turned his face away. He indeed knew the difficulty of becoming a spellmaster, but due to his irritant mood, he wasn''t willing to admit it out loud.


    "Y-you¡­!" Silvar stomped his feet in anger.


    "If don''t mind, young lord Silvar, could please enlighten this old man about the mysteries of magic?" Edelor inquired.


    "Of course, Mister Edelor. What you do want to know?"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Anything. For example, like how many tiers are there?"


    "Oh, from what I have heard from my master, magic spells are divided into eleven-tiers. Though their existence is still up for debate, as no one has witnessed a tier-eight spell, to say nothing of an eleven-tier spell. The highest spell a spellcaster can cast is a three-tier spell. And hence, they are called rank-three spellcaster due to each realm being divided into a total of three ranks. This is the highest level a normal human with magic potential is capable of achieving," saying that, Silvar looked at the bartender''s pondering face and then continued, "after that come the spellmasters. After becoming a spellmaster, a human is able to surpass his limits and can summon winds and command oceans to a certain extent. Though this is only possible for rank-three spellmasters, those are able to use six-tier spells." Silvar now had a reverent look on this face. It was a dream of every spellcaster to have the honor of being able to glimpse at the peak of the magic, and Silvar was no exception.


    "Oh? Entering into the ranks of legends, so to say?" Edelor asked, remembering those tales that he heard in his childhood.


    "Indeed. It''s said that after becoming a legend, one may be able to contend against those ancient beings who were under the command of deities and once ruled the whole world," Silvar replied fearfully, even he did not know much about those beings, except for what he had heard from his master. In fact, his master, the one he adored deeply, said that the likes of him weren''t worthy to know about those beings. So it was impossible to know where the limits of their powers lay. Their tales were so absurd that he even suspected the validity of their existence.


    "I see. Thank you for enlightening me, young lord Silvar," the bartender gratefully bowed towards him.


    "You''re welcome, Mister," Silvar nodded his head at the man''s gesture.


    "Hah¡­now why don''t you tell me as to why you were searching for me?" Geve asked, intrigued.


    "Ohh! Right, I almost forgot about it! His Majesty ordered me to summon you, Geve, saying that you are to come as soon as possible!" Remembering what he was here for, Silvar suddenly became flustered.


    "Aahhh? Why didn''t you tell me that earlier?!" Geve hurriedly stood up, striking his gauntleted hand against the table. The force behind the impact was so powerful that the table broke into two. His previous melancholic state was all but gone, replaced by an expression of solemnity.


    "T-that''s¡­that''s because the conversation got derailed¡­" Even the previous arrogant Silvar was now fearful and had his head hung low. Others might not know, but he knew all too well what Geve was capable of when he got angry.


    "Ugh¡­Blessed Mother! What shitty day this is! I will be going now, Edelor. And don''t worry, I will send someone later to pay up for the drinks and that table. And you brat, play time''s over, you are coming with me," Geve voice resounded in the pub after he made his exit while dragging an unwilling Silvar with him, leaving behind a wryly smiling bartender, and several stunned customers.


    ??????


    Geve now stood before double ironbound doors that lead to the throne hall. The doors reached a height of nine feet; tall and wide to the point that it seemed they would devour anyone that were to pass through. The walkaway was dimly lit, and he sensed humidity in the air as mositure settled on his exposed skin.


    Two royal knights in glittering mail and an articulated breastplate wore on top of it stood to either side of the giant double doors. They regarded him respectfully with a royal salute from the side. Geve took a deep breath, remembering that it was a private summon this time, which meant that no one was going to listen in the conversation between him and the King.


    It must be a pretty important matter.


    The knights'' gauntleted hands rested easily on the pommels of unsheathed great swords, but they made no move to hinder Geve as he pushed the doors wide open, and walked right past the knights into the throne hall like a rising wind.


    "General Geve of the Royal Guards greets His Majesty Wimarc Phie-lettron!" He kneeled before the throne.


    "You may stand, my loyal General," a dignified voice rumbled through the hall, bearing witness to the passing of time.


    Being granted the permission to look up, he finally laid eyes on his king, the man he had sworn fealty to. King Wimarc, a man in his fifties, had an appearance what people might call ordinary but regal. An ovular face that possessed a pair of deep brown eyes, eyebrows that only had a few black hairs left unlike his completely white-coloured beard that reached till his collarbone. Draped in a fine black robe, the King wore a few rings on fingers of both his hands. Geve had once heard the Royal Magician Malus say that the King had ordered Anzadel Oqiohr, the most famous smith in the capital, to forge these rings out of Lin Putride. So only the gods knew how expensive these rings actaully were.


    "I apologise for coming so late, Your Majesty!" He once again kneeled, albeit the intentions behind it differed from before.


    "There''s no need to be so uptight, General Geve. Be at ease. It is not that urgent of an matter that We''d punish a loyal subject such as yourself over," the King replied with a laugh.


    Feeling of gratitude welled up inside of him, once again reminding him of the generous nature of his King. It was because of this man''s wisdom and vision that the Kingdom of Ceirth was able to prosper in such a short amount of time.


    Therefore, it is worth it for me to serve this man with all my might.


    Thinking this to himself, he renewed his conviction.


    As if sensing his thoughts, the king smiled before replacing it with a grim expression: "Do you know why We have summoned here?"


    "No, Your Majesty. I do not." Considering by the King''s dignified countenance, it ought to be a grave matter. Did the Republic''s adventurers started trespassing into the Kingdom''s ancient ruins again? Or maybe a rebellion broke out in one of the two dukes'' land?


    "It has come to Our attention that our scouts stationed at the border of Linburn Plains were killed by demihumans, except for one who returned yesterday," Saying that, the King looked at Geve.


    "Oh, if I may, Your Majesty, do you know how the said scout survived?" Geve asked with a puzzled look on his face.


    "You want to know why he was left alive?" The king smiled, knowing the thoughts of his subject.


    Geve nodded. It was certain that the enemy was capable of killing all of their scouts, so one of them returning with his life arosed nothing but suspicion. It was more like they intentionally let him keep his life.


    "The scout says that the leader of the demihumans who attacked them happened to be a War Troll. The Troll didn''t kill the scout because he wanted him to inform us that an army of their kind has already departed for the City of Bellmare. According to the troll, our kingdom only has three months before they invade us."


    "WHAT?!" Geve shouted. Very few situations forced him to lose all his composure, and an invasion by demihumans was one of those situations. Although it was true that their relations with the demihumans had been strained for years, yet they haven''t deteriorated to the point where the demihumans would wage war against them.


    Unshaken by his shout, the King continued: "Although we don''t know the motive behind this invasion of theirs, but there are indeed rumors of a large demihuman army raiding various villages outside of our Kingdom. It won''t be long before they invade our Kingdom through Bellmare."


    Hearing this, Geve''s heart sank. They didn''t have enough time to make preparations for such a large-scale war. Their soldiers were already busy defending the kingdom''s borders, so asking them to fight off a demihumans invasion was the same as ordering them to leave their borders'' undefended. Though Kingdom had a reserved force of 20,000 soldiers, yet it wasn''t enough to fight a large-scale war with the demihumans.


    "The only choice we have is to conscript peasants into the army," Geve groaned.


    "Indeed. We have no other choice than to shed the blood of the poor, Our loyal General. Althoughthis greatly pains Us, but I will have to order you and General Adelena to train and lead the military conscripts this time," the King said with a heavy heart. It seemed as if he had suddenly aged ten years after arriving to this decision.


    "Don''t worry, Your Majesty! We will definitely not let our people die in vain!" Geve solemnly said while kneeling.


    "We have already informed General Adelana about the invasion. She has left to discuss the situation with the military commanders. Go now! We shall pray for your triumph return!"

 [B-1] Chapter 6 — An Angry Treant

    Somewhere in a forest ¡ªKingdom of Ceirth,


    Late Summer, Heu''gh, 1402 Year Cycle


    "Everyone, save me!" Zaron saw two giant branches of a tree clutching Globrom in a deadly embrace. His legs were entangled between several small branches. Suddenly, the tree started moving.


    Wait? Don''t tell me?


    The tree''s lower trunk divided into what seemed like two legs. The tree pulled it''s ''legs'' free from the clutching earth. The ends of the two giant branches, which clenched Globrom, tranformed into two wooden hands. A face-like feature manifested itself in the tree''s bark.


    A treant?! How the hell did this guy managed to provoke this monster?!


    It''s eyes leered at the surrounding adventurers with an otherworldly menace. A grating voice boomed in the air: "Human, who dared to poison my domain with such filth¡­DIE!"


    This is bad. Just what did this guy do?


    "Shihle, keep it distracted so I can close in the distance!"


    Their spellcaster responded to the order with quick fireball spells, hurling them towards the treant in succession. The treant growled and backed away a few steps in agitation due to the flames, it''s grip on Globrom loosened for a moment, which Globrom took full advantage of by thrusting a dagger in one of it''s eyes before retreating several steps.


    "Ughhh!! You humans shall pay for this insolence!" It hurtled towards the spellcaster in furious rage, changing it''s target. Although she tried to make a run for it, but her feet were suddenly bounded by several vines that emerged from the ground beneath her, and wrapped themselves around her feet.


    He saw her casting her strongest third-tier spell in panic: ¡¸Snake Lightning¡¹


    White lightning appeared writhing like a living thing from her hand to her shoulder. A beat later it leaped off the end of her finger pointed at the treant. True to the spell''s name, the lightening slithered towards the treant like a snake. Yet, as it hit the treant, the radiance dimmed and die out after awhile whilst the treant continued dashing towards her¡ªunharmed.


    "Aah!!" She screamed, imagining her imminent fate.


    "Get down right now!!" Following his command instinctively, she got down. He immediately lept in the air from behind her, his sword glimmering with a silvery glow as he jammed it into the treant''s second eye.


    "Haaaaaaaahhh!" Having been robbed of it''s sight, the treant screamed in great pain.


    It worked¡ªwait, why can''t I take my sword out?


    His sword was firmly stuck in the treant''s eye and won''t even budge. The treant, unable to bear the great pain, sent him flying with a punch, and then forcefully took out the sword with its left hand.


    He landed hard nearly a dozen yards away in a shower of dirt and grass, but the blow had very likely saved his life.


    After standing up with great difficultly, he pressed his hands against stomach and coughed. He could feel the taste of blood in his mouth.


    "Boss, are you alright?" A large burly hurried towards him, his voice filled with a tinge of concern.


    "Y-yeah...though I think I must have truly enraged that monster," he said with another cough trailing off at the end. The treant was going wild with anger as it frantically punched everything in it''s range.


    "It can''t be helped. Just stay still for a moment, boss. ¡¸Heal Wounds¡¹" The cleric casted his spell after placing his hands on Zaron''s back


    Zaron felt a sudden burst of warmth inside his body, alleviating his pain and causing his cuts to close themselves up. The burly cleric finally lifted his hands off Zaron after sensing that the latter was fine.


    "Thanks, Blen. You once again saved my life."


    "No problem, boss. That''s my job. The Almighty Gurushu will surely condemn me if I don''t even save the lives of my comrades," Blen replied with a good-natured smile.


    "Yeah, I must offer my thanks to your god as-"


    "Globrom, watch out!!" He heard Shihle scream. Turning around, he watched the treant yanking both of Globrom''s arms apart, seemingly wanting to sever them.


    Oh, no!! I won''t be able to make it in time!Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Realizing the intentions of the monster, an expression of dread crept over Globrom''s face. He tried struggling free, but to no avail.


    Resigning to his fate, he closed his eyes, so did everyone else. They did not want to watch the gruesome death of their comrade.


    ¡ªIt was then.


    "Gwaaaaahhhh!!"


    ¡ªthat an inhumane wail thundered across the forest. After opening their eyes, they were greeted by the sight of the treant trembling in horror as it looked at its arms that laid on the ground just a few steps away.


    Globrom was leaning against a nearby tree in one piece, though his shoulders heaved as he panted profusely. Zaron then caught the sight of a hodded man who held two dark daggers in both his hand. His crimson eyes leaked an uncontrollable bloodlust that sent a shiver down his spine. A scar ran down slightly below his right eye, making him look even more intimidating.


    Cloven? He must have heard the sound of our fighting.


    He focused on the treant''s body. Vines emerged out of it''s stumps, and interwined together to form barks that once again took form of it''s arms, putting him under the illusion that they hadn''t been severed in the first place.


    What? It can regenerate itself?! Does this monster have a difficulty of 50?!


    He now concluded that this was the type of monster even a four-star adventurer team like theirs couldn''t take on without suffering any casualties.


    But even after seeing this, Cloven remained indifferent with his usual stoic expression on his face. Readying his stance, he sprinted forward with an otherworldly speed at the treant. Having it''s arms restored, the treant attacked with it''s fist at the incoming Cloven. Yet, a heartbeat before the fist could come into contact with Cloven''s body, he lept high into the air; he twisted his body sideways midair, his left hand grabbing hold of one of the treant''s arm for a second to drive the propulsion behind his right hand as he used it to plunge his dark dagger at just below the treant''s bark. It was a spectacular attack. He noticed that no movement was wasted.


    Unfornately, that won''t be enough to kill it.


    ¡ªYet


    "Y-YOU¡­" The treant spoke with a voice laced with murder. Moments later, it dropped to the ground, unmoving.


    ¡ªhe was proven wrong. It was a fatal blow.


    "How? How could it die like this? Why didn''t it regenerate like before?!" He heard Shihle scream, her voice conveying bewilderment.


    He, too, stared at Cloven for answers.


    "It''s heart crystal. I destroyed it''s heart crystal," a hoarse voice echoed.


    Upon a second glance at the corpse of the treant, he certainly noticed see a broken green crystal at the place where Cloven''s dagger had struck. His mouth was now wide open, which showed a complete disregard for his own image. But, he didn''t care. No, it was because he was too shocked to care. He wasn''t shocked at how Cloven knew the monster won''t regenerate if he destroyed it''s heart crystal, but as to how this man in front of him was able make such a precise strike, placing it exactly where the attack will hurt the target most.


    "Amazing...it feels like the rumors weren''t false, after all," Blen, the cleric, leaked out a voice of admiration.


    Recalling the rumors, he thought that they didn''t sound absurd anymore. Hunting down the famous rank-four killer the Red Eye, subduing a fully-matured Umber hulk, saving the lives of the townfolk from a group of bloodthirsty demihumans were just a few of the achievements performed by them since their arrival.


    This man and his other teammate had created a sort of legend in Bellmare due to their fast rise in adventurer hierarchy. In just two months, they had risen from one-star adventures to four-star ones.


    This overturned the knowledge they had accumulated over the years about how an adventurer should go through the ranks. In addition, the most shocking thing was that their team only comprised of two men¡ªa rogue and a warrior. This unbalanced party was even suspected to possess the strength of five-star adventurers. If true, then they would be the first five-star adventurer party in the whole of Kingdom.


    "Woah, Zaron, that carelessness would be the undoing of you and your team. Had we taken our time coming here, I am afraid I would only get to see dead bodies. I don''t even know how I would explain this to our client and your wife," a man made his way through dense thickets with a grin on his face. He was handsome with an oblong face, straight nose, piercing blue eyes and a sharp jawline.


    "Yeah, I know, Malazan. I don''t know how I could make such a newbie mistake," he held his head low in shame. A four-star veteran like him knew better than to get distracted during a fight.


    "It''s alright. Anyway, mind telling how you managed to provoke this guy right here?" Malazan said while pointing his index finger towards the dead treant.


    "Trust me, I don''t know any better. But I am sure there''s someone who does." Everyone turned to look at Globrom who was scratching his head in embarrassment.


    Treant were known for their peaceful nature. They preferred to while away their days, months, and years in quiet contemplation, but they reacted quite fiercely when someone or something threatened their woodland demesnes. Their comrade Globrom must have done something unforgivable to its land, otherwise it would not retaliated the way it did.


    "Don''t look at me like that! I just came here to pee. The next I knew, it was hell-bent on killing me."


    "Blessed Mother, you have some gall to answer the call of nature in front of a treant! How courageous of you," Malazan laughed.


    "No wonder it was so angry. Even I would have wanted to kill you if I were in it''s place," Shihle kicked Globrom''s leg in anger.


    "Ouch, that hurts! How would have I know this place was it''s territory?!"


    "You almost got all of us killed because of your failure to survey your surroundings, Globrom. Make sure this never happens again," Zaron directed an admonishing glare at the man before bowing towards Cloven: "I must thank you for saving the life of my party''s member."


    He was indeed very grateful for Cloven''s aid. If the latter did not step in the moment he did, Globrom and probably his other party members might not have gotten the chance to see the light of day again. Following his lead, others of his party also bowed.


    Cloven coughed in response, acknowledging their bow. Seeing this, everyone smiled wryly to themselves. After interacting with him for a few days, they had come to know that Cloven was a man of few words.


    "Alright. Mister Sablester would get worried if we don''t return soon, so let us not dawdle any longer."


    "Yeah. Cut of the ears of those demihumans. Make it quick, so that we can meet up with others sooner," he commanded everyone before setting his sight on Malazan.


    "Is there something on my face?" Malazan inquired with a smile after noticing Zaron''s stare.


    "No, it''s nothing," he replied and turned his head around, his mind lost in contemplation.


    How did he know that I got distracted during the fight?

 [B-1] Chapter 7— Dench

    The red light of the setting sun gleamed through the openings made by large trees that obscured the view from above and below alike. A gentle gust of wind made the trees rustle, blowing leaves in the air like feathers. The humid tang of the wet soil permeated the air, bearing witness to the previous night''s rain.


    It had been a few hours since they¡¯d left the dead treant behind, and the terrain had gone from a grandland to a land accupied by boscage.


    It will still take a while to rendezvous with others, Malazan thought. Behind him followed the members of Silvar Cavalry, a four-stars adventurer party. They trudged wearily on the moist ground while warily eyeing their surroundings.


    It seemed like their constant battles had taken quite a toll on them. They had just concluded their fight with the demihumans when one of their party member unknowingly provoked a treant.


    Considering their worn-out condition, that could really have been a hard-fought battle for them had he not ordered Cloven to intervene. It was not that he had felt empathetic to their plight, but he would have found it troublesome to explain their deaths to others.


    Though it seemed Zaron had realized something was amiss. But my slip of tongue could also not be ignored, of course.


    He pointed his finger sneakily at Cloven and cast a third-tier alteration spell, ''Message''. When this spell was cast, the spell-caster could whisper messages and receive replies with little chance of being overheard. "Could you not have held yourself back a wee bit?" He asked.


    "Why do you mean? Didn''t you tell me to eliminate it?" Cloven replied, his tone sounding perplexed.


    "Indeed. But there was no need to be so flashy. You could have dragged it on for a little longer."


    "Ooh." Sensing Cloven''s wholly unconcerned attitude, Malazan sighed. His plan to maintain a low-key image had been virtually destroyed by the former''s lack of common sense.


    Killing a rank-four individual (because he used a ''little too much'' force in his strike), causing a Umar Hulk to piss itself by unleashing a bit of his bloodlust and eliminating a group of demihuman because they blocked his way were just a few of the shenanigans committed by the man in two months.


    It was no wonder Malazan had to use mind control magic on the Guildmaster to stop him from promoting them to five-star adventurers. Yet, it seemed the man in question himself remained ignorant to his deviltry.


    Suddenly, Malazan realised something, his walk coming to an abrupt halt. Everyone behind him tensed up, their hands reaching for their weapons.


    "Is everything alright, Malazan?" Zaron asked with a frown on his face.


    "Oh, it''s nothing. What do you guys say about camping here? Night will soon be upon us, so it''s better to choose a place for making a camp," he turned back and smiled.


    "Alright, I was also thinking the same," Zaron answered in affirmative.


    ??????


    Malazan saw that the group had successfully set up a camp that had a diameter of fifteen metres, a rather large area.


    Cloven held wooden stakes, which had been handed to him, and struck them into the area around the camp.


    He hammered the stakes into the ground at four different spots and tied thin, black ropes onto them, forming a square. He then tied a knot on the center of the ropes, pulled it to the front of the tents and attached a large bell.


    An early warning net, is it?


    Seeing Cloven work like this, Malazan felt a tad bit proud. It was an emotion similar to when a parent realized that their child had matured, and was learning to cooperate with others.


    "Here is the firewood you asked for." Malazan tossed a bundle of wooden sticks on to the ground.


    "Thank your for your hard work."


    "Don''t mention it."


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Globrom didn¡¯t look at Malazan when he greeted him. It was a bit rude, but Globrom wasn¡¯t idling, he was digging a hole for the stove.


    The third-rank Spell Caster ¡ªShihle was walking around the area, chanting a spell. It was the warning spell, ¡®Alarm¡¯, which would alert everyone whenever anything approached. It couldn¡¯t cover a large area, but it was enough as a precaution.


    "You sure are impressive, Shihle. I heard from Zaron that you risked your life by buying enough time for him to launch his attack." Malazan pretended to be awed as he arrived beside her.


    "He really said that?" She simpered, looking pleased with herself. No woman disliked getting complimented, more so if the compliment was coming from a hunky man like Malazan.


    "Indeed. He also said that Globrom wouldn''t be alive without your help," he pressed on, seeing that his praises were getting to her.


    "Well, I couldn''t have done it without boss and everyone''s help," Shihle giggled, trying to hide her smugness behind a fake modest smile.


    So she is weak to compliments, huh. Let''s see how far I can take this.


    ¡°Hey, sorry for butting into your conversation, but the food is ready. Can you help me to gather the other two?¡± Globrom interrupted from a far.


    ¡°Miss Shihle, let me do that.¡±


    "Oh¡­okay," Shihle replied with a disappointed expression. It seemed she really hoped to continue their conversation.


    Malazan walked towards the two men working silently near a tent.


    Zaronn and Blen were focused on maintaining the weapons they used, applying oil to prevent rust, checking it¡¯s alignment and other things.


    Zaron''s armor had fresh dents and his sword had cracks after clashing with the treant.


    There was a need to repair these as fast as possible. Without feeling hesitant about breaking their concentration, Malazan said: "Dinner is ready, you two."


    "Alright, we will be right there."


    The two men replied in unison.


    "Be sure to not be late."


    Fire crackled and spat sparks of orange as all of them gathered around it. The group dined with blood red sunlight as background.


    Everyone''s bowl was filled seasoned rabbit meat, dried figs and walnuts. This was the dinner tonight.


    Malazanstared at the bowl in his hand. He couldn''t feel the warmth while wearing his gauntlets, but seeing everyone, including Cloven, digging in without waiting for it to cool, the temperature should be just right.


    Well, now, let''s see how long you can hide. Unknowingly, his mouth had curved into a wolfish smile.


    "Oh, is there something you don''t dare to eat?"


    Globrom asked while looking at Malazan, who wasn''t eating.


    "Ah, I was just offering a prayer," he quickly made up an excuse.


    "Oyah, so you are a religious person, Mister Malazan? Which god do you believe in?" Blen who had been eating quietly a second ago asked with interest. He was a cleric, after all, so his curiosity was not unfound.


    "Well, I won''t exactly call myself a man of religion. To pray, one does not necessarily has to have faith in any of the thirteen gods. This way, if there ever comes a day when they don''t answer your plea, you won''t feel lost." He said in a frosty voice.


    Just like how they didn''t answer mine on that day.


    Sensing the gloomy atmosphere around him, everyone momentarily kept silent. They figured there must be story behind Malazan''s response, one which they didn''t dare ask.


    Ugh¡­I guess I once again let my emotions get the better of me.


    Perceiving the awkward silence, he felt furious at himself. He had thought after all these years, he was able to control his emotions to a certain extent, alas it didn''t seem that way.


    To change the heavy atmosphere, Malazan said:


    ¡°Anyway, you guys were amazing today.¡±


    Waiting for these words, Blen followed up: "Hahaha, but the real hero was Cloven. I feel like we are all amateurs compared to him."


    "C''mon now, it''s me who should get the most credit. Do you know how much courage it takes to resist the urge to scream when a monster like that tries to sever your arms?"


    "Yeah, right. It also takes a lot of courage to close your eyes when said monster tries to sever your arms," Shihle criticized.


    Heartily laughter soon followed Shihle''s vicious remark.


    "Not like you would have reacted any different!"


    "At least I wouldn''t try to boast shamelessly later on!"


    The duo bickered back and forth, none of them willing to admit defeat. However, this light-hearted atmosphere was suddenly ended by the ruslting sound made by the quivering of bushes. Everyone''s ears perked up in alarm.


    So you finally can''t control yourself?


    "Who''s goes there?" Zaron shouted as he grabbed his sword.


    The movement of the bushes stopped, as if whatver entity was behind it got frightening.


    Zaron darted a glance at Malazan before standing up and making his way to the bushes at a gingerly pace. He gripped the hilt of his sword firmly in his hand and then horizontally slashed the tall bushes into half. Soon, a yelp was heard.


    The light of the crackling fire shimmered on the pale green skin of a bulky body whose jutting jaws and prominent teeth glowed yellow in the weak light of the setting sun. Standing six feet tall, coarse hair covered the whole of his body. Brown disheveled hair hid a deep scar on his pig-like face and also concealed his dark brown eyes. The entity was an half-orc.


    Seeingthe identity of the interloper, a glint of astonishmeant appeared in Zaron''s eyes before hostility instantly replaced it. He was about to rush at the half-orc with his sword when the latter shouted: "W-wait! I, Dench, mean no harm!" Wearing an expression of panic, the half-orc Dench raised his hands up in the air, emphasizing that he was harmless.


    Yet, this demonstration of surrender wasn''t enough to hold back Zaron from leaping forward at the half-orc, his sword aiming for the demihuman''s throat. The latter let out a cry of panic, ducking beneath Zaron''s arm. Though, Zaron''s sword still managed to mark a line of crimson on the bulky demihuman''s back. The pain caused him to fall back on his butt, gasping for air.


    "Hey--listen to me first, will ya? I said I bear no hostility! Are all you humans this barbaric?!" Stunned and disoriented, the demihuman scrambled to regain his feet.


    "Your kind does not deserve my mercy, regardless of the fact that you have a bit of human blood running through your veins," Zaron coldly said, preparing for another bout of attack.


    "There''s no harm listening to what he has to say, Zaron, no?" Malazan walked over, his voicing containing traces of amusement.


    "Yeah! This good-looking human brother here is correct! Hear me out first, why don''t ya?!" Dench hurriedly nodded.


    Deciding to follow Malazan''s suggestion, Zaron put his sword back in it''s sheath.


    "Now, then, it''s about time you started speaking," Malazan said.


    Suddenly, a growl sounded out in the air. Although not easily discernable, it seemed that Dench''s green face promptly turned red.


    "H-how about letting me eat something first?" An embarrassed voice was heard.


    ??????


    "¡­.so you fled all the way from the northern frontier?"


    "Yeah, those guys didn''t leave me with a choice, I tell ya! Every day I had to become the target of their disdain and repulsion just because I wasn''t strong enough," the half-orc said as he gulped down his bowl of rabbit meat.


    The members of Silvar Cavalry looked at each other, pondering over the story told by Dench.


    According to the demihuman, he hailed from a far off orc tribe in the northern frontier, which separated the Kingdom of Cierth from the Linburn Plains. An half-orc was a being given birth through a rare union between an orc and human. They were typically born in wild frontiers where human and orc tribes came into contact, so there was no suspicion regarding his background.


    But what raised their eyebrows was his reason for being here. Half-orcs, not being of pure lineage, were not easily welcomed by their orc brethren. Orcs value strength above all, so one has to demonstrate their strength to gain their acceptance. Half-orcs could be separated into two types: some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals while others, unable to fully utilize their potential, are labeled as outcast. And according to Dench, he fell into the second category. Hence, to escape from his tribe''s torture, he fled all the way here.


    "Then, why were you hiding from us?" Globrom asked.


    "Uh-h, I didn''t know how to approach ya guys. However, I couldn''t control myself when I smelled the aroma of food. Only Lord Gruumsh knows how long I had been walking aimlessly with only hunger as my companion!" He licked his fingers as if they were the most delicious things in the world.


    "So, how should we deal with him?" Zaron ignored the demihuman, and asked everyone via ''Message''.


    "Maybe we should just leave him here?"


    "How about killing him? I mean, who knows what he would do if we leave him behind, so it''s better to prevent a future threat."


    "Although I am also of the same opinion, but I don''t like killing those who have no intent to fight," Zaron slowly said.


    "What do you guys think?" Everyone directed their gaze toward Malazan and Cloven, waiting to hear their opinion.


    Cloven kept quiet with a disinterested face, leaving Malazan to decide for both of them.


    "Well, how about letting him travel with us? We can decide what to do with him when we reach the city," Malazan said with an inscrutable expression on his face.


    Zaron steadily eyed Malazan, trying to discern his thoughts, to no avail. Disappointed, he continued: "Alright, we shall go with your suggestion, then."


    ??????


    Late at night, unknown to others, a figure silently leapt out from a tent.


    "Let''s see what you are up to." Another figure followed behind in the darkness, his thoughts only known to himself.

 [B-1] Chapter 8— Judgement

    Dench took in a deep breath, inhaling all the moist air the night had to offer. He preferred the dark of night than the light of day. It really set the killer in him free. Notwithstanding that, he also found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did.


    Thinking of his tribe caused his face to darken, those fools could not understand his thoughts in the first place. He sometimes wondered why was he blessed with such intelligence while others of his tribe could not even learn a single alphabet of the human language. Maybe it was because he was an half-orc?


    It was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Dench had. He was the chosen inheriter of his tribe''s heirloom, the Bloody Sickle, and his strength almost surpassed that of a rank-five fighter. So maybe his assumption was really spot on?


    Anyway, what''s done is done, those brutes were too dim-witted for my aspiration to begin with.


    Recollecting his thoughts, he took the stock of his surroundings. The fire had almost died out, ashes flitting about in the air. No sound could be heard, except for the swish of distant leaves and some occasional activity of nocturnal animals. Utter darkness enveloped the area.


    However, thanks to his orc blood, he had superior vision in dark and dim conditions. He could see in dim light within 60 feet of him as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light, albeit he couldn''t discern colours in darkness, only shades of gray.


    Huehuehue, it seems like all of them fell victim to my drow sleeping poison.


    He had paid in blood to get a few drops of this poison from the merchants on their way back from that evil land of drows. All one had to do was to merely expose it in the air for it instantaneously vaporize and take affect in a few hours.


    However, the evil of this poison was that it didn''t differentiate between a friend and a foe. So to defend against it, you''d either have to possess an extremely strong immunity to poisons, or some kind of a powerful spell to negate the damage inflicted by it. However, an easier way to protect oneself from the poison was to hold one''s breath for a few minutes, which was exactly what he had done when he used it on those humans.


    Those naive humans...


    Detecting no movement from the other tents, he felt proud of his cunning. He had deceived the humans to make them lower their guard against him. His initial plan, however, had been to fight them, or run away if things didn''t go well, alas, it seemed Lord Gruumsh''s blessings were with him.


    He looked up at the sky. The two moons appeared to a have a tint of red as they now hovered a lot more close to each other than they had ever been. Beyond them rose a hue of white that made the sky above look errie.


    ''''When the mortals rebel, the gods unleash their wrath¡­" he murmured to himself, silently thinking of a daunting legend.


    This phenomenon was a rare occurrence that was only sighted once every three years. The first time it had been witnessed was after that demon and his family had been annihilated by the joint effort of all those nations. Thinking of those rumors caused even him to tremble in fear.


    Like hell a being like that would exist!


    He shook his head, forcefully dragging himself out of his reverie. Remembering what he was here for, he closed his eyes, trying to sense the location of its mark. It seemed like it was still nearby. According to the imprint he left on it, it was not moving. The animal must be slumbering right now, he figured.


    After shooting a second glace at the tents¡ªbut not detecting anything out of place¡ªhe slowly melted inside the forest.


    ??????


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.Late at midnight, a man emerged out of dense thickets. He trod forward with a heavy gait, as if every step consumed a great deal of his energy. Moonlight shone on the mutilated carcass of an animal, possibly a boar, that rested upon the man''s shoulders. In comparison to the man''s size, the animal looked humongous. However, the man carried it as if the animal''s size did not matter. Drops of blood dripped down the animal''s body at every step.


    If someone studied the man''s walk carefully, they''d notice that there seemed to be no specific pattern and rhythm behind it. The man walked around the campsite in an erratic manner, taking a few turns after every few seconds and leaving behind a trail of red blood. The man would ocassionally mutter something in a harsh and grating language with hard consonants.


    Eventually, the man''s walk ceased. He dropped the animal onto the ground with a thud and chanted a spell, which caused the corpse to instantly catch fire. Within seconds, the corpse turned into ashes which quickly dispersed into the air.


    "The preparations for the ritual have been completed," Dench murmured and released a sigh of relief. "All that''s left is the sacrifice..." He licked his lips in anticipation.


    He willed it and a blood-coloured sickle appeared in front of him. With a curved chine and sharply pointed toe, the sickle emanated a baleful aura. Every time Dench tried to earnestly look at the weapon, he felt as if a demon was gauging him up with a glint of dark, malevolent eyes. It honestly made him feel uncomfortable.


    The weapon so evil that all those who forcefully tried to lay their hands on it went insane, their souls devoured by it in a flash.


    Only in his hands could the world witness its true terror. Not to mention, after the ritual had been successfully carried out, the weapon would become even stronger.


    Smirking evilly, he went inside the tent where the female human was sleeping in. Due to the inside of the tent being compact, he was forced to incline his head down a little. The adventurer slept soundlessly with a tranquil expression on her face, unaware of the dangers that lingered in the night.


    As he lifted her body up in his arms, the woman grunted unconsciously and her eyelids twitched in response. Realizing that she had no more reaction to offer, Dench let out a sigh of relief and slowly made his way out of the tent.


    He put her body on down on to the ground. The ritual required him to sacrifice offerings at different intervals, so he thought it was better to commence the ceremony with the female adventurer first. He bit his thumb, causing dark red blood to spill forth, and smeared the woman''s face with it. The blood was so dark that one would might even mistake it for black.


    He noticed that the air had grown much colder all of a sudden. No night animals disturbed the silence with their cries, an observation that set Dench¡¯s nerves on edge. Griping the sickle in his hand, he brought it closer to the female human''s neck, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. With a quick swing of his hand, he had already decided the fate of the human just when his attack stopped halfway through.


    ¡ªA naked finger was blocking his sickle from granting the female the swift release of death.


    He caught the sight of someone standing only one feet away from him. Blue eyes that glittered with an otherworldly presence in the dark, looking at him with a tinge of amusement flickering across them. He backed away a few steps in panic, while feeling frightening at the same time. He recognized the man; he was one who persuaded his warrior companion not to resort to violence. The only impression he had of this individual was that of a meek man.


    How did my poison not affect him? More importantly, how did he block my strike with his puny finger?!


    "¡­who are you?" Dench asked, a hint of grim playing across his face. He reckoned the man to be formidable opponent, so it was better to feel him out first before taking any other sort of action. He was indeed cautious, otherwise he would''ve long been roasted alive by those of his tribe.


    "Oh? That''s what I should be asking you, don''t you think? To keep trailing a four-star dventurer party for more than six hours without them noticing takes some skill and a sinister motive at the same time," Completely undeterred by Dench''s menacing glare, the man calmly stated.


    How did he know that?!


    It was certainly true he had been following them for quite some time to ascertain their strength, but for the man to know exactly how long he been stalking them for and yet, do nothing in response gave birth to a profound sense of unease in Dench''s heart.


    Seeing him pondering, the man went on, "Not to mention, for you to escape the power of Shihle''s spell, while still being in its range indicated you had something to hide. Though, after seeing what you have been up to all this time, it seems like you have been hiding a lot from us, eh?"


    Dench now had a gloomy expression on his face, his leisure attitude had long since faded into dust. It was true that his presence went undetected when he stepped into the range of the spell-caster''s spell, but the members of Silvar Cavalry, including Shihle herself, had been under the impression that Dench must have been outside the spell''s range for him to go completely unnoticed. Yet, this anomaly did not escape Malazan''s eyes.


    "So what if you know?! All of you are not living past this night! Just surrender willingly and I will leave you with an intact corpse," Dench said in annoyance. Albeit the man came off clever, but this was all he had going for him. Dench naturally considered Malazan to be far weaker than himself, so it really irked him the wrong way when an inferior being tried to put-him down like this. Gathering his wits, he prepared his body for fight. He would just end this with one swing to the man''s throat.


    "Hahaha, I see. It''s good to have some arrogance. Certainly, Cloven wanted to kill you the moment you started following us, but I held him back as I wanted to see what you had in store for us," the man said cheerfully, as if he was talking about something worth celebrating for.


    What the heck is he blabbering about?!


    Dench furrowed his brow slightly. He did not like how the man showed a complete disregard for him.


    "But, your actions so far have declared your intent kill these people that I took the time to save. Does that strike you as a very nice thing to do?¡±


    Malazan''s hair flapped dramatically in the wind. The same gust maintained its force and blew through Dench as well.


    The wind blowing over the forest had just happened to come from Malazan¡¯s direction, that was all. Feeling the chilly wind all over his body, Dench cleared away the thoughts that had popped up in his head.


    That wind didn¡¯t actually smell like death¡­ It was just my imagination.


    "S-so what?"


    Although he was feeling a bit overwhelmed, he maintained his taunting attitude with a sneer. As a former chief of an orc tibe, who possessed the strength nearly surpassing that of a rank-five individual, he was not going to be fazed by one guy¡ªno¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford to be.


    "But, do you know what angered me the most?" The man took a step forward. It was only one step, but he looked huge now. This presence was unbelievably overwhelming. Dench himself had never been so overawed. Having gone through countless life-or-death situation and taken countless lives, Dench for the first time felt like he was going to be crushed by the pressure exerted by this unknown man, Malazan.


    "Who in the world gave you the audacity to threaten me?" Dench''s scalp went numb, his hair standing on end. Cold shivers shot through his body and his hands and legs were trembling. The sensation of a thousand cold needles penetrating every inch of his body spread no sooner than it took him to gather his thoughts, or at least gather enough of them to think a little clearer.


    The man stood there, his lustrous black hair glittering with sparkle of red while his piercing blue eyes appeared to be as cold and hard as sapphires.For a moment, Dench couldn¡¯t believe his own eyes. The image of dignity and otherworldliness Malazan currently portrayed formed a contradictory contrast to his usual mild front.


    This man¡ªno this godly being¡ªpossessed a strength every other being dreamt of, yet he now knew how impossible it was for them to reach this peak. Realizing the significance of this power, he prostrated on the cold hard ground: "O'' Forsaken One, please let this lowly being aid you on your bloody path to carnage."


    "You have already forfeited your right to do so," the godly being declared in a chilling tone.


    A feeling of great disappointment gushed inside him. He had been a fool. How could he dare to plot against a man of this caliber. Dench smiled bitterly as he realized that he had missed a chance of a lifetime.


    "Now, then, I shall bring you to judgement for all the sins you have committed," a cowing voice reached his ears. Soon, a blinding light seared his eyes, forcing him to close them.

 [B-1] Chapter 9 — Suspicion

    The group of adventurers treaded east with refreshing ease. A good night sleep had certainly worked its magic, as their previous alertness had vanished into thin air. Their new half-orc comrade also walked alongside them.


    The member of Silvar Cavalry now seemed much more open after being entertained by the half-orc''s funny banter. In fact, none of them, particularly Shihle, seemed to have any knowledge of what had transpired last night, because if they did, Globrom wouldn''t be slapping the half-orc''s shoulder and laughing boisterously.


    "Right, isn''t that infuriating? Bwahaha, I regret not kicking that man''s face!"


    "Bah! I say ya should have farted in that bastard''s face!"


    "¡­how did I not think of this?!" Globrom looked like his life had lost its meaning.


    Seeing this, everyone, except for Cloven, laughed. The tale behind Globrom''s nine fingers was something he''d tell every time he''d hit off well with someone. It was already famous amongst the adventurers how Globrom had gotten into a fight with one of two Great Dukes'' guards and managed to kill all of them at the loss of his forefinger. It was not until his comrades paid blood money to the guards'' families that the Duke dropped the matter.


    After three hours of hard travel saw them an area missing the thick underbrushes of the landscape they had left behind. Less trees impeded their vision, and no entangled mass of shurbs hindered them from advancing forward.


    The gusts of winds were cool and wet of morning dew, like breaths of air from a cold waterfall, even though the blazing sun above them threatened sunlight.


    Malazan realised that they were almost about to reach their destination. Also realizing this, eager smiles crept on the faces of Silvar Cavalry. Driven by his excitement, Globrom quikened his pace, yet, before he could move any closer, the ground beneath his feat caved in. All they heard was a scream before arrows came gliding towards them.


    The members of Silvar Cavalry responsed swiftly. Zaron unsheathed his sword, slashing all the arrow coming his way. Shihle, the Spell-Caster, chanted a conjuration spell, ''Flame Arrow.'' Fiery bolts¡ªthat appeared out of nowhere¡ªwere hurled, knocking out all the arrows within the spell''s ten meters range.


    On the other hand, Cloven simply ducked low as two arrows passed over him. The rest of the arrows were easily dealt by Malazan; griping his sword''s hilt, Malazan swept it in a single fluid arc that ended with all the arrows being deflected.


    From his peripheral vision, he noticed a slight movement from the trees. Within a moment Malazan caught a glimpse of someone''s silhouette as he crossed from the shadow of one tree to the next.


    "Is this how you greet your comrades, Alcot?" Malazan bellowed, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Look, l might have even gotten injured thanks to this trap of yours, don''t you think?"


    "Hahaha, I doubt this little trick would have been enough to scratch that bigger-than-life body of yours, to nothing of injuring you." A man emerged out of the woods. A long sleeved, animal skin jacket covered him to well above his waist and was half buttoned up at the bottom right side. The sleeves of his jacket were a little wide and reached down to below his hands, they were decorated with a single thread lining and a decorative band.


    He wielded a crossbow and calmly made his way towards them. After seeing the appearance of their ambusher, flickers of surprise passed over the Silvar Cavalry eyes before they heaved out a sigh of relief.


    "Sorry, everyone. I thought it was an enemy after sensing that someone has fallen prey to the pit that I laid," he apologized with a bow.


    "That dumb pig! Getting caught by surprise like that, even though he is the ranger of our team!" Shihle hurumphed in anger.


    Alcot grinned. "Yeah, he is the last person I''d expect to not detect my trap," he said in a laughing manner.


    Alcot was not wrong to say as such. Rangers were proficient in moving stealthily through the wilds and hiding themselves in brush and rubble. They focused their combat training on techniques that were particularly useful in stealth and detection, hence for a high rank ranger like Globrom to be unable to detect the trap must either mean he didn''t have his guard up, or that he had gotten rusty. Or maybe a mix of the two scenarios.


    "Anyway, what took you guys so long, Malazan?" Alcot turned to look at him.


    The two parties had chased the remnants of the demihumans who had launched an attack on them. Eliminating a few orcs and ogres was not a difficult task for people of their strength to carry out, however, for them to take so long caused others to be worried.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    "Well, it''s a long story. I will explain it you on the way." Everyone smiled wryly at his response.


    "Alright, then," Alcot nodded, curiosity clearly visible in his eyes.


    However, as they were about to leave, a scream resounded from the pit,"Hey--don''t just leave us here, ya guys!!"


    "What? When did you fall in there, Dench?" Blen asked in shock.


    An embarassed coughing sound came from the pit. "I¡­got frightened when those arrows came flying¡­and accidentally stepped on this hole in panic¡­" The half-orc''s voice carried a wisp of helplessness.


    Sensing it, Malazan smiled. It''s better for you to taste defeat once in a while, he thought.


    Ropes were thrown inside the pit and the two victims helped themselves, safely reaching the surface. Globrom got an earful about his recent poor performance by the party captain, Zaron. While on the other hand, Alcot was surprised to see the half-orc amid their ranks. He questioned them until his curiosity was sated, and kept glancing at the half-orc with interest from time to time.


    The group soon worked their way forward through the woods, drawn by the light gleaming past the thickets. Shortly after, an open space of land became visible to their eyes.


    Malazan spotted three men standing near a strongly sprung carriage, drawn by four grey geldings. The carriage seemed luxurious enough to be considered the vehicle of a wealthy noble or a merchant. The men looked equally fine, their equipment far better than what most low-ranking adventurer might glean from lifetime of hardwork. It was clear they took care of their weapons.


    One wore a well-made, overshirt of linked chain, while the other next to him wore a fancy robe with extravagant carvings on top of it. Malazan assayed their party''s leader; the man stood out in comparison to the other men. He donned a full body armor, which had been fashioned out of steel.


    Although steel was a fairly common metal unlike mithril and adamantine, but a full body armor made out of it still surpassed the pockets of many high-ranking adventurers. That said, such extravagance was to be expected from the Moonlight Squad''s, another four-star adventurer party from the capital.


    Spotting them from afar, the leader waved at them. As they neared them, the leader came forward to greet, "You know, we were about to come looking for you guys," a muffled voice rang out from his helm.


    "Yeah, it took us longer than expected."


    "Is that so? Mr. Sablester has been waiting for you guys inside the carriage for quite some time, so let''s get going. Oh? Who might this fella be?" Asked the leader, taking off his helm. A determined-looking face with dark hair and eyes appeared before them. He eyed Dench with keen suspicion.


    "Someone we met on our way here, Alcot will explain the details to you, Darkeye, " Malazan said, addressing the man by his nickname.


    "I see. Let us get going, then." He studied Malazan''s expression for a moment before commanding his party memebers to place all the luggage onto the carriage.


    ??????


    The carriage steadily followed the road to Kraasea. The road, pitted and overgrown, was not far from a river, which provided a constant source of water and food for them.


    Holding onto the horses'' reins, Malazan leisurely sat in the box seat, along with two captains of the other teams. The elevated seat was sizable enough to accommodate all of them.


    The rest of the adventurers sat inside the carriage, guarding the merchant and his luggage.


    "Say, Malazan. What do you think of all this?" Darkeye interrupted the silence with a question.


    "What do you mean?" He asked, pretending to be oblivious.


    "You know what I mean." They glared at each other and the first one to look away was Darkeye. This contest of wills, however, went completely unnoticed by the eyes of Zaron who was sitting beside them.


    Taking a deep breath, Darkeye slowly continued, "Why did our client request such a powerful line-up just to be his bodyguards?"


    You''re too inquisitive for your own good, Darkeye. And this will surely hamper you from tapping into your full potential, Malazan thought to himself with a sigh.


    Certainly, the request was quite absurd this time around. Their client, Sablester, a wealthy merchant of Kraasea, had filled in a request three days ago, asking for the services of three four-star adventurer parties. This had caused quite a stir amongst the other adventurers. If one didn''t know any better, they''d have thought that the man was plotting a rebellion.


    In addition, to hire the services of three four-star parties didn''t come cheap. The contents of the request stated that they were to guard the merchant and his luggage safely all the way to Kraasea. Though, for him to hire their services for such a simple task arosed naught but suspicion.


    "Oh, yeah. I did smell something fishy back then. I don''t think the luggage he is carrying is something as simple as a few valuable jewels," Zaron chipped in, offering his own two cents.


    "Indeed. I have a premonition that our client is hiding something from us," Darkeye scratched his chin, brooding deep into the matter.


    "How about investigati¡ª"


    "That is enough, you two. Our mission is solely to guard. Prying any further into our client''s motives will be tantamount to breaking the Guild''s code," he stopped them with a sharp glare. He had a faint inkling as to what the merchant would might be carrying. And considering the possibility of him hitting the bullseye, he figured it was better for the others to not get involved. The less people knew, the better.


    "¡­yeah, sorry about that. I guess I got a bit too hyped up over this."


    "Same here."


    The conversation abruptly ended and silence prevailed. As Malazan thought back to image of a slender, fidgety merchant, he couldn''t help but look forward to the rest of the journey.


    I wonder how someone like him got his hands on such an interesting toy.


    ??????


    3 Days Prior to the Party''s Departure, 5:45pm


    Weasel desperately run through the slums. At the moment, the sun was setting, putting a veil of red over the horizon.


    He had been running almost the entire way since leaving the Adventurers Guild, so his breath was ragged and sweat beaded his face.


    Exhaustion made him want to rest, asked him if he wouldn''t like to catch his breath, but time did not permit him such a moment of respite.


    And then when he turned tight around a corner¡ª


    ¡°Watch out!¡± Someone who happened to be on the corner groaned.


    However, it all happened so fast that it took Weasel by surprise, and he collided against the stranger. All it took was a heartbeat before he felt his face slamming into someone''s sturdy chest. Honestly, the concussion from collision was so hard that it felt like he had banged his face into a wall instead. He staggered back a few steps.


    Weasel forced his mind to concentrate despite the fatigue and the waves of pain that dogged him with every halting step. He now looked at the stranger. The man had a face covered with scars. And because of the dark clothes he was wearing, he melted into darkness.


    Irritation overcame Weasel and he yelled. "That''s what I should say! Look where you''re--eh? Crook? What are you doing here?"


    "Boss wants to know why you haven''t been reporting to him lately." Crook gestured for Weasel to follow him.


    The mention of his boss caused Weasel to freeze. All the fatigue and pain he felt evaporated into air. It felt like someone had poured cold water over him. "I-I was coming to report to him, anyway," he grumbled before following Crook to a run-down shack. They stood before a certain door. Crook knocked twice, followed by a short pause, before knocking again.


    The reaction to the sign came instantaneously. Weasel heard the creak of wood from behind the door, and the wooden plank covering the peephole moved. Green eyes peered out from the gap. They scrutinized Weasel and Crook. "Oh, so it''s you guys. The boss has been waiting." Without waiting for their reply, he replaced the plank. Weasel heard the sound of a key being inserted into the doorknob, and shortly afterwards the door slowly opened.


    As Weasel was about to enter, Crook pushed him aside and stepped in first. Weasel huffed in anger. It wasn''t an overstatement to say the man could knock him unconscious with a single punch. Hence, there was nothing he could do, except take it lying down.


    "C''mon in." Crook ushered him in. After entering, Weasel''s nose caught a whiff of a nauseating stench. Expecting himself to get used to it, he slipped in a room to his right.


    Someone closed the door promptly after he entered. The room was so cramped that only a single table could be placed inside. A dozen candles standing on it lighted the room with a dim gleam.


    A man giving off the vibe of those who took violence as their profession and murder as their creed moved a chair and flumped down in it. He had a robust, mascular built, and a few scars occupied his face. He studied Weasel for a short while, causing the latter to tremble in response. "Why haven''t you been reporting to me?"


    "Boss, our prey had made a big move, so that''s why I wanted to observe the situation a bit more before reporting to you."


    "Oh? What did he do?"


    "That fucking merchant borrowed the services of three four-star adventurer parties to guard him!"


    "What?!" The boss replied in a surprised tone. Indeed. He also did not expect for the man to be capable of affording such a powerful line-up. The chair beneath him squeaked. "When do they set off?"


    "Tomorrow morning from what I have heard."


    "I see, we don''t have much time left, then."


    "B-boss, don''t tell me we are still going after him?" Weasel stuttered. No one in their right mind would want to fight a congregation of so many powerful adventurer parties.


    "What? Do you have anything else to say?"


    Seeing the boss'' murderous glare, he shivered and shook his head.


    "Good. Tell the others to get ready. We will intercept them on the way. All we have to do is capture that man and seize his possessions. We will just have to figure a way to keep those adventurers busy till we have accomplished our mission. It''s not like we are going to fight them to death."


    Although his boss said so, Weasel still felt his neck tingle. Something told him their mission wasn''t going to be so simple.

 [B-1] Chapter 10 — Tension

    "What a pain in the neck," the words surprisingly came out in a hoarse, dissonant voice. Darkeye wondered what happened to his usual canorous voice.


    He coughed and cleared his throat. In the distance he could only see a land filled of grass. Crickets chirped in the night, and combined with the noise of nearby playing children to form a clamorous melody.


    Though a few roads ran down this village, but they were not paved with any sort of concrete or stone. Seems like the king''s treasury isn''t enough to cover these lands, Darkeye thought. Be it due to the difficulty of implementing reforms, or the opposition offered by those hoggish nobles, the king must have been hard-pressed to reach these villages, he concluded.


    "Haaah..." A sigh escaped his mouth for the thirteenth time. He really didn''t like the air of this place; the smell of soil which was overwhelmed by the dung of various cattles that grazed the field.


    Having to choose between staying here for a night or continuing their journey, they had decided, or rather had to go along with the latter due to the merchant insistence. Of course, it''s not like he did not understand the man''s fears. Scores of monsters lurked in the darkness, preying upon the anyone that dared to pass their sight.


    Though, unlike the merchant, he and others had no need to fear them. Unless a monster with a difficult of 50 or above assualted them, they would have no issue keeping themselves save. Not to mention, they were also traveling along with them.


    "The wise say constantly sighing is a sign of distress," a voice rang out from behind.


    Oh, think of the devil¡­


    Out of the corner of his eye, he faintly spotted two men approaching him. A barely discernable smile could be spotted on the face of the man walking at front, he carried a lantern with him, lightning up his path in the gloom of night.


    Behind him followed a hooded man. Compared to his partner''s warm presence, a certain air of gloom enveloped his body. Darkeye certainly knew what it was¡ªBloodlust. Having gone through hundreds of life-and-death, Darkeye realized that it was a kind of killing aura that one could only accumulate after treading on the bodies of countless people.


    The aura was pretty faint, almost unnoticeable. The man must be trying his best to suppress it, for Darkeye to take so long to recognize. However, if this were true, it would be even more horrifying. Bloodlust ony grew stronger and harder to control as one''s kill count increased.


    Therefore, the level of precision required to almost suppress it was daunting, to say the least. Darkeye shuddered at such a prospect. What sort of life must the man have had before becoming an adventurer?


    "Beats me, maybe it''s just the air of this place affecting my mood," Without turning, he replied.


    "I cannot say I am surprised," Malazan answered, as he arrived beside him. Glancing at him, Darkeye saw him looking at the sky. Bemused, he asked, "Is there something strange up there?" Although he said so, but all he saw was a clear night sky.


    "It''s going to rain soon."


    "Huh?" He tilted his head confusion.


    "Look at those crows," Malazan said while pointing at the sky, "although you might not be able to clearly spot them, but they are flying restlessly in this dark hour."


    "So?"


    "Think about it, the Karez crows don''t fly when the nightfalls. The only thing capable of making them do otherwise is the arrival of rain. They have an innate ability to sense the changes in weather."


    As if attesting to Malazan''s words, a prickling sensation soon settled down his exposed skin. Looking up, he was a greeted with a murky, overcast sky, a sharp contrast from before. Water droplets fell on his face, a few of them invading his mouth. It tasted sweet, he thought. Rain started lashing down from the grey sky. Darkeye turned to stare at Malazan, amazement visible in his eyes.


    "Alright, we should probably get back," Malazan said while shaking his hair, brushing all the excess water off them.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Darkeye nodded. Although he liked rain because it would usually clear all the dust and smell in the air, alas, his steel armour could not afford to bask in its lashing.


    They made their way through the night, past the children running and giggling around in the rain, and soon reached an almost run-down building. From outside, the building barely resembled an inn. The sign board which had the words ''Stonehall Inn'' written on it was hanging loosely on a few nails that supported its weight.


    As soon as Darkeye entered, a foul smell assualted his nose. He saw Malazan raising his eyebrows in response, betraying his displeasure.


    While he was adjusting himself to his surroundings, a woman came out of a door to their right. "So here you guys are! Come, the dinner is ready," she motioned for them to follow her. He couldn''t quite remember her name, Shihla? Or maybe it was Shuhle instead? He knew little about the woman, except for the fact that she was a spellcaster of astounding abilities.


    News regarding other adventurers found it hard to reach the capital, because of the lack of travelling going on between it and the other cities. Some strange events had been occuring throughout the Kingdom, many merchant caravans had disappeared into thin air. No one knew what or who was causing these disappearances, though he suspected it to be the work of monsters.


    "Hey, Darkeye, do you not feel like eating?" Seeing him standing there, Malazan turned to look at him.


    "Eh-yeah? No, I am coming." Breaking out of his redundant thoughts, he followed them, his stomach rumbling in agreement. All his previous worries had been put aside.


    ??????


    She slowly opened her eyes. It took a few heartbeats for her eyes to adjust themselves to the dark that enveloped the room. She gingerly placed the rough Sanderian blanket aside and cautiously got up, so as to not disturb others in the room. She poured himself a cup of water from the jug placed on the bedside table, and drank from it.


    As expected, sleep was not something easy to come by when one called for it. Realizing that trying any further would be a waste of time, Shihle stood up. Taking a stock of the room, she noticed no particular movement. Thank goodness I didn''t wake anyone up, she thought.


    Hmm, what''s this?


    Her ears detected a sound coming from outside the inn. Slight thumping sounds could be heard. Compelled by curiosity, she fumbled for her staff. The wooden floor beneath her creaked, as she vigilantly made her out of the inn. She gently pulled the door open and peered out in the darkness.


    Shihle flabbergasted to behold the sight in front of her; instead of some kind of monster hiding in the dark, she saw a handful of townsfolk surrounding a bonfire, singing and dancing merrily. Noise of pounding steps echoed through the night, as they sang in a language unknown.


    "Can''t sleep?" She jerked fiercely in response to the light tap on his shoulder, holding her staff high in the air.


    "Woah, easy there! I''d rather not die so young."


    "Then, how about not sneaking up on people like this, Malazan?" She addressed the man who wore a mischievous grin on his face, as if he had successfully managed to pull a dirty prank on someone.


    "Alright, alright. I am sorry."


    She pouted in displeasure.


    Malazan continued, "Anyway, isn''t that wonderful?" She followed Malazan''s gaze to the dance going on outside. "How so?"


    "To be able to dance so joyously to a song so sorrowful" Malazan replied in a soft voice. "Do you know why they are dancing and singing like this?"


    She shook her head in confusion.


    "There is a tale whispered in this town, about a young girl. Some say the girl was so beautiful that no one could resist being charmed," Malazan glanced at her before continuing, "On a certain day, she was kidnapped by a village ruffian. Her mother, in her absence, used to cry and often wail for days. Her lamenting changed into words and formed into the song that you and I are hearing right now. When the rain does not fall for a long time and drought lasts months, these townfolk will come out of their houses and start singing. It is said the group lamenting is so heart rending that even the sky''s eyes become wet and it starts to weep with torrential rain." Malazan''s low voice drifted about in the hall, sounding like a gentle whisper.


    Shihle was lost in thought, picturing the scene of a mother crying for child in anguish. Although Malazan was still looking outside the door, Shihle noticed there was something different about him¡ªan air of melancholy surrounded him.


    That said, it was unknown whether he was lamenting over the fate of the child and her mother, or some memory of past. A gloomy atmosphere permeated in the air. The two lapsed into a deep silence for a long time, until it was breaked by Malazan, "Alright, it''s getting late, Darkeye. I will be retiring now, so should you. Tomorrow''s going to be one hell of a hectic day." She saw him turning around, wishing goodnight with a wave of his hand.


    "Just who are you, really?" The back of the retreating figure suddenly seemed very heavy, as if it carried way too many burdens.


    ??????


    Weasel was the third son of a farmer. His father''s farm was not large. At least that''s what was left of it after being divided through several generations. Being a ''spare'', he was not welcomed by his family. An unwanted mouth to feed, his older brother would sneer. As he got older, he started having nightmares. In them he would sometimes see himself getting kicked out of the village, other times he found himself stranding between the rope of death, as his brothers plotted to kill him.


    He thought the day was not far away when they actually tried getting rid of him. Alas, fate had someone else in store for him.


    On a certain day, famine struck his village. To alleviate their suffering, his father sold him to a rich merchant. At that time, he didn''t fully understand the looks of pity on his brothers'' faces, but later on he came to know of the merchant''s strange tastes. The merchant forced Weasel to perform various unusual acts whenever he returned home. His consent, however, was never taken into perspective, for it was something he wasn''t permitted to have.


    One day, unable to bear any longer, he fled, but not before thwacking a knife up that lecherous merchant''s ass. Through a series of events, he got introduced to a ragtag group of mercenaries. If he were to be less polite, then they ought to be called a gang of bandits, stealing and murdering for money. The gang¡ªbeing short on men¡ªtook him in. He also stayed with them, in hopes he could one day exact his revenge on his family.


    ¡ªBut.


    "Damn the mother who whelped me, why did I agree?" Weasel tried hard to think of a reason behind his presence here. Other than his abilities as an errand boy, he had no other to name. Most certainly, he knew next to nothing about fighting. Why did all the bad luck had to come his way?


    "Sshh, be quite!" A smack to his head silence him. Turning to his right, he saw Crook''s large body crouching beside him.


    This bastard¡­!


    He didn''t like the man. Or to be more exact, he hated Croom to the marrow of his bones. The man had knack for bullying those weaker than him. And being far weaker in comparison to Crook, he was forced to bear the brunt of his torturous behavior.


    Humph, there will surely come a day when I will force you down on your knees and have you begging for mercy.


    Dreaming of such a future pleased him. But, his presence here made him unsure whether he''d live to see it. Passing his hands through the large bush impeding his vision, he peered out through the opening.


    Except for the swaying grass and a desolate road, he spotted nothing. He was beginning to think that they''d made a mistake regarding the target''s route when he saw Croom suddenly lay his head down onto the ground and press his ear against it. Out of curiosity he did the same.


    Soon, he could hear it. The sounds of hooves clopping against the ground, getting louder and closer by each passing second. Weasel and Crook exchanged a glance, and the former spotted malice in the latter''s eyes.


    Weasel noticed the burly man signal the archers¡ªwho sat upon the trees'' branches¡ª with a specific hand movement. Seeing it, the archers readied their bows. Everything was prepared.


    Although the odds didn''t really favor them, his boss was full of confidence. Yet, Weasel didn''t understand where that certainty came from. Not to mention, something had been bugging him since the moment they decided to carry out their mission. There was something in the air today, he decided; a tension, a feeling that something was not right.


    I hope everything goes well¡­

 [B-1] Chapter 11— Ambush

    "And there you have it," he murmured, the undertone of his voice layered with wry sarcasm. Everything had been going alright since they departed from the town. Following the en route to Kraasea, they had stopped for awhile to let their horses graze before resuming their journey. He was starting to believe his suspicions regarding the merchant''s request were unwarranted, but¡ª


    ¡°Stay where you are,¡± boomed out an unfamiliar voice. ¡°Unless you want to be filled with bow arrows.¡± Arrows hissed through the air and stuck quivering in the earth in front of the hooves of the horses. He immediately put down the horses'' anxiety by pulling onto their reins tightly.


    Looking to his side, he laid his eyes upon the man who had commanded them to not move. With a hideous face covered in battle scars, the man reeked of malice and hostility."We want no trouble with you, adventurers, just handover that merchant to us and we''ll go our separate ways." The man''s ugly face twisted into a crooked expression. Perhaps he was trying to smile?


    After studying the man for a moment, Malazan smiled to himself. Underneath that false bravado, anxiety mostly occupied his emotions. The man was clearly apprehensive of breaking out with them. Moving his eyes away from him, Malazan tried to look for the source of the arrows.


    To the slope to his right, he sensed slight trembles from trees situated upon it. The archers must be hiding there, their bows fully loaded, waiting for the order to attack them for real this time.


    "I hate to break it to you, but we''d have to disappoint you," Malazan succinctly replied, not mincing with words. The others nodded in agreement. All of them had already received half of the commission in advance, not to mention, their duty as the merchant''s bodyguards obligated them to see their mission to the end.


    As if expecting their response, the man shook his head disappointingly, "I see, what a pity. I guess there''s no helping it." Right after finishing his sentence, he raised his left hand up in the air, his fingers forming a ''V'' sign.


    "Shihle, cast the barrier!" The Spell-Caster immediately infused mana into the scroll she was clutching. The rolled-up piece of parchment instaniously burned into ashes. Like a translucent dome appearing out of thin air, a magic barrier shielded them from the rain of arrows that came bearing down on them from above. The nieghed in fear and trepidation.


    ''Protect the merchant¡­but don''t overdo it. Go!'' He ordered Cloven. Following his command, Cloven darted towards the carriage. With a jump that defied gravity, he vaulted over one of the ten men who had come out of the nearby forest and made a half circle around the carriage. They were all outfitted differently. Not all their equipment was well made, but it wasn¡¯t shoddy, either.


    Cloven''s body landed on an other man, throwing the latter off balance. The bandit staggered back several steps, before running toward Cloven with his mace swinging wildly. A sidestep was all it took for Cloven to evade the attack. Taking the advantage of the man''s accelerating momentum, Cloven slammed him forward. The bandit''s momentum carried him on and he crashed into another man. They tumbled to the ground.


    From within his robe Cloven quickly produced a grooved dagger, and swiftly dispatched an approaching man by flinging it, aimed at the man''s neck. The dagger whizzed as it cut through the air. The force behind the hurl was overwhelming, that the dagger pierced right through the man''s throat, leaving behind a gaping hole. The man stood still in disbelief as showers of blood gushed out of the hole, before dropping to the ground.


    The other men¡¯s will to fight shrank visibly.


    By Hictoria, when will this man obey the order. You don''t present your display of strength so early on, else how are they going to muster up the courage to foolishly charge against you?


    He turned to look at three men who had appeared and surrounded him. "My apologies for making you wait, gentlemen. Let us get on with this," he bowed graceful toward them with proper noble etiquette. He thought it was pretty smooth bow, but the men looked confused.


    The men exchanged looks with each other, evidently unable to figure out his actions.


    "Hmm? Do you want to come or not? I''d personally like if you hurry up, as I have more pressing matters to attend to."


    After hesitating for a fraction of a second, they cast aside their reluctance and recklessly charged forward.


    "¡º Dragon Persistence ¡»" he gently whispered the name of a martial art skill. His muscles bulged as an unknown power surged through them. His right foot took a step back, and he brandished his sword in a forward stance and charged forth like a ferocious wind. Reflexively Malazan ducked beneath a man''s arm, as his halbard swayed past Malazan''s head, its hook forcing the wind to blow his hair. Turning back, he kicked the wielder of the halberd on his knees. The beautiful sound of snapping bones reached his ears. The man dropped to the ground with a groan. He kept screaming and rolling around in pain while holding onto his fractured knee firmly. With a backhand slash, Malazan drilled his sword through the man''s heart, putting an end to his misery.


    He parried the blows of other two men by launching a flurry of sword strikes of his own. "Too slow!" He laughed boisterously. With trained movements, he fended off an axe strike and turned to launch an upward thunder kick into the greasy-haired man''s diaphragm, wind seemingly trailing alongside his foot. The attack seemed to have knocked all the breath out of his lungs. The man spat a huge gob of phlegm onto the ground and promptly fell to his knees.


    Malazan leapt to one side as a spear lashed out at him. He parried another spear strike by twisting his sword midway and making a straight jab that jerked the spear from the spear bearer''s hand, disarming him. Giving him no time to retrieve it, Malazan closed in. Once within striking distance he lashed out with his sword, splitting the astonished bandit''s skull like a melon. He cast a glimpse back over his shoulder and saw the remaining man reaching out for his axe.


    "Why must you continue to struggle after realizing the gulf that separates the two of us?" He whispered slowly in a voice that only he could hear. He turned around, momentarily lifted his foot above the ground, before bringing it down with a crunch. He broke the struggling man''s right hand''s wrist. His struggling ceased, but Malazan didn''t think it was the pain, though he made sure there was plenty of that. It was the sound. The crack of bonesx as they shattered. A sound that let one knew they were never going to rise again. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword¡ªAnd brought it down in a blurring arc that decapitated his last opponent. Smell of blood thickened in the air.


    Phew, nearly crossed the line there. Malazan chuckled to himself. In less than two minutes, he had finished off all three of his opponents with only minimum amount of strength.¡º Dragon Persistence ¡»was mostly an offensive martial art skill that focused on overpowering your opponent through very precise and well-timed strikes. The primary focus lied on both sword and knee strikes and it often relied on the endurance and flexibility of the defender.


    The biggest strength of¡º Dragon Persistence ¡» was its brutality. It was fierce and contained illegal moves that most Knights and Paladins would find beneath themselves to resort to. It was one of many offensive martial art skills he had learned after going through brutal training and experiencing several trails and errors.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    However, he still wasn''t able to unleash the skill''s full potential, because¡ª


    He glanced down on his hands and found them to be trembling and juddering with great intensity. He fought hard to stop the trembling. Seconds passed and the shaking finally ceased.


    I am still unable to overcome them, huh?


    He smiled bitterly at the upsetting realisation. Memories and events he wanted to forget resurfaced. Those screams, shouts and howls of agony and hate. They called out his name, but all he could do was stare at them.


    No more, he shook his head and cleared his thoughts.


    Averting his eyes from Cloven who showed no visible difficulty defeating opponents, he turned to see how the others were faring.


    "Back me up here, Alcot!" Zaron barked an order, while exchanging blows with two men. One man carried a sharp, curved scimitar whilst the other flourished a club. With his silver sword gleaming in the sunlight, Zaron leapt first with a roar, his sword towering in the air. Closing in, he swinged it in a diagonal slash. Sparks were produced as sword and scimitar clashed, steel against steel. Both men then jumped away to create some distance. As Zaron did so, the other man wielding the club leapt at him from behind. However¡ªbefore his attack could make contact¡ªa crossbow bolt whistled through air and pierced deep into the man''s heart, robbing him of his life. His companion eyes went wide with fear and hesitation after witnessing the death of his partner. Zaron, seizing that moment of distraction, pounced at the man with a loud bawl. Although the man tried to defend, it was already too late. Before he knew it, Zaron''s sword was already upon him. The sword penetrated into his body, ribs cracking, and jutted out from the other end. The man fell with a thud after Zaron yanked his sword back.


    Zaron turned to nod his head at Alcot, gratitude visible in his eyes.


    "I''d also appreciate a bit of help! These fucking bolts are driving me insane," cried Globrom, exasperation plainly evident in his voice. His and Darkeye''s backs were facing each other as they tussled with the leader and his two lackeys. They were constantly being perturbed by arrows that would fitfully disturb their fight. Needless to say, defending against them at the same took a fair share of their attention.


    "Can you do something about those archers?" Darkeye shouted.


    The adventurers shifted their gazes toward the only two spellcasters, Shihle and Hiver, who was dressed in extravagant blue robes. They were not sure whether they could approach the slope without getting pinned to the ground with arrows, to say nothing of actually getting rid of the archers. Argency obligated them to turn towards the spellcasters for help.


    The two hesitated for awhile before nodding their heads.


    "¡º Fly ¡»" The two casted a tier-three transmutation spell in unison, a spell that violated the laws of gravity. Both of them ascended in the air until they were 60 feet aloft. Even the arrows found it difficult to reach them at such a height.


    Everyone, including the bandits, had stopped fighting and were looking at the two individuals in dumbfounding astonishmeant. Although reason told them to stop the two spellcasters from completing their spell, somewhere¡ªin a detached corner of their brain¡ªcuriousity told them to see what the spellcasters were about to do.


    After making sure of the archers hiding spot, Hiver and Shihle exchanged a glance, solemnity covering their faces. Hiver took a deep breath before casting an evocation spell, "¡º Combination Spell: First Stage: Toxic Wind¡»"


    Everyone hiding in the woods soon felt it. A gentle gust of wind swirling through the trees, making the leaves rustle. However, that was it. Surprise turned to ridicule. Sound of mocking laughter echoed.


    ¡ªYet, their jeering was short-lived.


    Shihle raised her hands in the air. She gave the impression of surrendering herself to a goddess above, but the pespiration dampening her features expressed something else entirely: "¡º Combination Spell: Second Stage: Fireball¡»"


    From her right hand a bright streak flashed and blossomed into a ball of small fire, looking like at any moment it would be blown out, it floated towards the woods. The dim ball of fire looked almost laughable I comparison to the giant trees, but¡ª


    Like a thunderbolt that came straight from heaven, the air exploded in a resounding roar. Gruesome screams soon followed. The trees caught fire one after another. In addition, the whole scene appeared to have come out from hell, as bodies of men were charred like autumn leaves, their ashes proving to be nutrious fertilizer for the soil.


    Minutes passed, but aside from the clinking noise of weapons dropping to the ground, nothing else could be heard. The opponents will to fight had been completely extinguished after witnessing their comrades dying such dreadful deaths. The adventurers soon snapped out of their reverie and rushed to apprehend their foes who no longer offered any sort of resistance.


    "That was nicely done!" Malazan went forward to congratulate the spellcasters with a smile. Both of them were covered in sweat and their shoulders heaved fiercely. Others also came forward to compliment them.


    "Hey, what did you guys do back there? It was amazing!" Globrom slapped Hiver on his shoulders. The later winced in pain.


    "It¡­was a combination spell that fused¡­our two spells into one...we honestly weren''t expecting it to¡­work out,", Shihle answered while being short on breath.


    "How many times can you two use it?" Darkeye asked in anticipation.


    Shihle looked at Hiver, taking the cue, the latter replied: "Only once. Using it a second time would be honestly...impossible. Casting it even once consumes most of our mana, hence leaving us in such a ragged state. There''s also the fact we''d become vulnerable after casting it," he stated. "Needless to say, the two spells in question need to compliment each other. For example, my spell, Toxic Wind, had a property of ignition when it made contact with fire. I can only say we happened to be quite lucky in this case." Dejection could be felt in his voice. How great would it be if they could use the spell twice in row? Maybe even thrice in succession?


    Hearing this, the enthusiasm in everyone''s eyes dimmed by a great deal. As expected, such a destructive spell had its limitations.


    "Well, you can''t have everything you want," Zaron remarked.


    "Still, you guys did a great job there!" Blen said in a cheerful voice.


    "Yeah, you two saved my ass back there!"


    "Indeed. Thanks for saving us."


    Ohers showered them with praises. It went without saying that the two spellcasters played a major role in this battle.


    In the meanwhile, Malazan''s attention was concentrated on someone else. His eyes had never strayed from the leader of the bandits, who had been standing still since the two spellcasters casted their spell. Others thought that he had given up, but Malazan didn''t think so. A cunning gleam still flickered across the man''s narrow eyes, showing no signs of surrender.


    Malazan furrowed his brows.


    To be a able to organise such a large gang of men to attack them indicated the man''s confidence in carrying out the ambush. But, an ambush was effective because it was hidden. If it was revealed, all it did was diffuse their muscle. Their leader should surely know that, yet he showed no signs of surrendering. Such behavior only made sense if the man had something to rely upon.


    Come on. Pull out whatever move you have hidden up your sleeve.


    As if answering his wish, Malazan saw the man pulling out a crystal out of his breast pocket. Malazan''s eyes suddenly went wide with astoundment.


    ¡­I''d be damned.


    ??????


    Dorn''s hands were wet with sweat.


    He had grossly underestimated these adventurers. At first, he had thought he could easily stall them long enough for one of his men to feel with the merchant. However, reality had smacked him with a harsh truth¡ªThey were no match for the adventurers, especially the spellcasters. Although only two in number, this contemptibly little pair had turned his men to dust. He didn''t want to admit, but high-ranking spellcasters were indeed deserving of their fame. He hated their ability to cast spells. They didn''t have to go through any sort of intense muscle training, unlike fighters. Just by studying, they were able to learn new spells that gave them an edge over those of different classes of the same realm.


    Inspite of their defeat, he didn''t lose hope. Those people had given him an artifact, telling him to use it in case something like this occurred. Remembering his encounter with those bloodthirsty monsters and what they''d do to him if he didn''t bring back the merchant with him, a chill ran down his spine. Defeat was not an option.


    Inserting his hand in his breast pocket, he took out a scarlet-colored crystal. Coldness emitted from it that seemed to drouse all his worries. They had called it a magic-sealing crystal, which contained a very high-tier magic. To unseal the magic contained within it, according to them, it was neccessary for blood to make contact with it.


    He bit his thumb and red blood trickled down. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the prickling sensation, and he let a drop of his blood fall on it.


    The crystal glowed with a scarlet flash¡ªand everything went blank.


    ??????


    It''s over.


    He thought to himself as he carefully put down the magical binoculars he had been using to monitor the battle. It had been a hard-fought battle. That clown had been unable to recover the artifact from the merchant. The magic crystal finally ended up getting wasted on those adventurers as a result. That said, the mission could be considered an overall success. Dead men tell no tales, he repeated the motto of his organization.


    Thinking that it was about time he reported to Sir Viper, he casted the communication spell,¡º Message¡».


    "¡­who is this?" A calm voice echoed in his head.


    "It is me, Wolf," he uttered his station. Members of their organization had no real names, only ranks or aliases by which they called each other.


    "Which one?"


    "Agent 73," this time his ranking was what he spoke.


    "I see, you were the one who was assigned to monitor the activity of that merchant, right?"


    "That is correct, Sir Viper."


    "And?"


    "The party we dispatched ended up using the magic-sealing crystal to annihilate them."


    There was a slight pause, before the man continued: "I see, that can''t be helped. We could not afford to expose our involvement in this," he acknowledged. "Anything else you''d like to report, Wolf?"


    He pondered over the question. Aside from a certain pair of men whose skill had managed to surprise him a little, he didn''t find any detail worth reporting. "No, Sir Viper."


    "The Fen¨¦rious is your family," the voice declared.


    "You watch out for it, and it watches out for you," he replied, and the connection was cut.


    "Done talkin''?" A stranger''s voice reached his ears. Turning around, he saw a man composedly sitting on a nearby boulder. He was nonchalantly chewing up a blade of grass.


    "What is an half-orc like you doing here? When did you get here?" He narrowed his eyes, bewildered.


    The half-orc stood up with a grimace. "I really fucking hate people like ya, always asking dumb questions. Do ya have any idea how much my butt hurts sitting on this piece of rock as I waited for ya to end your fucking conversation?" .Out of nowhere, the half-orc summoned a crimson sickle. A wicked grin hung on his face as heleisurely made his way toward him.


    Wolf''s heart went cold and his body stiffened. Dread crawled up from his stomach all the way to his face. His intuition told him to escape, to go somewhere far away before this beast unleashed his fangs.


    He sensed it. The air of death and malice that surrounded the half-orc in front of him.


    Like projectiles launched from two cannons, the two of them leapt at each other, whipping up dirt in their wake.


    "Time to die!" Maniacal laughter reverberated.