CHAPTER 549: KILLINGS

The first one of the bandits came in screaming with his bat raised high over his head.

Clyde didn’t even slow his stride and then move with the cold precision of a killer. The spear shot forward like lightning, the steel tip punching straight through the man’s throat.

His scream turned into a wet gargle, blood spraying in a thin arc of red mist around his face..

Clyde wrenched the weapon free with a sharp twist and let the body drop sideways to the dirt with a dull thud.

The second rushed in immediately with a machete in hand, his face twisted in rage.

Clyde pivoted easily, sidestepped his wild swing and then drove the spear low.

The point punched into the man’s gut, sliding deep enough to lift him partially off his feet.

The man’s eyes went wide, the sound that came out of him more like a wheeze than a scream.

Clyde shoved harder and pinning him to the ground before yanking the blade out in a spray of his intestines and blood. .

The third try of them turned out to be a little bit smarter. He circling to Clyde’s left, hoping to catch him off guard while the fourth charged head-on with a rusted crowbar.

Clyde didn’t give them the chance to coordinate. He lunged forward, feinting toward the crowbar wielder, then suddenly reversed, sweeping the spear sideways in a brutal arc

The steel edge caught the circling man across the jaw with such force that half his face split open.

He crumpled immediately, twitching once before going still.

The last one roared and swung the crowbar down, but Clyde met it in the middle of his swing with his spear.

The spear’s shaft snapped the crowbar away with a sharp clang, then reversed into a deadly jab.

The point drove into the man’s chest with enough force to punch out through his back.

Clyde stepped in close, hand gripping the man’s collar, and shoved him backward until his body hit the wall.

The spear stayed buried in him, holding him upright like a grotesque display.

The man coughed blood, eyes rolling, but Clyde wasn’t finished.

He yanked the weapon free in one savage pull, then spun it in his hands and drove the butt end into the man’s temple.

His bone cracked and the man collapsed like a rag doll beside his dead comrades.

Now only silence remained. Four fresh corpses sprawled around him in awkward, broken positions, blood pooling on the dirt floor and soaking into the earth.

The stench of iron filled the air.

Clyde planted the spearhead into the ground for a moment, letting his breath steady.

His hands were slick with blood, his knuckles aching faintly from the sheer force of his strikes that turned out to be harder than his body was ready for..

He scanned the bodies and made sure there were no survivors so that no threats left standing.

His gaze drifted back toward the store. Mina’s fight was still underway, though the sound of movement inside told him it wouldn’t last much longer.

Clyde wiped the weapon clean on one of the fallen men’s shirts, the red smearing into dark stains.

Then, without a word, he turned and stepped back inside, leaving the four dead where they lay.

Inside the store, Mina’s boots skidded across the splintered wooden floor as the leader came at her again, his shadow stretching long under the flickering light.

His aura burned like a heatwave, distorting the air around him.

It wasn’t just for show. The aura made every movement he made was faster, sharper, like the world bent to keep up with him.

His black dagger whistled through the air, each swing forcing her to give up the fight. .

She ducked the first slash but the follow up attack caught her shoulder.

Pain flared in her shoulder, and she hissed between clenched teeth, twisting away before he could split her open.

The man grinned through cracked lips, eyes wild with bloodlust, and pressed forward without pause.

His aura pulsed again. The air around him thick with killing intent.

Mina’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as she parried another blow with the flat of her dagger, the impact rattling her arm to the bone.

He slammed a kick into her stomach. The force sent her crashing into a shelf, jars and bottles shattering around her. Glass bit into her skin, but she didn’t let the pain slow her. She rolled just in time to avoid his dagger embedding into the wood where her head had been.

He tore it free in a spray of splinters, turning toward her again.

Mina forced herself upright. Her lungs were already burning. Her muscles were aching from the constant pressure.

She feinted left, darted right, and slashed low. But the man’s reflexes were monstrous. He caught her wrist mid-swing, twisting it hard enough to make her drop the dagger.

His other hand came up in a brutal backhand that split her lip and sent her staggering. Blood filled her mouth.

Her vision swam, but her mind was clear. She couldn’t match his speed head-on. She needed to make him caught off guard.

When he lunged again, she let the blade’s tip graze her arm, drawing blood, but in that opening she stepped in close.

Her free hand snatched a shard of glass from the floor and raked it across his cheek.

The surprise made him falter for just a heartbeat.

It was enough. Mina dove for her fallen dagger, rolled, and came up in a low stance.

His dagger came down in a killing arc, but she twisted aside, feeling the wind of its passage against her neck.

She drove the dagger into his ribs, the steel biting deep. His breath hitched in shock.

She ripped it free and stab again higher this time, under his collarbone.

"HAAARGHH!"

He roared, swinging wildly, but she was already moving, ducking under his desperate strikes.

Her dagger stabbed again and again, each stab driving deeper into muscle and bone.

His aura flared violently then began to gutter like a dying flame.

Finally, his legs gave out and he collapsed to his knees, the dagger slipping from his fingers.

Mina stood over him, chest heaving, and rammed the blade into his chest one last time.

His head sagged forward, and she shoved him onto his back.

Silence settled, broken only by her ragged breathing.

Her hands trembled, slick with his blood, but she didn’t look away from the corpse. She stares at it with cold sharp eyes.

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