CHAPTER 74: SLAYING THE THIEVES’ LEADER!

His stride was unhurried, yet each step rang with a confidence that made the shadows themselves seem to draw back from him. The silver glow from above followed him, outlining his form like a second skin.

As he crossed through the courtyard toward the storerooms, he could already sense them. Four presences, sharp and restless, moving with lethal intent. The guards clashed with them, but the rhythm was off — Xavier could tell instantly. The thieves weren’t just skilled; they were dismantling the formation, one strike at a time.

A guard’s scream cut through the night, abruptly silenced. Another clash rang out, followed by a curse.

Xavier chuckled low in his throat. "So eager to die."

He adjusted the grip on his gauntlet, his mind steady, his heart calm. The assassins thought themselves wolves. But tonight, under the gaze of the moon, he was the hunter.

With that thought, he moved to stepped into the fray.

***

Meanwhile, the storeroom courtyard was chaos. Torches guttered in the wind, shadows stretching wild as steel rang sharp against steel.

The four remaining thieves moved like phantoms, darting between guards with lethal precision. Their masked faces betrayed nothing, but their voices cut through the clamor, sharp and mocking.

"Dust Veil!"

Marrow Jack hurled another black pouch to the ground. Smoke hissed up, curling into a dense cloud that swallowed the formation whole. Guards coughed, squinting into the haze — and that was when the blades came.

Clang! Clang!

A guard staggered back, his spear knocked from his hands in an instant. Jack’s fingers had twisted the shaft so expertly the weapon spun uselessly across the floor.

"Too slow," Jack laughed coldly, retreating into the haze before the man could recover. "What good are your shiny spears if you can’t even hold them?"

But another guard slammed his shield forward blindly, catching Jack in the ribs. "Smoke won’t save you forever, thief!"

Jack growled, twisting free, but the line was holding. For now.

On the opposite flank, Silas Veilmist struck. His blade shimmered unnaturally in the torchlight, a double image trailing every slash.

"Phantom Slice!"

Two guards raised their swords to parry, but they blocked the wrong strike — the illusion. The real blade slipped between their defenses, cutting deep across one man’s shoulder.

The wounded guard hissed, falling back. Silas chuckled under his mask. "Tch. Even trained soldiers can’t tell shadow from steel."

But a third guard lunged from behind, forcing him to spin away, his illusory blade trailing in the air. "Keep pressing! Don’t give him room!"

Meanwhile, Crowe Redhand crouched low, his gloved fingers flicking a coil of thin wire forward.

"Snare Lash!"

The line wrapped tight around a guard’s legs. With a yank, Crowe sent the man crashing face-first to the ground. "Heh. Dance for me, little puppet."

But before he could finish, another guard stomped down on the wire, straining against his strength. "Not tonight, bastard!" The wire snapped loose, and the downed man was dragged to his feet again.

Crowe clicked his tongue, irritation sparking. "Persistent dogs..."

And then there was Veyra Nightpetal. Unlike the others, she moved with grace, her curved daggers dripping with a faint sheen of green.

She slipped between two guards like water, her blade cutting shallow across one man’s arm. He staggered, eyes going wide as his movements slowed unnaturally.

"Moonfang Kiss," she whispered, almost sweetly.

The poison took hold. His shield grew heavy, his strikes sluggish.

Another guard roared, shoving him back into line. "Hold steady! She’s using venom, don’t let her touch you!"

Veyra only laughed softly, her voice smooth, mocking. "So many men, all struggling against just four. Where’s your pride?"

The guards tightened their formation, shields locking together. Despite their losses, they did not falter.

"You think the Goddess will let rats like you leave with her offerings?" one barked, raising his blade high. "We’ll die here before letting you take a grain of it!"

The thieves hissed, circling. Smoke swirled, illusions flashed, wires coiled, and venom glistened. Blow after blow rattled shields, weapons slipped from hands, blood stained the ground.

Yet the line did not break.

Every time a guard fell, two more closed ranks. Every time a thief landed a cut, steel answered. They were battered, bruised, bleeding — but they held, stalling the Four Shadows, buying precious time.

Jack spat into the dust, snarling as bloodied guards tightened their wall. "Why won’t you break?! You’re just fodder, protecting scraps of wheat!"

One guard, his armor cracked and his face streaked with blood, raised his spear again. His stance trembled, but his eyes burned with defiance. "Better to be fodder with honor than rats without a home!"

"Honor?" Silas Veilmist’s laugh was sharp and mocking as his Phantom Slice shimmered through the haze, cutting into another man’s arm. "Then die with your honor!"

But another guard surged forward, sword intercepting the strike with a clang. His blade locked against Silas’s, his gaze sharp, his voice cutting through the clash.

"Mere thieves daring to speak of honor? What would you know of pride and dignity? You crawl through shadows, stealing in the dead of night. You don’t even have the courage to face the sun."

The words made the thieves stiffen.

Then, with a roar, a fiery red aura exploded outward from the guard’s body. The sheer force of it pushed dust back, flames licking faintly around his form. His eyes gleamed with battle hunger.

"Hmph! Let’s see you four get what you want with my Berserker class active." His voice was cold, cutting, certain.

Jack flinched, stepping back instinctively. "Tch...!"

The man’s lips curled into a deadly grin. "Because we’ve been lenient with you, you actually thought we were weaklings. Fools. We were waiting for Sir Xavier’s order... but enough. It’s time to teach you four a lesson you won’t forget."

He raised his sword and signaled sharply.

Fwoooosh—!

In an instant, the guards’ auras flared. The air shook with the clash of energies as each man activated his respective class skill. Silver, red, green, and blue lights lit the courtyard like a battlefield under the moon.

The thieves froze, cursing under their breath. They had assumed these were just fodder — standard retainers of a noble house. But the flaring auras told another story: trained fighters, each one hardened, each one bearing a true class.

"Shit!" Veyra Nightpetal hissed.

"Damn it..." Silas muttered, shifting his stance.

The Berserker bared his teeth. "What’s the matter? Where’s all that smug talk now?"

"Enough talking!" another guard shouted, his body glowing faintly silver as he raised his shield. "Formation! Drive them down!"

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The guards surged forward as one, their boosted strength tearing through the thieves’ rhythm. Shields bashed into faces. Spears stabbed past defenses. Swords cut shallow across arms and legs, leaving bloody trails.

Jack barely ducked a crushing axe strike, the blade embedding into the ground where his head had been. "Shit—too close!"

"Still alive?" the axe-wielding guard sneered. "Don’t worry. You’ll regret that soon enough." He wrenched the weapon free and swung again, forcing Jack back.

Crowe Redhand lashed out with his wire, snarling. "Snare Lash!"

But another guard caught it with his gauntlet, sparks flying. He yanked hard, pulling Crowe forward, and drove his knee straight into the thief’s gut.

Thud!

Crowe gagged, blood spraying from his lips.

Silas tried to slip between them with Phantom Slice, but two guards crossed their swords in unison, blocking both real and illusory slashes. One of them snarled, sweat dripping down his brow. "Your tricks won’t save you now."

And from the flank, Veyra darted in, her daggers flashing green. She sliced across a guard’s chest—only for the man to twist, his armor glowing faintly. The blade cut shallow, but didn’t sink deep.

Veyra hissed, dancing back. "These bastards... they’re adapting!"

The Berserker roared, his fiery aura burning brighter. He swung his sword in a massive arc, the sheer force sending Silas stumbling. "This is the difference between shadows and steel!" he shouted. "You hide. We face death head on!"

The guards’ momentum surged, their unity now turning the tide. The thieves staggered, blood dripping from shallow cuts, their breathing heavier.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Jack spat through clenched teeth, narrowly avoiding another spear thrust.

"Let’s use it." His voice was hoarse, but certain.

Silas glanced at him, furious. "Now?!"

"We don’t have a choice," Veyra growled, parrying desperately.

Crowe hissed between his teeth. "I can’t believe we’re using that... on a low-tier mission like this."

"This mission was supposed to be smooth," Silas snarled, sidestepping a flaming slash from the Berserker. "And now look at us—forced into desperation!"

Still, they all reached into their pouches at once.

Crunch!

The sound of pills cracking between teeth echoed sharply.

Instantly, their bodies convulsed. Muscles swelled, veins bulged black against their skin, and their auras erupted violently, dark and unstable. Their eyes gleamed with unnatural light, their breathing ragged but powerful.

***

A/N:

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