CHAPTER 75: CHAPTER 75

Several menacing figures emerged from the bushes, their eyes locked on Clayton with deadly intent—like tigers stalking their prey.

But Clayton remained completely unfazed. Calmly, he scanned his surroundings, checking for hidden ambushers. After a moment of surveying the area, he concluded that this group was the only threat. He exhaled softly, just a little relieved.

Meanwhile, Jones—who had been staring at Clayton without blinking—couldn’t help but furrow his brow.

"This kid’s... off. Too calm," Jones thought, unease creeping into his chest. A normal person would be panicking right now, surrounded by six enemies. But Clayton wasn’t. And that made Jones nervous.

"Does he really think those skeletons can save him? Or... does he have a trump card we don’t know about?"

Jones’s hesitation grew.

His men started glancing at one another, restless.

"What’s wrong, Boss? Why the silence? You scared the city guards might hear us?"

"Wait... don’t tell me you’re actually worried about him?"

Still, Jones said nothing.

"Relax, Boss! A weakling like him’ll drop with one hit! We’ll be long gone before anyone shows up!"

Jones nodded slowly. Maybe he was overthinking it. After all, what could a mere two-star magic apprentice possibly do against six three-star apprentices? Even if Clayton had some secret technique, what’s the worst he could do—bruise them?

The reward outweighed the risk.

With renewed confidence, Jones barked, "Attack—now!"

His men surged forward, eyes gleaming with greed and bloodlust. But Clayton, already prepared, didn’t flinch.

"Water Magic: Water of Wave!"

Water burst from the pouch at his waist, surging upward into a towering wave that roared across the field.

The bandits froze in shock.

"Shit!" Jones cursed. He hadn’t expected that kind of power.

They tried to dodge, but they were already mid-charge—there was no room to escape. Desperately, they hurled their own spells, hoping to disperse the wave.

Bang!

Boom!

Splash!

Spells exploded through the air, but it was like trying to stop a landslide with sticks. The wave crashed into them, sweeping all seven off their feet.

At first, they thought they were done for—crushed or broken. But to their surprise, they landed hard but not fatally. A little bruised, but alive.

Relief came fast.

But so did humiliation.

"That wasn’t a real attack," one muttered, spitting water. "He played us."

Anger burned in their chests. They didn’t just want to kill Clayton anymore. They wanted to make him suffer.

None of them noticed the seven skeletons standing silently behind him—now fully transformed into armored knights.

As the bandits regrouped and prepared to charge again, the skeletal figures stepped forward.

Clang!

Metal clashed with farming tools as the undead met the attack head-on. The bandits stumbled back, stunned.

Knights?! Helping him?! Is he connected to the city?

But then they looked closer—the knights had no flesh. Just bone, armor, and glowing soul-fires flickering inside empty sockets.

These were no guards. They were undead—Clayton’s own creations. And they’d evolved.

Panic turned to confusion. But they pressed forward, thinking the skeletons were still weak.

They were wrong.

The newly evolved skeleton knights had strength and durability rivaling low-tier one-star monsters—more than enough to match any of them. What the bandits thought would be an easy slaughter turned into a desperate fight for survival.

Several began suffering real injuries—from farming tools, no less.

Clayton stood calmly in the distance with Dingo by his side, merely watching.

He wanted to see how far his skeletons could go without him.

Meanwhile, Jones’s confidence unraveled.

Then came Clayton’s cold voice:

"No more playing. Finish it."

The bandits hesitated.

Where was this confidence coming from?

Jones’s gut twisted with growing panic. Should he run? Should he fight?

The skeletons didn’t wait. They surged forward, attacking with brutal precision—erratic, fearless, and relentless. They didn’t flinch. They didn’t retreat. They didn’t care about pain.

They fought like machines of death.

"AAARGHH!"

"NO—STOP!!"

Screams filled the air.

The bandits finally realized the truth: these skeletons weren’t a bluff. But it was too late. They were caught in a rhythm of combat where pain meant nothing and mercy didn’t exist.

Thud!

A severed head landed near Jones’s feet.

He recognized the face—and terror swallowed him whole.

Their numbers dwindled rapidly. The skeletons that landed kills would immediately join the others in pressing the attack. The last remaining men were quickly surrounded.

Jones, now flanked by two skeletons, had only one thought:

How do I get out of this?

He no longer cared about loot, revenge, or reputation. He just wanted to survive.

But the skeletons showed no mercy. Blow after blow rained down.

And one by one, all of them fell.

All except Jones

.

Desperate, he pulled a scroll from inside his cloak.

Clayton’s eyes narrowed.

He recognized it instantly: a teleportation scroll.

He dashed forward, hoping to stop him.

Too late.

Swoosh!

A flash of light—and Jones vanished.

Clayton froze in place, stunned.

Then, scanning the surroundings, he caught sight of a figure stumbling through the trees in the distance.

Short-range teleport. Lucky bastard.

"Water Magic: Water Cannon!"

A massive water projectile—nearly basin-sized—launched toward the fleeing man.

Jones fumbled for a scroll. Too slow.

BOOM!

The shot landed clean. Jones was hurled to the ground, blood staining the grass.

Was that... a hallucination? I thought I activated it...

Despair clouded his thoughts.

What he didn’t know was that Clayton’s attack had been guided by his [Tracking] spell entry—ensuring it hit its mark.

Clayton approached slowly, Dingo at his heel.

He was calm. Methodical.

And for once, he decided to be merciful. He would end it quickly, with no unnecessary pain.

He raised his hand and aimed a "finger pistol" at Jones’s head.

But before he could fire, the man croaked weakly:

"W-Wait... I have... a secret. If you promise not to kill me... I’ll tell you..."

Clayton hesitated, eyes narrowing.

His hand paused midair.

Seeing Clayton stop in his tracks, Jones immediately lit up with hope. He thought there might still be a chance to save his life. After a moment of silence, Clayton finally asked in a flat tone,

"Alright then—what’s the secret? If it’s worth it, I won’t kill you."