Luke sat with his face lit by the pale glow of the system screen hovering before him. The list of skills scrolled past like phantoms made of light, but his decision was already made.

“All for the plan.”

[You have acquired the Profession Skill: Acid Blood Arrow]

It didn’t matter. None of these skills had been part of his careful calculations, and nothing was going to pull him off course now. Days of preparation had been poured into the scheme, and Luke wasn’t the kind of man to throw it all away on a whim. Whatever skill he picked was secondary. At that moment, instinct was enough. Whether it was bloodlust scratching at his soul or something darker clawing for dominance, he didn’t care. Instinct had kept him alive this long, and he wasn’t about to stop feeding the beast inside.

There was an old proverb about two wolves inside every person, one good and one evil, and the one you fed would grow strong enough to devour the other. If that was true, then he had just fed the bad wolf… or maybe the bad cat.

A crooked smile touched his lips. He lifted a spoonful of stew to his mouth and chewed slowly, letting the flavor dissolve on his tongue while his mind retraced the blueprint of his plan, escape routes, pressure points, targets, timing. A symphony of survival etched into memory.

Then the harmony cracked. A shiver ran across his skin. From the counter, Layla’s potted plant screamed with violent emotion. He had never felt something like this without direct contact. His bond with nature was deepening, no doubt, but to feel that kind of rage at a distance? It was like the plant was shouting at him.

“What the hell’s going on with you?” he muttered.

Before he could make sense of it, another warning detonated inside his skull. His demonic perception roared like thunder. Fast. Deadly. Already in range. Luke didn’t think. He threw himself to the ground. A heartbeat later, the world erupted.

The table he had been eating at exploded into splinters as a barrage of quarrels ripped through it, blasting the wood apart in a storm of shrapnel. The floor shook with the violence, shards scattering across the room.

Luke rolled aside and sprang to his feet, eyes narrowing, searching. In the far corner of the mess hall, a figure stood holding a monstrous crossbow shaped like a revolver. From the force of that shot, Luke knew one thing: if he hadn’t moved, he would already be dead.

“Good reflexes.” The voice was pure scorn, cold as iron. The figure stepped into the light.

“Kruger.”

Luke’s pulse surged, but his expression stayed ice-cold. The Phantom Assassin himself, black garb, skull mask, and an aura so silent it seemed to devour the air around him. The weapon in his hand dissolved into smoke, replaced by twin daggers gleaming like a predator’s fangs.

“I barely remembered your face. Up close… disappointing. This is the so-called most dangerous man here? At least killing you will be entertaining.”

Luke arched a brow, drawing his kukris from his inventory with deliberate slowness. “You think a lot of yourself.”

“When you’re crawling, begging me to spare you, I’ll enjoy watching your face break.”

Luke didn’t need to see beneath the mask. He knew Kruger was smiling. The assassin didn’t waste another breath. He dashed forward, blades raised to carve. Luke didn’t retreat. Steel met steel in a thunderous clash, sparks bursting into the air. The echo of the strike rattled the empty hall, and in moments the room was chaos.

Chairs toppled, tables splintered, the air thick with the shriek of blades colliding. Every strike carried lethal weight, but Luke’s mind stayed razor sharp. He wasn’t fighting only to block, he was studying. He needed to catch the rhythm of Kruger’s assault, to feel the instant when the assassin would trigger his teleport. Because Luke knew he would.

Kruger spun mid-strike and lashed out with a kick. Before Luke could counter, the assassin vanished in a warped flash. But Luke had been waiting for it. He pivoted on his heel, kukris raised, and caught the assassin materializing behind him. Steel shrieked as blades collided again. Kruger’s eyes widened beneath the mask, surprise flashing there. He hadn’t expected to be read that easily. He stumbled back a step.

Luke didn’t waste the opening. A kukri whipped from his hand like lightning. Kruger stepped forward to intercept, but then stopped abruptly, his body freezing for an instant before dissolving into nothing and teleporting away.That was when it hit Luke, sharp and clear. He has to be standing still to teleport.

Kruger reappeared clinging to the ceiling, then dropped like a predator with both daggers poised. Luke rolled aside, yanked out another kukri, and hurled it with brutal force, pumping stamina into the throw. The assassin slashed it aside midair, but Luke was already pulling the first kukri back with magnetism, curving it around for a second strike, slow and deceptive.

Kruger froze, trying to teleport again. Exactly as expected. The assassin blinked behind him. Luke was already moving. His bow snapped into existence, string drawn, and an arrow flew the instant he turned.

“Ah!” Kruger’s scream tore through the hall as the arrow punched into his leg.

Luke pressed forward without hesitation. The bow vanished as he closed the gap, hand flashing to a throwing knife in its holster. No time to reclaim the kukris. He seized Kruger by the shoulder, pinning him in place, and drove a savage flurry of stabs into his torso.

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“You can’t teleport while I’m holding you, can you?!”

Kruger’s daggers scraped dangerously close, but Luke released in time, slipping just out of reach.

“Drink steel with your own blood.”

He hurled the knife with crushing force. Kruger managed to deflect, but that instant was all Luke needed. He surged forward, planted both feet, and unleashed a double kick that sent Kruger crashing through the wooden wall, splintering it apart and flinging the assassin out into the street.

The kukris whirled back into Luke’s hands with a pull of magnetism. He vaulted through the wreckage after him.

“Looks like you’re not so great up close,” Luke said.

Kruger staggered upright, laughter spilling through the mask even as he ripped the arrow from his leg, blood streaming down his thigh.

“Killing you inside would’ve been too quick. Hunting you out here will be so much more fun.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, then shifted past Kruger.

The street. Soldiers. An ocean of them. Fighters pouring from alleys, archers perched on rooftops, mages with staves already raised. An entire army waiting in perfect formation, bows drawn, spells burning in their palms. Luke was surrounded.

“Now you see just how fucked you are.” Kruger leveled his crossbow, laughter edged with venom. “The whole Safe Zone is crawling with hunters. All for you.”

Luke’s jaw tightened. “Can’t handle me alone?”

“You thought I was fighting seriously?” Kruger’s crossbow clicked into place. “Good luck now.”

The shot fired. And with it, every archer, every mage, every crossbowman unleashed hell. A storm of arrows, bolts, fireballs, blades of wind, and shards of stone roared toward him like a collapsing avalanche.

No time to think. Luke poured every ounce of mana into his body and detonated into black mist, a shroud of shadow swallowing the street whole. Stalls, homes, even the stone walls drowned in suffocating darkness. When the haze thinned, Luke was gone, emerging at another point down the street.

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul]

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul]

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul]

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul]

The alerts hammered his vision one after another as he forced every shred of focus into burning the marks away.

“I should’ve left the Safe Zone when I had the chance!”

‘Now you realize it?!’ Artemis’s voice rang inside his skull. ‘I told you from the start, we never should’ve come back!’

“I had to finish this damn plan!”

Behind him, Kruger advanced across the rooftops in teleporting bursts: pausing for an instant, vanishing, then reappearing farther ahead. Each reappearance came with another crossbow shot, followed by five more the moment Luke dodged.

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul]

“I told you, Luke!” Artemis’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Only assholes use crossbows!”

Luke hurled himself into a side street just as a mage’s fireblast roared past him. The impact detonated behind him, shaking the ground. When he straightened, eight soldiers were already charging, blades and spears in hand.

If I kill any of them, I’ll be giving Bartholomew exactly what he wants. He drew a sharp breath. No choice but to keep moving.

“Terrorist bastard!” one soldier shouted.

They spread out, trying to box him in. Luke raised his kukris and surged forward, every strike a lethal rhythm. He slipped past a sword, spun, dismissed the blades into his inventory mid-turn, and dropped two soldiers with knockout blows from his fists. By the time his spin ended, the kukris were back in his hands, slicing through the air in a sweeping arc. The other six soldiers staggered back, armor gouged, chests slashed open, their bodies crashing to the ground under the impact of his strikes.

Luke didn’t pause. He surged ahead. From the building up ahead, three archers raised their bows. Strings creaked, and an arrow crackling with blue electricity launched straight at him. Luke pulled his own bow from the inventory, drew and fired in one fluid motion. His arrow collided with theirs midair, detonating in a burst of lightning that lit the entire street.

“Where is he?!” one archer shouted, blinded by the flash.

“Here.” The voice came from behind them. Luke kicked one archer clean off the rooftop. The second lost his hand to a slice of steel. The third became an unwilling shield, just in time for a bolt from Kruger’s crossbow to punch into his stomach.

“See? I’m not the one killing you,” Luke whispered into the wounded man’s ear, then shoved him aside.

“Fuck you!”

The man crumpled into his own blood. Luke didn’t look back. He kept running, eyes scanning the chaos ahead, soldiers lined across rooftops, sealing off the entire marketplace. Then something caught in his peripheral.

Ballista.

Siege weapons mounted on the rooftops. The first bolt screamed down, slamming into the street beside him and shaking the ground like an earthquake. Shards of stone and dirt exploded upward. Luke dove aside, leaping through the gaps, sprinting faster as steel rained from above. Every stride burned with stamina, his legs thrumming with raw energy. Then, just ahead, something small hit the ground. A black sphere.

It burst, flooding the street with choking smoke. From inside the haze, a spear tore through the air. Luke ducked at the last possible second, the cold edge grazing his hair. He vaulted to another rooftop, and that’s when he saw them.

Two. Three. Seven.

Assassins. All dressed in black, skull masks glinting under the late-afternoon sun. They slithered out of the shadows, armed with chains, spears, and curved blades. Every rooftop nearby had at least one of them. Others lurked unseen, waiting for the smallest slip. Kruger wasn’t alone. Seven visible, Luke counted. But he knew better, there were more.

“You’ve got nowhere left to run,” one taunted, swinging a chain that hissed through the air.

Another raised a spear. A third flicked a dagger that snapped midflight, unfolding into a net that whipped toward him. Luke twisted aside, slipping free before it could ensnare him. More shadows rose from the buildings. Their numbers swelled, ten assassins now, closing the circle tight.

“You’re surrounded!” one shouted. “Your death is here!”

Luke glanced around. Instead of fear, a smile crept across his lips.

“I’ve been hearing that for months.”

The bow materialized in his hand, his gaze hard and steady, his eyes burning with grim resolve. And beneath it all, something stranger. A spark of joy. The wolf he had chosen to feed was still starving.

“You’re the only ones here I don’t have to hold back against.”

He raised his hand. Energy pulsed through his veins as he activated his newly acquired epic skill, Acid Blood Arrow.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep