The group moved in silence through the dense undergrowth of the Wild Zone. The forest stretched ahead in crooked corridors, the damp smell of earth and moss clinging to their clothes. Interwoven branches formed tunnels of shadow, and every step had to be measured to keep from betraying their position. Their destination was the second Safe Zone, but on this path, safety was a myth.

Everyone knew Bartholomew and his allies were already aware of their movements. The last ambush had left enemy soldiers alive, and that meant reports, trackers, hunters, maybe even a deadlier trap waiting ahead. To avoid it, they veered off the river’s natural course, hugging the barrier’s edge before cutting through the Orc Forest and aiming for the second fortress.

As a precaution, Evangeline kept the raven close. Instead of sending it directly to the Safe Zone, she used it to scout the routes ahead. The tense quiet was broken only by the rustle of leaves and the sound of boots sinking into wet earth.

“So, Cinderella, seeing anything?” Evangeline crouched beside Luke near a jagged outcrop of stone.

“There are people on the riverbank, armed,” Luke murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “The path’s lit up with torches, and some trees were knocked down on purpose.”

He was seeing through the raven’s eyes. Soul Infiltration wasn’t perfect; the bird couldn’t stray too far. Once the connection snapped, it kept flying on its own, skimming the treetops.

“There are also people spaced out along the path carrying bells,” he added. “Couldn’t get a look at the fortress. Link broke.”

Evangeline simply nodded. They needed to gather more information and figure out what was happening in the city. Before heading to Bastion, they at least had to secure the fortress and make sure it wasn’t some kind of trap.

***

“Jerry’s scouting the perimeter,” Evangeline reported as she approached the group. Her voice stayed neutral, but the tightness in her eyes betrayed the rising tension.

“The people we saw along the path aren’t carrying Bastion gear,” Luke said, adjusting the kukri at his belt.

Mason wasn’t with them. Only the core of the group remained together.

“I managed to get a glimpse of the fortress through my binocular skill,” Evangeline continued. “All I could make out from that distance was one of the watchtowers. No one from the Haven was there. The fortress has been taken.”

The silence that followed was heavy. It wasn’t just a strategic loss; it felt like the ground shifting beneath them.

Jack sat cross-legged, deep in Meditation. Every pause in their march was spent speeding up his mana recovery. Ronan hadn’t spoken much during the trek.

“We’ll have to take the fortress back,” Allison said finally. “Leaving it to reinforce an enemy isn’t an option.”

“Bartholomew’s army is splintered,” Ronan replied. “Better we deal with these bandits here than let them regroup and strike while we’re focused on Bastion.”

“So you’ve changed your tune now, big guy?” Evangeline lifted an eyebrow.

Ronan exhaled slowly. “I know it’s hypocritical, but as far as we can tell the ones holding that fortress are the same bandit groups that tore this zone apart. That’s different from someone who refuses to finish the tutorial because they’ve got family here, or from the ones who spent years defending the first Safe Zone. We need to separate the fearful from the chaos-drunk.”

Jack cracked his eyes open. “I almost died because of those people. I’m all for compassion, but reciprocity and justice still count.”

“All right, let’s not start another argument,” Allison interjected, raising her hand.

Ronan’s gaze dropped. “I’d still like to try talking to some of them. If you let me… maybe I can make them understand what’s at stake.”

Luke listened in silence, disbelief hardening in his chest. He knew the ticking clock of the Midnight War event and its cascade effect. Every soldier killed left a family behind. That family might bolster the final mission or, by some twist of fate, become the new Renegades. Bartholomew was playing chess, every loss on their side feeding his. Cruel, but effective.

A rustle in the undergrowth cut off his thoughts. Weapons came up by reflex.

“It’s me,” Mason’s voice called, emerging from the foliage with both hands raised.

A second figure stepped out behind him, Quinn.

“So you actually made it back alive from the expedition,” Quinn said, his expression caught between relief and surprise. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“We’ll do it on the move. Best to get to a cave,” Allison answered.

The group began shifting toward their makeshift shelter, but the tension clung to them like a shadow. Every step felt measured, every glance across the circle loaded with questions no one wanted to voice.

***

While the others moved ahead, Luke drifted a few steps behind. Their footsteps grew faint as he slowed, lost in his own head. Up front, Quinn was talking with Mason, but Luke didn’t bother tuning in. He’d get the condensed version later anyway. His gaze stayed fixed on the carpet of dead leaves. He drew a long, steady breath, trying to impose order on the chaos in his mind.

Every step forward here feels like taking two back.

From the beginning, they’d anticipated Bartholomew’s betrayal. Everything they’d done had been about buying time, but now the net was tightening. Luke thought about the final event, the ticking deadline, the enemies still waiting, and everything he’d left behind.

I just need to finish this and then… the road home will open.

He repeated it like a mantra. Every second in this world was a second further from his family. Strange how, after all these months, the ache felt sharper now. Their presence was so vivid in his mind he could almost feel them near. Kruger’s words still echoed, cutting deeper than he liked, the idea that someone from his own family might follow him in, get pulled into the system, become part of some other tutorial. He’d never let himself think of that before. If one of them entered and died, he’d never forgive himself. He wasn’t going to let that cycle repeat.

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I have to get back to Earth.

The deadline loomed closer. In a few short months it would be a full year since his integration, and then the next wave of recruits would begin. After that came the endless grind, everyone pushing to max level, training, building hundreds of wooden boats. Months still trapped in this cursed tutorial.

He started walking again, the pendant swinging against his chest.

“Any chance you’ll help me out, Franky?” he murmured.

Inside the pocket dimension, the Familiar Rune glowed; the image of the serpent appeared on the stone and then faded. Franky didn’t seem to want to talk much lately. Luke exhaled slowly. Any help for the final battle would be welcome, but he knew better than to count on a miracle savior. Strength had to come from him alone. He straightened his shoulders, let his expression harden, and lengthened his stride until he rejoined the group.

***

The cave was narrow and low-ceilinged. Crystals and veins of ore glimmered along the walls like faint embers, casting blue reflections over armor and exhausted faces. This was one of the evacuation points mapped out long ago in case the fortress ever fell. In the end, only Quinn had managed to escape.

Seated in a rough semicircle, the group listened as he laid out the disaster. His voice came out hoarse and weighted, every word dragged down by tension.

“It was out of nowhere,” he said. “We were attacked from inside the fortress. The rule’s always been to keep soldiers and camps outside the walls, we followed that. But we couldn’t protect ourselves from shadow-wielding assassins. That’s why we kept the interior so well lit, constant patrols, no blind spots. Even so, it didn’t matter.”

Luke folded his arms, absorbing every detail. The strike had been surgical.

“It was Jonathan,” Quinn went on. “No idea how he got in. When the attack started, he was already inside. He used some weird power, people turned pale, weak, dropped like flies. I managed to escape, but before he came for me he said it was all Luke’s fault.”

Every eye shifted toward him. Ronan’s brow furrowed; clearly he didn’t know the full story. Luke said nothing. The tactic fit perfectly, cripple the leaders so the defenses collapsed. Jonathan had waited for the strongest to gather before making his move.

“Why didn’t you regroup and take it back?” Luke asked at last.

“Hostages,” Quinn said through clenched teeth. “They took people close to us, even some with influence. And the Bastion bastards fed them intel, helped make it happen.”

His voice trembled with rage as he stared at Ronan.

“Not all of them,” Ronan said carefully.

“But it was your people who set this up!” Quinn snapped back.

“Enough,” Allison cut in, raising a hand. “Keep going.”

Quinn exhaled sharply. “Right before the attack, every Bastion soldier left our Safe Zone at the same time. I thought it was weird, but better to have them gone than to go poking around. Not long after, the attack began. Now the fortress is under curfew. Civilians are locked inside as hostages. Anyone who tries anything risks their lives.”

Luke took it in quietly. Those civilians had no way to fight or escape. They weren’t just trapped; they were bargaining chips.

“Bartholomew’s Safe Zone is on full alert,” Quinn finished. “I didn’t risk going there. Anyone who stayed behind has to report every movement. If they even suspect betrayal, the hostages die.”

The cave seemed to shrink around them at that revelation. The group now understood they were on their own.

“We’re going to have to plan an attack to take the fortress back,” Allison said.

Jack looked up. “Just us? We’re barely ten people.”

Several pairs of eyes shifted to Mason and Ronan.

“Is it even possible?” Evangeline asked.

Mason drew a slow breath. “We’re strong. But you know the problem.”

“The hostages,” Allison finished for him.

“If we make a move, you need to understand some of them will die,” Mason said flatly.

Ronan stayed quiet, the weight of his own choices heavy on his shoulders. Evangeline’s stare was ice. “You wouldn’t kill your soldiers before, but now you might actually end up killing real innocents.”

“I know.” His voice came low, almost hollow.

“Then work with us,” she pressed. “Give us an alternative. You defended Bastion for years against Renegade incursions. Help us plan an assault that takes back the second fortress without getting the hostages killed.”

They spread a map across the makeshift table. Allison’s fingers traced the inked lines of walls and paths.

“The only option is a distraction,” she said. “While we draw their focus, someone gets to the hostages fast enough to shield them.”

“And what makes you think they’re all in one place?” Mason countered. “Accept it now, someone is going to die. You can’t save everyone.”

That truth sat over the group like a slab of stone. No one spoke.

Then a voice cut through.

“I’ll do it,” Luke said.

Heads turned toward him.

“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked.

“I’ll go in, kill every enemy, and pull the hostages out.”

The silence that followed felt almost physical.

“There are about seventy of them,” Quinn said, disbelief creeping in. “You’re going to take the fortress by yourself?”

Luke drew a kukri from its sheath and set it down on the map. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He rose, decision already made. Conversation time was over.

“Where are you going?” Evangeline called after him.

“I didn’t tell you?” He glanced back once. “I’m going to take back my damn fortress.”

As he walked out of the cave, the new item pulsed at the edge of his mind, a gift from the God of Assassination himself.

***

Outside the cave, the air had turned colder. Towering trees swallowed most of the moonlight, carving long pillars of shadow across the forest floor. Luke walked without looking back, the weight of every decision pressing into his shoulders. The muffled sound of the group’s arguments still drifted from the cavern behind him, but he no longer cared.

As he moved, he opened his system inventory and looked at his new item, the gift from the God of Assassination. Lines of text floated before his eyes as if the world itself had become an ancient book unrolling its secrets.

[Acolyte Assassin’s Garb (Epic)

Description: Crafted by the most skilled artisans of the Assassin Order and finished by the hands of Lakarion himself, the God of Assassination, this garb is a rare and special gift, granted only to those in whom the god sees true potential.

It is more than clothing; it is a symbol of recognition, a mark that you have been chosen to walk a path beyond ordinary shadow. A step toward the true art of assassination.

“My invitation still stands, Luke, ever since I gave you the mission to kill the Orc Lord. My hand remains extended. This item would have been your reward. Come to me, child… and I will make you what you were born to be. I will give you power.” – Lakarion.

Enchantments:

[Basic Shadow Camouflage (Rare)]: While the user remains still in low-light areas, the garb adapts to the surroundings, distorting their silhouette and dimming their presence.

[Crowd Shadow (Ultra-Rare)]: When near a crowd, the garb can alter its pattern and texture to create the illusion of different clothing, allowing the wearer to blend seamlessly with others and disappear even under watchful eyes.

[Iron Shadow Fabric (Ultra-Rare)]: Though extremely lightweight, this enchanted fabric offers protection comparable to iron armor. It preserves full mobility and flexibility without sacrificing defense. The name “Iron Shadow” reflects its nature: it is not solid iron but magically reinforced fabric that shields silently like an invisible iron shadow, blending strength and stealth in perfect harmony.

[Shadow of Ignorance (Epic)]: As long as the assassin is not directly seen, their presence remains hidden from perception fields or magical detection. While not absolute against beings of great power or extreme sensitivity, it is a powerful tool for silent assassinations and deadly infiltrations.

Requirement: Soulbound.]

This wasn’t just gear. It was a declaration. A promise of power. The line between soldier and assassin, drawn in cold silver. He dismissed the status window, resolve solidifying inside him. No more wasted seconds. Seventy enemies or seven hundred, he would cut through them all if he had to. For the first time, the truth was clear: this mission wasn’t meant for a soldier or a hero. It was meant for an assassin.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep