Everything happened too fast. By the time Luke registered what was happening, Angelica was already on the ground, a dagger pressed to her throat. Kruger’s skull mask glinted in the firelight: cold, inhuman, unreadable.

“Give me the name of the traitor, or she dies!” the Phantom Assassin roared.

Jonathan was the first to react. He stepped forward, sword in hand, eyes locked on Kruger. Behind him, members of the Haven unsheathed their weapons: swords, spears, bows. A makeshift army, but one ready to fight. Bastion’s soldiers mirrored them, blades drawn. Both factions now stood one step from turning the camp into a battlefield.

“You think I’m scared of you bastards? It’ll take a hell of a lot more to hurt me,” Kruger spat with contempt.

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Angelica shouted, voice firm despite the blade at her neck.

Jonathan kept moving, energy pulsing through his sword.

Kruger turned toward him, laughing. “What’s your play, big guy? Think you can reach me before I slice her throat?”

“Jonathan, what are you doing?! Put that sword away!” Angelica barked.

“I’m not backing down,” he said, unshaken.

“You’re just making things worse!”

The tension cracked like lightning in the air. One wrong move, and the entire place would erupt into bloodshed.

“Give me the damn traitor, or I kill her right now!” Kruger snarled, scanning the crowd with burning eyes.

“She means everything to me. I won’t let you touch her.” Jonathan’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Even Angelica was stunned. Her silence spoke volumes. Kruger paused, visibly taken aback.

“There’s no traitor here! Are you insane?” Angelica snapped, seizing the moment. “Why the hell would we side with the Renegades when we’ve allied with Bartholomew? For what? A few crates of food? Water? Shelter? We’ve got plenty. Or didn’t you notice the giant dinosaur corpse right next to you?”

Still on the ground, she didn’t flinch for a second.

Kruger slowly pulled back the blade.

“There’s truth in your eyes,” he muttered. He sheathed the dagger in one swift motion.

“Lower the sword, Jonathan,” Angelica ordered.

“No. This bastard’s a liar. He could pull that blade out again any second,” Jonathan replied, his sword still humming with power.

Kruger ignored him.

“We’re pissed,” he said, pacing now, voice tight. “Something’s been happening these last few months. Our Reward Event chests… are being stolen.”

Murmurs spread through the camp.

“At first, it was slow. One chest here, another there. Then two a month. Then two a week. But lately…”

He stopped, taking a deep breath, eyes sweeping over the crowd.

“Now they’re emptying out all our chests.”

Silence fell. Only the crackling fire dared to speak.

“They show up at dawn, and by morning, someone would come collect what was inside. The chests stayed out, exposed all night. Because, obviously… who’d be dumb enough to mess with King Bartholomew’s property?”

The laugh Kruger let out was sharp. Bitter.

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to poke the king and expect to walk away.”

He kept walking. Each step heavier than the last.

“Now we need to organize night watches,” Kruger barked, pacing like a caged beast. “And even with guards, our teams are being attacked. By a goddamn thief. A bastard bold enough to challenge our authority.”

He stopped in front of the central bonfire. The flames danced in his skull-shaped mask, casting twisted shadows over his face.

“We own the Safe Zone. This is our territory. No one steals from us and walks away unscathed.”

His eyes turned back to Angelica, cold and merciless.

“The thief will pay with their life.”

“And why suspect us?” Angelica retorted, her voice steady. “We haven’t done anything.”

Kruger let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Why? Because you’re inside our fucking Safe Zone.”

He began pacing again, eyes glowing behind the mask.

“We have records on everyone living near Bastion. Even those who don’t pay tribute. We know their names, levels, faces. We’ve got sketches of their damn mugs. And you know what? None of them step out after dark. They follow our rules.”

He stopped in front of Angelica, raising an accusing finger.

“But you people? You do whatever the hell you want. You hunt. Wander in groups. Return late. You act like you own the damn world. No reports. No accountability. Worst part? You’re all mixed in here, and we’ve got no idea who’s who.”

He took a step closer, voice deep and rough.

“How the hell are my men supposed to tell a Renegade from one of your people running through the night?”

“That’s not enough!” Angelica shot back. “Your problems are yours. We live here as neutrals.”

Kruger laughed again, dry and cruel. “You have a point. As much as I’d love to come in here and clean up this shithole, good ol’ King Bartholomew held me back. Merciful, isn’t he?”

He pulled out a dagger, pointing it at the ground, fury building in his voice.

“But during that goddamn invasion… we were sabotaged.”

His tone dropped, simmering.

“The wooden walls we built at the edge of Bastion’s border were destroyed. Fireballs rained down in the middle of the chaos. And guess what? They knew everything. Our guard posts. Our towers. It wasn’t random. It was planned. It was a trap.”

He flipped the dagger in his hand, the blade catching the light.

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“I caught one of them. One of those bastards trying to run.”

The entire Haven fell silent. All eyes were on Kruger now.

“I made him talk. Asked how they knew so much. How they hit our blind spots. How they mapped our routines. You know what he told me?”

Kruger leaned in, standing toe-to-toe with Angelica.

“He said it was a joint operation. With someone from the Haven.”

The air turned electric. Archers shifted silently. Blades trembled in clenched fists. Jonathan’s jaw tightened.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Kruger whispered.

And then he vanished.

He reappeared behind Angelica in a blur of black. The dagger was once again at her throat.

“The situation is simple,” he said, voice low and ice-cold. “I’m out of goddamn patience. One minute. Give me the traitor. Or I take her head and leave it to rot in the sun.”

Jonathan didn’t wait. Fury lit his eyes as he lunged forward, blade raised.

“I told you this bastard was a liar!”

But when his sword sliced through the air, Kruger was gone again.

Jonathan rolled, taking a hit from behind. He scrambled to his feet, spinning with his blade—only to find emptiness.

The Haven’s archers fanned out, bows drawn in every direction. Breaths were held. Tension reached its breaking point.

Kruger reemerged from the shadows, eyes glowing like embers.

“IF YOU DON’T DROP YOUR WEAPONS, SHE DIES!” he roared, his voice cleaving the night like a blade.

But no one lowered their weapons.

Not a single hand moved. Every eye remained locked on Angelica.

They were protecting their leader.

“Then her blood is on your hands!” Kruger snarled.

He vanished in a blur, reappearing behind Angelica, blade poised for the kill. But then, a sharp metallic ring echoed through the firelight. Another blur streaked between them.

Luke landed like a thunderclap, kukri in hand, intercepting Kruger’s dagger mere inches from Angelica’s throat.

Everything stopped. No one moved. Not a breath.

The flames danced, but their warmth didn’t reach the two figures locked in silence. The world shrank to a razor-thin line drawn between assassin and assassin.

Luke held his blade steady. Kruger didn’t blink.

Two killers. Frozen in time. Calculating angles, breath, and blood. Because both knew: one mistake, and death would follow faster than thought.

Then a new presence sliced into the air like a blade drawn too fast.

“How boring…” A soft, feminine whisper brushed Luke’s ear.

He tried to move, but nothing happened. His body refused to obey. Arms. Legs. Frozen. Locked in place.

What the—?!

Almost invisible, thin threads shimmered into view. They wrapped around his limbs like a marionette’s strings. Taut. Silent. Complete.

I didn’t even notice…

“L-Lady Erza Grimhart?” Kruger’s voice cracked for the first time. Half awe, half fear.

A woman strolled through the crowd with deliberate grace, her scarlet dress flowing like blood through silk. Something about her was… off. Her skin looked like porcelain. Like a doll.

An assassin?

A suffocating pressure followed her like a veil of static. Beautiful. Composed. And utterly lethal.

“Kruger…” she said, casually spinning a massive needle between her fingers. “The order was to deliver a message. Not spark an international incident.”

She took another step. The threads binding Luke shifted in response, tightening with a subtle twitch of her hand.

“You’re free to move,” she said sweetly. “But if you take one more step, it will be your last.”

With a motion so precise it felt unreal, she flicked her hand. The threads snapped back into her palm with a faint, whistling sigh. Vanishing completely. Luke gasped as control returned to his body. He was free, but not safe.

Then Erza’s gaze shifted. Her eyes locked onto someone in the crowd.

“Allison,” she said, smiling like a serpent. “Fancy seeing you here. How’s your mentor these days?”

Allison didn’t respond. Her face drained of color. Without a word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, vanishing like smoke.

Erza watched her go, pressing the needle lightly against her lips in a mock-innocent gesture. “I see. Oops… Almost let something slip. Naughty me. Some topics are still… forbidden.”

She let out a soft, private giggle. As if she’d just whispered a joke to a corpse.

“My first and only warning,” she said, her voice now an executioner’s verdict. “Lower your weapons. Or you’ll be the first to fall.”

Her strings floated lazily in the air, eager to bind someone else. Bartholomew’s soldiers dropped their weapons without a second thought. One by one. And the people of the Haven followed suit soon after. Slowly. Warily. Eyes darting in silent fear.

“Lady Erza, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Angelica asked, doing her best to keep her composure.

“No particular reason,” Erza said with a slight tilt of her head. “I just came to observe how Kruger would carry out his orders.”

Her gaze snapped toward Kruger like a blade unsheathed.

“Do what you came to do. But don’t make this mess any worse. Understood?”

“Yes, Lady Grimhart,” Kruger replied immediately. His posture snapped straight like a trained dog.

And then, Erza began to fracture.

Cracks spread across her body. Thin, delicate lines, like shattered porcelain. In seconds, her entire form began to crumble. There was no blood. No bone. No flesh underneath. Just emptiness.

Hollow.

Her form disintegrated piece by piece, vanishing into dust before it ever touched the ground.

Kruger clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“There will be a curfew!” he shouted, his voice echoing like a threat through the camp. “If any of you are seen wandering around at night… you will be executed. No exceptions.”

He turned his glare on Angelica, hatred simmering behind his mask.

“And if we find out you’re aiding the Renegades… this place will burn. And it won’t be quick.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the shadows. His soldiers followed without a word. The oppressive weight in the air finally began to lift, dispersing like smoke after a fire.

Luke stood frozen, heart still thundering in his chest.

What the hell just happened? That woman. Erza. She was powerful. Too powerful. Both Kruger and Angelica had treated her with something that bordered on reverence. Or fear. And she knew Allison.

Erza Grimhart… who are you?

As the camp slowly returned to life, people gathered around Angelica. She took a breath, regaining her role as a leader.

“They came to flex their strength. Let’s not give them any reason to come back. We stay together. We stay alert.”

Luke stayed on edge, muscles still tight, even as Kruger’s shadow finally slipped away.

Jonathan approached slowly, his gaze steady but worn.

“You saved Angelica’s life,” he said quietly, voice low and honest.

Luke shook his head. “I was just faster. You would’ve done the same.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both watching Angelica as she gathered herself, still surrounded by worried onlookers, but holding her ground.

Jonathan exhaled, like the weight of everything was finally catching up.

“I didn’t plan any of that. The words just came out.”

Luke met his eyes. “Sometimes that’s when they matter most.”

Jonathan gave a slow nod. “Maybe. Still feels like everyone’s looking at me like I just proposed or something.”

Luke allowed a faint, tired smirk. “You just made it clear what matters to you.”

“And you stepped in when it counted. I mean it, thanks.”

Luke gave a simple nod in return. No more words were needed.

The tension finally started to ease in the camp, but Luke stayed fully alert. Still, he kept his nervousness well hidden. Just thinking about Erza’s smile brought that suffocating pressure rushing back.

I need answers.

“But seriously. Thanks,” Jonathan said, patting Luke’s shoulder before heading off.

Luke turned to look for Allison. She wasn’t among the crowd. But back at the tent—there she was. Sitting in silence. Eyes fixed on something only she could see. He stepped in quietly and sat across from her, waiting. Eventually, he spoke.

“Can you tell me who that woman was?” he asked. “She looked like she knew you.”

Allison didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed distant. Then her lips moved.

“Her family serves a god. His name is Lakarion.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “The God of Assassination.”

A sharp silence fell between them. Cold and cutting.

“That,” she said, her voice layered with something deeper than hatred, “is the god I intend to kill.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep