In the Void, silence was usually a comfort. Today, it was a weight.

Red floated on his back—or the spectral approximation of it—with his arm thrown over his eyes. The obsidian slab buzzed softly, a constant, low-frequency drone that felt like it was drilling into his temples.

He felt drained. Not physically—he didn’t have muscles to ache—but mentally hollowed out. It was the specific, gritty exhaustion of a gamer who had pulled a 48-hour raid session without sleep. His thoughts were sluggish. The UI seemed too bright, the text too sharp.

“Status,” Red mumbled, not opening his eyes.

[ SYSTEM STATUS: STABLE ]

[ USER CONDITION: MENTAL FATIGUE (MODERATE) ]

→ Recommendation: Sleep Mode.

“Gods sleep?” Red scoffed weakly. “That sounds like a vulnerability.”

He tried to drift off, to let the darkness take him.

CRASH.

A noise from the speakers jolted him. Red groaned, cracking one eye open. He pinched the screen, zooming in on Bastion.

It was a domestic dispute in the Plaza. A Mangrove Treant had shaken its branches, dropping a pile of wet moss onto a sleeping Shell-Kin. The Tortoise was now ramming the Treant’s shin repeatedly in slow-motion rage.

“Idiots,” Red muttered. “Figure it out.”

He watched Krug step in, shouting the Third Tenet (“The Tribe is the Body”) until the Tortoise stopped.

Red sighed, ready to close the map and truly rest. He zoomed out, the camera panning up and away from the city walls.

That’s when he saw the glitch.

It wasn’t a notification. It was a ripple in the darkness outside the Southern Wall. A shadow that was darker than the night around it.

Red rubbed his spectral eyes. “Am I hallucinating?”

He zoomed in. [ THERMAL SCAN ].

There, clinging to the trunk of a perimeter Cypress tree, was a heat signature. It was small, compact, and moving with impossible fluidity. It wore goggles that masked its face, but the thermal outline showed jagged, filing teeth.

[ INTRUDER DETECTED ]

[ IDENTITY: VEX (THE NIGHT-CARVER) ]

[ AFFILIATION: OBSIDIAN-CLAW TROGLODYTES ]

[ STATS: AGILITY (S), STEALTH (S) ]

Red’s fatigue evaporated instantly.

“A spy,” Red whispered.

His finger hovered over the [ SMITE ] button. He could vaporize the little rat right now. He had 1,000% charge loaded.

But he hesitated.

He looked at the Bastion. He looked at the patrol of Grey-Fin guards walking the wall. He looked at Krug cleaning his axe in the Temple.

“If I kill him,” Red reasoned, “they learn nothing. They need to know they are being watched.”

Red pulled his hand back. “Let’s see how good your security is, Krug.”

The walls of Bastion were impressive—living stone held by Treant roots. But Vex had climbed the glass stalactites of the Under-Dark. A tree was nothing.

He adjusted his quartz goggles. The thermal view showed the heat signatures of the Treant sentries. They were massive, but their sensory range was poor.

Vex didn’t climb over the wall. He waited for a Treant to shift its weight, creating a momentary gap between two roots.

Zip.

He was inside.

He landed in a crouch behind a stack of iron crates in the Kobold District.

“Too easy,” Vex thought, his lip curling in contempt. “They rely on the trees to see for them.”

He moved deeper. He counted the huts (Population estimate: 300). He counted the spears (Military estimate: 150). He inspected the Smeltery (Tech level: Iron Age, decent quality).

But his goal was the Source.

The Warlord said the God killed a Hydra. Vex didn’t believe in God’s powers. He believed in artifacts. There had to be a machine, a crystal, or a wizard controlling this place.

He looked at the center of the city. The Temple.

It radiated heat. Not just fire heat—Faith heat. To Vex’s sensitive goggles, the Temple was glowing like a miniature sun.

“Found you,” Vex whispered.

He drew his twin obsidian daggers. They were glass-edged, sharper than steel, coated in a paralytic venom harvested from cave spiders.

He slipped past a sleeping Kobold guard. He vaulted silently over the Temple gate. He stood before the open maw of the Hydra skull entrance.

He stepped inside.

The Temple was empty, save for the violet fire burning in the center.

Vex crept forward. He scanned the corners. Nothing. He scanned the ceiling. Nothing.

He looked at the altar. There was no machine. Just a stone slab with three symbols carved into it.

“Where is it?” Vex hissed. “Where is the weapon?”

He stepped closer to the fire.

CLACK.

Vex froze and spun around.

Standing in the shadow of the Hydra’s jaw, blocking the only exit, was Krug.

The High Priest wasn’t wearing his ceremonial robes. He was wearing heavy plate armor made of Hydra scales and iron. He held a massive battle-axe, the head resting on the floor.

Krug’s eyes weren’t looking at Vex. They were closed.

“The air tastes wrong,” Krug rumbled, his voice echoing in the chamber. “It tastes like… a rat.”

Vex analyzed the threat instantly.

Target: Large. Slow. Heavily armored. Exposed neck. Exposed armpits.

“You smell well for a lizard,” Vex whispered, dropping into a combat stance. “But can you see in the dark?”

Vex moved.

He didn’t run; he vanished. He was a

He didn’t run; he vanished. He was a blur of black leather and glass. He lunged for Krug’s throat, the obsidian dagger aimed perfectly to sever the jugular.

CLANG.

Vex’s eyes widened behind his goggles.

Krug hadn’t dodged. He had moved his axe handle with terrifying speed, blocking the strike inches from his neck.

“Fast,” Krug grunted.

Krug swung the axe—a horizontal cleave that would have cut a tree in half.

Vex backflipped over the blade, landing on the altar.

“Too slow, meat-sack!” Vex taunted.

He jumped off the altar, landing on Krug’s back. He stabbed downward, aiming for the gap between the helmet and the shoulder plate.

The dagger sank in.

CRUNCH.

It didn’t hit flesh. It hit the Hydra Scale underlayer. The obsidian blade shattered.

“What?!” Vex gasped.

Krug reached up, grabbing Vex by the leather strap of his armor. He ripped the assassin off his back and slammed him onto the stone floor.

THUD.

Vex scrambled back, gasping for air. His ribs were bruised. He drew his second dagger.

“You have good armor,” Vex spat. “But you are still just a savage.”

Vex threw a smoke bomb. A cloud of grey ash filled the room.

In the confusion, Vex circled. He activated his thermal goggles. He could see Krug’s heat signature perfectly.

He lunged for the exposed ankle, intending to hamstring the giant.

But as he moved through the smoke, Krug’s eyes opened. They were glowing.

[ ABILITY ACTIVATED: APOSTLE’S SIGHT ]

→ See the intent, not the form.

Krug didn’t need to see Vex. He felt the malice.

As Vex lunged, Krug stomped.

CRACK.

The heavy iron boot came down on Vex’s wrist, pinning it to the floor. The bones shattered instantly. Vex screamed, dropping the dagger.

Krug leaned down. He grabbed Vex by the throat with one hand, lifting the assassin into the air as if he weighed nothing.

Vex clawed at the iron gauntlet, his legs kicking. “Wait! I have information! I am… I am an emissary!”

Krug brought Vex’s face close to his own.

“You are not an emissary,” Krug growled. “You brought a knife to the House of God.”

Vex stared into the violet eyes. He saw no mercy there. He saw only the Red Spiral.

“Who sent you?” Krug asked.

“The elders…” Vex choked out. “The Warlord… they watches…”

“Good,” Krug said.

He tightened his grip.

SNAP.

Vex went limp. The Night-Carver, the ghost of the Onyx Hall, was dead.

Krug dropped the body. He looked up at the ceiling, as if looking through the stone to the Void above.

“Intruder purged,” Krug reported simply.

Red, watching from above, let out a slow breath.

“Brutal,” Red whispered. “Sloppy start, but a solid finish.”

Red checked the notifications.

[ ENEMY DEFEATED: VEX (ELITE ASSASSIN) ]

[ FAITH GENERATED: +500 (DEFENSE OF THE TEMPLE) ]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep