Chapter 88: Two Strike to Break the Silver Crest Guild.

Whoosh!

From the rooftop, two Level 12 Archers pulled their bowstrings to the absolute limit, muscles trembling under the strain.

Veins bulged along their forearms as mana surged through into their bows.

Their eyes were locked onto a single target.

The arrows vibrated violently as condensed mana gathered at their tips, warping the air around them.

“Neck-Sever Shot.” One of them muttered under his breath as he released.

The bowstring snapped back with a muted twang.

Without hesitation, his partner followed.

“Armor Gap Aim.”

The two arrows streaked forward, perfectly synchronized, merging into a single deadly trajectory like silent executioners released from the shadows.

They cut through the air without a sound, slicing through the wind like a hot blade through butter.

On the ground below, Thoren stood unmoving.

His expression remained indifferent, almost bored as the Silver Crest Guild scrambled into formation, shields locking together, mages chanting hastily, and archers repositioning behind cover.

Then…

His senses spiked.

A sudden, instinctive warning screamed through his mind.

Without a word, without even a flicker of surprise, Thoren raised his hand.

Black mist erupted from before him.

In an instant, a Level 11 Undead Mistveil Mini-Boss materialized before him, its towering frame wreathed in deathly fog.

Its massive body shifted forward, blocking Thoren from view entirely.

At the same time, a Level 10 Skeleton Warden stepped into place, shield raised, stance firm, its hollow eye sockets glowing faintly with necromantic light.

Everything happened within a heartbeat.

Those watching from afar could only stare in disbelief.

They had expected a ground battle.

They had expected bloodshed and chaos.

But this..

Bang!

The first arrow slammed into the Undead Mistveil Mini-Boss’s chest with explosive force, releasing a violent shockwave.

The massive undead skidded backward several feet, its clawed feet carving deep gouges into the hard ground.

Yet it did not fall.

The second arrow slipped through the narrow opening created by the first impact, its trajectory impossibly precise.

In the blink of an eye, it reached the Skeleton Warden.

Bang!

The arrow struck the shield head-on.

The Skeleton Warden staggered back a single step, its arm trembling under the impact—but the shield held.

No cracks.

No damage.

Nothing.

The entire exchange was over before most people even registered what had happened.

But Thoren did not wait.

He was never one to be passive.

Two of the hooded figures standing behind him broke formation instantly, their bodies blurring as they sprinted toward the direction of the attack.

Their movements were swift, fluid, and unnervingly efficient.

They leapt onto the walls and scaled the buildings with inhuman speed, fingers digging into woods like claws, ascending as effortlessly as monkeys climbing trees.

Realization dawned upon the onlookers.

“They were aiming from the rooftops!”

“W-What a deadly sneak attack!”

“I didn’t even see it coming!”

“That was too close…”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

No one had expected the Silver Crest Guild to pull such a concealed maneuver.

Many had believed the Guildmaster’s earlier righteous words stemmed from surrender.

Now, they realized how naïve that assumption had been.

“I hate guilds.” Seris muttered, her jaw clenched tightly.

“As expected.” Idonea sneered coldly.

Such a sneak attack might have succeeded against an ordinary Necromancer.

But against the Grim Reaper?

It had been doomed from the start.

From the corner of the square, Rowena watched with her heart pounding violently in her chest.

The scene before her overlapped with memories she wished she could forget.

She remembered the screams.

The despair.

The way her entire party had been slaughtered without mercy by his undead servants.

They had tried everything.

They had fought.

They had fled.

They had begged.

All of it had been meaningless.

Seeing others attempt a long-range assassination did not surprise her in the slightest.

And the result.

It was exactly as she had expected.

As the rooftop ambush failed, the Silver Crest Guildmaster and Vice Guildmaster exchanged a grim glance.

No words were spoken.

They didn’t need to be.

“Attack!” they shouted in unison.

The order exploded through the guild ranks.

They charged.

The Vice Guildmaster moved first, nocking arrow after arrow in rapid succession.

Mana flared around her bow as she released a devastating volley.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Arrows rained down upon the advancing hooded figures.

They struck.

They landed.

Yet the hooded figures did not slow.

They marched forward relentlessly, arrows bouncing off their hidden armor or embedding harmlessly into their robes, as though her attacks carried no weight at all.

Beside her, the Guildmaster surged forward, roaring as he brandished his broad sword.

His aura flared violently as he closed the distance, eyes locked onto the two leading hooded figures.

Whoosh!

From beneath their robes, the hooded figures drew their weapons.

The moment the blades were revealed, a chill swept through the battlefield.

Their edges gleamed unnaturally, coated in a dull, deathly sheen.

Breaths hitched across the square.

Bang!

One blade descended like a falling guillotine.

When steel met steel, the impact sent a violent tremor coursing through the Guildmaster’s body.

His arms went numb instantly.

His broadsword nearly slipped from his grasp.

Shock and terror flooded his face.

He was a Level 15 Warrior, yet he couldn’t withstand even a single strike from one of the Grim Reaper’s undead servants.

Before he could steady himself, the second strike came.

Too fast.

His heart skipped a beat as he barely raised his weapon in defense.

“Momentum Break Slash!”

It was his hidden skill.

The one that had saved him countless times before.

The one he had trusted with his life.

Bang!

“AAAAAAHHH!”

The impact sent his broadsword flying from his hands.

His body was hurled backward, slamming into the ground as blood sprayed from torn flesh.

Two strikes.

That was all it took.

The once-proud Guildmaster of the Silver Crest Guild lay broken and bleeding.

But the battle was far from over.

Panicked mages unleashed fire spells in desperation, flames crashing into the hooded figure to stop it from delivering the finishing blow.

Its robes burned.

Yet it did not stop.

Blades of compressed wind tore through the air but were cleaved apart effortlessly by its sword.

Fear took root in their heart.

Panic spread like wildfire.

Only the long-range fighters continued their futile resistance.

The rest were locked in brutal combat with the remaining six hooded figures, screams and blood staining the battlefield.

The Vice Guildmaster darted through the chaos, releasing arrows with deadly precision.

Yet no matter how many shots she fired, the hooded figures pressed forward relentlessly.

As she landed at the edge of the battlefield and raised her bow once more.

Suddenly, every hair on her body stood on end.

A primal instinct screamed within her.

Danger!

Before she could react, two Level 12 Assassin Skeletons appeared beside her.

No sound.

No warning.

Only death.

Their weapons flashed.

Whoosh!

One strike aimed for her throat. The other for her knees.

She tried to dodge.

She tried to scream.

But her body was too slow.

“AAAAAAAH—!”

Her scream was cut short.

Her knees were severed instantly.

Blood erupted violently as she crashed to the ground.

Thud!

Her left hand clawed desperately at her throat, trying to stop the torrent of blood pouring from her body.

Her eyes widened.

Then dulled.

She fell still.

Lifeless.

As the Vice Guildmaster’s corpse hit the ground, terror gripped the remaining guild members like a vice.

Their last hope had fallen.

And their Guildmaster, his fate was no longer in question as the hooded figure stood before him.

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