Chapter 96: The End of the Slave Trade Guild Part -1

Inside a secret basement, Gilbert and his trusted aides rushed forward through the narrow passage, their hurried footsteps echoing faintly against the damp stone walls.

Panic and fear were etched deeply into their faces, carved there by sweat and desperation.

Every few steps, one of them would glance over his shoulder, eyes wide, as though expecting death itself to burst from the darkness behind them.

Despite the countless preparations he had made, despite the traps laid, and the precautions taken, the foreboding sensation in Gilbert’s chest grew heavier with each passing second.

It was as if an invisible hand were slowly tightening around his heart, squeezing out every trace of confidence he had once possessed.

“How long do you think we have?” Gilbert asked, his voice sharp and tense as he glanced at one of the men running beside him.

For a brief moment, no one answered.

Each of them was too busy worrying about their own survival, too consumed by fear to think clearly.

Their breaths came out ragged and uneven, the sound of it filling the narrow tunnel like the wheezing of wounded beasts.

At last, one of them forced himself to respond.

“I… I don’t know,” the man said, his voice trembling, thick with uncertainty. “As long as the Grim Reaper hasn’t discovered our escape route, we should be safe.”

Listening to him, Gilbert felt a faint sense of relief, fleeting and fragile.

He scoffed quietly, though the sound lacked its usual arrogance. “Do you really think many people know about this secret tunnel?”

“Only a handful,” the man replied quickly. “Most of them are dead. The rest… are us.”

The others nodded, a bit of color returning to their pale faces.

But despite the reassurance, their pace did not slow.

If anything, they moved even faster.

None of them truly believed they were safe.

Although they desperately wanted to believe that no one knew of this hidden tunnel, none of them were willing to gamble their lives on it.

They needed to leave the town.

They needed to escape far beyond the reach of the Grim Reaper’s claws.

The tunnel itself was crudely dug, uneven and narrow, as though carved out in haste.

Moisture clung to the stone walls, and thick cobwebs hung in neglected corners. The air was stale and suffocating, pressing down on their lungs with every breath.

A single flickering flame, cast by a hastily carried torch served as their only source of light.

Its weak glow danced along the walls like mocking shadows.

Yet even that small light did nothing to calm them.

Cold seeped beneath their skin while sweat poured down their backs, soaking their clothes.

Their bodies trembled uncontrollably, caught between fear and exhaustion.

Every breath felt labored, every step heavier than the last.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion echoed from behind them.

The tunnel shook violently, dust raining down from above as chunks of stone cracked loose. The shockwave rippled through the passage, nearly knocking them off their feet.

Gilbert and his men froze mid-step, their muscles stiffening in unison.

“How… how is that possible?” one of them whispered, his voice quivering.

No one answered.

Fear clamped down on their hearts like a vise.

They had believed their escape tunnel would grant them a chance. A slim one.

Now that hope was shattered into countless pieces.

What should have remained a secret… was no secret at all.

Their enemies had already discovered their escape route.

“Run!” Gilbert screamed, his voice breaking as he surged ahead, taking the lead deeper into the tunnel.

He didn’t need to repeat himself.

The men immediately pushed themselves harder, legs pumping as they ran with everything they had left.

The sound of frantic footsteps filled the passage, layered atop their panicked breathing.

Behind them, heavy footsteps thundered closer.

Each step was deliberate.

Intimidating.

Relentless.

The atmosphere grew heavier with every second, the tension thickening until it felt almost tangible, like a suffocating fog.

“Ahhhhh!”

A scream tore through the tunnel.

“What…you…!”

The voice was abruptly cut off.

One of the men collapsed to the ground, his face twisted in shock and unwillingness as his hands clawed desperately at his throat.

In his final moments, disbelief filled his eyes.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would be killed by a fellow guild member, stabbed in the back to buy a few more seconds for others.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

Gilbert didn’t look back.

He didn’t care what the others did or who they sacrificed.

His only thought was to escape.

He was merely a Level 13 Hunter, someone who thrived in shadows, striking his enemies with traps and cunning.

But the thing chasing him now was beyond that.

No trap could stop it.

No scheme could slow it down.

Thud.

Thud.

The heavy footsteps drew nearer.

“Boss… they’re getting closer…” one of the remaining men said, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

“Then stay behind and hold them back,” Gilbert replied coldly.

Without hesitation, he spun around and kicked the young man squarely in the chest.

“Ahhh!”

The man was sent stumbling backward, blood spraying from his lips as he crashed against the tunnel wall. The others didn’t spare him a glance as they continued running, fear driving them mercilessly forward.

They could feel it.

The end of the tunnel was close.

Each of them pushed their bodies beyond their limits, lungs burning, muscles screaming. As long as they made it outside, they planned to scatter in different directions.

This would buy them precious time to hide.

The young man who had been kicked lay gasping on the ground.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette appeared before him.

It stared down at him for a brief moment silent before stepping over his broken body and continuing the chase.

The young man thought he had been spared.

But he was wrong.

Another silhouette rushed past him, its presence colder, heavier.

Then he heard a calm, chilling voice.

“Lead the way.”

The boy nodded frantically, swallowing hard.

He did not dare disobey.

Ahead, Gilbert finally saw it, the faint glow of light in the distance.

Hope surged through him.

Energy returned to his legs.

’I need to leave the town,’ he thought wildly. ’I need to reach the uncharted territories.’

’As long as I make it there… humph! Grim Reaper or not, he’ll be nothing.’

Pride bloomed in his chest.

Too much pride.

With hope within arm’s reach, he began to underestimate the enemy behind him.

“Ahhhhh!”

“T-They’re here…!”

A scream echoed through the tunnel, raw and filled with unbearable pain.

It came only once.

Then it vanished.

But that was more than enough to send icy shivers through Gilbert and the three remaining men.

“Holy crap!” Gilbert cursed.

Any confidence he had evaporated instantly.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw it.

The terror was closing in.

“Stop it! Stop it immediately!” he shouted, hoping his men would delay the undead servant and buy him even a single second.

To his shock, no one obeyed.

They ran harder instead.

“W-What? Do you know what you’re—”

“Shut up!” one of them snapped without slowing down.

Gilbert shuddered.

This was the first time anyone had ever spoken to him like that.

But currently, it was the least of his concerns.

The undead was less than five meters away.

“Oh… oh…”

His muscles stiffened, goosebumps exploding across his skin.

’Why couldn’t I have eight legs?!’ he screamed internally, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

In a blink, the undead servant closed the distance.

Its fist rose.

The air twisted violently, releasing a sharp whistling sound.

Bang!

Gilbert was sent flying forward, crashing into the three men ahead of him.

“Ahhh!”

A guttural scream burst from his throat as his armor caved inward, bones shattering beneath the impact. He slammed into the ground, writhing in agony.

“Get off me! Get off me!” he screamed.

The three men scrambled away, shoving Gilbert aside with trembling hands, their eyes locked onto the approaching figure.

’We’re doomed,’ one of them thought.

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