Chapter 77: Treason

“Han!” The Low-Silver general advanced, his own weapon raised.

“This is treason!”

Treason—the highest crime in the city, punishable by execution regardless of rank.

Han smiled, the expression devoid of warmth.

Han smiled, the expression devoid of warmth.

“Treason? Because I’m trying to get justice for my dead son?”

His silver aura flickered, emotions bleeding into energy. Pride, outrage, righteousness—a masterful performance for the watching soldiers. Not rebellion but retribution, the aggrieved father rather than the ambitious general.

The gathered troops shifted uncomfortably, sympathies swayed by this reframing.

Han’s blade rose for another strike, silver energy coalescing along its edge.

Then—

A voice.

Just three words, spoken with such quiet authority that they seemed to physically ripple through the air.

“Han, that’s enough.”

The voice settled over the battlements like winter frost, stealing the breath from every soldier present.

The voice didn’t sound angry or commanding.

Simply… inevitable.

Han froze mid-attack, muscles locking as if caught in amber. The color drained from his face, hand clutching into a fist at his side. For the first time, genuine emotion cracked through his controlled facade—fear.

The City Lord…

Ethan had never heard the voice before, yet recognition flashed through him with absolute certainty.

Something in his senses identified the source—apex predator recognising apex predator across the invisible hierarchies of power.

Silver-rank energy paled against what approached.

Soldiers dropped to one knee in perfect unison, weapons held across their chests in ceremonial salute. Even General Ruan lowered his head in deference, silver aura diminishing to barely perceptible flickers.

The battlements fell so silent that Ethan could hear individual heartbeats—the rapid, frightened percussion of soldiers, the controlled rhythm of Ruan, the accelerating tempo of Han’s suddenly elevated pulse.

Beyond the wall, the monster horde hesitated, their coordinated advance faltering. Even they sensed the shift in power dynamics.

The City Lord didn’t appear, not physically. His presence manifested solely through voice, yet carried weight beyond any visual display.

“Three Silver-ranks fighting while monsters breach our walls.”

The words hung in the air, simple observation carrying judgment in each syllable.

Ethan maintained his stance, neither kneeling nor showing deference. His senses strained to locate the voice’s source, but found nothing—as if the sound originated from the air itself.

Power beyond ordinary Silver…Perhaps gold?

“My lord,” Han recovered first, voice pitched to respectful contrition. “This man murdered my son. Justice demands—”

“Justice can wait until our city stands secure.”

Four words, and Han’s argument collapsed like a house of cards. His mouth closed with an audible click, jaw muscles working beneath skin gone pale.

“Yes, my lord.”

“General Ruan,” the voice redirected, “the eastern wall falters. Take command there.”

“At once, my lord.” Ruan saluted formally.

“The monster horde will breach our defences within the hour unless all Silver-ranks coordinate their efforts,” the City Lord observed, voice carrying to each soldier without raising in volume. “Han, head to the northern quadrant.”

Strategic separation—keeping potential combatants apart while utilising their strengths. Elegant solution to the immediate crisis, though it left underlying conflicts unresolved.

Han hesitated visibly, ambition warring with self-preservation.

“What of my son’s killer, my lord?”

“When the walls stand secure, bring your evidence before my court.” Cold promise weighed each word. “Justice delivered properly carries twice the weight.”

“As you command, my lord.”

He departed without further acknowledgement of Ethan.

Soldiers breathed collective relief, sensing immediate crisis averted. They returned to defensive positions with renewed discipline, taking courage from their lord’s intervention.

The presence receded like an outgoing tide, though whether truly departed or merely withdrawn remained unclear.

Ethan stood alone on the battlements, surrounded by soldiers who regarded him with newfound wariness. To challenge Han invited respect.

Beyond the wall, the monster horde resumed its advance, coordinated waves surging toward the city’s defences.

The Harpy circled overhead.

Ethan’s gaze tracked to the northern quadrant where Han had disappeared.

This isn’t over.

Ethan looked at the monsters closing in, their forms in the darkness appearing like nightmares given flesh.

I should be able to kill the harpy in a fair fight. Although it will be difficult to attack due to its flying ability. Besides, there is never a fair fight in wars against ferocious beasts.

The silver-ranked beast circled above the horde, wings catching moonlight as it maintained a suspiciously weak stance.

It’s baiting me.

Something about its movements screamed trap—an invitation to engage in open combat where unseen forces could overwhelm him.

Ethan made his decision. He would not leave the wall’s protection.

Ethan took out the bow from his storage ring. He was no longer afraid of showing it. He had already shown his silver rank, and showing a storage ring wasn’t a big deal if the owner was a silver-ranked awakener.

“Get some arrows. As many as you can gather.”

“Yes, sir.” The man immediately obeyed. Despite not having seen Ethan before, he still knew that he was a powerhouse from the earlier interaction.

Ethan tested the bow’s draw, muscles flexing with enhanced strength. Ordinary weapons had limitations, but the one he received from that hunter was pretty good. It was a grade 1 magical weapon.

“Sir?” The soldier returned, arms laden with quivers. “Every arrow we could spare.”

Ethan nodded acknowledgment, attention never leaving the approaching horde. As the monsters surged toward the wall, he nocked his first arrow.

Accuracy Enhancement activated.

The world sharpened to impossible focus. Distance, wind resistance, target movement—all variables resolved into perfect mathematical certainty.

He released.

The arrow split the air with a sound like tearing paper, propelled by silver-enhanced strength beyond ordinary physics. It struck a wolf-beast at the front line, punching through skull, brain, and exiting with enough force to continue its journey.

A second monster fell as the same arrow pierced its chest.

Then a third, the projectile finally embedding in its throat.

[You have killed Low-Bronze Beast Shadowfang Wolf]

[You have killed Mid-Bronze Beast: Razorclaw troll]

[You have killed Mid-Bronze beast…]

Soldiers nearby froze, weapons momentarily forgotten as they processed the impossible. Three kills. One arrow.

Ethan knocked the second before the first victims had fully collapsed.

Release.

This arrow flew higher, targeting a larger beast commanding the left flank. The projectile struck with such force it severed the creature’s spine, continuing through to kill two smaller monsters beyond.

[You have killed high-Bronze Beast: Thunderhorn Bull]

[You have killed Low-Bronze Beast: Shadowfang Wolf]

[You have killed Low-Bronze Beast: Razorback Boar]

“God above,” a nearby archer whispered, glancing at his own bow with shame.

His lifetime of training was rendered insignificant in seconds.

Ethan established rhythm, each arrow claiming multiple lives.

His movements became fluid poetry.

Nock,

draw,

release.

Death delivered with precision.

The fourth arrow split a bronze-rank beast’s skull before continuing into the chest of another.

His fifth arrow curved impossibly through crosswinds, finding the eye socket of a heavily armored creature commanding a monster squadron.

[You have killed High-Bronze Beast…]

The sixth pierced the wing joint of a flying beast, sending it tumbling to be trampled by its own allies.

[You have killed Mid-Bronze Beast…]

Seventh. Eighth. Ninth.

Each arrow claimed victims, each kill announced by the system that only Ethan could perceive.

The front lines of the monster assault thinned, coordination faltering as beasts fell to impossible archery.

“Who is he?” A young soldier whispered, awe overtaking fear.

His commander shook his head slowly. “Never seen anything like it.”

Above, the Harpy noticed the decimation below. Its flight pattern changed, silver eyes narrowing as they tracked the source of unexpected resistance.

Ethan felt its attention shift toward him like physical pressure. He smiled coldly, nocking another arrow.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “See me.”

This arrow he aimed directly at the circling Harpy. Enhanced Accuracy calculated trajectory, accounting for the creature’s speed and the distance between them.

Release.

The arrow streaked skyward, a silver blur cutting through darkness.

Ethan continued his execution, each arrow finding multiple targets with unerring accuracy. The ground before the wall accumulated monster corpses, creating a macabre barrier of flesh and bone.

Twenty arrows. Fifty-seven confirmed kills.

[You have levelled up!]

“They’re hesitating,” a veteran soldier observed, gesturing toward the monster ranks. “See how they’ve slowed?”

True enough—the assault had lost momentum, bronze-beasts growing wary as they recognized the killing zone before the wall.

Ethan nocked another arrow, drawing the bowstring to its limit.

This shot he aimed at the densest concentration of monsters, where bronze commanders directed their subordinates.

The arrow left the bow with a sound like thunder, air pressure creating a visible distortion around its path. It struck the largest beast, then continued through five more in perfect alignment.

Six with one arrow. A new record.

“It’s not human,” an archer whispered, voice caught between awe and terror. “No one can shoot like that. Is this the power of silver ranks? It’s simply ridiculous…”

His companion nodded wordlessly, fingers trembling as he nocked his own arrow.

Above, the Harpy shrieked in frustrated rage, wings generating cyclonic winds as it attempted to rally its forces.

Ethan tracked the silver-ranked beast through his enhanced perception, calculating angles and opportunities. The creature maintained distance, wary of his arrows.

“Bring me that,” Ethan instructed, pointing to a ballista positioned further along the wall. The massive weapon, designed to penetrate powerful monsters at range. It required four powerful men to operate under normal circumstances.

Soldiers scrambled to comply, dragging the heavy weapon into position.

“Sir, it takes a team to—”

Ethan ignored the protest, positioning the ballista with silver-enhanced strength.

He loaded a javelin-sized bolt, then activated multiple talents simultaneously.

Accuracy Enhancement for targeting, Wind to stabilise its trajectory.

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