Chapter 226: Art!!!

The smoke did not settle.

It clung to the ground like a living thing, thick and suffocating, spreading through the streets and courtyards like a silent storm. The air itself felt heavy, every breath tasting of burning chemicals and dust.

Nothing could be seen.

Shapes disappeared after only a few steps. Walls faded into gray shadows. Even the outlines of houses were swallowed by the cloud.

But sound traveled.

Footsteps.

Many footsteps.

Some heavy. Some quick. Some frantic.

Someone was walking.

Someone was running.

Someone was hiding.

No one could tell who was who.

Then suddenly another dull metallic clink echoed through the fog.

More smoke grenades rolled across the ground.

Within seconds they burst.

Thick white clouds exploded outward, turning the entire battlefield into a blind void.

Visibility became zero.

Even the moonlight above could not pierce the smoke.

The world had become nothing but sound.

Then it happened.

A gunshot cracked through the silence.

The sharp echo bounced off the buildings.

A moment later a scream tore through the fog.

A man screamed in pure agony.

The sound of a body collapsing followed immediately after. Boots scraping against stone. A weapon clattering across the ground.

Then another gunshot.

And another.

Then a rapid burst.

Screams filled the air.

Someone yelled in panic.

Someone shouted orders.

Someone begged.

More gunshots.

But strangely no more smoke grenades came.

The thick cloud still remained.

Inside the fog men were dying.

One by one.

The gunshots slowly became less frequent.

Then the screams changed.

They were no longer loud cries.

They turned into groans.

Painful groans.

Weak.

Broken.

Within two minutes the battlefield fell silent.

Completely silent.

Only the distant crackle of burning debris could be heard.

Then slowly.

Very slowly.

The smoke began to settle.

Gray clouds drifted downward.

Shadows started to form.

The outlines of buildings returned.

Figures became visible again.

Near one of the houses at the edge of the settlement, Elias, Artem, and their remaining men were crouched behind a stone wall.

The entire area around them was still covered in smoke.

Artem’s face was tense.

His rifle gripped tightly in his hands.

“What the hell is happening?” he growled.

Elias did not panic.

His voice was cold and controlled.

“I called backup.”

Artem turned his head sharply.

“There was an entire group of trained armed men behind us,” Elias continued. “I stayed in contact with them through radio. They were following our trail the whole time.”

Artem’s lips slowly curved into a cruel smile.

Then he began to laugh.

A dark and evil laugh.

“Then they are dead now.”

Elias frowned.

Before he could respond, the smoke continued thinning.

More of the battlefield became visible.

And what they saw made both men freeze.

Not far from them, Kaelo and several of his warriors were lying on the ground.

They were still alive.

But barely.

Their bodies twisted in pain as low groans escaped their mouths.

Blood covered the dirt around them.

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The tribals were there.

But Basil was gone.

Hilda was gone.

Miles was gone.

Maddock was gone.

Monk and his entire group were gone.

Not a single one of them could be seen anywhere.

Elias slowly stepped forward.

His eyes scanned the battlefield.

“Where the hell are they?”

Artem did not answer immediately.

His expression had suddenly changed.

His eyes were focused on something else.

“Elias…”

Elias turned toward him.

“What?”

Artem slowly lifted his hand and pointed.

“Look.”

Elias followed the direction.

And then he saw it.

A body.

A man was hanging from the boundary wall of a nearby compound.

His body was slumped over the top of the wall like a discarded piece of cloth.

One arm dangled lifelessly.

Blood dripped steadily down the bricks, leaving a long dark trail along the stone surface.

Elias narrowed his eyes.

“That’s one of the men from the backup group.”

Artem’s voice turned uneasy.

“What… wait.”

He pointed again.

“There’s more.”

As the smoke completely cleared, the full battlefield revealed itself.

Bodies.

Dozens of them.

Armed men lay scattered across the entire area.

Some lay near the houses.

Some near the street.

Some near the trees.

None of them were moving.

Blood had painted the ground red.

The dirt had turned into mud beneath the weight of the slaughter.

It looked less like a battle.

And more like a massacre.

Elias’s jaw tightened.

His fists slowly clenched.

This was impossible.

His backup squad consisted of highly trained mercenaries.

Yet every single one of them had been eliminated within minutes.

Without them even realizing what was happening.

A cold voice suddenly spoke behind them.

“You made the wrong move.”

Every man instantly turned around.

Their rifles snapping upward.

And then they saw them.

Miles.

And Maddock.

Both of them were walking slowly toward them through the clearing smoke.

Their footsteps calm.

Their expressions cold.

Miles held a blade in his hand.

Blood dripped from the edge.

Without even looking at the men in front of him, he casually wiped the blade against his elbow, cleaning the crimson stain.

His voice carried a faint tone of disappointment.

“You thought you could defeat us with these immatures.”

His eyes finally lifted.

“They don’t even know basic battlefield tactics.”

Elias’s face twisted in rage.

“Fire!”

The command exploded from his throat.

Immediately the rifles were raised.

Gunfire erupted.

Bullets tore through the air.

But the moment the first shots were fired, Miles and Maddock moved.

Both of them dashed in opposite directions.

Their bodies vanished behind buildings within seconds.

The gunfire stopped.

One of Elias’s men shouted nervously.

“Where are they?”

Then suddenly.

A sharp crack echoed from the left side.

A bullet flew through the air.

One of the armed men collapsed instantly.

The top of his head exploded as he dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Artem’s eyes widened.

“Get down!”

He dove behind cover.

“There are snipers!”

The remaining men crouched immediately, pressing themselves against walls and broken structures.

Their eyes searched the rooftops.

The windows.

The alleys.

Nothing.

Then they slowly began moving toward the right side.

Trying to escape the sniper’s angle.

But the moment they stepped out.

Another shot rang out.

This time from the opposite direction.

Another man fell.

A clean headshot.

His body dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

Artem slammed his fist against the ground.

“We are stuck.”

Elias’s breathing grew heavy.

His rage finally erupted.

He punched the wall beside him violently.

The stone cracked under the force.

“Enough!”

His voice roared across the empty battlefield.

“If you are really the Ghost of the Graveyard…”

His eyes burned with fury.

“Then stop fighting like a coward!”

For a moment nothing happened.

Silence returned.

Then suddenly.

A shadow moved above them.

Before anyone could react.

A figure dropped from the roof of the building.

Landing directly in front of them.

Miles.

His landing was silent.

Smooth.

Controlled.

Before anyone could even raise their weapons properly, his arm moved.

A pistol appeared.

And the cold barrel pressed directly against Elias’s forehead.

The entire scene froze.

The mercenaries instantly raised their rifles toward Miles.

Miles did not even look at them.

His voice remained calm.

“Guns down.”

The pressure of the pistol increased slightly against Elias’s head.

“If you want him alive.”

Elias could feel the cold steel pressed against his forehead.

The barrel did not tremble.

Miles’ hand was steady.

His eyes were not.

They were colder than steel.

There was something inside them that made Elias’ chest tighten.

Killing intent.

Real killing intent.

For the first time since the beginning of the expedition, Elias was afraid.

Truly afraid.

His throat dried.

“Wait,” he said quickly.

His voice had lost its earlier arrogance.

“It can be settled.”

Miles said nothing.

Elias swallowed.

“I can give you anything you want.”

Miles tilted his head slightly.

“Oh?”

His voice was calm.

“Really?”

His eyes slowly shifted toward the rifles still aimed at him by Artem’s men.

Elias understood immediately.

He raised his voice quickly.

“Guns down.”

No one moved.

“Drop your guns everyone!” Elias shouted again, panic creeping into his voice.

Artem hesitated.

The men beside him exchanged uneasy looks.

But the pistol against Elias’ head remained unmoving.

One by one.

Rifles hit the ground.

Metal clattered across the stone pavement.

Artem was the last.

His jaw clenched as he slowly lowered his weapon and let it fall.

Elias exhaled.

“There.”

He forced a weak smile.

“We can settle this.”

His eyes searched Miles’ face.

“Tell me what you want.”

Miles did not move the gun.

Instead he asked quietly,

“Tell me something first.”

Elias nodded quickly.

“Anything.”

Miles’ gaze sharpened.

“How did you learn about the treasure?”

Elias hesitated for a second.

Then he spoke.

“That year when my father died…”

His voice grew slower as he recalled the past.

“From what I learned from him…”

“One member of the Sterling family revealed it.”

Miles’ brows tightened.

“The treasure map,” Elias continued, “was passed down to the eldest son of the Sterling bloodline.”

He pointed toward the ruins behind them.

“It was meant to stay hidden.”

“A reserve.”

“A security fund.”

“In case something ever happened to the Sterling family.”

Miles’ eyes widened slightly.

“Who told him?”

Elias answered quietly.

“Chestor Sterling”

Miles slowly closed his eyes.

Then exhaled.

“As expected.”

For a moment the square was silent again.

Then Miles asked another question.

“My grandfather.”

His voice was steady again.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Elias did not look away from the gun.

“The same year.”

His breathing remained uneven.

“I never saw him again after that.”

He shook his head.

“No one did.”

“We know nothing about him after that incident.”

He swallowed again.

“We tried contacting his family when we learned they were in Star Harbor.”

His voice softened slightly.

“But it was already too late.”

“Your father died in the accident.”

“And you went missing.”

Miles’ fingers tightened slightly around the pistol.

Elias continued carefully.

“We tried investigating your mother as well.”

“We couldn’t find anything.”

The moment those words left his mouth

Miles’ expression changed.

The air around him grew heavier.

His eyes darkened.

For a brief moment the calm mask almost broke.

But he controlled it.

Slowly.

Silently.

Elias raised his hands slightly.

“That’s all we know.”

His voice was almost pleading now.

“Nothing else.”

Miles inhaled slowly.

Then exhaled.

The anger faded from his face.

But the coldness remained.

So that was it.

He had hoped.

Just a little.

That this expedition might reveal something about his grandfather.

Some clue.

Some direction.

Some truth.

But there was nothing.

No closure.

Just another dead end.

Miles sighed quietly.

Elias watched him carefully.

Then his eyes flickered.

Downward.

To the knife resting on Miles’ waist.

For a fraction of a second his fear disappeared.

Instinct took over.

His hand moved suddenly.

He grabbed the knife.

And lunged.

A single shot echoed.

Miles had not even looked at him.

The trigger had already been pulled.

The bullet tore through Elias’ skull.

Blood exploded into the air.

His body dropped instantly.

The knife slipped from his hand and clattered against the stone.

Silence swallowed the square again.

Artem froze.

The remaining men stood like statues.

Fear had completely replaced their anger.

Miles lowered the pistol slowly.

Then he looked at Artem.

“He loved art.”

His voice was calm.

Almost casual.

“Didn’t he?”

Miles glanced at Elias’ corpse lying in a spreading pool of blood.

Then looked back at Artem.

“How does this one look?”

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