Chapter 237: Return of the Hunted

Adam’s fist shot forward, dark energy crackling around his knuckles. Sean’s form dissolved into black mist, the punch passing through empty air. The assassin reappeared several feet away, his stance low, a curved dagger gleaming in each hand.

“Tch. Wait—”

Adam didn’t wait. He pressed forward, his movements fluid, relentless. Behind him, the forge erupted in shouts and clashing steel as Ignis’s flames met the assassins’ blades.

“Attack! Protect the commander!” one of the assassins shouted.

They surged toward Adam, but Lilith’s threads were faster. Silver silk wrapped around ankles, wrists, throats, sending the first wave crashing to the ground in tangled heaps.

Sean dodged another strike, his form flickering like a candle in the wind. His voice was tight, edged with frustration.

“Perhaps I was too hasty. Coming at you with poisoned daggers… that was a mistake.”

Adam’s lips curved into a cold smile. He didn’t slow.

“You think? You should have led with that pathetic ’let’s talk’ act from the start. Instead of wasting my time with ambushes and lies.”

He lunged, his fist aimed at Sean’s chest. The assassin dissolved again, the black mist swirling around Adam before reforming behind him. A blade sliced toward Adam’s ribs.

Adam twisted, the dagger passing close enough to ruffle his shirt. His hand shot out, catching Sean’s wrist.

“Hoo. Not bad.” Adam’s crimson eyes gleamed. “For an assassin who lacks professionalism.”

Sean’s dark eyes blazed. “What did you say?”

Adam’s grip tightened. Sean’s bones creaked.

“Am I wrong? A real assassin doesn’t show himself to his target.” He tilted his head, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You walked into the room. You announced yourself like an idiot.” He smiled, slow and cruel. “That’s not an assassin. That’s a thug with a title.”

Sean’s face contorted with fury. His form dissolved again, slipping from Adam’s grasp like smoke. He reappeared near the shattered doorway, his chest heaving, his daggers raised.

“You—!”

An explosion cut him off.

The far wall of the forge erupted inward, bricks and debris raining down in a cloud of dust and fire. Ignis stood amidst the wreckage, her flames blazing, her golden eyes wild with battle-lust. An assassin lay crumpled at her feet, his armor smoking.

“Whoops!” Ignis’s voice was cheerful, utterly unrepentant. “Sorry, blacksmith lady! I’ll try not to break too much!”

Hilt, crouched behind her anvil with her hammer raised, glared at the destruction.

“My forge!”

Adam glanced at the chaos spreading around them, at the assassins still pouring through the broken door, at the flames beginning to lick at the wooden beams overhead. His voice was calm, almost conversational.

“Hmm… This is going to get messy.”

He cracked his neck, dark energy coalescing around his hands.

“Good.”

Then his gaze snapped to Sean.

Adam’s hand shot forward, fingers wreathed in that pulsing black aura, aiming for Sean’s collar.

Sean’s internal voice was a snarl of frustration as he twisted away from Adam’s grasping hand, the dark energy crackling past his cheek.

’Damn it. I should never have tried to talk to these monsters. They’re far too aggressive.’

He dissolved into mist again, reforming near the shattered window, his daggers raised. His chest heaved, his mind racing.

Then a voice pressed against his thoughts sharp, urgent, obvious.

’Sean. Be careful.’

Elliot’s telepathic voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Sean’s eyes widened.

’Boss? What—’

’I’ve identified them. The group you’re facing.’ Elliot’s mental voice was grim, each word precise. ’They’re the ones from that failed contract. The high-bounty target that slipped through our fingers not long ago. The ones who wiped out an entire squad in Solaria.’

Sean’s blood ran cold. His grip on his daggers tightened.

’Those monsters? The ones Command said were too dangerous to pursue?’

’The same.’ Elliot’s voice hardened. ’They’re on a different level, Sean. I’m sending reinforcements. Hold on—’

’It’s too late for that!’ Sean’s mental shout was edged with panic. ’I’m already face to face with them! They’re not interested in talking!’

Elliot’s voice crackled with frustration. ’Damn it. What did you do? Hold your position. Help is on the way—’

The mental link severed.

A projectile screamed through the air.

Sean twisted, but not fast enough. A shard of dark energy sliced across his forearm. Blood sprayed, hot and immediate. His dagger clattered to the stone floor, followed by the wet thud of his severed fingers.

“Agh—!”

He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding hand, his dark eyes wide.

Adam lowered his hand, the remnants of dark energy still curling around his fingers. His crimson eyes were cold, almost bored.

“You’re distracted.” His voice was flat. “Are you underestimating me?”

Sean’s lips curled into a snarl, blood dripping from his wounded hand, his dark eyes blazing with fury and desperation.

“Fine! You want a fight? Is that what you want?!” His voice rose, cracking with rage. “I’ll kill you, you bastard!”

His aura surged.

The air around him grew heavy, thick as spilled oil. Shadows bled from his body like living things. They coiled around his arms like serpents, wrapped his weapons in writhing tendrils, clung to his breath until each exhale was a puff of black mist. His presence, already sharp as a drawn blade, sharpened further becoming a weight, a pressure, a cold that crawled across Adam’s skin and whispered of death. Adam’s senses recoiled. It was not just power. It was hunger. The hunger of a predator who had killed so many that killing had become his language.

Adam’s crimson eyes widened slightly, interest flickering across his features. ’His aura… it’s rising.’

Sean moved.

“Shadow Art: Phantom Cluster!”

His form dissolved into a dozen copies, each one flickering, indistinct, born from the shadows that clung to the walls and floor. They surged forward from every angle, daggers gleaming, their movements simultaneous and impossible to track.

Adam leaped.

His body twisted upward, wings snapping open just enough to carry him above the storm of blades. The copies struck the space where he had been, their weapons clashing against stone, sending sparks flying.

But Sean had anticipated this.

A shadow detached from the ceiling is the real Sean, his eyes blazing, his dagger already descending toward Adam’s exposed back.

“Got you!”

Adam didn’t look. His tail lashed out.

It was a new thing, still unfamiliar and not fully integrated into his fighting style. But instinct guided it, and instinct was older than thought. The scaled appendage wrapped around Sean’s wrist, then his arm, then his torso, squeezing with the crushing force of a serpent that had forgotten it was ever anything else.

[Constrict]

Sean’s eyes bulged. His ribs creaked. Air exploded from his lungs in a choked gasp.

“Ghh—!”

His form dissolved into mist, slipping through the coils like smoke through fingers. He reformed several feet away, gasping, his chest heaving.

’That tail… too fast and strong.’

He didn’t hesitate. His hands swept up, shadows gathering in his palms.

“Shadow Art: Soul Rend!”

The shadows shot forward as a wave of pure, malevolent intent. It washed over Adam, and he felt it, a cold, creeping numbness seeping into his limbs, his thoughts, his very core.

Adam’s eyes narrowed.

’My strength… it’s fading?’

[Status Effect: Shadow Weakening – All attributes reduced by 10% for 30 seconds.]

Sean pressed his advantage. His daggers spun, one coated in a sickly green sheen, and he threw them both in rapid succession.

[Poisoned Dagger – Stun Effect on contact]

The first dagger flew true, aimed at Adam’s chest. Adam’s hand snapped up, catching it mid-air but the second dagger slipped past his guard, embedding itself in his shoulder.

Adam grunted.

The poison spread instantly, a cold numbness racing through his veins. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish.

Sean was already there.

His remaining dagger drove forward, aimed at Adam’s heart.

The blade struck.

And stopped.

Adam’s skin, pale and seemingly soft, resisted the edge like iron. The dagger’s tip pressed against his chest, dimpling the flesh, but refused to pierce.

Sean’s eyes went wide.

“What—?!”

Adam looked down at the blade, then at Sean. His lips curved into a slow, cold smile.

“My skin is tougher than it looks and I’m immune to poison too.”

His hand shot up, fingers closing around Sean’s wrist. The assassin tried to dissolve, but Adam’s grip was iron, and the shadows that should have freed him clung to his flesh like reluctant servants.

’He’s… holding me? Even with the debuff?’

Sean’s internal voice was a scream. ’His strength is monstrous!’

Adam’s other hand rose, dark energy already gathering.

“My turn.”

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