“Everyone, please, there’s no need to rush,” he said with a smile. “I haven’t finished hosting you yet.”
Elmelo let out a roar and charged forward with his sword raised.
The violent sword pressure overturned wooden shelves, medicine bottles, and narrow beds. His heavy sword slammed into a support pillar, causing the entire general store to buckle and explode from beneath. The left wall collapsed completely, and a deluge of bricks and soil poured in, burying half the stairs.
Eno took a half-step back, his smile never wavering.
The transposition activated once more.
Elmelo was forcibly teleported to the other end of the cellar.
In the darkness, a row of thick iron stakes lunged out.
A stake pierced through his abdomen, spraying blood that stained the stone wall a deep crimson. Gritting his teeth against the agony, he swung his greatsword back into the stone wall.
The wall crumbled, and a heap of soil and stones crashed down, burying two puppets that were closing in on Philthali.
Having done all he could, the veteran adventure captain finally breathed his last, his eyes filled with a lingering regret.
Nega’s psychological defenses shattered completely.
He raised his light crossbow with trembling hands and fired three bolts in rapid succession.
The arrows hit their mark but were swallowed whole by a self-wriggling, dark-red blood membrane.
The remaining momentum carved shallow pits into the wooden cabinet behind, but they couldn’t penetrate Eno’s defense.
Eno looked down at his chest, his smile deepening.
“The young are truly something,” he remarked. “Even though you’re so terrified you can barely stand, your hands still remember how to strike.”
As before, no one could track his speed.
With a dull thud, Nega took a heavy blow to the chest, crashing through a ledger rack and sinking into the collapsed brick wall.
His lower body was pinned by broken bricks. His document bag burst open, scattering the royal commission, blank receipts, and Night-Redemption records across the floor.
Eno leaned down and picked up a stamped page.
“I see,” he murmured. “The royal family has already noticed our movements? It seems our lords must pick up the pace.”
Philthali was still trembling as she chanted, trying to hurl the last of her light toward Nega.
Eno turned his head and raised his hand, activating the final Refraction.
In an instant, Philthali was transposed directly beneath a bed, pinned down by its weight.
This vampire… he can steal the abilities of others…
And use them even better than the original owners…
Damn it, if only…
A moment later, a swarm of bats descended upon her.
Eno straightened his slightly disheveled cuffs.
He walked over to Nega and leaned down to pick up the blood-splattered receipt.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, staring into Nega’s deathly pale face. “I have been quite merciful. Your captain, your mage, and your friends—they all have their uses as materials.”
“As for you…”
Eno bit his fingertip, and a drop of thick, dark-red blood welled up.
“With such a pretty face, it would be a pity not to use you to welcome new guests.”
Nega’s teeth chattered as he tried to turn his head away, but Eno’s hand forced his jaw open without hesitation.
The drop of blood fell through the gaps in his teeth and straight down his throat.
Intense pain and a freezing chill exploded within him simultaneously.
Nega convulsed violently, the agony from his broken bones quickly consumed by the sensation.
Color drained from his vision, and his sense of self was forcibly shredded and stripped away by an irresistible power.
Several thin blood vessels crawled along the floor from his ankles, piercing directly into the back of his head.
His wounds healed at a rapid pace, and in moments, he appeared completely unharmed.
Eno stood up, folded the blood-stained commission neatly, and tucked it into Nega’s rapidly healing hand.
“Stand up,” Eno commanded.
Nega pushed aside the broken bricks and stood up unsteadily. The fear and despair that had filled his eyes were gone, replaced by a profound emptiness and absolute obedience.
“Go and call for help,” Eno instructed. “Tell the next group that there are still survivors in Black Gallows. Bring them to me.”
“Sigh.” He turned to look at the crowd of restless townspeople and let out a small sigh. “I really don’t see why we must keep them alive. Wouldn’t it be easier to just turn them all into blood slaves? Such a hassle…”
Half an hour later.
In the pale morning light, the old bell on the clock tower let out a dull, heavy toll.
The hollow-eyed townspeople returned to their respective posts, continuing their muddled, mechanical daily routines.
The wind still carried the scent of coal dust and rusting iron.
Beneath the weathered wooden sign at the town entrance that read “Black Gallows Welcomes Merchant Caravans,” a young boy stood holding a light crossbow and a document bag. Nega leaned against the sign, clutching the receipt for the call for help. His wounds were completely healed, and there was even a lively hint of pink in his ears.
When the sound of carriage wheels echoed from the distant mountain pass once more, Nega looked up. Facing the cold wind, he offered a vivid, eager, and impossibly clean smile.
Rate on N.U.
