The sun hung low in the sky, casting long fingers of gold and amber across the dense forest that bordered the village’s northern edge.The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, acrid tang of chemicals drifting from the hidden drug farm nestled among the trees.Two figures moved like shadows through the underbrush, their steps silent, their eyes sharp. They were professionals—trained to observe without being seen, to act without leaving a trace.Their bodies moved in sync, barely disturbing a single leaf or snapping a twig. Every breath was calculated, every glance measured.The farm’s defenses—or lack of it—brought quiet amusement to the scouts. Sloppy didn’t begin to describe it.One guard lounged against a tree, cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling lazily into the canopy. Another had slumped over, half-asleep, head bobbing with each labored breath. Their patrols were a joke, their

Wayla was still grunting with pain, but she heard what the kid said and nodded frantically with fear and dread in her teary eyes.“Good, now take the cloth from your mouth and start speaking, one scream…”He paused fumbled in his pouch to take out the knife then said with a creepy smile, “… and this sharp knife go through your throat”Wayla’s eyes became wide like a saucer she couldn’t think anymore, she just nodded and nodded again frantically; the fear of death was real in her eyes.She took the cloth and started to spill the bean straight away.“You were brought here by a terrifying beastman, he was a panther in black armor”Ethan looked at her his eyes even icier as if telling her to stop saying ballshit, Wayla saw that and shook her head frantically pain still apparent in her face.“I swear it’s the truth, the beastman knew Stanley, he told him to make sure you stay alive at least until you are fifteen”Ethan felt like a f

Adam didn't like being called a traitor. The word clung to the air like the stench of old blood—bitter, unjust, and undeserved. But before he could spit a retort, Diggen lunged.The sword came fast, steel gleaming with murderous intent. Unfortunately for DiggenYears of retirement hadn't dulled Adam's reflexes. He pivoted to the right, boots skidding in the dirt as the blade sliced through the space where his ribs had been moments before. He didn't panic. He never did.Diggen pressed the attack with a snarl, twisting his wrist into a savage horizontal slash. But Adam moved like a ghost. His foot snapped up, striking the flat of the blade and knocking it wide. In the same motion, he stepped in, drove his forearm with devastating lariat into Diggen's throat, and dropped him like a sack of stones.Dust rose in a thick cloud as Diggen crashed onto his back. Adam stood over him, his shadow swallowing the fallen man whole. He sighed—long, heavy, full o

Diggen didn’t know what had hit him. Something struck his head, throwing him off balance. Losing footing in a deadly duel against someone like Adam was fatal—and Adam seized the moment.With a fierce downward slash, Adam's sword tore across Diggen's chest, cutting deep from his right side to his left. Diggen collapsed to his knees, disbelief clouding his eyes.He had been so close. Just a few more inches and Adam would have been dead. Instinctively, he looked down and spotted a fist-sized stone to his left.Then came Adam’s voice, raspy but laced with bitter amusement. "I thought it was over for me. Luck is a skill too, you know. I wonder who hit you with this, I should thank him properly."Diggen lifted his gaze and met Adam's grin. The old assassin stood above him, sword raised, poised to deliver the final blow. "Any last words, dog?" Adam asked coldly.Diggen closed his eyes, resigned to death.But a sudden thud rang out

While Vekir and Stanley continued their tense discussion, one of Vekir’s escorts quietly detached himself from the group.His movements were swift and precise—clearly, this wasn’t his first time navigating such terrain. He moved with purpose, pausing only occasionally to scan the trees on either side as if searching for a hidden sign or marker.After nearly ten minutes of silent travel, he reached a clearing far removed from the village. There, a group of armed individuals stood, gathered in tense anticipation, clearly preparing for a confrontation.The moment they spotted the lone man approaching, several of them instinctively unsheathed their weapons. Instead of reacting, the man calmly reached into his cloak and showed them a small token.The change was immediate.The warriors relaxed, weapons lowered, and a path opened for him to pass. At the center of the group stood Jenkins, who raised a hand in recognition and gestured for