"Fritz… We're in deep shit now…"
"Shut up, you got us into this."
Fritz stood surrounded by gang members, their knives glinting ominously under the dim light.
Out of nowhere, the gang members part to reveal their boss just as they had before.
The boss's voice cut through the room, cold and unforgiving. "Fritz Becker, Karl Weber. You're from Blutzkrone. So why the fuck are you guys selling drugs on my turf?"
Fritz could feel the weight of the stares, the tension thick enough to choke on. He hesitated for only a moment before replying, "It was Karl. The bastard got greedy and thought he could make some extra cash for the night by crossing into your territory. We both know it was a mistake, and we're sorry for it." He dipped his head in a slight bow.
The boss's eyes narrowed, the silence more threatening than any shout could have been. A cold gun barrel, brandished with a sharp clink, pressed against Fritz's forehead.
Before the boss could squeeze the trigger, Fritz's reflexes kicked in, a blade slicing through the boss's arm with surgical precision. The gun clattered to the floor, and in the same fluid motion, Fritz's other blade flashed, severing the boss's head clean from his shoulders.
The room froze in shock, the severed head falling with a dull thud before anyone could react.
As the gang members closed in, Fritz's movements were a mirror of his present actions. He slashed through the attackers with the same precise, desperate motions. The clang of knives against knives was the same relentless rhythm of his past fight.
"Fritz, what's your plan?" Karl's voice broke through the haze, urgency mirrored in Fritz's every move. He dashed through the sea of bodies, each movement a desperate fight for his life.
"Oi! Don't leave me!" Karl's shout was swallowed by the cacophony of clashing steel.
Fritz's focus was razor-sharp. The past and present blurred together—he was still that desperate fighter, still slashing his way through the crowd. The sounds, the sensations, they all merged into one continuous struggle.
"Imagine wanting to kill us Ubuians when your bodies are barely human either," Fritz muttered, his words dripping with disdain. He shielded Jean from the onslaught, each swing of the knife he had taken from the assassin chipping away at their defences as their strength proved formidable.
Jean, weakened and struggling, collapsed to the ground—a sight that painfully reminded Fritz of his daughter.
"Jean! Stay there!" Fritz's voice rang out as he leapt over the bed, flipping and slashing at the blades of the attackers. He leaned Jean closer to the side table to the left of the bed.
Each swing of Fritz's blade was precise, his strength seemingly doubled as gusts of wind whipped through the room with every strike, sending papers and curtains flailing through the air. But the attackers were simply too strong; he couldn't keep them back.
In a momentary lapse of judgment, he swung his arm with too much momentum.
"Fuc—" The assassin seized the opportunity, grabbing Fritz's arm and yanking him from his position with ease, leaving Jean completely exposed. In a flash, a knife plunged into Jean's heart.
Fritz acted instantly. As the assassin loomed over Jean, he delivered a swift, brutal stab and then hurled his knife with deadly precision. The blade struck the assassin's skull mid-air with such force that the man was sent crashing into the nearby wall.
Landing on his feet, Fritz immediately dove toward the remaining attacker. The enemy had a fleeting chance to strike—and he did, driving a blade into Fritz's back. But at that moment, Fritz didn't care.
Shadow Corruption: +2%
A sharp throb of pain surged through Fritz, far more than just the sting of the blade. The shadow corruption twisted within him, amplifying the agony to unbearable levels, like molten fire searing through his veins. But even as his body screamed in torment, he pushed through it, slamming the assassin into the ground with all the force he could muster.
With every ounce of strength left in him, Fritz delivered a bone-shattering punch to the wrist holding the knife, the sickening crunch reverberating through the room. The pain tore through him, but he didn't relent. His next punch, aimed at her face, was fueled by sheer willpower, knocking her out cold.
"Jean…" Fritz rushed over, but Jean already looked lifeless, his face eerily mirroring that of his daughter from Fritz's previous life. Tears welled up, not because he had failed the mission, but because the memories of failing to protect his daughter came rushing back, raw and painful.
"Don't look so down, Fritz..." Jean muttered, a faint chuckle escaping his bloodied lips. He struggled to lift his hand, weakly pointing toward a general direction to the right of the door. "The Langs' Royal Rune collection... is there." He coughed, each spasm bringing up more blood than the last.
"Thanks, Jean… and sorry I couldn't do more."
"Haha... I'm sorry for letting down this country…" Jean's voice faded as the last of his strength left him.
. . . Back to the present . . .
"Fuck... Sorry you had to witness that, Fritz." I gripped his shoulder.
"Yeah... yeah."
He glanced over at Joshua, who was sitting on the couch at the side. In the room, Merilla wiped the blood from her fists and uncovered the hood of the assassin lying shattered on the ground. It was a girl, young. Surprisingly, she didn't have any runes engraved into her; she was just naturally strong.
"Matt, leave Joshua to me," Fritz said, grabbing the blades from the assassins' corpses. He secured the sheaths to his waist, his expression grim. "Just focus on your task and make sure to be back on time."
He paused for a moment, adjusting the weapons at his side before glancing back at me.
"Jean showed me the general direction of this Royal Rune collection thing."
"Let me meet Jean first," Joshua said, standing up.
He walked past me with a solemn expression, and a wave of guilt washed over me.
If I'd just thought about it a bit more instead of falling into some stupid cliché, I could've seen this coming, couldn't I? Jean could've lived through this. Bloody idiot. Get a grip on yourself.
"Loosen up, Matthijs. It's not your fault." Joshua's passing remark was casual as he headed toward the nursing room. It was a silent walk, nothing extravagant. Merilla stayed back to clean up the bodies.
Thinking logically, this won't be the end of it. The real issue is whether they'll attack tomorrow. It won't be in broad daylight—they'll still be working among the humans, so it'll happen later in the day. Logically, why not let them work just half a day instead? It would ease them in better and make it easier for Fritz to patrol the area, keeping an eye out for any danger and escorting them back if anything happens. We can't assume every Ubuian is a strong fighter like us. This is necessary.
"Joshua, let the Ubuians work half a day instead. It'll be easier to keep them safe."
He put his hand to his chin, deep in thought. "Alright, I'll inform Merilla afterward. Thanks, Matthijs."
Silence settled between us as we continued walking. When we finally reached the room, the bodies of the assassins lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling from their wounds. In the other corner of the room was Jean, his body slumped with lifeless eyes staring into the floor.
Joshua walked up to him.
"Thank you for taking care of my father until his last moments. I will carry on his legacy and will." He whispered, closing Jean's eyelids before gently laying him on the ground. Reaching into Jean's pocket, he found a small ring and slipped it onto his own finger.
"Father never gave Jacob or me the royal signet. Jean foresaw a situation like this quite a while ago, especially since Father fell ill…" He stood back up and rubbed his eyes of the tears. "Matthijs, you need to come back from Slimonos Kingdom quickly. The Rihiki tribe and the other nations have waged war on us for one simple reason: we have a resource that no other kingdom possesses—salt."
"Salt?!" Fritz and I looked at each other. "I don't get it... like salt, the stuff we put in our food?"
"Yup. Why are you guys so surprised?" Joshua raised his eyebrows as he fiddled with the bloodied ring hanging on his ring finger. "Anyway, yeah, certain kingdoms have resources that others don't. Slimonos Kingdom houses the largest iron mine in the world. As for us, it's near the southern edge of the walls—an elevator that lowers into the salt mines underneath... I can't have you leaving for too long, understood?"
I nodded, scratching my head.
As the sun finally lifted, the night sky was illuminated with a flowing sea of orange.
Sub-Quest: Prevent Joshua Langs's Death
Objective:
Prepare for the peace negotiations between Slimonos and the Human nation. However, be aware that the clergy's power grows stronger each day. You must return within 25 days to prevent Joshua's death.
Conditions:
Every day spent away increases the chance of Joshua's death by +5%. Discretion is advised.
Penalty:
Joshua's death.
Reward:
- Skill: Rune Destruction
- Bonus: Life Saved Counter