Blaine imagined in his mind what would happen if he searched the cabinet without caution. The enemy could easily launch a sudden attack, concealed by clothing, and if the strike failed, escape through the window would be a simple matter.
This was undoubtedly the best hiding spot in the entire room!
Realizing this, Blaine did not hesitate for a moment. Without warning, he drew his sword...
The soft hum of the blade sliding from its sheath echoed in the room...
In an instant, the silver blade plunged into the wooden cabinet as if slicing through butter, and with a swift horizontal pull, the enclosed wood was cleaved open!
Splinters mixed with tattered cloth scattered through the air, yet the anticipated sight of blood did not appear...
Blaine furrowed his brow, a bit surprised. Had he miscalculated? Had the target simply been careless, leaving these items behind?
André, startled by his companion's sudden action, was just about to mock Blaine's mistake when a short sword suddenly emerged from the narrow gap between the bookshelf and the wall, slashing toward André's neck!
It was Lynn who struck!
The moment André and Blaine noticed the coins and manuscripts on the table, Lynn knew he couldn't hide any longer.
The narrow crevice where he was concealed offered no cover, relying only on shadows and a trick of the eye for concealment.
This was an exceedingly dangerous spot, but the two had arrived too quickly. Having just traversed worlds, Lynn's mind was in utter disarray, leaving him no time to find a better hiding place or even to retrieve the parchment that had fallen to the floor.
Once they discovered the cabinet was empty, it wouldn't be long before they found him.
So Lynn decided to strike first!
Considering lethality, Lynn opted not to use the partially mastered, modified "Frost Blade." Within three steps, the short sword's killing power was far more reliable than the "magic" he had learned!
The timing was perfect—the moment when André, distracted by the flying splinters, let down his guard!
However, the blade meant to be a fatal strike missed its mark. As soon as Lynn moved, a powerful sense of danger overwhelmed André.
Before joining the witch-hunting squad, André had been a renowned mercenary, spending years on the edge between life and death. This deep-seated instinct was all too familiar to him!
Once again, André's keen intuition saved him. As the short sword came down, he barely managed to twist his body, avoiding a decapitation.
But Lynn's ambush was so swift that, despite André's immediate evasive action, he couldn't entirely escape. The sharp blade grazed his neck, leaving a deep gash!
Crimson blood gushed from the wound. André, both shocked and enraged, felt the sting in his neck, a grim reminder of how close he had come to death!
"Damn you!" André, consumed with fury, swung his sword down, intending to cleave Lynn in two.
The blow was both fast and heavy, and Lynn barely had time to react. But instinctively, his body moved to block, the clash of steel sending a grating sound reverberating through the room.
Lynn had never wielded a sword against a person before, but fortunately, Carl's body was well-trained, and muscle memory kicked in.
Carl had once used this very swordsmanship to keep the ill-intentioned neighbors in the slums at bay!
But this time, his opponent wasn't an untrained bandit; it was a witch hunter, enhanced by the divine elixir, with skills far surpassing those of ordinary men, striking with deadly precision...
André's technique was unrefined, but every strike was lethal. After just three clashes, Lynn's hand throbbed painfully, nearly causing him to drop the short sword.
"Die!" André roared, sweeping his sword aside to disarm Lynn. His left hand reached out, thick fingers closing around Lynn's throat.
Lynn's face flushed red as his consciousness began to fade.
Warning: The contracted target is under severe threat to life. According to Federal Intelligence Management Law, Article 37, the nearest law enforcement officers will be automatically contacted...
A sudden alert echoed in Lynn's mind, pulling him back from the brink of death, sparking a glimmer of hope.
Warning… No signal… Warning… Unable to connect to the network… Please proceed to the highest nearby point to search for satellite signal and call the Federal Emergency Number…
Damn it!
Lynn cursed silently, remembering that he had crossed into another world, unsure if he was even in the same universe anymore.
Damn it, I should have saved some money from the new ship purchase to upgrade this piece of junk's intelligence... Where am I supposed to find a satellite signal now?
Even if he could, was he going to call in a rescue by Federal agents flying over in their ships?
But there was no time for regrets. The hand gripping his throat was tightening, a death grip inching closer to the end.
Warning… No signal, initiating emergency protocol, analyzing survival probability. Based on the user agreement, neural network connection will commence…
The alert grew more urgent in Lynn's mind, but he could barely hear it. All he felt was his brain exploding, his soul seeming to detach from his body, observing the world in a strange, detached state.
Lynn's scattered mental energy spread like ripples, his perception of the elements sharpening...
...
"Brown hair, black eyes—looks like we found the right person." Seeing André easily subdue the target, Blaine relaxed his grip on the hilt, turning to scrutinize Lynn.
"Quite the little rat, aren't you? Since you're so good at hiding, let's chop off one of your hands and a leg to teach you a lesson..." André sneered, rubbing the bloodied wound on his neck.
Was it just his imagination, or was his breathing becoming more labored? The rage within him only grew.
If not for remembering that a live captive was worth more than a corpse, André would have killed Lynn already.
Blaine was unfazed by his partner's cruelty, merely offering a casual reminder. "One hand should suffice. Unless you plan to carry him back yourself, make sure he doesn't bleed out on the way."
But André, standing with his back to Blaine, could not respond. His face was turning a sickly shade of blue, and the sword in his left hand fell heavily to the floor as his already ragged breathing became even more erratic. He now resembled a fish out of water, suffocating as if his lungs were about to burst.
Ten years ago, when the Great Whirlpool of the Sea of Mist swallowed him, André had experienced this same suffocating, near-death sensation. Breathing was a luxury, and if not for his sheer luck, he would have perished in the depths.
But this was no deep sea, and the previous attack had clearly missed his windpipe…
André gasped for air, but his condition only worsened, his gray eyes bulging from their sockets.
What kind of sorcery was this? André quickly realized the apprentice witch before him was casting some sort of spell, but the intense suffocation left him no time to retaliate, the grip on Lynn's throat weakening.
At that moment, Lynn, who had been hanging his head, suddenly moved. His tightly closed eyes snapped open, and at the same time, the air around them seemed to vanish. With a swift motion, the short sword plunged upward, driving straight into André's throat!