The clash of steel and the screams of the dying filled the air. The Iron Vultures fought viciously, but the Red Wolf and his men refused to fall easily. Their defensive formation held, cutting down mercenaries as they surged forward.
Garrick roared as he cleaved through two bandits, but an axe found his shoulder, driving him to one knee. Cole was dragged down, screaming, before a blade silenced him. Blood painted the ground as the battle turned into a war of attrition.
Lynn moved like a phantom, cutting down enemies with precision. He wasn't fighting for survival, he was fighting with cold efficiency. Every move was measured, every strike designed for maximum lethality.
Risa, breathless, barely parried a savage blow from one of the bandits before Flint struck the attacker down.
"We're losing too many!" she shouted. "We need to end this now!"
Her eyes locked onto Red Wolf, who stood defiant, his greatsword already drenched in mercenary blood. If they could bring him down, the battle would end.
"Lynn, with me!" Risa charged forward, dodging past flailing corpses as she made her way toward their target. Flint followed, his knives ready.
Red Wolf's eyes gleamed beneath his helm.
"Come then, mercenary filth."
The fight was brutal. Red Wolf parried Risa's strikes with terrifying strength, forcing her back with each swing of his greatsword. Flint darted in, aiming for his blind spots, but the bandit leader's instincts were razor-sharp.
Lynn hung back, watching, waiting.
A chance.
An opening.
Finally, Risa's sword found its mark, cutting deep into Red Wolf's side. He staggered, his greatsword dipping for a second too long.
That was it.
Lynn moved.
Not toward Red Wolf.
But towards Risa and Flint.
The dagger in Lynn's hand slid effortlessly between Flint's ribs. The man gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"A-Ash?"
Lynn twisted the blade before yanking it free. Flint crumpled, lifeless.
Risa barely had time to register the betrayal before Lynn's sword plunged into her gut. She choked on her own breath, eyes wide with shock and fury.
"W-Why Ark?" she rasped.
Lynn leaned in, voice devoid of emotion. "Nothing personal."
He shoved her off his blade, letting her body collapse onto the blood-soaked ground.
The few remaining mercenaries, already struggling, saw what had happened and hesitated in confusion.
That moment of hesitation was their doom. Red Wolf's men, reinvigorated by the sudden betrayal, slaughtered them without mercy.
Silence soon followed.
Lynn turned to Red Wolf, who was still kneeling, gripping his wound.
"Smart move," the bandit leader growled. "But why spare me?"
Lynn raised a small vial, swirling with a dark, murky liquid.
"Because I need you alive."
He uncorked the vial and pressed it to Red Wolf's lips.
The bandit leader barely had time to resist before the liquid forced his body into an unnatural slumber. His muscles slackened, and he collapsed, unconscious.
Lynn exhaled, stepping over corpses as he surveyed the carnage.
He had what he needed.
Now, it was time for the real game to begin.
The battlefield now gone eerily quiet, the smell of blood thick in the cold night air. Corpses littered the ground—mercenaries and bandits alike. Lynn stood among them, his blade slick with blood, his expression unreadable.
He crouched beside Risa's body, watching as the last light faded from her eyes. She had been a strong fighter, a capable leader. But in the end, she was just another piece in the game.
Red Wolf lay motionless at his feet, his chest rising and falling steadily. The sleeping agent would keep him under for hours, ensuring no sudden resistance.
[Goddess of Deceit finds your doing amusing. Rewarding you with a gift.]
Lynn glanced at the sky. The gods had been watching indeed.
"System," he muttered.
[Evaluation Complete.]
[Performance: B+]
[+8,000 Dead Coins Earned.]
"Buy another blessing."
Deceiver's Veil: Your ability to betray and mislead has reached new heights. People will find it harder to see through your lies.
Lynn smirked. He had done well. But there was more to do.
With swift, practiced motions, Lynn hoisted Red Wolf onto his back. The bandit leader was a valuable asset now, and there were people who would pay handsomely for him—whether they wanted him dead or alive.
Before leaving, he searched through Risa's belongings. A map, a few coins, and a sealed letter. He broke the seal, skimming the contents.
"Report back to Aetheria once the task is complete. The Prince grows impatient."
Lynn's grin widened.
So they were working for Steven after all.
He tucked the letter away. This was useful information—something he could leverage later.
With one last look at the battlefield, he set off into the night, Red Wolf's unconscious form slung over his shoulder.
The next move was his.
________
A week passed since the incident. Lynn sat in a dimly lit tavern, his fingers drumming against the wooden table. The transformation had been seamless.
Over the past seven days, his body had shifted, muscles stretching, bones reforming, skin hardening into the scarred, rugged features of Red Wolf.
The real Red Wolf had never woken up. Lynn had slit his throat the night before, watching as the life drained from his eyes. It was a necessary sacrifice. He didn't need a second version of himself walking around.
The system had rewarded him a passive ability when he first arrived in this world.
[Innate Skill – 'Perfect Mimicry': You can fully assume the identity of a slain target, including their mannerisms, voice, and body. Transformation lasts indefinitely unless killed.]
A useful tool.
Now, he was no longer Lynn.
He was Red Wolf.
The door creaked open. A dozen wary eyes flickered to him, scanning his massive frame, the familiar scars, the unmistakable presence of a leader returned from the grave.
The remnants of his former bandit crew were gathered inside, drinking and licking their wounds. The battle had nearly wiped them out, but enough had survived. Enough to rebuild.
One of them—a wiry man with a missing ear—stood up, disbelief flashing across his face.
"Boss?"
Lynn—no, Red Wolf—grinned, his voice a perfect match.
"Who else would it be?"
Murmurs spread through the tavern. Some looked relieved. Others, skeptical. A few even reached for their weapons.
Lynn welcomed the doubt. It made what came next more entertaining.
A burly man, twice the size of anyone else in the room, slammed his mug onto the table and rose to his feet.
"Bullshit." His voice was rough, laced with suspicion. "You were dead. We saw you go down."
Lynn tilted his head. "And yet, here I am."
The big man sneered. "Maybe you're an imposter."
Lynn laughed. A slow, dangerous sound. "Then why don't you test that theory?"
The challenge was clear.
Gord didn't hesitate. He lunged, a dagger flashing in his hand.
Lynn moved before the blade even got close.
One step forward. A brutal fist to the gut. A follow-up elbow to the temple.
Gord staggered. Lynn seized him by the throat and slammed him against the table, scattering mugs and coins.
The tavern fell into stunned silence.
Lynn leaned in, tightening his grip, his voice like gravel.
"Still think I'm an imposter?"
Gord's eyes bulged. He tried to pry Lynn's fingers off, but the strength difference was too great. He clawed at his grip, legs kicking uselessly.
The others watched, frozen.
Lynn could kill him. He should kill him. That's what the real Red Wolf would do.
But that would be too easy.
Instead, he let go, letting Gord collapse in a coughing heap.
"I don't need to prove myself," Lynn said, his voice carrying across the room. "You can believe it or not. But here's what matters—I'm in charge."
Silence.
Then, one by one, the men nodded.
Red Wolf had returned.
And the Iron Vultures?
They had ceased to ever exist.