Damon teleported into a room with a long table and wooden flooring… there was nobody there, but… soon enough, there would be.
It seed so easy to get in now… all he did was take one step… there was no barrier or magical defenses to stop him from getting inside.
He slowly walked to the table… sat on the chair, his eyes locked on the door…
Hmmm… what a sight for sore eyes… many tis he had been brought into this room, tied up or beaten half to death, just to receive punishnt from the man who usually sat on this chair…
The boss of Quick Hand.
A sha, really… none of them would be leaving alive.
Damon walked to the wall, and using the tal finger of his gauntlet, he carved the final rune on the door…
He placed his palm on it, mana pouring through the rune, linking with runes spread all over the building…
He half expected them to sense sothing and co running…
"It seems I overestimated."
In the end, he had to give credit where credit was due… he was soone who had learned rune craft from an Ascendant—and most of them had learned from the God of the Abyss himself… ..
Vathren did, maybe Mugu as well.
Damon had learned from the best. How could lowly smugglers ever compare?
He sighed, sitting on the chair… his shadow stood by his side, her form stalwart…
Now, he had to wait… he certainly hoped they hadn't changed how they did things in Quick Hand… because that would be disappointing.
If he rembered correctly, they t on this day of the month to report progress and have a small drinking party to boost morale…
The best thing about it was—all of Quick Hand ca.
He looked out the window… any minute now…
And sure enough… the door opened.
Damon smiled lightly… raised his dark eyes to look at a familiar face…
Broad shoulders, thick beard… a massive fra that looked like it could strangle an orc… his black hair wild like a mane… brown eyes still as piercing as Damon rembered…
He hadn't forgotten. He had glared into those eyes too many tis.
Damon sat there like he owned the place…
His smile calm his crown resting on his head like a halo… his shadow behind him gave off a deep and formidable aura.
He said nothing.
The leader of Quick Hand narrowed his eyes.
The huge lumber axe he carried glead.
"Who are you… and why are you here…? What business do you have with Quick Hand?"
Damon sensed it—uncertainty in the man's voice.
"Have I changed that much?"
The boss frowned… was he supposed to know this person in armor?
Was he a prince… a noble? The man looked young, long hair almost fused with the shadows in the dimly lit room…
Everything about him scread power… as if when he spoke, the heavens would move… when he wished for sothing, it beca law.
He couldn't tell his rank, but this man… he was powerful.
More than that… he had command of a lady knight with deep, cold eyes that reminded him of the dark winters in Frost Continent—Norrath.
These people were powerful.
"My apologies… I don't seem to recognize you… if you an us harm… know that we are with the Charkata family—"
"And the Viscount Raymond, right?" Damon interrupted.
"Right, I already know that… I just don't care."
He stood up from his chair… sighed slightly…
"I feel a little betrayed… after everything, you still don't recognize … Back-to-Back would have in a heartbeat… but that's fine… still… the treachery…"
The boss stood still, hands on his axe… ready to pull it at a mont's notice… instincts honed in the criminal underworld scread—danger.
"There's no need to be alard…"
Damon took a step forward… until he was face to face with him.
"I told you all… I'll kill you one day… didn't I? I'm here to make good on my promise…"
The boss's eyes widened… his expression grew stiff.
"Yo… you are… Phantom…"
Damon smiled calmly.
"Good… now die."
His fist clenched—
And he punched him square in the chest.
Damon was smaller, so it looked like he was punching a literal tank—
But his fist connected.
The man's body lifted from the floor… smashed through the door… sent flying through the walls and halls with deep rumbling sounds…
As if the building itself was going to collapse…
Damon could hear cries of alarm as the mbers of Quick Hand watched their boss get sent flying out of his office.
He slowly walked out of the room.
As he did—
The runes carved all over the building finally ca to life… sealing the building.
These runes roughly translated to the word—Seal.
Damon had ticulously carved them around the building… it took ti… but that was fine…
As long as he poured mana into them…
No one was leaving this building without his say-so… or until his mana ran dry…
Whichever ca first.
Too bad… he had a colossal amount of mana.
And right now…
His shadow was hungry.
There was a whole building's worth of people to feed on.
"Looks like I'm having a feast tonight…"
The first low-level thug to stop him raised his hand—
A ball of fire shot at Damon.
He didn't even dodge.
It slamd into him and turned into harmless sparks.
He sighed, irritated by their weakness…
"You're not even in First Class Advancent… but I comnd your courage… really, I do… but that was a little weak…"
Before the man could react—
Damon teleported behind him—
Slamd his head into the wall.
Like a lon being crushed—
It sared.
He didn't even twitch by the ti he hit the floor.
The shadows devoured him—
Feeding Damon's strength.
The halls had been filled with Quick Hand mbers rushing in…
But they all froze.
There was a brief, terrifying silence.
Until a squirrel and a raven excitedly broke it—at the scent of blood.
The first fool charged to their death.
All Damon did—
Was raise his hand.
Shadows rose.
Black flas flickered.
Death followed.
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