Berthold’s group had brought a significant portion of their numbers specifically to avoid complications. And yet, within seconds, they had already lost a man, and all they could do was stand there, trying to process exactly what had just happened.
’What...’
Berthold was already moving toward the attacker that had appeared from nowhere, when his senses caught sothing else. More presences. Also from nowhere.
"Watch out, there are others," said the second Advanced Stage E-rank, the one who had tried to ambush Evan at the very start of all this, but the warning ca too late.
A mont later, another of the weaker mbers of the group found himself on the ground, using the last fragnts of his strength to understand what had hit him.
Three strikes. One to the throat, one to the chest, one to the legs. Appeared from nothing, too fast to be fully avoided. Enough, in the end, to finish him.
Shadow’s three summons. Just like their master, they had materialized behind the group without warning and taken a life before anyone had ti to react. They were F-rank, but all three at the peak of their rank, while their target had been barely at Early Stage E-rank. There was no way out of an ambush like that.
In an instant, two of the five were dead.
Evan, who had watched all of it with an impassive expression, let out a slow breath and reinforced his blade with mana as he stepped forward.
"Well. That evens things out, wouldn’t you say?"
The words were clearly aid at Berthold, who was already at full alert and no longer wore the scornful expression from before. What had replaced it was sothing darker, with clear murderous intent behind his eyes.
"You..." His voice was low, controlled. Worse that way.
"I was going to make this quick. Now I won’t let you die so easily."
With those words he launched forward, followed by the scarred companion and the remaining weaker E-rank, who instead peeled off directly toward Shadow and his three summons.
What followed was a fight that would cost Berthold’s group dearly. Not because Evan was untouchable. But because they had made the most common mistake of people who survive by underestimating others,
they had stopped calculating the risks the mont they believed they had control.
The leader of their outfit, however, wasn’t there to see any of it.
He hadn’t co. He had considered the group more than sufficient to handle a single Advanced Stage E-rank, and so he had gone elsewhere, to take care of a separate matter he considered equally important.
His na was Vince.
He was tall, plain-looking, the kind of man you’d guess to be in his middle years without really thinking about it. But his posture told a different story, the calm ease of soone who had done enough immoral things that he no longer needed to justify himself to anyone, not even himself.
At that mont, however, Vince was standing in a dimly lit room, straight-backed and still, facing a man who had not bothered to turn around since he had arrived.
"Given the urgency of your ssage," Vince said, "I’m assuming the news isn’t good."
The man didn’t turn. He answered without moving.
"You’d be right. It’s not sothing you’ll enjoy hearing."
He let a mont pass before continuing.
"The city magistrate has decided to reinforce BranLeaf’s guard. Patrols, checkpoints, tighter oversight across the outer districts. For groups like yours, operating the way you’re used to is going to beco considerably more difficult in the near future."
Vince said nothing. He swallowed the irritation and waited.
"In light of the incoming beast wave, the capital has decided to send support. An Elite of equal standing to the Duke himself. Which ans that until things settle, the last thing we need is for our operations to surface. Stay low, and make sure your people do the sa.
Vince stayed silent for a mont. The waves were a constant of BranLeaf, sothing the city had learned to live with over ti. But in recent years sothing had shifted — each one had co in stronger than the last, as if sothing was building toward a breaking point that no one could quite see yet.
"This cycle is expected to reach levels we’ve never seen before," the man continued. "Enough to warrant a formal request to the capital."
"And the Duke?" Vince raised an eyebrow slightly. "If it’s really that serious... what is he planning to do? Why would the capital need to step in? Is this year’s wave really bad enough for that level of preparation?"
The silence that followed wasn’t long. But it was precise enough for Vince to understand that he had said sothing wrong, not in substance, but in tone.
The man in front of him didn’t turn. When he spoke, his voice was the sa as before, calm, almost indifferent, but with sothing beneath it that left no room for misunderstanding.
"The Duke’s affairs are not your concern. Neither are the capital’s decisions, nor the reasons behind them." A pause, short and deliberate. "You are a street rat who runs a handful of petty operations in a city that tolerates you because you haven’t yet given it sufficient reason to stop doing so. I’d suggest you rember that before asking questions that aren’t yours to ask".
The words landed without heat. That was what made them worse.
Vince held his tongue. There was nothing else to do.
"Keep a low profile. No incidents, nothing that draws attention. Pass the word to the other groups operating in the area. That’s all you need to know."
A dismissal. Cleaner than the first.
Vince nodded once, said nothing, and left the room.
He was not pleased. Far from it. But so people weren’t worth arguing with, not out of respect, but because you understood exactly how little your opinion mattered to them.
That understanding, more than anything else, was what kept n like him alive.
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