The spatial tear deposited Percival into the darkness of Luvengart’s underbelly. He was alone, standing in the barrow, damp alleyway slling of stale rain and refuse. He rembered eting the Portal Mage here.
Percival remained in his position for a while, his chest rising and falling as he breathed slowly, trying to calmly regain himself, and his thoughts.
The adrenaline of the chase was gone now, now he had to face the reality of what he had done.
He had killed Liraeth Windwhisper.
It felt good. It felt really, really good.
In fact, it felt so good that despite everything, if he could go back, he would still do it.
But at the sa ti, Percival couldn’t escape the punishnt. The deal was, he hadn’t just eliminated a betrayer from his past life; he had butchered a Hero formally representing the realm.
And he had done it in front of the Great Scholar and nineteen of her peers. Worse, he had killed a daughter of Elven royalty.
Percival rembered Liraeth’s mother, Eristasia Windwhisper, who held a high, untouchable seat of power in the province of Arandor.
By bisecting her daughter on the dead grass of Hollowcreek, Percival had essentially declared war on a wildly powerful noble family, and likely the entire Elven Throne.
He closed his eyes, and cursed again.
"Okay. Ti to think."
He summoned his system, taking a glance at his Summons.
⸢Summon Space: 62/97⸥
His Skeletons were all dead, but he still had minions to call upon. He had rcius, his loyal Soul Soldier, and Argus, his Skeleton Steed. He still commanded the fifty-plus Demons he had harvested from Suicide Manor, along with the enslaved Vampire Lord.
And hovering in the depths of his reservoir were Willow the brave Knight, and the colossal Swamp Dragon he had slain to conquer The Rending Marsh.
They were awaiting him to complete their Contract Quests.
Percival had to get that done next. But he couldn’t do it here. No. He straightened his back. He couldn’t even stay here for much longer.
With the Heroes and Master Omares in Hollowcreek, it was highly likely that they would find the portal. Once they traced it straight to Luvengart, Percival had to be far gone from the besieged city.
There was no ti to waste.
He took a step toward the main thoroughfare, but paused imdiately after. His Perception violently flared, warning him of a hidden presence.
A subtle, unnatural current of air swept through him, causing his hair to dance. That was strange given that he was in an alley and the air was too limited to allow for wind.
Percival’s blue eyes darted to the periphery without moving his head. He recognized the signature of that wind.
He had felt that exact sa shift in air pressure brushing past him as he sprinted through the bone-white trees of Hollowcreek.
He knew who it was. The Wind Assassin.
It was the sa spy Baron Eutheo had sent to tail him when he first arrived in Luvengart. With that realization, ca an even more dangerous one.
If the spy had been in Hollowcreek, that ant he had seen everything. He had seen Percival kill Liraeth Windwhisper.
If the spy reported back to Eutheo, the Baron would panic. Out of sheer terror of Elven retaliation, Eutheo might lock down the city, try to detain Percival, or imdiately sell him out to Elven diplomats to wash his hands of the blood.
But Percival didn’t want to sell himself out. He couldn’t allow the Assassin to escape because he overreacted.
So, taking a calming breath, he continued walking forward, his heavy greaves echoing softly in the alley. He let his aura completely recede, feigning exhaustion.
Patiently, he waited for the breeze to shift just a fraction closer, matching his rhythm. Once he could feel it, Percival pivoted with blinding speed.
He channeled dense necrotic mana into his left hand and violently grabbed at the empty air itself. His fingers curled around the air until it beca solid, crushing the magic of the stealth spell.
A figure wrapped in grey, form-fitting leather materialized out of thin air, stumbling forward as his camouflage collapsed.
Before the Assassin could even raise a dagger, Percival stepped directly into his guard. He seized the man by the throat and slamd him brutally against the alley wall.
The bricks cracked. "Ack—!" the Assassin choked, his boots dangling inches off the ground.
Percival leaned in, his face inches from the spy’s. His blue eyes burned with ⸢Soulfire⸥ as he allowed his aura to spill out, wrapping the Assassin with a suffocating, icy pressure.
"Na," Percival demanded. "Tell ."
The spy clawed uselessly at Percival’s armored gauntlet, his eyes bulging with absolute terror. "L-Lirac!" he gasped out.
"Lirac," Percival repeated slowly, pressing even more. "You followed . You saw what I did in that forest. Which ans you know exactly what I am capable of."
Lirac nodded frantically, tears of panic pricking the corners of his eyes. "Yes. Yes."
"Good. So if you want to keep your head attached to your spine," Percival whispered, the chill of his breath making the Assassin shiver, "you will seal your mind. The Baron hears nothing of what happened today. Only that the Gate is cleared. If I find out you breathed a word of what happened to Eutheo... no breeze in Evernia will be fast enough to hide you from ."
Percival’s grip tightened just enough to crack a warning against Lirac’s windpipe. "Do we understand each other?"
"Y-yes! Yes, I swear on Azrael!" Lirac wheezed, his spirit utterly broken.
Percival stared into his eyes for a second longer, ensuring the fear was branded deep into the man’s soul. Satisfied, he released his grip. Lirac collapsed to the damp cobblestones, coughing and gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat.
Percival didn’t look back as he stepped out of the alley and blended into the sparse crowds of the outer streets.
’I need to hurry up and leave this godforsaken city,’ he thought, dusting his dark armor.
So minutes later, in the heart of the city, the large doors of the Baron’s Fort pushed open, light spilling into the hall.
A guard stepped briskly to the center of the hall, dropping to one knee before the throne.
"My Lord," the guard announced with gravity "The Hero has returned from his mission."
Sitting on the throne, Baron Eutheo leaned forward with relief, knowing that the Alpha Gate closed and the Demons had been stopped.
The Baron was now safe from treason, and the massive surge of anxiety that aged him a decade over the previous several days evaporated in an instant.
As he gazed blissfully at the door, a glorious grin stretched on his face. Percival Nightstar stepped in.
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