“Arnold?!”

  Glen shouted in shock and disbelief. The one who had just assaulted him from behind was none other than Arnold, the cowardly, spineless kid.

  Arnold sprawled against the far wall amid shattered pottery and scattered soil. The impact had broken the potted plants that decorated the hallway.

  He coughed up blood, struggling to stand, his trembling hand still clutching a dagger. This was a result of Glen’s waning strength; the force of the throw was significantly weaker than his usual strength due to the sudden assault.

  Glen’s gaze dropped to his own body. His palm burned. The one that had buried through his right hand was his own dagger. His stomach throbbed hot, the wound that pierced his abdomen was from a kitchen knife, which Arnold was still holding.

  “Shit…”

  The pain flared in pulsing waves that blurred his vision. He tried to rip the dagger out, but before he could recover from the searing pain, a looming shadow fell over him.

  Glen’s eyes shot up just in time.

  Using Arnold as a momentary distraction, Benjamin had closed the distance without Glen noticing. The old bone approached him, his bandaged face tilted downward, one eye locking on Glen as he struck Glen with a hammer.

  Glen moved his uninjured hand, instinctively blocking the hammer.

  *thud*

  The metal slammed into his forearm with a strong thud. The shock numbed his arm a bit, yet his bones remained intact.

  Benjamin’s visible eye widened, faint surprise flickering behind the gauze.

  ‘Tch!’

  Glen threw down the dagger that had pierced his hand. Pain streaked up his arm, but he ignored it, twisting his weight and driving his fist straight into Benjamin’s face.

  With a single blow, a wet crack resounded; it snapped Benjamin’s neck, sending his head rotating at an impossible angle.

  Benjamin flew backward, striking the wall and collapsing limply to the ground.

  “Ghhh…!”

  He turned just in time to see Arnold already back on his feet. In the boy’s hands were two other kitchen knives. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Glen, slashing wildly in his direction.

  “Stop it, Arnold!” Glen roared, sidestepping the first slash, while struggling, unwilling to harm his young mate.

  Steel carved air beside his ear; another nicked his sleeve, drawing blood along his forearm. Glen stumbled back a step, clutching his stomach wound with one hand. Although the pain was there, he only staggered slightly, still moving with surprising vigor.

  While at it, Glen noticed a strange detail in Arnold’s knife art.

  ‘Where did he learn this?’

  Arnold before him was like a different person entirely. His gaze was absolute and cold, like that of a professional. His stance was firm and stable, his movements precise, and he even used feints with his eyes, aiming one knife for Glen’s head and the other for his chest.

  Glen barely managed to parry the strike with his injured limbs, he gritted his teeth as new cuts bloomed on his skin. If Glen were not a Bless, he would have been overwhelmed by now.

  ‘This is dangerous.’

  Sweat slicking his temple. Was Arnold’s cowardly appearance just a way to deceive people? Or was there something else that Glen couldn’t grasp?

  Glen was confident in his strength; he knew a single punch from him could kill Arnold instantly. But Glen hesitated.

  The boy was a stuttering kid who’d followed him all these years, the one who always called him “brother” and smiled whenever Glen bought him a meal. Arnold was like a younger brother to their band, albeit an immature one.

  Glen dodged again, letting the knife graze his cheek instead of his throat, avoiding a slash aimed at his eyes and rolled his body to the side.

  At this point, he also realized that Arnold was most likely not a Bless. That also meant he was probably not the one orchestrating this entire ordeal.

  “Arnold, snap out of it!”

  Glen shouted. But the boy didn't even flinch, his arm swung in a clean arc at Glen.

  ‘What is wrong with him?’ Glen’s chest tightened while dodging to the side.

  Was he being controlled? It was the only explanation that made sense. In this extraordinary world, everything was possible.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Arnold’s small frame darted from one side of the hall to the other, he lowered his stance and sprinted toward Glen. His knives angled low, cutting through the air like a thrown spear.

  ‘Sorry, kid.’

  Glen found himself unable to deliver a fatal blow. His eyes flashed red as he flicked his fingers toward the incoming boy.

  Suddenly, a fire ignited directly on Arnold’s face. The fire crawled up his tangled blond hair and quickly spread, engulfing his entire head in flames.

  “Aaaghhh!”

  Arnold yelled in agony, his assault immediately broken. Seizing the opportunity, Glen turned his back.

  Yet before he could take more than a step, something wrapped around him from behind.

  Benjamin appeared by his side and hugged him tightly, locking his arms and body, preventing him from escaping. His bandaged head lolled beside his ear, the neck still twisted grotesquely backward from the earlier blow.

  Glen’s heart skipped a beat. How was this guy still moving?!

  His distraction lasted only a brief moment. Glen quickly calmed himself, his eyes flashing red. His arm muscles bulged, tearing through the dirty rags covering his bicep.

  “Get off me!”

  With a roar, he wrenched his arms outward and forcefully tore through Benjamin’s locked arm.

  Glen spun with his momentum, driving a fist into the old bone’s chest. The impact sent a shockwave through the air as the corpse was hurled backward, crashing into the far wall and slumping to the ground.

  But there was no time to breathe. In the corner of his vision, he saw something glinting hurled toward him. Glen reflexively moved his muscular arms and blocked it.

  *Kang!*

  ‘!’

  The strike rang like steel against stone. A knife recoiled off his forearm, sparks flying as the blade spun away into the dark. The thing couldn’t penetrate his arm.

  ‘Ugh!’

  However, he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his right thigh. A shock spread across his face as he stared down at his leg. In his thigh, a knife was deeply lodged. Blood spattered across the patterned carpet beneath him.

  Glen looked up. He widened his eyes, locking onto the culprit.

  Still engulfed in fire, with a half-charred face, Arnold had somehow thrown a knife at him! How was this possible?!

  ‘Shit, this is not normal!’

  A shiver clawed up Glen’s spine. Not wanting to deal with this any longer, he turned and ran away. No one could hold him back now.

  He needed to escape from this place. He still had unfinished promises to fulfill. His daughter was still waiting for him. Whatever had happened to Arnold, it no longer mattered to him.

  Even with the deep wound in his stomach, blood still trickling down as he clutched it with one hand; a knife lodged in his thigh; and a hole in his palm, Glen was still alive. But his speed had slowed down significantly.

  Blood soaked his pants; his thigh burned like fire. His breath was haggard. He had a hard time running, yet his limbs still moved, staggering through the hallway.

  Suddenly, a door creaked open beside him. Glen reflexively turned his head, gripping his hand and preparing for an imminent threat.

  The door pushed wider, light spilling out from inside.

  “Boss? What happened to you?!”

  The familiar voice made him pause. Through the sliver of yellow glow, a thin man stepped into view, holding a lantern that wavered gently.

  It was Jack, looking at him with a mixture of confusion.

  “Jack? Where the hell have you been?!”

  “Oh, I’m still looting this place. Look, I found this!” Jack rummaged in his hidden pocket and proudly pulled out a golden coin.

  ‘This guy! The audacity!’ Glen swallowed his irritation. He turned on his heel and gestured for Jack to follow.

  “Now’s not the time. Move!”

  “Ye? Oh!”

  Jack came over and helped Glen, letting him lean over his shoulder for support. Glen used a torn piece of his sleeve to wrap the bleeding gash on his thigh and his palm.

  “What happened to you, boss?” Jack asked, glancing sidelong at the blood trickling down Glen’s leg.

  “I was ambushed.”

  “Ambushed?”

  Jack tilted his head, obviously not understanding what was going on. Glen knitted his brow and explained.

  “This is a trap. Benjamin’s still here, and I suspect Arnold has already been caught by him.”

  “Caught…” Hearing this, Jack contemplated, his narrow eyes flickering.

  They trudged through the corridor that led to the main foyer. Above them, the grand chandelier loomed like a crown, its crystals dimly reflecting the moonlight that poured in through the tall windows.

  ‘Strange, no one follows us?’ Glen couldn’t help but ask himself. He had predicted that the old man wouldn't let them leave the mansion so peacefully. But looking at the situation, perhaps he was mistaken?

  ‘Unless…’ His eyes glimmered faintly red as he glanced sideways at his mate.

  “Jack, what happened to your neck?”

  Jack’s body stiffened slightly; he then touched his throat. There was a faint, dark bruise encircling it like a necklace.

  Jack widened his eyes, clearly surprised that his leader could discern it in the dim light.

  “Oh, this?” He gave Glen a short chuckle. “I slipped earlier, got tangled on something. Nothing serious, see? It’ll fade by morning.”

  “...Something?”

  A wave of déjà vu washed over Glen. This reminded him of his earlier conversation with Arnold.

  ‘Come to think of it, Arnold was also hit by this “something.”’

  Was that something… the culprit?

  Jack smiled reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry so much, boss. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

  Glen’s hand tightened around his wound. His eyes fixed on Jack with a worried expression.

  In the tension of the ambush, he hadn’t noticed it before, but now, he clearly knew something was very wrong.

  “Jack,” he said quietly.

  “Yes?” The man smiled, turning his head toward Glen. His slit-like eyes moved and looked directly at him.

  Glen’s heart skipped a beat; without warning, he threw his muscular arm at Jack.

  With a fluid motion, Jack evaded Glen’s wild swing, then stepped back, maintaining his distance. The lantern’s light on Jack’s hand spun wildly, scattering shadows like flapping wings across the walls.

  “Boss, what are you doing?” Jack looked up, confusion etched on his face, clearly not understanding why his boss would attack him out of nowhere.

  Glen didn’t lower his guard. He looked directly at Jack and growled.

  “Stop pretending. Jack would never call me ‘Boss.’”

  “...”

  The foyer went dead quiet.

  Slowly, Jack’s lips curved up. He lifted a trembling hand and pressed it to his mouth.

  “Oh my…” he whispered with amusement. “It seems I’ve been caught.”