Luke studied the situation carefully. He was in his work area as a woodcutter, the forest where his group usually labored. Normally, a few Bastion soldiers patrolled the grounds to protect the workers, but something was off. There were far more soldiers here than there should have been. And worse, Kruger had arrived, flanked by his assassins with shadow powers.

"We're here for an identity inspection," one of the soldiers announced.

The chance of it being a trap is high, but if it really were a trap, would they let themselves be seen by me like this?

Luke's gaze lingered on the assassins. A part of him burned to cut Kruger down right then and there, to slaughter all of them. They were the worst kind of threat in Bastion. His infiltration skills, his stealth, it wasn't Luke who feared them, but the chaos Kruger could unleash. If he seized the second fortress and pushed toward Haven, assassins like those would become a serious problem.

For days now, while spying on Bastion, Luke had prayed for a chance encounter with Kruger, just to follow him beyond the Safe Zone and finish him. But the Assassin Phantom had never appeared. If he was in Bastion, he hadn't left once. Luke couldn't confirm it with absolute certainty, but he'd overheard enough in the tavern to track Bastion's movements. Someone as conspicuous as Kruger stepping outside would have been noticed.

Then again… there was the other possibility. Kruger might have left in disguise. It would be almost too easy. He always wore a mask; no one outside Bastion knew his face. Stripped of his gear, dressed like anyone else, he could come and go unnoticed. That was what made the assassins so dangerous: their mindset, their caution, their endless patience.

"You know the procedure," Conrad said firmly. "Confirm the information. Recruits, stick to 'yes' or 'no.' The faster you answer, the faster we're done here."

Luke glanced around. No one seemed alarmed. To them, this was routine.

"Hey, Jack," he asked casually, "what's going on?"

"Monthly inspection," Jack muttered. "Bartholomew sends these guys to every work sector."

Luke's eyes shifted to the soldiers carrying ledgers.

"The last thing they want," Jack added, "is giving work to someone who owes tribute… or to a criminal."

Luke forced a thin smile. "Those files they're carrying, they've got sketches, don't they? Debtors… and criminals?"

"Of course."

Luke's stare lingered on the soldiers closing in. And the assassins… no doubt they'd be the ones to handle the criminals. He exhaled slowly, sinking into stillness. Readying himself for whatever came next. But deep down, the thought gnawed at him: trap or coincidence?

Shame I didn't grab more arrows.

If Kruger got close, would he recognize him?

"Name, occupation, class, and time working here," one soldier demanded.

"Rhett. Woodcutter. Ranger class. I've been here for a week," the man answered.

Luke watched more soldiers spread out across the camp. Even Kruger and his shadows moved among them, grabbing clipboards and speaking with workers.

They're interviewing too? If they see my picture as Luke… will they recognize me as James?

After the capital. After fighting Ronan. After killing six assassins. His face was etched into their memory by now. If they got anywhere near him, they'd recognize him instantly, and then all hell would break loose.

"Alright, Rhett. Everything checks out," the soldier said. "Back to work."

Luke's eyes narrowed.

I can pretend I've already been interviewed, then turn into mist and hide inside a tree.

That was the plan. All he needed was an opening, a single move. Soldiers drifted closer to the workers, and unease coiled in his chest. He wasn't ready to face Kruger. Not yet. Not without at least five more arrows in his quiver. The Warden Captain came first. Killing him mattered more than anything else. Once the second mechanism was triggered and the fortress handed over to Haven, then he could breathe easier and turn his full attention to Bartholomew.

"Name, job, class, and how long you've been here," one soldier demanded.

Jack stiffened.

"Jack. Woodcutter. My class is… healer. Been working here a month."

"Healer? What the hell are you doing in a place like this? If I were you, I'd rather be in Bastion."

"Keep your voice down about my class," Jack muttered, nervous. "You know that causes trouble…"

The soldier scratched notes on his ledger. "Information checks out. Get back to work."

From a distance, he spotted Kruger. No clipboard. Just prowling between groups, scanning faces like a wolf among sheep. I must be the unluckiest bastard in this whole camp.

He watched Jack slip into the trees and lowered his head, slipping into stealth to follow, hoping to dodge his own interview. That's when he felt a hand brush close.

"Name, job, class, and time working here," a voice said.

He turned, already preparing to strike if the soldier recognized him for what he truly was. But when he saw who it was...

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Eleanor said.

His mind faltered for a moment. Right. Soldier.

"I'm guessing you already know everything about me," he said lightly, masking the tension.

She gave a soft laugh while flipping open his file. He glanced around. The assassins and Kruger were still moving through the crowd, questioning workers.

"Small world, James," she murmured.

"Smaller than I'd like," he replied with a faint smile, keeping one eye on the shadows closing in.

"I already know your name. I still need your job, class, and how long you've been here," she teased.

"Isn't it all in the file?"

"Procedure says I have to ask," she said, clearly toying with him.

"Fine. Woodcutter. Archer class. Two weeks on the job."

She scribbled a few marks, then shut the file. "Looks like everything checks out. You're free to return to work."

But behind him, one of the shadow assassins was still conducting interviews. If it came to that, he would be recognized instantly. He needed a diversion.

He improvised.

"Well then, madam," he said with a grin, "you know everything about me, and I barely know a thing about you. What are you doing out here? I'm the type to believe coincidences are just destiny in disguise." He willed himself into the mindset of a spy, every word a deliberate mask.

Eleanor smiled faintly. "You already know my name. My class is archer."

"That explains your aim," he replied.

She shrugged. "Everyone has their strengths."

The assassin still lingered behind him. He forced another smile. "I thought you just patrolled the Safe Zone. Didn't realize you had other duties."

"Why do you want to know more?" she asked slyly. "Trying to set something up?"

"Maybe. Depends on when you're free…" He fought to keep his voice steady.

"I told you," she said, eyes glinting. "My job is keeping the Safe Zone safe. That means I also work with Bastion's special patrols. Like the ones with me right now."

With those lunatic assassins?

"You seem like the most normal one," he said.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended by that," she replied with a small laugh.

She hesitated, her expression shifting. "But honestly, I barely interact with them. My role in the team is more… solitary."

"And what role is that?" he asked.

"I'm more of a… sniper," she said.

His throat tightened, forcing out a cough. "Sniper?" He struggled to keep his composure.

"Yes. I'm the best. They always call me for high-risk missions. Though lately, things have been quiet. Aside from that little incident at the barrier."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I-Incident at the barrier?"

"Yeah. With that maniac terrorist," she said casually. "Don't worry, I wasn't in real danger… probably. Let's just say, when I fire an arrow, I always shoot to kill."

Shoot to kill?!

"Like… right in the heart?" he asked with a shaky laugh.

"Bingo." Her smile sharpened. "I always prefer a clean shot straight through the heart."

He scanned the surroundings, and something clicked in his mind.

No way…

'Luke, there's a good chance she's the one who almost killed you.' Artemis whispered, then burst into laughter. 'Man, this world is way too small.'

He forced a calm tone. "I imagine your job gets pretty dangerous."

"Sometimes. Why the sudden interest? Worried about me?" she asked, nudging him playfully.

"Yes… very worried."

'He's worried about himself, hahahaha.' Artemis howled inside his head.

"Relax," she said with a grin. "I can take care of myself."

Behind them, the assassin finished his interview.

"I'd better get going," he muttered. "Wouldn't want to interfere with your work."

She nodded. "Just be careful not to end up in my sights, James." She raised her hand, finger cocked like a bowstring, and mimed a shot.

"I hope that day never comes," he replied.

With that, he slipped away, heading back to his work as if nothing had happened.

***

Evening had finally settled in, and Luke had spent the entire day lost in thought. The coincidence of Eleanor being the same archer who'd once aimed for his heart kept gnawing at him. The possibility that she might also be one of those trying to prevent the mechanisms from being activated made his chest feel heavier. If that were true, then sooner or later, he'd have to kill her.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

"What's wrong, James? You usually leave earlier. Never seen you hang around this late," Jack asked.

"I think I'm done flirting with women," Luke replied flatly.

Jack clapped him on the back. "I knew it. The words of the Goddess of Kindness are finally getting through to you."

Luke just stared at him, exhaling a long sigh. The truth was, he stayed until dusk because he suspected someone might try to set a trap if they'd recognized him. Better to let it all play out at night, in the forest trails, where he could use the cover of darkness to his advantage. If blood was going to be spilled, he wanted the shadows on his side.

So he veered away from the usual route, choosing the longer trail no one bothered with. He wasn't about to risk walking into an ambush waiting on the main path. No. Tonight he'd set the bait himself.

"You're not heading back with the others?" Jack asked, catching up.

"Not today," Luke said.

He glanced toward the city, ignoring the common trail.

I've got enough from the map to finish the rest of the plan. Shame it'll be with just five damn arrows.

Not that arrows mattered much anymore. The old reliable, potions as weapons, would be his real trump card. He still needed a few more levels, but by now his crops had to be fully grown. With luck, that harvest would give him all the experience points he needed. It would be him against the Warden Captain and the other Wardens. Princess Charlie had her own mission. The stronger he was, the better the odds. Luke started down the trail, only for Jack to appear at his side again.

"You really shouldn't walk with me, Jack," Luke muttered.

"You know, I've been where you are," Jack began. "I used to live recklessly. No long-term ties, no marriage, nothing but anger weighing me down. Then the words of kindness reached me, and everything changed."

Luke frowned. "You're not getting it. This isn't about that."

Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, man. I'm here for you. The first step is admitting you need to change, and you've already done that. Leave the rest to me."

Luke shook his head, walking faster. "Jack, I'm a bad person. If you stick with me, you'll end up hurt."

"James, believe me, I've been where you are. I know exactly how you feel."

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, idiot. I'm headed down a dangerous trail that might be a trap. You could actually get hurt. I don't know what's waiting out there, and if you're caught in the middle of it, you won't survive. I'm trying to protect you."

Jack only smiled and pointed to Luke's chest. "I can see it. A war raging inside your heart. But don't walk into that abyss alone. I'll be there for you."

"Shit…" Luke muttered. "Listen, idiot, I might be walk—"

That's when he heard it. Branches snapping, footsteps rushing through the brush.

"I knew it," he whispered.

A bolt cut through the air. Luke shoved Jack aside just in time.

"I told you, you idiot!"

Figures burst from the treeline, armed with swords, axes, and bows already drawn. Luke reached for his kukris, summoning them from his inventory, then froze when he saw a familiar face.

"Rhett?" he breathed.

Rhett grinned. "Hello, idiots."

Luke's eyes swept over the group. These weren't Bartholomew's soldiers.

"Oh no. Not again," Jack groaned.

"What do you mean, again?" Luke snapped.

"I'm about to get kidnapped," Jack said, raising his hands in surrender.

Rhett smirked. "Exactly. A healer wandering around unprotected? You're coming with us. You'll serve us now."

Not soldiers of Bastion. Bandits.

***

Allison stood in the middle of the battlefield at the orc village, steel clashing all around her. The noise was relentless, deafening. Even though the orcs were weaker than her, their sheer numbers were overwhelming. She and the others from the Haven had formed a defensive circle, but it was like fighting against the earth itself, every time one fell, more seemed to crawl out of the ground.

Two of the ballistae had already been silenced, but the other two kept firing. The orc crews didn't even hesitate to fire into their own ranks if it meant hitting their enemies. A thunderous explosion shook the air nearby, a fireball, courtesy of Mason. An orc roared, axe swinging toward her with brutal speed. Allison slipped past the blow and spun. Her katana carved clean through its neck.

[You have slain an Orc Villager Lvl 24]

The body froze in place, the skin glowing blue before locking solid into jagged ice. That was the power of her profession skill, further enhanced by her bloodline skill, [Heart of the Ice Dragon]. Every corpse she struck down, she could turn into ice with a thought.

Her eyes flicked to the blade in her hand, the reward from the day she'd slain the Ant Queen.

[General Ant's Katana (Rare) Description: Forged from one of the Ant Queen's limbs, this blade carries the essence of her untamed fury. The creature fell in battle against a princess who bore the same grief of loss. The weapon became the reflection of a shared tragedy, the wrath of two sovereigns, mother and daughter, bound by the same path of vengeance.

[Noble Blood Recognized (Rare)]: The blade sharpens when wielded by one of royal blood. [Chitinous Carapace (Rare)]: While wielding this katana, the user can temporarily harden their skin like chitin, gaining extra defense in battle. Requirement: Level 20+ in Swordsman class.]

Another roar tore through the chaos. More orcs surged forward, their bodies piling into the frozen corpses now standing like grotesque statues around her. At least the icy graveyard slowed their advance, turning the dead into makeshift barricades.

"We need to reach the Orc Lord!" Quinn shouted.

They were cut off from the main invasion force. Miriam charged ahead, axe spinning, unleashing a skill that tore a bloody path through the mob. Eugene, Malik, Gilbert, and Mason pressed forward in her wake.

Allison darted after them, weaving through the icebound corpses. She dashed, double-jumped, and landed beside the others. From her vantage in the air, she caught sight of the main Haven force. They'd formed a wider circle, their ranged fighters, archers, mages, crossbowmen, safely at the core. The outer ring bristled with melee classes, each one backed by a shieldbearer, their interlocked walls of iron keeping the horde at bay.

Spells lit the night sky, lightning crackled, barriers flared, spectral arms of mana clawed at the orcs, and enchanted debris hurtled through the air.

"He's coming!" Miriam's voice rang out.

Allison saw him. The massive figure rising from his throne, purple skin gleaming like bruised iron. He wasn't like the others. Not an orc. A High Orc. A breed stronger, faster, more vicious than the rest. His roar rolled over the battlefield as he thundered toward them.

Miriam planted her feet, pouring stamina into her axe. The weapon grew impossibly heavy, dense with the weight of her blacksmith's skill. With a shout, she hurled it. The axe slammed into the Orc Lord's chest with a resounding crack.

And still, he kept running. Allison unleashed a barrage of iceballs, each one striking the monster and bursting into shards of snow. Beside her, Gilbert hurled his hand-axes, the enchanted belt around his waist conjuring more with every throw. With a roar of fury, the Orc Lord leapt. They all recognized that move, the same devastating power that had killed one of their own before.

"Scatter!" someone shouted.

The ground shook as the beast landed, flames erupting from his body in a violent shockwave that scorched everything within reach.

Malik raised his wand, chains of mana lashing out to bind the Orc Lord in place. Quinn darted forward, rapier flashing as razor-sharp birds of wind slammed into the creature. Eugene hefted his spear, channeling lightning until the weapon crackled with raw energy, then hurled it with all his strength. The spear hurtled toward the Orc Lord's face, only for the monster to snatch it from the air, snap Malik's bindings, and let the electricity dance across his flesh as though it were nothing more than an irritation.

Allison kept firing, iceballs slamming into the beast one after another. Malik wasn't done. He thrust his wand again, and from the corpses littering the battlefield more chains of mana burst forth, wrapping around the Orc Lord's limbs and torso. Then Mason moved. He vaulted high, his body glowing faintly with a golden light, bloodline power igniting within him. Both arms blackened, cracked with streaks of burning yellow, transforming into charred stone limbs, his epic blacksmith skill.

He landed hard at the monster's flank. The others fell back instantly, giving him space. Mason raised his arms and invoked a spell: Fireball.

But it wasn't one. It was dozens.

Like a living artillery cannon, Mason's arms spewed fireball after fireball, each exploding in blinding succession. His lineage amplified their destructive power, his epic blacksmithing skill twisting them into something even more devastating. The blasts consumed the battlefield, thunderclaps of fire and smoke tearing the air apart, wave after wave hammering into the Orc Lord.

The sight froze everyone in place. Even his allies, hardened fighters all, could only watch in awe. Mason was the strongest among them, and in that moment, no one could doubt it. Caught completely off guard, the Orc Lord was swallowed by the inferno. The monster's massive form disappeared in the storm of fire, drowned beneath endless detonations. The final fireball left Mason's hands, and he collapsed to one knee, mana utterly drained.

"Did we get him?" Malik gasped.

The answer came in the form of a roar. The Orc Lord emerged from the smoke, mangled but very much alive. His flesh was torn open, raw muscle and charred sinew visible beneath the burns. Half his face was blackened, one tusk shattered. Blood poured freely across his body, but his eyes burned hotter than ever. He wore no armor, only crude pants fashioned from bone and iron scraps.

He glared at them all, lips curling into something that might have been a grin.

"Was that it?" the creature growled.

Fear gripped the group. The Orc Lord spread his arms wide, flames licking from his skin. Metal clinked. Chains rattled. As the smoke cleared, they saw him holding a massive iron chain in each hand, spiked balls the size of boulders dangling from their ends.

With a savage roar, he spun them. The whirling weapons tore through the battlefield, smashing debris, wood, structures, and even orcs that stood in his path, reducing everything to rubble without distinction. Allison dodged at the last second, leaping back with a double jump. But when she landed and looked over her shoulder, her heart froze. Malik was there one instant. The next, he was nothing but gore.

When Allison hit the ground again, the Orc Lord stood grinning at them through the carnage. Then, without hesitation, he charged.

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