NOVEL NEXT Chapter 399: Two Down, Four To Go
An hour or two ago, in the mid layers of Carthage.
Ren's boots scraped against the damp stone as he ducked into the narrow mouth of the hidden tunnel.
The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old dust and stagnant water. The cramped passage sloped upward, and the darkness seemed almost like a living being, covering him on all sides.
He moved slowly, his senses stretched thin, every nerve alert for the slightest sign of a trap.
The silence around him was the oppressive blanket of the Shard's influence, and in it, every sound he made was devoured before it could even be heard.
If this was a normal day, the faint grind of his heel and even the shallow rasp of his breathing would have been loud in the tunnel, but right now, there was nothing.
His instincts kept telling him that this was too easy. An unguarded path upward? In the middle of Carthage during a coup? Impossible. But each cautious step proved otherwise.
When the faint light of the exit appeared ahead, Ren slowed to a stop, pressing his back against the wall.
He extended his awareness outward, searching for any shift in movement or breath of life.
Nothing.
No soldiers. No watchers. No buried mines ready to erupt under his feet. Whoever controlled this section of the city didn't know this tunnel existed.
He could understand why. The soldiers were focused more on the deeper layers, as that was where the Elders were, and didn't regularly scour the upper layers for smuggler's tunnels.
He almost smiled. Almost.
Still keeping his steps silent, Ren slipped the rest of the way up until he emerged into a narrow, dark alley.
The warm air of the upper layer brushed across his face, somehow feeling cleaner than the air in the layer below.
He scanned the street before stepping out.
The upper layer was familiar to him now after more than a month of living there before upgrading their badges.
The angular architecture, the carved stone facades, the light orbs glowing overhead. But it was quieter than usual, even with the unnatural silence hanging over Carthage.
He weaved through backstreets until the broken outline of the half-destroyed district office came into view. Rubble spilled from its collapsed side, charred beams jutting out at awkward angles. The place looked gutted, but not abandoned.
Ren climbed up the side of a neighboring building, keeping his profile low until he reached the rooftop. From there, he crouched and peered down.
A squadron of soldiers was stationed outside the office. They weren't relaxing, either. They stood in ready positions, weapons in hand, their eyes scanning the empty streets. Whatever was inside, they were under strict orders to guard it.
"Gotcha."
Ren narrowed his eyes.
He mentally checked his remaining resources.
His physical enhancement was still a part of him. The same unnatural strength and speed that was the result of Lilith stitching his body and soul together years before.
His regeneration, the main thing he needed, was still working as always. Every wound he took would seal itself in moments, though the pain would remain.
His hand wandered down to his waist, checking his spatial pouch. Surprisingly, the item was still functional, but faint. The silence had not destroyed it, but preserved its spatial integrity at its lowest possible power. It felt sluggish, like pulling objects through syrup.
Testing it, he reached inside mentally, grasping for what he needed. The first attempt failed. The second and third, too. By the fourth, his jaw had tightened in frustration.
The fifth time, his fingers closed on cool steel.
When he drew his hands out, two swords gleamed faintly in the rooftop light. One in each hand. They felt balanced, the leather wrapped hilts warm under his grip.
Ren rolled his shoulders, setting them in place, and ran through the plan once more in his head.
Step one. Draw them out. Force them to leave the safety of the pack and come after him.
Step two. Pick them off, one by one, away from the group.
Step three. Return for whoever was stubborn enough to remain.
Step four. Destroy the Shard of Oblivion.
If it went perfectly, he'd be standing in that courtyard alone by the end.
If it didn't… well, at least he wouldn't die.
Ren stood slowly, his silhouette emerging against the pale light from the streetlamps.
His lungs filled with the cold air, and then he yelled.
Nothing happened.
He chuckled to himself, having forgotten that no sound could pass in this silence. So, instead, he began waving his hands to gain their attention.
The soldiers' heads snapped up instantly.
Exactly what he wanted.
He crouched low, eyes narrowing as he counted the soldiers peeling away from the formation at the district office.
One… two… three… four… six in total.
'Good. That's a manageable number.'
The moment they committed to pursuit, he stepped off the roof. Stone rushed past his vision, and a second later, his boots hit the cobbled street. His knees bent to absorb the shock before he straightened and bolted into the nearest alley.
In the silence, he couldn't hear his own footsteps, and neither could he hear that of the soldiers. But the best part was, it went both ways.
Just as he couldn't hear them, they also couldn't hear him. And he, unlike them, could afford to make mistakes.
He darted left, then right, weaving through the cramped streets until the first two caught up, their speed outstripping his own.
He glanced back as a spear lanced toward his spine, twisting aside and feeling the cold bite of steel graze his ribs.
He pivoted, sword flashing upward to deflect the next thrust, sparks dancing from the edge. With his other hand, he slashed low, cutting through the gap under the first soldier's arm.
The man convulsed, armor plates shuddering, but his partner rammed a short sword into Ren's chest.
The pain flared hot, the world dimming for a heartbeat, but in that same instant, Ren drove his blade through the second man's visor.
Both dropped in unison, dead before they hit the ground.
Two down, four to go.