NOVEL NEXT Chapter 400: Come Here
Ren pulled the short sword from his chest, the wound knitting closed as he stepped over them.
He continued through the alleys, searching for the soldiers. Before long, he saw two of them ahead of him, having looped around through a parallel alley.
They came at him from opposite angles, and Ren ducked low, letting one blade cut the air above his head while his foot swept out, shattering a knee.
The soldier went down screaming, his partner ramming a dagger deep into Ren's side.
Ren gritted his teeth, ignoring the hot rush of blood as he grabbed the man's wrist, twisting until bone snapped.
He drove his sword upward through the soldier's chin, then spun to finish the one on the ground with a single stab through the visor.
He grunted as he pulled the dagger, sliding it free from his own body as the skin sealed over the wound like nothing had happened.
He continued on his way, before his instincts screamed at him in the silence.
They came hard and fast, faster than the rest. He barely got his blades up in time.
The first slammed into him with a shoulder bash that sent him skidding into the wall. The second's sword drove into his stomach, pinning him for half a second.
He let them think they had him.
In that heartbeat, he turned the pain into leverage, pushing himself forward into the blade so he could close the distance.
His right sword punched clean through the first man's throat. His left carved a line into the other's neck before the sword in his stomach slid free.
Blood pooled around their bodies, the silence swallowing everything that had just happened.
He straightened, his chest heaving. His clothes hung around him in ribbons, most part of it stained with blood.
He looked down to see the same thing. His hands were slick with blood, both his own and theirs.
He looked at his swords. The edges were chipped and curled from forcing them through the reinforced plating of the soldiers' armor, and hairline cracks spidered along both blades.
With a faint scoff, he let them fall from his hands. They clattered onto the cobblestones, useless now.
Reaching into his spatial pouch, he felt the sluggish resistance again. The first attempt failed. The second failed. The third, finally, his fingers closed around fresh hilts.
Drawing them free, the new blades gleamed cold and perfect.
Ren turned without a word, walking back toward the district office, leaving six bodies cooling in the silent alleyways behind him.
A few minutes later, he was back where he wanted.
His boots crunched over loose gravel that had been used to decorate the path leading to the half-destroyed district office.
The swords in his hands caught the light, reflecting it towards the soldiers that still stood there, guarding the husk of the building.
His eyes gleamed with the cold certainty of purpose as he stared at them, his mind set on the pain he would be receiving once again.
The squadron of soldiers stiffened the moment they saw him walk out of the side street. A ripple of disbelief ran through their ranks. He had walked away earlier with some of their best in pursuit. None had returned.
He stopped just outside spear range, blood still drying in streaks across his torn clothes. Then, with a slow grin, he lifted one hand and curled his fingers in a come here motion.
The challenge was unmistakable.
A captain barked an order. Boots pounded against stone as another wave surged toward him, this time larger than before.
Ren turned his back and broke into a run, his cloak flaring behind him.
He cut right into the nearest alley, the narrow walls forcing the soldiers into a tight file. Perfect.
The lead soldier lunged, and Ren caught the spear haft on one blade, shoving it upward to jam the tip against the stone wall.
His other sword punched through the soldier's chest plate with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed as he shoved the body back into the men behind, using the narrow space to force them to trip over their own dead.
A second soldier vaulted the corpse and brought a hammer down toward his head.
Ren stepped in, taking the blow on his shoulder with a sickening crunch of bone, and then drove both swords into the man's ribs. The soldier gasped once before collapsing, the hammer slipping from limp fingers.
The bone in Ren's shoulder snapped back into place with a muffled pop as he pulled free.
Two more came in together, working as a pair. One swung a longsword high, the other thrust low. Ren twisted between them, letting the thrust graze his thigh while his right blade locked the longsword.
He slammed his left sword into the low attacker's knee, then reversed the strike to bury it deep into his neck.
The second soldier roared, slashing wildly. Ren took the slash across his chest, his skin parting down to bone, before driving forward, ignoring the pain.
His sword burst through the man's visor in a spray of red. The wound on his chest pulled itself closed before the body hit the ground.
By now, more had caught up. Three soldiers fanned out to block his path.
The first hurled a throwing axe. Ren dipped under it and closed the distance, shoving the man's shield aside with brute force and slicing his throat open.
The second soldier stabbed from behind. Ren let the blade sink into his back, gritting his teeth as white-hot agony flared within him, then he spun on his heel, twisting the sword from the soldier's grasp and planting his own through the man's sternum.
The third soldier tried to retreat, but Ren was already on him. His sword swept in a clean horizontal cut, taking the head clean from his shoulders.
He didn't know when he fell into a rhythm, taking on damage to deal more permanent damage.
Before long, there was no one with him again. He panted, looking around. The alley now reeked of blood and sweat, littered with bodies in twisted armor.
His clothes were shredded even more than before, blood soaking through the fabric. He could feel the stickiness of it in his hair, and taste the metallic tang in his mouth.
Every wound was already knitting itself shut, but each kill took more from him than it should have. Each fight had been a vicious trade of pain for victory.
Still, his hands were steady as he shook the blood from his blades and stepped over the fallen, turning deeper into the maze of alleys.
There were still more soldiers at the district office. And he wasn't done yet.
A/N: Here we are. 400 beautiful chapters. It's been a journey, ain't it?
If you've enjoyed the story so far, don't hesitate to leave a review, power stones, or golden tickets. Not only would it help with visibility, but it would also warm my cold heart. I hope I see you too at the end of this book.
Cheers, mate.