Chapter 525: The Hijackers [Part 2]

Chapter 525: The Hijackers [Part 2]



In the distance, obscured from each other by the clouds, an airship hovered, cutting through the cover like a predatory beast stalking its prey.

It was darker in appearance, with jagged edges along its hull, unlike the smooth, polished surface of the soul vessel.

The sails were tattered but not from wear-rather, they seemed intentionally designed to whip the air like wings of some nightmarish creature.

It had an angular shape, almost birdlike, though warped and twisted, as though the materials had been forcibly bent into a malevolent formation.

Its hull bore scars of past battles, dents and gashes where the metal looked like it had been patched over hastily.

Black symbols were etched into the sides, intricate designs resembling ancient runes. Unlike the vessel, they seemed to be dead, broken, and lost to the weariness of the dark vessel.

Two figures stood at the ship's prow, cloaked in shadows. Their faces were obscured by hooded garments, but their postures radiated cold precision.

One held a long rifle slung over his shoulder, its barrel gleaming under the dim light breaking through the clouds, while the other rested a hand on a short blade strapped to their hip.

The wind around them seemed to ripple unnaturally, and as the ship drew closer, it was clear -this was a vessel of damnation.

One of the figures, his golden eyes radiating with a deadly grace, warned, "Be sure you do not miss. This will be the core of our operation. If it fails now..."

"Old man, cut me some slack already. You've said this like a thousand times," the other replied with a harsh tone, his voice ruffle-like. He fell to his knee and slammed the rifle off his shoulders, aiming towards the cloud.

The figure with the golden eyes narrowed them, his gaze growing colder. "Do not forget your place, boy. If it fails, you'll wish I had only repeated myself."

His voice held a quiet malice, barely a whisper carried by the wind. The shadows around him seemed to deepen, coiling like serpents ready to strike.

The rifleman grunted, adjusting his aim as he knelt on the splintered deck. His sharp, calculating eyes narrowed behind the scope, tracking something invisible within the thick clouds.

"I never miss."

The air was thick with tension, the sound of the wind whistling through the tattered sails and the hum of their ship's corrupted essence filling the void between them.

Slowly, the rifleman's finger hovered over the trigger, ready to unleash devastation.

The airship carrying Northern and his group, along with several other passengers, sailed unsuspectingly, gliding through the clouds with ease.

Its passengers—except the white-haired kid and his father had no idea of the looming threat that now targeted them from the embrace of the clouds.

"Do it," the golden-eyed man commanded.

The rifleman pulled the trigger.

A sharp crack split the air, followed by a pulse of dark energy rippling outward from the barrel.

The shot was not a simple bullet-it was a concentrated burst of refined soul essence, an explosive force specifically designed to disrupt the flow of energy coursing through the opposing ship.

The projectile vanished into the clouds, unseen by the passengers below.

Aboard Northern's ship, the calm journey was shattered.

The airship suddenly lurched to the side, the hum of the engines faltering, their flow of soul essence flickering erratically.

But Northern moved faster than their eyes could track, slipping between their attacks with a

ghostly grace.

His hand shot out, grabbing the spear mid-thrust and snapping it in half with a flick of his

wrist.

The hijacker recoiled in shock, but before he could retreat, Northern's fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into the side of the ship.

The other hijacker barely had time to react before Northern stepped into his space, twisting the man's wrist and forcing him to drop the blade.

A single blow to his chest knocked him to the ground, leaving him gasping for air. Northern didn't waste time. He glanced back up at the sky, the tension in his shoulders tightening.

Something was off.

The hijackers were just the first wave-fodder meant to create confusion. The real danger was still up there, hidden behind the clouds.

That shot had been aimed with surgical precision. Northern found himself more keen on what had managed to hit them from behind.

Moreover, whatever had taken a shot at them could not have had the speed to arrive just above

them. While Northern was inclined to believe they were the same, his mind screamed at another line of reasoning.

Alystren, having dispatched his attacker, strode toward Northern, his fists still clenched in

fury.

"I need you to speak with your sleeping buddy. For these people, we will need all the help we can get." His voice was sharp, cutting through the din of battle around them. Northern's frown deepened, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on the dark ship above, now descending closer. He then swung to Alystren,

"Sounds like you know them. Who are they and what do they want?"

Alystren frowned, "This is not the time and place for this, but they are a very dangerous bunch. I don't know why they are suddenly attacking an airship heading to Arcadia." Alystren's eyes suddenly widened as if he had an epiphany.

'Arcadia. These bastards, are they trying to restrict the entry to Arcadia... or are they trying to

enter themselves?'

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed across the sky.

Another shot from the hijackers' ship, this time aimed directly at the heart of the soul vessel.

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[Author's Note]

Thank you very much for your support. Do not stop supporting this novel, I need your support

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Thank you very much.