Standing in front of the tavern, Loimos didn’t simply step in and instead turned to the wheat field facing the lonely building filled to the brim with drunkards, walking through the golden plantation, he arrived before a scarecrow.
Taking it down from its wooden support, he threw it further into the field and hoisted himself up in its place, granting him a perfect view of the tavern, and also hiding him in plain sight.
Though that would have worked pretty well, it wasn’t necessary, tonight was a dark night, the people inside, consumed by alcohol would never even be able to make out the shape of the scarecrow.
Loimos remained in place for an hour, until a group of three, all of them struggling to even walk properly, walked out of the bustling tavern.
The three men seemed to be trying to support one another but none of them was even remotely steady in their movements, Loimos stepped down from his spot and made a bee-line for them.
Retrieving a dagger from the inside of his coat, he approached with silent steps, standing awfully close to them.
There was no breathing for them to feel on their necks as Loimos assessed the situation, waiting for the perfect occasion to strike.
Raising up his dagger, he targeted the one in the middle.
He wanted them to be confused for a moment to make the whole thing smoother, but their reaction with their friend just slumped down would be unpredictable, he wanted the one he was going to strike not to die instantly and keep his grasp on the other two.
As a skeleton, he knew exactly where to strike to avoid hitting a rib, his blade went right through the unsuspecting man’s back, the point of the blade ending its course as it pierced his right lung.
The force of the strike drove the air out of his other lung, in spite of the pain, all he could do was mutter a weak gasp, a mere exhale that meant nothing.
He lost strength in his knees and fell forward, the other two almost got carried along with him but caught themselves, laughing at their friend for almost falling on his face, they held no doubts in their hearts.
Despite not having any resemblance with one another.
Loimos had clearly recognised that feeling he had noticed about that adventurer back then, surprisingly enough, he had never felt that with the goblin mage, despite all three of them being of this profession.
The undead couldn’t quite tell himself, but what he had felt was their mana sense extending over to his position, Eppie hadn’t noticed anything in the dungeon due to the lack of ambient mana.
Helena was not only more skilled than her, but the air outside was much richer with mana, making Loimos’s undead presence much more noticeable to anyone paying attention.
Mana was rejected from him, creating an empty space, most wouldn’t have paid it any mind, it was something that happened, Helena was overly attentive and worried however.
Things that she would normally chalked up to nothing were now suspicious occurrences that needed investigation, Loimos had seen it play out, how she had clearly noticed him in the attic before he had made his exit.
She was speaking with that Milo kid right now, if he just broke in right now and attacked her, would he be able to kill her?
Was he fast enough? Was he strong enough to burst in through the door in an instant?
Could he be capable of throwing his broken dagger right in the back of her head through this window?
Should he go back to the attic and wait for her to notice him again, and ambush her once she comes to check things out?
Could any of those work out perfectly?
Loimos stood still for a few moments, before stepping back into the darkness.