"He's getting away!" a voice shouted as a new group of cloaked men surged forward, their pursuit relentless. Read further adventures at m vl_em|p_yr
"Move faster!" another yelled, their urgency evident.
"You won't get away from us!" the first person declared arrogantly, his tone full of confidence.
The additional men closed in on Cormac, their numbers growing as they continued the chase.
Despite their efforts, Cormac's pace remained steady, and he slowly began to lose sight of them, the dense forest and darkness obscuring his trail.
'I don't have time for this. I may not fully understand what they want with this artifact, but it definitely can't be left with these savages,' Cormac thought, pushing himself to run faster.
The pursuers' shouts faded as he continued, eventually disappearing from their view.
'I need to report this to the guild, but it's a fair distance from here. To think they would openly confront me near the capital. Lord was right about there being a bad apple in the royal council,' Cormac pondered as he moved through the forest.
Suddenly, a tall, rough-looking man with fiery eyes stepped into his path, blocking his way. He wielded two sabers, his bare torso covered with numerous scars.
The man's rugged appearance and the way he carried himself made it clear that he was no ordinary opponent.
"Oi, this is as far as you'll go, mate. Hand it over, and I'll grant you a painless death," the man growled, his voice gruff and threatening.
Cormac made a quick attempt to run past him, but the man stood his ground, unwavering. The air around them seemed to thicken with tension as the man activated his skill, [Great Wall].
A barely visible barrier materialized before Cormac, rising 100 meters high.
Cormac's senses tingled with a heightened awareness of the danger. The skill's presence and the man's imposing stance indicated that this was a formidable foe.
"So they even sent someone as strong as you to intercept me," Cormac sighed, glancing at the man. "This artifact must be really important to your organization."
"Beats me. I just do what I'm told," the fiery-looking man shrugged, trying to laugh off the situation.
"Well then, just another crimson hound I need to dispose of," Cormac said, leveling his spear at the man.
"Crimson Hound? What's that?" the man asked, his confusion evident.
Cormac, slightly surprised, lowered his spear. "You don't even know who you're working for?"
"No clue," the man admitted, clanging his sabers together with a confident grin. "But I was told I'd get to fight a strong opponents and have some fun while getting paid. Judging by your Aura, I can safely bet you're the strong foe I'm supposed to face."
"I see, you're just an idiot. I went full defensive for nothing," Cormac said with a sigh, turning as if to walk away.
"It seems you've never learned how to respect your elders. And what's with that look on your face, huh?" His annoyance was palpable. "I think it's time we ended this childish game."
With a sudden shift in demeanor, Rashmire activated [Warrior Blessing]. His Aura flared, its color intensifying and becoming more menacing. Cormac could feel the pressure of Rashmire's increased power.
'Intermediate Rank? How troublesome,' Cormac thought, noting the bright yellow color of Rashmire's Aura.
Cormac didn't hesitate. He faced Rashmire head-on, unleashing [Boost] to counter the surge in power. His own Aura flared in response, matching Rashmire's intensity.
Despite the boost, the two continued to clash evenly. However, Rashmire's serious demeanor and heightened skills began to turn the tide in his favor.
As Rashmire stacked additional skills for even greater power, he gained a clear advantage. Cormac found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up with the relentless onslaught.
"Haha, is that all you've got?" Rashmire taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Where's that nonchalant attitude you had just a moment ago, huh? Are you scared of me?" His laughter echoed as the fight dragged on.
"Tch, keep dreaming," Cormac muttered under his breath. 'His skills are no joke. I don't even see an opening to counter: he's just that fast.'
Rashmire launched a new attack, his sabers flashing as he executed [Sabre Art: Second Form - Twin Fang]. The cross strike, charged with his Aura, slashed through the air toward Cormac.
'A weapon technique? I might lose if I'm careless,' Cormac thought, barely dodging the attack. The force of the blow grazed him, damaging his disguise and causing blood to trickle down his cheek.
"You don't even look like you're past forty. How old are you anyway?" Rashmire asked, his curiosity tinged with arrogance.
"Forty? But you keep calling me kid," Cormac replied, trying to wipe the blood from his face.
"Because I'm ninety-three. Not bad for a level eighty-six warrior, right? Especially since we live for about two hundred years or so," Rashmire said with pride, his chest puffed out.
'Not even worth my Lord's time,' Cormac thought, pushing himself up despite the pain.
"I see, so you still have some fire in you, huh? Well, it's too late now." Rashmire pointed toward the direction Cormac had been running from.
Seven cloaked men were already heading that way.
"Sadly, this is the end for you," Rashmire sighed, his tone final.
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Damn his trapped now...