Night blanketed Trist City, shrouding its streets in a dense fog. Five men darted through the alleyways, their leather armor and daggers marking them as typical thieves. With faces concealed by masks, they moved swiftly. “Hurry up. We need to stick to the schedule,” one of them barked. “Yes, boss,” another replied. Though the fog and darkness obscured their view, the men navigated the cityscape with ease. Familiarity with the area allowed them to traverse the maze of alleys without needing a single torch or lantern. Eventually, the group arrived near a sprawling estate, its walls stretching endlessly into the mist. As they peered into the compound, one of the men muttered nervously. “The security here is no joke.” The manor itself exuded elegance. It was a remnant of its origins as the residence of the Trist County. But under Ranpelt’s occupation, the refined manor had been transformed into a grim fortress. What should have been rose-laden walls were now bristling with shards of glass and jagged blades, deterring even the smallest intrusions. Pristine hedges had been hacked apart and replaced with makeshift guard posts, manned by crossbow-wielding sentries. The once lush, noble gardens had been entirely uprooted. It was an attempt to remove any cover from the grounds. One of the men sighed as he surveyed the scene. “Who in their right mind would attack this place?” Another retorted sharply. “Relax. We’re not going to scale the walls. All we have to do is create a small distraction.” Even so, their task was far from safe. Each of them had already accepted that their lives were on the line. These were the last remnants of the Flad family—survivors who had lost their loved ones and comrades to the Ranpelt family. Their head, Shildera, had gathered the remaining 20 elites of the Flad family and addressed them with unshakable resolve. “The night of vengeance is here.” The plan itself had not been shared in detail. None of them asked for specifics either. They were veterans, and they understood that the fewer who knew, the better the chances of success. They trusted their family head and moved according to her instructions, hoping her strategy would bear fruit. Now, concealed within the shadows, they waited. The thick fog obscured the moon, and the church bells remained silent in the dead of night. The only measure of time was the ticking of their own instincts. “Alright, everyone should be in position by now.” A middle-aged agent gestured with his hand. Another man pulled a bottle from his pack—a Molotov cocktail filled with oil. “Take this, you Ranpelt scum...” With a sinister grin, he lit the bottle and hurled it over the wall. The fire erupted with a whoosh, and chaos broke loose inside the walls. Even for warriors as skilled as Karnak’s group, storming an enemy stronghold head-on was a dangerous endeavor. That was why Alius had involved the Flad family. Their role was to create as much noise as possible from multiple directions, allowing Karnak’s team to infiltrate during the ensuing confusion. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much from just 20 people,” Karnak remarked as he observed the scene. “But they’re doing far better than I anticipated.” Disruptions flared on all sides of the Ranpelt estate—north, south, east, and west. Masked attackers hurled Molotovs and loosed flaming arrows, making sure to target the wooden outposts first. The hastily constructed posts ignited easily. But the flames didn’t last. “Hah! Did you really think we wouldn’t prepare for this?” Magical wards had been set around key structures as a precaution. With several 3rd-circle mages stationed in the estate, it was no surprise that such rudimentary tactics would fail. Not that it mattered. The true goal wasn’t to light up the manor, but rather to let those inside know they were trying to. “Who dares attack us?!” Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭⚑𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⚑𝕟𝕖𝕥 “Show them the strength of Ranpelt!” Within moments, armed guards began pouring out of the manor, weapons drawn and shouts echoing through the night. After securing control over the city and ascending to the victor’s throne, even the most insignificant soldiers were brimming with arrogance. Of course, that didn’t mean they were particularly disciplined. Nearly half of them had flushed faces, courtesy of the alcohol coursing through their veins. “Ah, fuck! We were just getting into the drinks—who’s causing trouble now?” If they were the type to live diligently, they wouldn’t be here in the first place. Rather, they had lived lives of decadence. They were originally drifters from the alleys who had luckily ended up in their place. Yet surprisingly, even while drunk, they managed to show a decent level of skill. If a seasoned martial artist maintained peak physical condition through constant training and discipline, then a seasoned rogue was one who, despite reeling from a drunken stupor, could immediately snap to focus and unleash their abilities when trouble arose. And so, despite being intoxicated, they charged into battle with remarkable agility. “You’re the ones who’ll die, you filthy Ranpelt dogs!” Clashes broke out, and chaos erupted. The sounds of spears and swords colliding, screams and groans, shouts and bellows, all mixed together and filled the misty night air. All of this was reflected on a massive water mirror conjured by Riltaine’s farsight magic. Currently, Karnak and his group were hidden on the rooftop of a three-story building, one block away from the Ranpelt manor. From there, they observed the battles unfolding below. Serati clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Tch, tch. Not a single one of them knows how to properly wield a sword.” Varos shrugged. “Honestly, they’re stronger than most ordinary soldiers. Of course, to an aura user, they must look unimpressive.” “No, I’m not trying to boast, it’s just that...” The ones clashing with the intruders from the Flad family were fighting on equal footing, despite outnumbering them three to one. This result was a testament to the Ranpelt group’s lack of skill. “This can’t possibly be the real strength of the Ranpelt family. It seems they have no intention of deploying their necromancer.” “Well, nothing in this world comes easily, does it? Just avoiding unnecessary exhaustion is a big help.” Thanks to the Flad family’s intervention, Karnak’s group could head straight for the manor’s interior. Hoping for more than this would be greedy. Alius stood up and added, “We’ll have to drag our target out ourselves.” While chaos engulfed the Ranpelt estate, Karnak’s group aimed for the gaps in their defenses. Using Riltaine’s levitation magic, they easily vaulted over the walls. Their eyes quickly adjusted to the sight of an empty garden. Ordinarily, guards would be patrolling even this area, but... At Riltaine’s remark, Karnak replied nonchalantly, “Of course. They’d have gone over there.” Staying put while a battle rages nearby? That kind of discipline might exist in a military camp, but it’s not something you could expect in a back-alley brawl . The group swiftly crossed the garden. When they reached the front of the manor, reserve forces finally spilled out to meet them. “We’ve been waiting for you!” “No doubt, those nobodies were just bait.” Their equipment alone set them apart. Clad in proper metal armor and armed with longswords and shields, they could easily pass as legitimate knights in appearance. They began hurling questions while glaring at Karnak’s group. “Where are you from? Bellen? Karla? Style?” “Nah, that place is already done for.” With so many enemies, they seemed to have too many guesses to narrow down. Watching them from a distance, Alius smirked faintly. “Judging by their reaction and their equipment, these must be the real elites.” If even these forces fell, the necromancer would have no choice but to intervene. Riltaine stepped forward, gripping her wand, and smiled. “Shall we say hello first?” Flames erupted around the wand. Seeing the fiery prelude, Ranpelt’s soldiers shouted in panic. A massive fireball tore through the air. The ensuing explosion was deafening, shaking the very ground beneath them. Flames roared, the heat boiling the air around them. Even those fortunate enough to evade the fireball would suffer severe burns from the residual heat. Yet, not a single soldier fell. “Who would be dumb enough to get hit by such a slow spell!” The moment the fireball detonated, the soldiers flung themselves to the ground, flattening their bodies to minimize the damage. With the protection of their thick armor, avoiding a direct hit was enough to escape a critical injury. Their seasoned combat experience was evident, even in how they dealt with magic. But Riltaine was no novice either. “I knew you’d do that.” He had anticipated his spell missing and had already prepared a follow-up attack. “Roar of the dark clouds, flow through the earth! Chain Lightning!” With a slight delay, a web of lightning surged across the garden. The soldiers froze in terror as the crackling energy raced toward them. “Another spell? Already?” These men had only ever faced low-tier mages, perhaps second or third-circle at best. They had no experience with such rapid successive casting. Four soldiers failed to dodge in time. They were ensnared by the bolts of electricity. Screams erupted from every direction. Someone shouted desperately, “Take down the others first! If we mix in, the mage won’t be able to cast freely!” Leaving their fallen comrades behind, the remaining soldiers charged forward, shouting war cries to bolster their morale. “It’s just five of them!” Serati stepped forward with a calm smile. “Then I’ll go first.” She unsheathed her longsword from her waist. The blade shimmered with a crimson glow, an eerie red light enveloping its edge. In one fluid motion, the leading two soldiers were cleaved in half. Their swords, shields, and even their armor offered no resistance to the blood-red blade. The elite Ranpelt warriors were reduced to little more than chunks of flesh, spraying blood in every direction. The gruesome sight froze the advancing soldiers in their tracks. “W-What is that light...?” “Is that aura blade?” They recoiled in shock, muttering in disbelief. “She’s an aura user?” “Why on earth would an aura user be here?” No matter how infamous Trist City was, whether it was called the City of Sin or Hell on Earth, it was still a backwater. Aura users typically played in the big leagues of the royal capital, not in a rural battlefield . A man who seemed to be their leader shouted at his troops, trying to rally them. “You fools! So what if it’s an aura user?” Pointing at Serati’s glowing sword, he raised his voice further. “There’s no need to fear! At best, she’s just red-tier!” An aura user’s rank could be judged by the color of their combat aura. Serati’s was crimson, the lowest level among aura users. Of course, that didn’t make her any less deadly. The more seasoned soldiers among them took a hesitant step back, expressions twisting in disbelief. Sure, her aura is red, but... So what if she’s the weakest aura user? What does that even matter? It was akin to saying: “The opponent isn’t a tiger. It’s just a leopard! Don’t be scared!” But the soldiers were little more than house cats. It made no difference. Whether they were up against a tiger or a leopard, one bite was enough to end them all the same. However, not all the soldiers of the Ranpelt estate were as seasoned as their more experienced counterparts. For the younger, hot-blooded ones, even this much was enough to raise their morale. “Yeah, what’s the big deal about an aura user?” “Reinforcements will be here soon!” “You don’t think we can hold out until then?” Shouting defiantly, the soldiers began charging at Serati. Adjusting her grip on her sword, she smirked coldly. Hmph! Do you really think you can endure? Unfortunately for her enemies, she had no intention of holding back. These soldiers needed to be utterly crushed. Only then would the Ranpelt forces realize the gravity of the situation and be forced to deploy their hidden asset—the necromancer. Serati lightly pushed off the ground. Her body soared like a bird, and crimson sword light scattered in every direction around her.