Screams filled the air from the crowd that had gathered all around the edges of the street in wait of the Devil’s Den’s reopening. Rodrick had arranged them in a wide circle, leaving more than enough space for a fight on the middle of the street. Twelve had already gathered himself by the time Arwin emerged into the street. Confusion and anger streaked over the demon’s face and he let out a roar, grabbing at his wrist — but the band had concealed itself. Nobody could see what he was actually trying to do. If it had been the assassin’s real body, then Arwin suspected that Twelve would have made a run for it. He was an assassin after all. Even if he was a higher Tier and more powerful than Arwin and the rest of the Menagerie, that wasn’t a class that lent itself well to a long fight. But this was a clone — and Twelve had trained Jessen. They shared their arrogance. Fleeing from a fight now would hurt Twelve far more than if he could take out some of the people that had made a joke out of him. The demon’s eyes locked onto Arwin and he let out a roar, blurring into motion as he charged toward him. They weren’t in the inn anymore. There were no tables or other objects to hinder Twelve with. The distance between him and Arwin vanished in a split second. Arwin summoned his shield, bracing himself behind it an instant before Twelve’s blade slammed into it. A loud shriek rang out and he skidded several feet back. He’d barely even seen Twelve attack. There was no way to compete with the assassin at this speed — but Arwin had already known that. He reached into his pocket and yanked out a bracelet. Twelve’s blade carved across his armor once more, but it failed to penetrate before Arwin could bring the bracelet up to his mouth. He’d made it for a dungeon run but hadn’t ended up having to use it. Now was as good a time as any. The daggers drew closer. Water splashed across the ground. A clang echoed through the air as Rodrick arrived before Olive, his sword braced before him, stopping Twelve’s attack moments before it could reach its target. Twelve’s eyes widened. He tried to twist back, but he hadn’t accounted for the possibility that Olive would survive his attack. There was no time to dodge completely. Her sword connected with his side. It ripped deep into his stomach, carving across his chest. Blood splattered across the ground and Twelve spun, staggering back across the ground as his chest grew slick. For the first time, fear flickered in his eyes. Shadows rose up around him — and a loud snap echoed through the street over the yells of the crowd. The darkness fled from Twelve, slithering across the ground to stop at the edge of the tavern. “I told you,” Lillia said, leaning against the doorway with a weary grin on her features. “These are my shadows.” Olive lunged for the demon. The demon crouched. Then, with a roar, he launched himself straight into the air. That shouldn’t have been possible. The whole plan had hinged on Twelve being unable to run without access to his shadows. His clone shouldn’t have had the strength to literally jump that high — but it seemed nobody had told him that. “I don’t think so,” Olive snarled. Dozens of loud cracks ground out from her arm. For an instant, her eyes burned a deep, molten red. Her teeth clenched in pain and concentration, her entire body stiffened — and then her eyes snapped back to normal. She thrust her bandaged arm upward. And, with a sound like an entire forest uprooting itself, wooden fingers tore through the bindings and reached up through the air. They whistled through the air and drove into the demon, wrapped around its leg, and tightened. His momentum slammed to an abrupt halt. Olive stumbled, then bared her teeth. She yanked her hand back. The demon let out a roar as he hurtled through the air and slammed back down onto the street with enough force to shatter the stone beneath him. Olive gave her arm another tug and it retracted, dragging Twelve across the ground in her direction. “Olive!” Anna hurled a potion through the air in an underhanded toss. Olive’s sword flashed. It carved through the bottle, coating its blade in the process, and plunged into Twelve’s chest. A loud sizzling hiss erupted from the demon. He let out an agonized scream, grasping at Olive’s sword and trying to rip it free. Olive pressed it deeper into him. She twisted the blade, then ripped it up through his chest. The assassin wheezed. He grasped at the weeping wound, back arching in pain. The light in his eyes fluttered. Twelve collapsed to the ground. The entire street went quiet. Arwin swayed, leaning against the wall of the building for Keep reading on NovelHub - where stories come alive! The world swam around him, but he refused to let himself pass out. He took a staggering step forward as blood dripped from the massive cuts in his armor. “The demon is dead!” Madiv yelled, his voice coming from deep within the crowd. “The Menagerie defeated a demon!” “They brought it here in the first place!” Someone else yelled back. Arguments and cheers broke out through the crowd. They continued for a few brief moments before Lillia raised a hand into the air and took a step forward. “We did,” Lillia called. “This was a mistake. Our mistake. I wanted to make the re-opening of the Devil’s Den more exciting for all of you, but we fucked up. We let a demon loose on the city — but the Menagerie always cleans up their messes.” “You think that’s enough?” an adventurer in the crowd demanded. “You could have gotten hundreds of people killed!” “We could have,” Lillia agreed. “And we will answer for that — but nobody died. So while we wait on judgement, I do believe that drinks and meals are going to be on the house for the next three hours. We are officially open!” Any protests the crowd might have had were drowned out by the thunderous cheer that followed her words. Men and women stampeded through the street, funneling toward the Devil’s den. Anna rushed over to Arwin, pushing past the crowd, and pressed her hand to his chest. Healing energy poured into his body and he let out a relieved groan, slumping back against the wall. “Did it work?” Ariwn asked. “You know which part.” If the real Twelve still lives, then this was nothing but a stopgap. Anna looped an arm around Arwin’s back to keep him from sliding all the way to the ground. She glanced at the broken potion bottle on the ground. Rodrick and Olive were already dragging Twelve’s demonic body toward the Infernal Armory to get him out of public view. “Arwin, do you remember what my previous job was?” Anna asked. “It’s hard to forget.” “Do you know how many times I failed?” Anna asked, her words barely audible over the thunderous crowd. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant. But not once has my work ever been insufficient. My touch means death.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Anna’s voice. There was no joy either. Just sad recognition. She knew her abilities were needed, and she hated herself for it. Before Arwin could say anything else, golden letters shimmered through the air before him.