Soren’s POV

The atmosphere in the hideout was fraught with tension as Soren made his way through the corridors. Members bustled around him, their movements sharp and purposeful during this critical period. Each individual was acutely aware of their responsibilities and the dire consequences of failure.

Approaching Nalia's room, Soren noticed the flurry of activity diminish. This area was a sanctum, accessible only to those of the highest rank within their organization. He rapped lightly on Nalia's door, and her voice, calm and authoritative, beckoned him inside.

Soren stepped into the room to find Nalia applying the final touches of makeup. Her meticulous attention to detail was fitting, given the importance of the upcoming meeting.

"How is William's condition?" Nalia inquired, her gaze fixed on her reflection as she expertly applied her makeup.

"We've administered every known drug to him," Soren replied, lingering near the door. "He's now unconscious in the Strongheart prison. It's unlikely he'll awaken for several days."

"Ensure he receives the drug concoction regularly," Nalia instructed with a stern tone. "Remember, he's a first advancement warrior. His physiology is far from ordinary."

"We will adhere to your instructions," Soren affirmed with a nod. He paused, his expression turning contemplative. "However, I must question, my lady, why not simply eliminate him? Keeping him alive seems an unnecessary risk."

"You're more ruthless than I had imagined," Nalia chuckled, her gaze shifting back to Soren. "However, we cannot eliminate him just yet. His soul is a vital component of our contingency plan."

Soren swallowed hard, a sense of unease gripping him. "So, you intend to sacrifice him to that... creature," he stated, the memory of the beast's horrifying form causing his chest to tighten. "But wouldn't it be more prudent to do so immediately?"

Nalia shook her head, her expression growing colder. "No, that would be unwise. His soul, strengthened by his unique class, is exceptionally potent. Sacrificing him now would prematurely awaken the creature, triggering a rampage that could jeopardize our entire scheme."

Soren nodded in understanding, though he found no comfort in discussing the monstrous entity.

"More pressing, what's the current situation in the city? What's the public response?" Nalia inquired, turning to face Soren as she finished her makeup. The joviality that usually graced her features was absent, replaced by a stern countenance.

"The information remains confined. For now, only the servants and the military are actively searching for him," Soren reported, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Our ruse has been successful. Tristan has fallen for our decoy, believing our fabricated witness who claimed the Lord was seen near the western gate. He's now mobilizing a rescue operation, sparing no resources."

"What a naive young man," Nalia mused with a chuckle, settling into her seat. "How substantial is the rescue party he's assembling? Who's involved?"

"We don't have complete details," Soren admitted with a sigh. "However, our estimates suggest it's about fifty men strong. He's also bringing along Oswald and General Henry."

Nalia's eyes widened in astonishment at Soren's report, and she erupted into laughter. "Could the gods be any more favorable to us? This is the perfect chance to eliminate all those who pose a threat to us." Her smile turned devilish, her eyes glinting with an icy resolve. "Annihilate them completely and obliterate their corpses. We'll declare they were all slain by monsters. Who could possibly question that?"

"I will execute your commands," Soren affirmed with a measured nod. "Are you about to meet with the nobles?"

"Indeed, I must," Nalia replied, her laughter subsiding as she rose from her chair. "Their support is crucial for positioning Johannes as the puppet lord of Locksley."

Soren chuckled lightly in response. "As if they have any real choice in the matter."

Nalia offered no verbal reply, but her subtle smile conveyed her agreement. "I expect the Tristan issue to be resolved by the time I return."

"It will be," Soren assured her, standing aside as she passed by.

Left alone in Nalia's room, Soren exhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, gathering his composure, and when he reopened them, his expression was steely and resolute.

I'm sorry, Tristan. I hardly know you, but as an obstacle to our plans, your demise is inevitable.

With that, Soren departed Nalia's room to assemble his team. Leading the charge alongside Ragnar, and backed by thirty assassins on the brink of class advancement, their success seemed certain. They stealthily exited the hideout, making their way towards the Western Gate to lie in wait for Tristan and his forces.

"They're here," Soren whispered urgently as the main gates creaked open. Tristan led the search party of fifty men, flanked by General Henry on his right and Oswald Strongheart on his left. Determination etched Tristan's features, but Soren discerned a shadow of grief lurking beneath.

"We should ambush them as soon as they enter the forest," Ragnar suggested, a wild grin spreading across his face. "I'm curious to see the expression on that mama's boy as he draws his last breath."

"We won't," Soren firmly countered, shaking his head. "Nalia's orders were clear: it must appear as though monsters were responsible. Attacking too close to the city is too great a risk."

"You're a coward," Ragnar sneered, but Soren ignored the jibe. This mission was of paramount importance, and he was determined not to leave anything to chance. He resolved to strike only when they were sufficiently far from the city to ensure no chance of escape.

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As Tristan's party ventured deeper into the forest, Soren raised his hand in signal. "They're moving. Let's follow."

Soren and his men trailed the party into the forest. Agile and swift, Soren leaped from one tree branch to another, maintaining a distance of at least a couple of hundred meters behind Tristan. His men, moving on foot, followed his lead.

Fifteen minutes into the pursuit, Tristan's group halted to broaden their search. They scrutinized every hidden corner and crevice. Soren signaled his men to pause.

We're far enough from the city. The time to strike is now.

Yet, just as he was about to issue the command, a tumultuous uproar erupted deep within the forest. A thunderous rumbling, reminiscent of dozens of colossal beasts charging, resonated from Tristan's position.

The source of the tumult soon revealed itself, sending a shiver of dread through Soren.

"Who dares to trespass in my domain?" The voice boomed, belonging to a figure Soren knew all too well. Emerging from the dense foliage was Thorian, the Monster King, a kobold of immense stature. His fur, a dazzling array of colors, shimmered with a regal aura.

Why is he here? Soren's mind raced, his heart pounding like war drums. He remained motionless, keenly aware that any movement might spell his doom.

"Who are you?" Tristan's voice, laced with apprehension, broke the heavy silence. However, as he spoke, a horde of monsters, diverse in size and form, emerged alongside Thorian. They continued to appear from the underbrush, seemingly endless.

"We are searching for my father," Tristan managed to utter, his voice barely audible as his men, gripped by fear, fumbled with their weapons.

"You invade my forest with an army and expect me to believe that pitiful excuse? Do you think me a fool?" Thorian's advance was accompanied by an unleashing of his formidable mana, its oppressive force causing half of Tristan's men to collapse in despair.

"Now, you face two choices," Thorian declared, conjuring a blazing aura around himself, its intense heat scorching the surrounding foliage. "Either you all perish in my inferno, or hand over your leader and the rest of you may flee back to whence you came." His tone turned even colder as he fixed his gaze on Tristan. "What will it be, young man?"

Before Tristan could respond, Oswald erupted in defiance. "Die, you monster!" he bellowed. His body was enveloped in a green aura, which converged on his spear. With a fierce war cry, he charged at Thorian, spear aimed to impale.

General Henry, spurred by Oswald's audacious assault, drew his weapon and joined the fray. Together, they charged at Thorian in a desperate bid for survival.

"How pitiful," Thorian murmured, extinguishing his flames. As Oswald reached him, Thorian effortlessly snapped the spear in two with a single strike of his palm, leaving Oswald in stunned disbelief. Thorian then seized him by the neck and hoisted him high into the air.

Simultaneously, Forlune intercepted General Henry, propelling him back towards his troops with a powerful kick. The impact shattered both the general's armor and ribs. Blood trickled from his mouth, his eyes rolling back in agony.

"Wait!" The sight spurred Tristan into action. With a determined gaze, he stepped forward. "I am the leader of these men. You only require my life. Please, release my friend."

After a tense standoff, Thorian relented, hurling Oswald's body a dozen feet into the air, where he landed amidst his comrades.

Thorian approached Tristan, smoothly drawing the young man's sword from its scabbard. "Any last words?" he asked.

Tristan nodded, casting a final look at his men. He steadied his breath and spoke with resolve, "Please return to the city and protect it."

Oswald, gasping for air, reached out feebly towards his friend. "Tristan... no..."

Tristan offered Oswald a reassuring smile, then turned to face Thorian with a grave expression.

With a respectful nod, Thorian lifted the sword high. "Your courage is commendable. Rest assured, you will depart this world knowing your men are safe. I vow not to let anything harm them until they reach the city."

Soren, concealed in his vantage point, felt a strange resonance with Thorian's words, as if they were somehow meant for him. His heart raced, and he scanned the surroundings for any signs of threat. To his relief, the monsters' attention was solely fixed on their king.

I'm getting too paranoid, he thought, attempting to steady his nerves. With my level of stealth, he can't possibly detect me.

His gaze returned to Thorian just in time to witness the gruesome scene. Thorian's blade sliced through Tristan, from torso to stomach, unleashing a torrent of blood. Tristan crumpled to his knees, writhing in agony, blood gurgling from the grievous wound.

Thorian then retreated a step and cast a spell, encasing Tristan in a dome of earth. "I will not make your death a spectacle," he declared, raising his hand to conjure a massive fireball. The intense flames devoured everything in their path, scorching the surrounding trees to cinders.

"No!" In a burst of desperation, Oswald staggered to his feet, his eyes burning with fury at Thorian. Infusing his spear with a surge of green aura, he roared, "You will not take his life!"

As Oswald charged headlong at Thorian, the Monster King exhaled a weary sigh. "You only prolong your suffering."

With a swift, effortless kick to the stomach, Thorian sent Oswald hurtling back, his eyes rolling back as he flew through the air, crashing amongst his fellow soldiers.

As Oswald lay unconscious, Thorian unleashed his massive fireball towards the earthen dome imprisoning Tristan.

Boom!

The explosion sent flames roaring skyward, scattering flaming debris in a dangerous ballet around the terrified bystanders. Amidst the inferno's wrath, Tristan's figure was indistinguishable, lost within the voracious flames.

While the fiery spectacle raged, Thorian, flanked by his monstrous entourage, advanced towards the trembling human soldiers. Their hands shook, rendering them incapable of effectively wielding their weapons.

"As promised to your leader, I shall not harm any of you, provided you do not attack," Thorian announced, his voice offering a cold reassurance. "Return to your city. We will escort you to its gates, ensuring no creature dares to harm you."

Despite Thorian's words, the human soldiers remained paralyzed with fear. Hastily, they gathered the unconscious forms of Oswald and Henry, fleeing towards the city as if pursued by the very fires of hell.

Thorian watched them go, then turned to address his army with a sigh. "Ensure a few of our kind escort them safely. Our task here is complete."

With his command, several monsters broke away to shadow the human soldiers, while Thorian and the bulk of his forces retreated towards their village. Left in their wake were the dwindling flames that had engulfed Tristan, a grim testament to the day's brutal events.

"To think that monster did our work for us," Ragnar chortled, emerging from his hiding spot in the shrubbery. By now, ten minutes had elapsed since Thorian's departure.

"Keep your voice down," Soren cautioned sharply. "We're still deep in enemy territory."

With a graceful leap, he descended from his perch on the branch and motioned for the rest of his assassins to emerge.

"Let's inspect what remains of Tristan," Soren said, advancing towards the remnants of the blaze. With a deft wave of his hand, he conjured a gust of wind that swept away most of the lingering flames.

Where Tristan had been, there was nothing but charred bones and molten metal. Any trace of skin or flesh had been obliterated.

"Definitely dead," Ragnar chuckled, almost with glee. "That has to be the easiest job I've ever done."