On the evening before the festival, in front of the tavern, Tivaara was giving Solin final instructions for his mission during the upcoming event. As they conversed, Solin noticed a figure approaching from a narrow alley. He turned and saw Morem walking toward them, stopping a few meters away. Seeing her again after their breakup months ago stirred turmoil in his thoughts. Tiv noticed Solin's distracted gaze and leaned closer, whispering in his ear, "Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Solin?"
Startled, Solin snapped out of his reverie and blurted, "What are you doing here, Morem?" His accusatory tone made her flinch, and she closed her eyes, looking dejected. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter.
"This letter was addressed to me, for you. It’s from a friend... your friend," she said softly, walking closer until she stood right in front of him. She extended her hand with the letter, and Solin took it. Before letting go, she asked him a question of her own.
"What is this about, Solin? And who is she?" She nodded towards Tivaara.
Solin's heart raced. Morem wasn’t supposed to see him again; he had planned to leave the kingdom after the festival, likely never to return. Tiv watched with amusement but reminded Solin they were pressed for time. Solin didn’t answer Morem. He didn’t want to lie, but if it meant keeping her out of his and the Hounds' business, he would. He snatched the letter from her hand and began to read.
The letter was lengthy, and Solin's frown deepened as he read on. Tivaara leaned over his shoulder and skimmed through the letter before Solin abruptly turned away, shielding its contents from view.
Tiv chuckled. "And? What does your 'friend' have to say?" she teased. With a quick glance, Tiv skimmed through the page, absorbing its contents almost immediately. She knew Bones had written the letter, and its content was a warning. Solin glanced her way but remained silent, continuing to read as he paced around.
You don't seem to truly realize what kind of person Silva is. At least I hope you don't because if you do, then you're not the person I thought you were.
Tiv chuckled. "And? What does your 'friend' have to say?" she teased. With a quick glance, Tiv skimmed through the page, absorbing its contents almost immediately. She knew Bones had written the letter, and its content was a warning. Solin glanced her way but remained silent, continuing to read as he paced around.
"You don't seem to truly realize what kind of person Silva is. At least I hope you don't because if you do, then you're not the person I thought you were," Solin read aloud from the letter.
Turning the page, Solin continued reading the other side. Bones warned that guild members, likely from the Adventurer Guild, knew of the imminent Hounds' attack and the locations of their hideouts in the western district and the Underground City. The trap was set, giving Solin a narrow window to slip away without being caught.
Solin's eyes widened, and he jerked his head towards Tiv. Frowning at his expression, Tiv smirked, connecting the dots.
"The old man has some nerve pulling this on us," Tiv commented, continuing to smirk.
"We have to warn them!" Solin exclaimed, losing his composure and starting to move before Tiv's hand stopped him.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, clearly agitated.
"It's too late. They're closing in on us," Tiv said quietly, sensing approaching figures.
"Solin, what's happening? Who is she to you?" Morem interjected, her patience wearing thin and feeling overshadowed by Tivaara's presence.
"Solin!" Tiv suddenly shouted, drawing attention from bystanders.
"You two-timing son of a bitch!"
SLAP
Both Solin and Morem looked on in shock. Solin quickly regained his composure. "Tiv, what are you—"
"Why don't you take Miss Morem to a safe place and meet us later at the safehouse north of the city," Tiv whispered urgently.
Solin hesitated, then nodded. He grabbed Morem's hand, still dazed from the slap, and hurried away before the guild members arrived.
Tivaara watched as Solin disappeared around a corner, then turned towards the tavern and entered. "Now then, shall we play cat and mouse?" she snickered to herself.
Outside, a team of silver rankers with a gold-ranked leader closed in on the tavern, preparing to ambush the hideout. Meanwhile, another group led by Rayne approached from the Underground City, converging on the second hideout.
The leader of the first team, Marc, directed his men to spread out and surround the tavern. With a signal, they initiated the operation. One of Marc's men approached the entrance, partially opened the door, and hurled an object inside before swiftly closing it. A muffled explosion followed, and then a projectile smoothly pierced through the door, fatally injuring the man who had thrown the explosive.
"Charge in!" Marc shouted, leaping up to grasp the balcony rails. He pulled himself over and entered through the balcony of the room above the tavern's entrance.
Inside, chaos erupted as the tavern's patrons began to flee. The guild members engaged with thugs who blended into the crowd, though the thugs were only of bronze rank, while the guild members were silver. Despite the confusion, the guild members systematically eliminated the thugs one by one as they attempted to escape. Outside, city guards led by Captain Duneth had already sealed off the streets and exits, apprehending the fleeing crowd.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Marc cleared the upper floors but found no sign of their targets. The rooms were empty except for unconscious civilians, whom he rendered unconscious with a controlled burst of mana pressure. Descending to the ground floor where the commotion was centered, he frowned as he surveyed the scene. Several of his men lay incapacitated, pierced by projectiles.
Grimacing, Marc turned towards the direction where his keen gold-ranked hearing detected movement and sounds.
Marc rushed through the doorway next to the bar, following the faint sounds down the corridor. He snapped into motion, crashing through a wall to find one of his men flung across the hall, slamming into a flipped table. The hall, a casino just moments ago, now bore signs of a skirmish.
"Well, well, it took you long enough!" a woman called out, seated atop one of Marc's fallen comrades, a mischievous grin on her face. Three other bodies lay nearby, recognizable to Marc. Fortunately, only one casualty was apparent.
"Beautiful, dark skin and a mischievous grin. You must be Tivaara," Marc remarked, recalling the description Rayne had given him.
"Oh, my, how accurate," Tiv replied with a smirk. "I'll be taking my leave now. You can come after me or tend to your men while they're still breathing."
Marc cracked his neck with a smirk of his own.
"Guess we're playing then," Tiv quipped, swiftly slashing her dagger across the throat of the man beneath her. Enraged, Marc charged, meeting her dagger with his drawn sword. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed. More guild members flooded into the tavern, securing the area but wisely refraining from joining the duel.
Meanwhile, as Marc and his team continued their skirmish, Rayne discreetly closed in on the bar in the Underground City. Bones' directions had been vague, but this time they had identified the correct building.
"Rayne, this is the right building," one of his agents reported.
Rayne nodded, swiftly instructing four agents to block the streets, taking two with him while the rest guarded the entrance.
"Sir, is it wise to block the streets here in the Underground? We don't usually intervene like this," one agent questioned.
"It's necessary. The Guild Leader approved this operation," Rayne assured them. While the Underground City operated in a gray area, this situation demanded immediate action. Dealing with Domino's delegate would have to wait.
Rayne entered the bar, and the music abruptly ceased. He scanned the half-empty room, noting the routine clientele who were all tied to The Hounds. Every eye in the room fixated on him. Before any commotion could start, Rayne unleashed his aura, freezing everyone in their seats.
"You are all under arrest for conspiring against the kingdom with the criminal organization known as The Defiant Hounds," Rayne declared sternly. "It would be wise to remain seated and refrain from any foolish actions."
Not a muscle twitched. No one dared challenge a gold ranker. Rayne signaled to the two agents behind him to conduct a sweep while he exited the bar, frowning. His heightened senses detected no one else in the building besides those in the bar. Something was amiss. Could it be mere coincidence that not a single person above bronze rank was present in the entire hideout? Where were the others? Where was Silva?
Rayne's eyes widened momentarily as he ordered the remaining agents to enter and apprehend everyone inside.
A few minutes later, the agents returned from their sweep, reporting that they found no one else in the hideout. However, they had discovered something significant in the basement.
Nodding gravely, Rayne followed them down into the basement. He paused at the entrance to a room drenched in blood. "Sir, over here!" one of the agents called out.
Approaching cautiously, Rayne observed a workshop strewn with debris—broken glass, tubes, and unfamiliar instruments littered the floor. Signs of recent activity were evident, but it was unclear what exactly had been worked on. Rayne's gut twisted with unease; he sensed something ominous. This could very well have been where they manipulated the mana bombs. Whatever they did, it couldn't be good.
Rayne gave one last sweep of the workshop, ordering his men to bag everything before preparing to leave. As he headed out, an agent rushed down the stairs, clearly flustered.
"What now?" Rayne asked, anticipating bad news.
"Sir, it's Marc..."
Rayne bolted out of the building, sprinting down the street in search of the alley leading to the manavator directly connected to the tavern. He didn't know its exact location, only the vague direction Bones had mentioned. Spotting an agent from the second group ahead, Rayne closed the gap in seconds.
"Marc?"
"Over there, sir. At the end," the agent said, pointing down the alley.
Rayne nodded briskly and vanished, reappearing in front of the badly injured gold ranker sitting beside the manavator.
"You look like hell, Marc," Rayne blurted out, relief flooding through him despite the injuries. Marc was riddled with wounds, but nothing that couldn't be healed in a week or two.
"I wish I could say 'you should see the other guy,' but there was no other guy. It was a beauty that handed my ass to me!"
cough cough spits
"Rayne, the threat is real," Marc rasped, his voice strained. "We've apprehended many, but they seem clueless. They're willing to talk now, realizing they've been deceived."
Rayne nodded, concern etching his features. "It sounds like we're facing the same challenge down here. Did you uncover anything? Any clue about The Hounds' whereabouts or their plan?"
Marc took a few deep breaths before responding. "Tivaara happened. What's with that woman? She's just a bloody silver ranker, but I swear she could take on anyone, even you!"
cough cough
Rayne asked about Marc's health potion, then handed him one when Marc confirmed he'd already used his own.
As the potion took effect and Marc's injuries began to ease, he continued. "I haven't pinpointed their location, but she did let slip one piece of information."
"She did? Why would she do that? What did she say?" Rayne inquired skeptically, knowing Tivaara had little reason to cooperate.
"She mentioned the bombs are already set in place, and using detection devices from above won't work," Marc revealed.
"What? Is that all she said?" Rayne pondered aloud, processing the revelation.
"That's it. We've tried detecting the bombs without success... Wait! She specifically said it wouldn't work from above," Marc affirmed, starting to rise slowly.
Rayne steadied him, helping Marc into the manavator. Before pressing the button to ascend to the tavern, Rayne turned to the agent who had joined them in the alley.
"Go find Belle at the guild. Tell her to bring me the blueprints of the city's sewers," Rayne instructed urgently. "The sewers are the only passage between the upper city and below. We've been searching in the wrong place!"