Day 7
The sun began to cast its gentle glow upon the creek, revealing a scene that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous night. The charred remains of the carriage, now nothing more than a smouldering ruin, emitted thin tendrils of smoke that blended with the cool morning mist. The air was heavy with a lingering sense of destruction and chaos. The young lord, whose life had been spared from the fiery wreckage, lay on a makeshift cot, his face bearing the marks of burns and soot. Amidst this sombre atmosphere, the members of the Garuda clan moved with purpose.
“Commander, the report has been dispatched to the clan. However, I must express my concern.” Darryl continued, “At an initial glance, our mission appears to have faltered significantly. The young boy not only remains unharmed, but the mercenaries are also erroneously pointing fingers at the wrong mastermind.”
“This undertaking proved to be far more formidable than any of us anticipated. The revelation of an Asuras leading the band of mercenaries was unexpected. Moreover, this Asuras held the rank of captain; had he been more actively involved, the consequences for most of us could have been dire. The Nagas executed a cleverly planned scheme, with Geoffrey unwittingly serving as their pawn from the outset. This operation was a victory for them, regardless of the outcome of the attack. Yet our presence here disrupted their designs. They cannot now attribute this incident to Alfred, as our involvement was upon his request. Nonetheless, they will employ Geoffrey's involvement to tarnish the clan's reputation. When the clan's esteemed elder is implicated in such a sinister affair, it reflects poorly on our entire clan’s image. They aim to exploit this to isolate and weaken the clan.”The commander replied.
Commander, might we thwart the dissemination of this information? We could eliminate the assailants or coerce them into revealing the Nagas' true role.
As I mentioned earlier, their preparation has been meticulous, and they likely possess a robust plan for every conceivable scenario. Their arsenal of evidence likely extends beyond mere assailant testimonies. They await the precise moment to unveil it, and any misstep on our part could implicate us as well. It is vital to remember that there are other formidable sharks in the sea that could easily consume us. We have exerted every possible effort, and now it is incumbent upon the clan's elders to fulfil their responsibilities.
Within the confines of the Naga clan's headquarters, Elder Samarth's chamber held an air of gravity.
"My Lord, look," a voice broke the silence, "the Celestial Hawk clan has officially addressed the events of the previous night. Shall I proceed to read it?"
"Go ahead," came the measured response.
Spread across the parchment before him, the words of the Celestial Hawk clan carried weight: "We, the Celestial Hawk clan, issue this statement in light of the momentous events that transpired last night—an occurrence of profound consequence impacting not only the righteous faction of the entire continent but also directly involving one of the parties concerned.
Several days ago, Alfred Thorne, then acting clan leader of Silver Fang, implored our assistance. He foresaw a potential assault on the young lord during his journey to the academy and expressed that his clan lacked the strength to avert such an incident. He apprised us of an impending threat from a righteous clan employing sinister means to suppress the vulnerable. As a first-grade clan within the righteous fold, it is our solemn duty to safeguard the defenceless. Consequently, we acceded to his request, deploying a modest contingent to safeguard the convoy. However, our foresight did not anticipate the presence of an Asura captain leading a band of attackers with a clear intent to assassinate the young lord. Following a fierce confrontation, we managed to quell the assailants, though regrettably, the young lord sustained grievous injuries. Despite our efforts, the Asura captain eluded capture. At present, we diligently interrogate the captured assailants to ascertain additional details, and we pledge to bring the responsible parties to face justice."
Elder Samarth responded thoughtfully, "This complicates matters; I had not foreseen Alfred involving the Celestial Hawk in such a manner. Equally intriguing is their omission of Geoffrey's name, despite having custody of the assailants."
"Have there been any communications from Geoffrey, my Lord?"
"No, and it appears unlikely. As I anticipated; he has vanished. Reports indicate his abrupt departure from the clan yesterday morning."
"The Celestial Hawk seems to be observing us closely before committing to a course of action. I propose we utilize the evidence we possess, discreetly releasing it through information channels without implicating our own clan. We shall craft a statement denouncing the Silver Fang clan and Geoffrey for their malevolent and unholy methods, and unveil it only after our evidence has been exposed. Let us await their response, vigilantly."
Within the confines of Geoffrey's hidden sanctuary,
The young scion still draws breath, how? How is this possible? His curse tightens around my heart, akin to vermin gnawing at a carcass.
Why has he not reached out to me? The situation spirals further from my grasp. I must remain vigilant.
Within the chambers of Silver Fang's clan headquarters,
"Lord! Have you seen the report?" Edmund rushed in urgently.
What does it imply? Has the young master not...
Hush...
My lord?
While I lack the specifics, the Celestial Hawk clan must have valid grounds for issuing such a statement. Edmund, follow through. Return to the chamber and address matters discreetly, you comprehend my intention.
"Yes, my lord. I am en route," Edmund replied, his demeanour composed. Just as he began to turn, a hurried group of elders, led by Cedric, entered the room. They momentarily fixated their gaze on Edmund, given his rising influence with the clan lord. Without engaging him further, they advanced toward Alfred Thorne, their expressions tense.
"Lord, the Nagas have also issued a statement—a vehement assault on our clan and the great elder," Cedric explained urgently. "They assert that we are inadequate to uphold the mantle of righteousness. This proclamation seeks to rally other clans to distance themselves from us and endorse our isolation. Please review it, my lord."
“Hmm! One chink in the armour that’s all it took.” He said after reading the statement. The realization dawned upon him, shedding light on the purpose behind Celestial Hawk's statement. However, a question gnawed at his mind: How could someone as astute as Geoffrey be ensnared by their manoeuvring? Alfred pondered, grappling with the notion that perhaps Geoffrey's intense animosity toward the youth had clouded his judgement. Still, he conceded, Geoffrey's shrewdness had enabled him to discern the impending threat and make a timely escape. Remarkably discreet, Geoffrey had a penchant for slipping into the shadows without alerting anyone, a trait that even the former clan lord hadn't detected.
"Cedric, your observation caught me off guard," Alfred Thorne responded, his expression tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "I did hold a certain respect for the man. His competence and self-made journey were admirable qualities. Yet, now it appears his fate has taken a dark turn. He will be branded a traitor and hunted by all the righteous factions, especially the Nagas. "
Cedric brought up an idea, "Lord, before his departure, he left a letter addressed to you. In it, he confesses his involvement and implicates Samarth of the Nagas. Could we utilize this to our advantage?"
Alfred's sigh carried a mix of resignation and regret, "Unfortunately, the letter holds little weight now. Had he approached me sooner, perhaps we could have employed it strategically. But it seems he clung to the hope of the young lord's demise, not foreseeing the events that unfolded. Regardless, even if he had come forward, we would have painted him a traitor. Samarth's closed-door cultivation strengthens his defence. It's ironic, but I find myself relieved that the young lord survived."
Cedric added another layer of intrigue, "There's one curious aspect, my lord. I anticipated the young lord might seize this opportunity to return to the clan. His injuries would excuse him from academy duty. Yet, he has not chosen that path."
Alfred was taken aback by Cedric’s remark; he tried to counter it, “Maybe he is too scared to come back.” But it wasn’t entirely effective.
Maybe.
"In this critical juncture, we must focus on our current challenges," Cedric knew that the clan leader was trying to change the topic, but he refrained from pressing for more information, aware of the pressing matters at hand. Their attention turned to devising strategies to navigate the dangerous waters their clan had found itself in.
*******************
Motivated by a fervent desire for revenge and fuelled by the impulsive energy of youth, he became a member of a right-wing organization. Under the guise of belonging to a middle caste, he pursued his objective with unwavering determination. Within this group, he delved into the practice of Niyuddha Kride, an ancient form of martial art focused on weaponless self-defence. This pursuit served to enhance both his physical prowess and mental acuity. He dedicated himself wholeheartedly to absorbing every fragment of knowledge and mastering each skill available to him.
The passage of three years marked the interval since the execution took place. During this time, Yuvan's exceptional abilities came to the forefront, and he fearlessly vocalized his ambitions. His remarkable achievements garnered the admiration of his peers within the organization, leading to his selection. Specifically chosen for a significant task, Yuvan was entrusted with a mission of utmost importance—to carry out the assassination of the great leader, who was slated to attend a public event in close proximity.
Positioned a short distance from the entrance of the auditorium, where the anticipated speech of the great leader was scheduled to take place, the team awaited with readiness both in body and mind. As a car pulled up and came to a stop at the entrance, the members of the welcoming committee advanced to greet the esteemed guest. Seizing the moment, Yuvan sprinted forward, swiftly launching a bomb aimed at the vehicle.
“Bhagoo!!” (run) Vinayak's scream pierced the chaos amidst the explosion.
"Call the police! Get an ambulance! He's dying!"
After confirming the success of his mission, Yuvan swiftly made his escape, following the predetermined path to the safe house. However, his mind was in turmoil as he grappled with the reality of taking a life for the first time. The expected sense of satisfaction that vengeance should have brought was notably absent. Over the years, Yuvan's quest for knowledge had grown alongside his thirst for revenge. He had voraciously consumed the writings of revolutionaries, philosophers, and religious texts, including those penned by the late hero. This recent experience acted as a catalyst, compelling him to contemplate the essence of life and its significance. The ideals he had absorbed over time seemed to solidify within him, much like the enduring image of his mother from his childhood.
Upon arriving at the safe house, Yuvan found his team already assembled. Concerned, Vinayak inquired, "Where were you? We were worried they had apprehended you." However, Yuvan remained silent, offering no response.
Vinayak went on, "In any case, you're back now, and that's what counts. I'm not sure if you've heard, but our mission was a failure. We ended up bombing the wrong car!" Despite his efforts to engage Yuvan, there was no response. Vinayak began to feel a growing concern, but he attributed Yuvan's lack of reaction to the shock of his first kill.
The autocade consisted of two identical cars and the one in which the great leader was travelling got stuck at the railway crossing.
"Who got killed?" Yuvan inquired, his voice finally breaking through his silence.
"Just an officer, someone insignificant. We're contemplating devising a new strategy..." Vinayak responded, his words trailing off as he noticed Yuvan's distant expression.
Yuvan's mind wandered as he found himself asking, “What’s the worth of a man’s life?”
"Hey! Where are you going?" Vinayak inquired, his voice laced with concern, as he observed Yuvan abruptly turning and making his way toward the exit.
"I'm done!" Yuvan declared before making his exit.
"This isn't a satram (tavern) where you come and go as you please. Your actions will have consequences!" Vinayak's voice brimmed with anger and frustration.
*******************
In the midst of the untamed wilderness,
A solitary figure lurked in the shadows, concealed amidst the dense undergrowth. The air was thick with an aura of anticipation as a massive man, his powerful form adorned with dual axes strapped to his back, remained hidden from view. The dappled sunlight filtered through the towering trees above, casting an enigmatic pattern of light and shadow upon the earth below.
The large man manipulated his crystal communicator with a calculated air, initiating the communication with a note of authority.
"Greetings, elder."
A tremor of surprise tinged with unease coloured Elder Samarth's response. "Who... Who are you? And how did you manage to access this channel?"
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The voice on the other end carried an air of confident familiarity. "You who I am, Samarth. The real question is whether you want your secrets exposed. Playing the Asuras was a risky gambit, and you've underestimated us. Did you truly believe you could deceive us without consequence? Did you not realize that one of your hired mercenaries was an Asura?"
Samarth's disbelief seeped into his voice. "I don't understand what you're insinuating. This is all news to me." The revelation of the Asura's involvement had caught even Samarth off guard.
"I see, if you're unwilling to cooperate, there are others who would eagerly engage," the voice on the other end of the communicator asserted.
Then why didn’t you contact them?
A confident note crept into the voice. "Because, my dear Samarth, you have the most to lose, and your predicament offers me the most leverage. Now, which one of them should I contact first? Alfred Thorne, Geoffrey, or perhaps the Celestial Hawks? Unlike you, they are more likely to be intrigued."
Samarth felt the weight of the situation pressing upon him. "Wait, I'm listening." His frustration simmered as he grumbled, "Tsk! How did you uncover this?" Samarth's realization was swift and sobering. The Asura before him was not bluffing; Jack had somehow unearthed his secret. He comprehended the gravity of the situation; he needed to secure Jack's silence, regardless of the cost. Within the realm of cultivators, the formidable reputation of a powerful Asura like Jack carried more weight and credibility than that of any elder within the esteemed Naga clan.
The voice shifted, exuding a calculated confidence. "You and your associates have committed a grave mistake."
Samarth's curiosity was piqued. "Explain."
A mocking note entered the voice's tone. "My friend, nothing comes without a price. Before we proceed, I demand substantial compensation. Tenfold for the deception you orchestrated, tenfold for the sacrifice of my comrades, tenfold for your anonymity, and an additional tenfold if you wish me to reveal Geoffrey's involvement."
"Sir, I implore you to hear me out. I assure you, I had no intention of deceiving you. My knowledge of the Celestial Hawk's involvement only surfaced this very morning, and it came as a surprise, just as your involvement does now. Moreover, I find it perplexing that an individual of your esteemed standing would entertain a seemingly trivial task that hardly befits your status. Isn't it customary in our line of work to anticipate the unforeseen? Furthermore, my current financial resources are regrettably limited."
Hooh! Have you exhausted your complaints and accusations? Did you forget whom you are talking to? I will eat you alive if you dare to talk back to me again.
I apologize, sir.
“Alright! Let’s continue. In response to your query, I was primarily driven by boredom; that's why I accepted the task. And now you will be compensating me according to my value. That should address your initial question." With limited options, Samarth simply nodded in acknowledgement.
Regarding your claim of not having sufficient funds, that's inaccurate. Based on the intelligence I possess, the amount I've stated is the sum of reverting you owe. If not, resort to begging or even looting, as it matters little to me. However, bear in mind that your actions have drawn considerable attention; should I choose to reveal certain details, the repercussions for you and your clan would be severe. Given this context, the compensation I'm demanding seems rather modest.
That’s...
Sir, please understand my concern, but how can I be certain you'll uphold your end of the bargain?
I am willing to enter into a blood pact, a process that can be facilitated through Yellow Heaven; of course, you'll need to cover the associated costs.
Alright, I need a few days to arrange the requested compensation.
Time is of the essence; I like to have a meal while it's still hot. You have an hour at your disposal.
But...
No more objections. Contact your lord and ponder the consequences afterwards. Act as if you have only one hour left to survive! Over and out.
No, wait!!
Arrrrrrrgh!!
An hour later,
“Oooh! What do we have here? A gathering of men; where are the ladies?” Jack's voice echoed through the room, filled with male attendees. Just like one of the great ancient philosophers of the past, whose name translates to ‘the best purpose’, the Nagas also considers their significant others as lesser beings and don’t have much status among them.
Cease your prattle; do you comprehend the gravity of the situation? Are we to be treated like mere...
Scram!
“…?” A hushed silence fell over the room, confusion apparent in their expressions, they thought they had misheard. So he asked again, “What?”
Scram!
“I am the leader of the Naga clan,” the veins on his forehead and temples throbbed as his voice grew more intense.
Congratulations! Now, Bring the buffoon back, and the rest of you can scram. I have naught to discuss with your bunch.
You..?
I’m out.
“Wait!” Jack turned, issuing a command, “Bring forth Samarth!” From the midst of the assembly, a pallid-faced elder stepped forward, head lowered. “Ensure you don't botch this,” the clan leader's voice dripped with fury as he left Samarth with the communication crystal. “Of course not, my lord,” Samarth replied before focusing on the communicator.
Hehe! My companion, a delight to witness you hale and hearty. I presumed they had dispatched you.
Death might have been preferable.
Ah! Don't dwell in the depths of pessimism, my friend.
I!... AM NOT YOUR FRIEND!! We are forwarding the contract and requisite funds. Once you've sealed the contract with your blood, the payment shall be yours.
Alright, alright, settle down. Permit me access to the space.
Hmmm! It’s fine. I will sign the blood pact.
Pleasure doing business with you all.
Hold on, you omitted one detail; how did you discover?
Why would I divulge that? It was not stipulated within the pact.
But you assured me you will, upon receiving the compensation.
What? Do I look like a goody-two-shoes belonging to a righteous faction who will keep his promises?
What? Do I appear as a do-gooder affiliated with a righteous faction, bound by promises? Eh?
No. But, I have nothing left on me.
I don’t care.
“The only thing I have left is this heirloom belonging to my family.” He took out a jade bracelet and held it in front of the crystal.
What a waste.
"Please, show mercy. I have nothing left. I implore you to reveal the reason behind my downfall before they cast me into obscurity."
"Hmmm, how the mighty have fallen. Those who live by the sword, die by the sword." "In my unusually good mood today, I find myself feeling magnanimous. I shall disclose the truth to you: 'You selected the wrong patsy.'"
I chose the wrong patsy?
Geof…
Farewell.
Day 8
Inside Silver Fang clan’s headquarters,
"My lord, the Asura who managed to escape has declared revenge on Geoffrey for the death of his comrades and for setting them up. He's making it clear to everyone that Geoffrey was behind the attack."
"We need to issue a statement immediately. The reputation of our clan is rapidly deteriorating. The Nagas are already forming alliances with other clans to isolate us, and their influence is growing stronger by the minute."
"Draft a statement and include Geoffrey's letter. Label him a traitor aligned with a demonic faction. Emphasize how an elder from a second-grade clan could have the resources and connections to hire an Asura, unless he was being manipulated as a pawn, as indicated in the letter."
"But my lord, isn't the great elder wealthier than you?"
"Yes, he is, but that's not widely known. Confiscate all his assets and erase any traces of his significant wealth. Also, avoid referring to him as the great elder. We need to distance him from the clan as much as possible."
"Understood, my lord."
"Very well, let's continue. Where were we? Ah, yes. Also, mention that we had suspicions from the beginning, which is why we sought assistance from the formidable Celestial Hawk clan. Highlight their generosity and willingness to aid a second-grade clan without discrimination. If not for their intervention, the so-called righteous demons would have succeeded in overpowering and consuming our clan. Despite their failure, they are shamelessly attempting to tarnish our reputation by critiquing our rescue operation for the young master and trying to isolate us. But their efforts will be in vain. Only those driven by greed and the desire to weaken us will heed their propaganda. We, as members of the righteous faction, must stand united against their deceit."
"An excellent strategy, my lord. I will work on preparing and releasing the statement."
Near the creek,
"Why did you take so long? We've been waiting here for an entire day. Honestly, we should have never entrusted you with this task," Darryl grumbled.
"Enough with the complaints. Do you realize how remote this area is? If you had gone, you'd have probably brought back the first bullock cart you laid eyes on. Out of respect for our clan's reputation, I went to the nearest clan and explained the situation to borrow their carriage. If you..."
"Cut the chatter; we've wasted plenty of time already. Get ready to move; we can't afford any more delays on this mission. The clan has already deemed it a drain on our resources. Aside from a bit of commendation, we gained nothing, and the gratitude of a second-grade clan holds little value."
"All those covert plans and schemes ended up being pointless. All the parties involved neutralized each other perfectly, leaving us stuck in the same deadlock as before," Heather muttered.
Day 9
Perched at the mountaintop, the distant scene below resembled the movement of an ant, gradually fading into the far-reaching expanse of the horizon. The convoy's unrelenting journey continued without respite, forging ahead through day and night without pause.
A frustrated sigh escaped from Darryl's lips as he voiced his exasperation, his irritation palpable. "This mission should have been wrapped up by now. If not for the commander's stubbornness, we'd already be back at the clan, reaping the rewards and enjoying ourselves. I could understand it if it was for a princess or something truly valuable, but all this trouble for that half-baked young master?"
“Shh…! Quiet, the clan has approved the commander’s request; the clan would have rejected it if there was no merit. You are following the clan’s order, so shut your mouth and don't make it seem like you're disobeying their command.” Heather chided Darryl’s constant complaining.
"Endure for just two more days; it will all be concluded by then," the commander's voice resonated, a comforting reassurance amidst the hushed tension.
The atmosphere grew calmer, and Gwen, observing from the side, stole a discreet glimpse inside the carriage. Her eyes settled on a young boy, unconscious and ravaged by the flames, his visage bearing the scars of an ordeal that left him unrecognisable even to his own mother. Gwen let out a heavy sigh, her heart weighed down by the sight, and she moved on with a solemn shake of her head.
Within the carriage, the young boy's unconscious form stirred gradually over the course of two days. Slowly, the fragments of his mind began to coalesce, memories of the preceding days unfurling like vivid flashes.
As the carriage set forth on its journey towards the academy, a collective sense of both sympathy and relief permeated the air, accompanied by the fading silhouette of the disgruntled young lord.
Even though the young master was mentally prepared for it, the reality hit him harder than anticipated. With each passing moment, the widening chasm of distance seemed to magnify the sense of irreplaceable loss. Overwhelmed by these emotions, he pulled the curtains closed and lay down on his bed, seeking solace in the seclusion of his thoughts.
As the old adage goes, 'One person's misfortune is another person's gain,' Yuvan found a sense of satisfaction in successfully extricating himself from the clan's clutches. Yet, he knew better than to drop his guard, he needed to remain inconspicuous; his path ahead demanded vigilance and an ability to adapt swiftly to any unforeseen circumstances that might arise during his journey. In the interim, he relied on the emergency rations intended for the young master to sustain himself. "Surely, the privileged young master is not going to miss some dried beef jerky," he mused.
Yuvan had mentally braced himself to endure the journey without proper sustenance. His philosophy dictated always preparing for the worst-case scenario, ensuring that he wouldn't falter when faced with unexpected challenges.
As days rolled on, Yuvan's routine remained consistent: confined to the trunk during the day and emerging at night to stretch his legs before retreating once more. Initially, his plan had centred on distancing himself from the clan, biding his time, and eventually seizing an opportune moment to pilfer some of the young master's clothing and make his escape. His intention was to assume the identity of a vulnerable, wealthy orphan who had lost everything to bandits – a ruse to finally break free from the life of servitude that had entrapped him.
However, his perspective began to shift. Through careful observation of the young master and listening to his ceaseless complaints, Yuvan gleaned a more intricate understanding of the situation. He sensed an impending ambush lurking in the shadows, awaiting Ethan. The grim reality was that the young master was likely walking into a death-trap; the only question that remained was whether Yuvan could seamlessly step into his role thereafter. After all, he would be venturing to a place where Ethan was an unfamiliar face to everyone.
On the fateful night of the anticipated ambush, Yuvan's ears caught the piercing screams of the guards...
PROTECT THE LORD!!!
WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!
DEFEND YOURSELVES!!
Startled, the young master leapt out of his bed, his heart racing with worry and uncertainty. He approached the window cautiously, pulling back the curtain just enough to peer outside. His breath caught in his throat as he witnessed a scene that sent shockwaves through him – mercenaries were ruthlessly attacking his party.
Amidst the chaos outside, a torrent of thoughts surged through the young master's mind. "Why are they attacking me? Did that base-born send them to finish me?" He clenched his fists, a mix of anger and fear welling up within him. "No! Right now, I need to focus; I have to survive." Determination surged through him as he pushed aside his suspicions and concentrated on the urgent need to ensure his own survival.
Swiftly regaining his composure, he deftly opened his space ring and equipped his powerful artefacts, his heart racing as he prepared for the impending danger. He positioned himself strategically near the entrance, his senses alert and his focus locked on the door and windows. The harrowing screams of his guards pierced the air, yet he remained steadfast, his eyes unflinching as he patiently awaited his attackers.
Suddenly, the door crashed open with a resounding thud, and one of the mercenaries burst into the room with a fierce determination. Reacting in a split second, the young master's instincts kicked in. He seized a vial from his possession and hurled it at his assailant, aiming for a surprise attack. However, the mercenary's reflexes were equally sharp, and he skilfully deflected the vial with a swift motion of his sword.
The mercenary's voice dripped with a sinister amusement as he taunted the young master. "Nice try, kid. But don’t worry, I'll make it quick."
To the astonishment of everyone present, Ethan lunged towards the mercenary with a dagger clenched tightly in his hand.
"Courageous, aren't you, boy? Most adults would be trembling by now." The mercenary readied his sword to strike down the young master.
Swish!!
Dodging the slash expertly, Ethan swiftly drove his dagger deep into the mercenary's heart. The assailant froze, his body covered in protruding blue veins, while dark blood frothed from his mouth.
“How?” the mercenary managed to croak, his gaze fixated on the shattered vial.
Ethan's expression was both resolute and calm as he replied, "Mana parasites. A paralysing variety, to be precise. When released, they seek the nearest living source, targeting their core, and upon reaching it, they explode. The resulting paralysis varies based on the victim's cultivation level."
Ethan's voice was firm as he held the dagger, now stained with the mercenary's blood, and declared, "As for you, this dagger is imbued with a poison magic that will bring you slow and excruciating agony. So, unless you want your death to be drawn out, start talking. Who sent you?"
With a pitiful smile and a mouth full of blood, he answered, “gleoFFry.”
Geoffrey!! That bas… Glaagh!!
Seizing the opportunity, he had awaited, Yuvan stealthily emerged from the shadows. Swiftly, he reached Ethan from behind, grasping his hair and delivering a deft strike to the back of Ethan's knee, causing him to collapse. In one fluid motion, Yuvan severed the windpipe and carotid artery, ending Ethan's life. The act was executed with such clinical precision that it left the mercenary both stunned by the expertise displayed and unsettled by the detached expression on Yuvan's face, as if he had performed such an act countless times before. Blood sprayed onto the mercenary's face, mingling with the shock in his eyes.
Impressed by the efficient and decisive act, the mercenary couldn't help but acknowledge, "Nicely done, boy, that was swift and precise." He continued, a twisted smile forming on his lips, "I will make sure you receive special rewards for eliminating the target." With a gesture, he pointed to a pouch at his side, instructing, "Now, fetch the elixir from my pouch and administer it to me."
Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed from outside, catching both the mercenary and Ethan off guard.
Do you have any explosives?
Yes, but don't worry. Our leader is one of the Asuras; he'll either hold them off or annihilate them. Now, fetch me the elixir quickly.
How do you use it?
What are you doing? Give me the elixir. I told you…
Yuvan asked the mercenary again with an indifferent face, “How?”
Press the pin on the side, shake it, press the top button and throw.
He grabbed one of the explosives and moved towards the young lord.
“Be careful”, the mercenary advised, "I suspect he invoked a forbidden curse in his dying moments; his eyes emitted a green glow."
Captain!!
Nooo!!
Don’t leave us!
Yuvan proceeded, thoroughly searched the body, and gathered all the artefacts before distancing himself from the fallen foe. He then turned around and uttered, “Adios!”
"I'm sorry, friends, but the odds are stacked against us. Worry not; I'll avenge each one of you. The individual who hired us won't elude my vengeance…"
Confusion clouded the mercenary's expression; his eyes widened as he registered the approaching projectile, the impending danger starkly visible within his gaze.
Kaboom!!!
The deafening explosion forcefully hurled Yuvan backwards, his body propelled by the shockwave. In its wake, the carriage was consumed by raging flames, transforming the scene into a blazing inferno.
Pain shot through Yuvan's body, jolting him back to consciousness.
"Commander, look, I think he's waking up; he seems to be trying to open his eyes," Alan, who was taking his turn to rest inside the carriage, exclaimed. The commander entered the carriage, instructing, "Close the curtains and try speaking to him."
Yuvan made a strenuous effort to open his eyes, his vision initially blurry. He took a deep breath and attempted again, slowly managing to reveal his eyes. Amid the blurred figures around him, he sensed the steady movement of the carriage.
"Can you hear me, young master?" the commander inquired.
Yuvan managed a nod.
"You sustained quite a burn during the incident. Luckily, you didn't suffer any internal injuries, so you should recover. However, your face is badly burnt and disfigured. We've given you whatever first aid we could," the commander explained.
"Can you speak? Do you remember what happened inside the carriage?" he continued.
Yuvan attempted to respond, but only a pained groan escaped his lips. “Aaagh!”
"That seems to answer both questions. Don't strain yourself. Your voice should return in a day or two. Rest for now; we'll reach the academy by tomorrow. They're known for their exceptional healing abilities. I've even heard they can bring back the dead," the commander reassured.
*******************
The news of the attempt on the great leader's life spread rapidly, igniting a frenzy among the police and patriots who were determined to apprehend the culprits. Meanwhile, Yuvan, pursued by his former organization as well, traversed the country assuming the role of a hired gun.
Yuvan held a unique perspective: "He is not a killer—for who could truly kill in this world of illusion?" (Quoting from scripture). He considered himself a nimith—a mere instrument—for the gods to claim a life. He didn't take life lightly; rather, he meticulously observed his targets for a day, setting forth specific conditions—trivial conditions. Should any of these conditions be met, Yuvan would spare the target; otherwise, their fate would be sealed within a week. He termed this philosophy Nishkaam Karm—an action devoid of personal desires, merely a vessel of destiny.
Cloaked in a meticulously pressed English suit and hat, Yuvan defied expectations. No one could have guessed that this unassuming youth was the object of a nationwide manhunt, let alone an assassin—or a Dalit, for that matter.
Operating under the alias Juan, Yuvan leveraged third-party contacts to secure assignments. Five years elapsed, during which he discreetly completed numerous contracts. The name Juan gradually gained notoriety, becoming synonymous with one of the country's most accomplished hitmen. Now a young man in his early twenties, Yuvan received yet another assignment: to eliminate the recently deposed leader from the great leader's faction. The prospect excited him, for he yearned to confront the individual who had irked the powerful great leader. However, it would prove to be a formidable challenge—the target was under close surveillance by the criminal investigation department.
One frosty January night, Yuvan staked out his target from a rooftop, strategically evading the watchful eyes of British surveillance. After weeks of vigilance, the target finally emerged, slipping through a rear exit. He donned a brown overcoat, a black fez-like hat, and loose-fitting trousers that resembled those worn by native Afghans—a clever disguise. The man slipped into a dark blue Wanderer car, vanishing into the depths of the long night, eluding both British surveillance and an unsuspecting Yuvan.
"Damn it!" Yuvan muttered, hurrying down from his perch and jumping onto his motorcycle to give chase.
"I should have opted for a car," he lamented internally after traversing a hundred miles in the biting cold. Nonetheless, the enigmatic Wanderer persisted, its journey punctuated only by a fuel stop, showing no signs of imminent arrival at its destination.
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