Adrian was a fifth-level battle mage, with combat experience sharpened by countless battles. His new hero panel had boosted his perception to a remarkable 17, and when the four assassins had made their move, he spotted them instantly, already prepared for their ambush.

Each swing of his blade was swift and lethal, dispatching the thieves with a single stroke each. The strength he wielded—almost at an extraordinary level—made it nearly impossible for anyone of their skill to survive.

When he'd first entered the warehouse, he'd taken down Brandon, showing the full force of his brutal strength. After that, by quickly dispatching the ambush without hesitation, he had achieved exactly what he intended: pure intimidation.

He knew that Tyro, though a fourth-level thief with experience, was cautious by nature. A head-on clash might end badly for Adrian, especially with Tyro's men backing him up. Although Adrian was confident in his abilities, he was no fool. Taking on a dozen opponents in a direct assault, where they'd all swarm him at once, could turn ugly.

The hero panel had given him new powers and spells unique to the Enraged Magus, which could level the odds, but using them would be taxing, and Tyro simply wasn't worth it. Caius was the real problem; Tyro was just a pawn.

Fortunately, his display of power had the effect he'd hoped for. None of Tyro's men dared make the first move, and Tyro, too hesitant to give the order, only watched with narrowed eyes as Adrian strode past him and into the back compartment of the warehouse.

Inside, Adrian found his comrade Kuro and the rest of his team, shackled and bruised. Kuro had been tied to a beam, his wrists bound with rough ropes, and his body showed signs of a harsh beating. Around him lay his squad—his trusted team of twelve, now down to eight. Four of his men were lifeless on the ground, and three others were barely breathing, their injuries severe.

Hearing the heavy footfalls, Kuro opened his eyes, lifting his head with effort. "Boss Adrian," he murmured, relief flickering in his gaze. "You're finally here..."

Adrian's jaw clenched as he took in the scene. "Was it Tyro?"

Kuro's green-brown eyes burned with fury. "Yes, that coward. He poisoned our food and trapped us here. Lance, Aaron, Gray, Iron—all gone because of him." Kuro's voice cracked, rage smouldering beneath his bruise.

Wordlessly, Adrian cut Kuro and the other survivors free, his movements calm but controlled. "Tyro will pay for this," he promised.

Adrian left the compartment, his gaze dark and fixed as he approached the group still outside. Tyro managed a nervous smile as Adrian stepped into view.

"Brother Adrian," Tyro said, forcing friendliness into his voice. "It's all a misunderstanding..."

"Oh, I'll 'misunderstand' plenty in a moment," Adrian replied, his tone chilling.

The moment the words left his mouth, he sprang forward, his feet digging into the ground as he launched himself at Tyro like a human storm.

Tyro's face paled. In desperation, he flung a handful of throwing knives at Adrian and shouted to his men, "Stop him! Now!"

"Who dares stand in my way?" Adrian roared, his voice reverberating through the space.

But this was more than just a shout; it was his first time using one of the Enraged Magus's powers in combat.

With his enraged cry skill, Adrian unleashed such a force that most of Tyro's men froze in their tracks, eyes wide with fear. Only one half-orc warrior braved an attempt to intervene, stepping forward in a half-hearted charge only to meet Adrian's blade with no resistance as Adrian's strength severed him from the fight with a single, calculated swing.

Tyro, now panicked, muttered, "Useless cowards!" He glanced at his men, already thinking about how he'd make them pay later for hesitating when he needed them most. But for now, he had only one thought: survival.

As Adrian drew closer, Tyro frantically hurled another throwing knife. Adrian barely reacted; he shifted his shoulder just enough to avoid any vital areas, letting the blade stick into his armour, undeterred by the hit.

Desperation surged in Tyro's gaze as he drew his dagger, attempting to sidestep the charging Adrian. He barely had time to react as Adrian's sword swung toward him in a flash of steel, forcing him to dodge backward. His heart pounded as he realised just how far in over his head he was.

Adrian moved like a force of nature, his sword slashing with the unrelenting power of his fury. Tyro barely managed to evade, his own agility the only thing keeping him from Adrian's blade. He tried to steady himself, hoping to catch Adrian in a vulnerable moment, but Adrian's skill was far beyond what he could handle alone.

Breathless and increasingly cornered, Tyro looked to his remaining men, but none dared approach Adrian now. In their eyes, Adrian had become a figure of unstoppable strength, and they hesitated, uncertain whether loyalty to Tyro was worth defying Adrian's fury.

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Seeing no aid from his men, Tyro's face twisted in frustration. "Are you all useless?" he spat, though fear was now clear in his voice.

Tyro was unquestionably talented For a half orc, he would keep himself from clumsiness in movement which usually represented his people. In practice, he stepped aside from Adrian's first charge and disappeared from direct view into the labyrinthine interior of the warehouse, dimly lit.

The air whistled violently as Adrian's blade sliced past Tyro's ear; the wind gust collided with his face to freeze him through. Tyro could feel the raw force of the strike, the kind that would cleave him in half if it landed. Cold beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

He had thought it was going to be fine, avoiding the first blow from Adrian. How dangerous a deception it was.

Dangling on his feet would only prolong the inevitable. Desperation filled Tyro's mind as he tried to turn things around: He had turned and lunged with his shining twin daggers. Slim were the chances but Tyro had no option; retreating any further only hastened his end.

For all the battles Tyro had won under the cover of stealth and ambush, a frontal assault had never been in his book. There was no warehouse shadow in which to fade to obscurity, no way to become nothing. It was kill or be killed, and Tyro knew which one was to be his fate.

That was when he charged, and Adrian's heavy boot slammed into his abdomen, driving all the air from Tyro's lungs. His body creaked and then crumpled under the force, flying several metres to land in a heap. His daggers clattered uselessly to the ground. Gasping and writhing, he struggled to regain control of his limbs.

Adrian didn't offer respite. Tyro clutched at his ribcage in a spasm of agony as he watched Adrian's long sword flashing in the flickering light as it curved towards him without a thought to death.

Tyro had no time to shout for it. A shock went through his neck. Then darkness fell upon him as the head parted from the shoulders.

Adrian stood tall over the body, his sword drinking the spilling blood. Adrian preferred this method of killing since, apart from the swift, efficient kill, decapitation delivered a psychological shock to those who watched it happen. The view of their leader's decapitated head sent shivers of fear running down the spine of tyro's remaining soldiers, a chain reaction of fear

The dozen or so men who, through some solemn means, had sworn themselves to Tyro now froze with fear. They had been shaken already by the relentless intimidation of Adrian, but their will to fight was shattered entirely when their leader lay dead almost immediately.

Adrian needn't have said a word. His slow deliberate step forward unnerved them. One of Tyro's men couldn't take in the suffocating pressure imposed by Adrian's blood-soaked presence and turned back to make a dash for the door.

That was all it took. Like tumbling dominoes, the rest of Tyro's troops were soon joining in as their collective panic took hold.

Adrian was relentless. He chased them with the calculated efficacy of a predator. His blade found its mark time after time, cutting down four of the fleeing mercenaries before they could escape the warehouse.

The last few remaining burst open the warehouse door and spilled onto the streets of Revernus. Adrian took a step back from his victims, holstered his blade, and began to breathe steadily. His strategy had paid off perfectly. He had inflicted maximum damage with minimal effort, using fear and precision.

But, as Adrian stepped back to go towards the door in an attempt to catch the running cowards, a sound halted him.

The sharp twang of bowstrings sliced through the air, followed by the dull thunk of arrows embedding themselves into the barely opened wooden door frame. Adrian instinctively stepped back.

"Damn it," he growled, cold drops of sweat forming on his brow. "Caius did not waste much time."

Outside, Caius had arrived with forty or fifty mercenaries before the warehouse. Among them were skilled archers and crossbowmen who had their sights on the open entrances of the warehouse. Adrian cursed under his breath after realising the precariousness of his situation.

In melee, Adrian had no doubts; he could hack his way through a hundred men. With bowmen, though, he might find it hard to keep from turning into a pincushion sometimes.

"Come out, Adrian!" a shrill voice was carried out from the window, dripping with triumphant self-assurance.

Right away, Adrian knew the voice, Caius' son. The young half-orc was always an arrogant coward upheld by his father. He couldn't help but sneer at the thought of how the little brat would believe he had won.

"Caius Jr," Adrian exclaimed mockingly, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are shouting like a baby, aren't you? Don't go scurrying under your father's skirt and drinking milk? You are never worth my time. Bring that father of yours here—I want to talk to him."

The taunt really connected. Coming through the window, Adrian heard Junior Caius scream incoherent curses, his voice now shaking with rage. But before the half-orc could get any louder, an older, steadier voice cut through the chaos.

"Shut up", Caius barked, immediately silencing his son.

Adrian listened closely as Caius continued. "Lay down your arms," he stated in a muted yet commanding voice. The archers hesitated for a moment and then slowly laid their bows on the ground.

"Adrian," Caius said, his voice very nearly cordial. "We've known each other for years. Whatever differences we have, surely we can resolve them without more bloodshed."

Adrian couldn't help but smile. "Save your breath, Caius. I know you long enough to see through your lies. You are going to let me walk out of here alive? That's a good joke. What is it that you really want? Spit it out!

Caius' face unseen turned black, and his voice was the crack of a whip. "You killed Tyro, one of my most trusted men, and you broke the morale of my regiment. If you have any excuse for this, speak now.". Adrian's laughter was bitter and cold. "You want an explanation? Well okay, I don't report to you. Tyro turned against me, and he paid the price.

And for the rest of your poodles, they ran for cover like rats. Now go on, Caius, tell me what your excuse is for hanging onto power like a pathetic old man clinging on for dear life?

Adrian could hear the mutterings outside from the mercenaries. He could feel Caius' crumbling grasp on control of the story; Caius also knew it. Almost inaudibly, he stated, "You are surrounded, Adrian. You cannot win".

Adrian's smile broadened. "You underestimated me, Caius. That is your first error.". And with that said, Adrian stepped back from the door after closing it as fast as he could, retreating deeper into the warehouse. He didn't want to give up and knew that Caius was not done with his dirty tricks yet. This was not over - not by a long shot.