Wandering Knight-Chapter 34: Slaughter in the Rain

"Watch out! Be careful!" shouted the mercenaries by the entrance to the estate. They were suddenly in a frenzy.

Though they were well trained, the sudden and extreme threat that Wang Yu posed was sufficient to disrupt even their battle-honed mentality.

In the darkened estate, only the central villa remained illuminated, like a lone vessel on a sea of shadows.

"Quick, fall back into the villa!" one of the Blackfang mercenaries shouted.

During a pitch-black night, trying to take on an enemy hidden in the darkness was far less appealing than sticking together in the safety of a well-lit area where they could rely on numbers.

"No, we can't get in! The villa's been sealed off somehow!"

When they attempted to retreat inside, however, they realized that the villa was encased in some sort of invisible barrier that prevented entry from either the doors or the windows.

One of the mercenaries, unwilling to give up, picked up a stone from the ground and hurled it at the air near the main entrance.

The stone shattered upon impact with something unseen, as if it had hit an invisible wall.

The fragments of the stone cut the hand of the unlucky man who had thrown it, but couldn't breach the barrier at all.

"Damn it! Did Decaphon do this?" one of the mercenaries shouted angrily. They were frustrated and furious at the bizarre predicament in which they had found themselves.

There was an unknown enemy outside the villa, but they were blocked from retreating within. What were they to do?

"It doesn't matter. If it's not some form of magic, it's probably wizardry. Decaphon's been worshipping all sorts of weird idols. He must have called on some sort of evil god. We're just wasting our time and energy trying to break through this thing!"

A man wearing a magician's robes—someone who had recently served as an "attendant" in Decaphon's room—shook his head in disgust.

"What do we do now? If we just hover around the villa, we'll be easy targets. If that guy keeps picking us off in the dark, we're gon—ack!"

A man holding a lantern near the edge of the crowd was shouting as he urged everyone to stay away from the estate's perimeter. The light would leave them illuminated in the darkness, and the butcher hiding out there would easily be able to target them.

As if to confirm his fears, an axe slick with blood burst out from the shadows, shattered the oil lamp in his hands, and embedded itself in his chest. His rubs burst apart as white bone shards and blood sprayed everywhere.

The brutal strike had killed the man instantly.

He crumpled to the rain-soaked lawn. The carefully tended grass was stained red by his blood as he fell face-down, a shattered oil lamp still in his hands.

"Damn it!" shouted a mercenary. This cursed butcher moved like a phantom, and they couldn't even track his movements. The black of night cloaked him perfectly.

"Split up into groups of five and take an oil lamp each! Everyone, spread out!" the middle-aged magician called out. The brutal axe-wielding figure was a deadly threat; they could hardly stand around and wait to be slaughtered.

"Don't forget our Blackfang training," he continued. "We're skilled at fighting blind and night raids!" Even so, he hid himself within the crowd and watched alertly for any movement, wary of a stray axe that would split his skull.

"Right, Old York's right! The only advantage this guy has is that he can see us, and we can't see him. Douse the lights! Teams of five, spread out!" someone commanded.

The Blackfang mercenaries rallied as they slowly calmed down. Indeed, they were meant to specialize in stealth, ambushes, and night combat.

The chaos demonstrated how the mercenaries lacked the discipline and unwavering resolve of an actual army, but their training did pay off. Once they calmed down, they were able to focus.

They silently split up into five-man teams as they cautiously moved away from the well-lit villa.

The downpour was relentless. The sound of pounding rain masked all other noises in their vicinity and concealed their footsteps.

One by one, the teams disappeared into the sea of darkness and blended in with the stormy night.

The magician, Old York, moved into the center of a five-man group, forming a team of six. Old York was responsible for guarding an oil lamp, covered in black cloth so as to hide its light, from being extinguished.

The six mercenaries moved cautiously in the darkness that engulfed them in totality.

A sliver of moonlight barely made it past the cover of the dark storm clouds, only to be devoured the very next moment.

The mercenaries strained to get accustomed to the darkness. Though it was arduous and pushed them to their limits, their experience and training allowed them to see a little into the darkness.

"That guy must need light to see us too!" someone in the six-man group called out with some excitement.

"Right. This is our specialty, after all. We just need to hold out until dawn—or at least until the clouds part."

"Quiet! Stay alert. Find some cover," a cautious voice urged. The torrential rain was likely to swallow up their whispers, but it was best to be safe.

The six men fell silent as they cautiously moved through the downpour. Every shadow in their vicinity felt like a potential lurking enemy.

They sought to get even a momentary advantage with their senses.

A dark shape loomed ahead—the contours of a certain building. "That's the gardener's hut!"

The six-man team rushed toward the building. A wall served as shelter and limited their exposure, significantly reducing the danger they faced.

Clearly, the darkness and the torrential downpour were proving to be particularly dangerous. Though these mercenaries professed to be experts in such areas, even they rarely encountered such severe conditions.

They crept against the wall and felt the surprising comfort of solid backing.

They remained on alert as they stared into the darkness around them.

No one noticed Old York slowly pulling out a small vial of potion from a pocket.

The overwhelming darkness and the looming threat meant that they were paying attention to their surroundings, not each other.

With a small smile, Old York glanced around, confirmed that his fellow mercenaries were all intently eyeing the darkness, uncorked the potion, and downed it all in a single gulp.

Moments later, a sharp sting spread across his eyes. He was forced to shut them.

After the discomfort subsided, however, the world around him had changed.

Gone was the impenetrable darkness; he could now see everything around him dimly but clearly.

He smiled in relief. He had consumed the potion of night vision without the others catching sight of him.

He knew just what his fellow mercenaries were like. If they found out that he had something so valuable under the current circumstances, they would have seized it from him.

As he scanned the rain-drenched estate amidst the fading darkness, Old York was finally able to relax.

He leaned against the gardener's hut. The killer in the darkness wouldn't be able to target him anymore...

Suddenly, however, a pained gasp escaped from his throat, only to be muffled by an unseen force that prevented him from making a sound.

Terror filled his eyes as he turned to his back. A powerful hand had punched through the wall of the gardener's hut, then reached out to clamp around his face.

Old York's limbs went limp as pressure tightened around his neck, paralyzing him.

His mind echoed desperately, "How? How did he know I was here? How could he have made no sound?!"

These were his final thoughts. As Wang Yu's grip tightened, Old York's skull burst apart, splattering blood and brain matter all around.

Blood sprayed toward his fellow mercenaries, who remained oblivious as they focused on the darkness in front of them.

The rain was so heavy that the blood felt no different as it struck their bodies.

Only when they noticed the warmth radiating from it did the three mercenaries suddenly whirl around—yes, just three.

The rain had muffled the sounds of Wang Yu's movement as he made quick, silent work of two more men, whom he decapitated with brutal efficiency.

The blood splattered on the faces of the remaining mercenaries just as they turned around, their faces twisted in horror.

Wang Yu towered over them, two blood-soaked axes gleaming in his hands. They slashed at the necks of two mercenaries, whose bodies instantly collapsed.

The final mercenary, with his limited field of vision, saw a dark silhouette approach him. In that instant, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, briefly illuminating Wang Yu from the back.

The mercenary's eyes widened upon seeing Wang Yu approach, two axes in his hands dripping with fresh blood and smeared with remnants of flesh and bone.

Five headless corpses lay at Wang Yu's feet. Blood pooled and mixed with rainwater to form a small, bloody stream at his feet.

Terror filled the last man's eyes as a shrill scream of despair ripped from his throat, a cry so powerful that it pierced through the downfall and reached the ears of everyone still alive, instilling fear and unease within them.

The scream was cut short, bringing a fresh new layer of dread.

Wang Yu shot forward, picked up the axe embedded in the last mercenary's skull, and dashed into the darkness of the night.

His inner eye was still active, providing him a 360-degree view in a 15-meter radius, every detail within that range vividly clear.

Neither wind nor rain could hinder him. Darkness was his greatest ally. The butcher of the night had only just begun his ruthless slaughter.

Yet another cry of despair could be heard in the darkness, chilling all those who heard it.

This was the fourth time it had happened already. There were 32 mercenaries in all, and they had divided into six teams. The butcher of the night had clearly already wiped out four squads.

In theory, just three men working together should have had a fair chance against Wang Yu, who was nothing more than an intermediate knight-in-training.

However, Wang Yu clearly had the mental and physical advantage—factors that he had specifically planned for and introduced—to turn this dark, rainy night into the background for a vicious slaughter.

Two oil lamps suddenly lit up, casting light into the pitch-black depths of the night.

The terrified prey had finally realized that hiding was pointless. This butcher, whoever he was, had some means of locating them in the darkness.

With escape no longer an option, they decided to pool their strength and make a last-ditch effort. Perhaps there was still a sliver of hope at victory.

They were lucky, all things considered. The two remaining Blackfang teams weren't too far apart. Upon seeing each other's light, they swiftly converged.

They glanced at each other's worried and fearful faces.

Now that they had revealed themselves, the hunter would also be able to find them more quickly than before.

"We can't hide anymore—it's clearly meaningless against him. But no matter what, there's not much to fear. He's just a knight's squire, after all! As long as we can locate him, we don't have to be afraid," one of the eleven men shouted, attempting to rally his comrades, though to little effect.

Some tightened their grip on their blades, their faces resolute, but the majority were still filled with dread. They inched closer to their companions.

The mercenary was about to continue shouting when two all-too-familiar axes slashed through the darkness and flew toward the group. This time, however, they were ready.

"Protect the light!" someone shouted desperately. Everyone rushed to guard the two lamps.

One axe had come in at a tricky angle. Even though the mercenaries tried their best to intercept it, it shattered one of the lamps and cut deeply into the left rib of the man holding it, a wound so deep bone was visible.

However, the last lamp remained safe and secure.

In the end, the light forced the blood-stained butcher of the night into view.

"He couldn't destroy the lamp! Attack!"

The same mercenary shouted again, stirring up the others.

Five of the mercenaries guarded the last source of light as the remaining six drew their swords in one hand and crossbows in the other, the signature style of the Blackfang mercenaries.

The butcher of the night gave the eleven remaining mercenaries a cruel smile..

"Very good. I'm glad you've all grouped together." He raised his right hand as the ring on his index finger emitted a fiery red glow.

In the pouring rain, a piece of magical equipment gathered energy and formed a blazing fireball: the upgraded first-tier spell Explosive Fireball.

Avia's upgraded spell radiated intense light and heat as it vaporized all the raindrops in its vicinity. Steam trailed from it as it flew toward the five mercenaries gathered around the lamp.

"Magical equipment! Dodge!" the five men shouted in terror. They hadn't expected a mere squire to possess magical equipment.

They reacted quickly and would have been able to dodge a normal fireball, but unfortunately for them, this was Avia's enhanced version.

The powerful explosion erupted beside the group, blowing the nearest man to pieces.

Burnt limbs flew through the air, flames flickering on the charred remains for a few seconds before they were finally extinguished by the downpour.

The four remaining men were caught in the resulting shockwave and flung away. Three coughed up blood and viscera, clearly doomed.

The last man, furthest away and the one who had been holding the lamp, somehow managed to protect both himself and his lamp.

He fell to the ground with a scream, spat out a mouthful of blood, and roared, "Kill him!"

Then, as if he had exhausted the last of his stamina, he slumped over and fell lifelessly to the ground.

The six remaining mercenaries snapped out of their shock. This would be a fight to the death. Surely Wang Yu didn't have a second piece of magical equipment, or they would all be dead. They had no choice but to believe that he didn't.

Fortunately for them, Wang Yu didn't seem to be going for another.

Having already thrown both his axes, and with a third axe abandoned because of how blunt it had grown, Wang Yu drew his sword and glanced at the six mercenaries. Despite his solitary presence, he radiated tremendous pressure.

Without wasting any time, Wang Yu sprinted forward. The six men acted with surprising teamwork. A hulking man blocked his way while the remaining five spread out, swords and crossbows still in hand.

One man defended as the others readied their crossbow bolts, one of their usual tactics.

Wang Yu's grip tightened as he charged. He closed in on the large man and swung his sword upward. Metal met metal in a flurry of sparks.

The burly man staggered back from the force, realizing with horror that Wang Yu's strength far surpassed that of a squire. Even he, the strongest beginner knight-in-training among them, was outmatched.

He clenched his jaw and steadied himself to give his allies an opening. Arrows hissed through the air and converged on Wang Yu from all angles, but it was futile.

The ripples emanating from his body easily allowed him to detect and avoid every arrow. He ducked, twisted, and dodged three of them, then released his sword and caused the burly man he was facing to stumble: a death sentence.

Wang Yu turned, caught an incoming arrow in mid-air, and plunged it into the staggering man's eye, twisting it and turning his brain into some sort of organic slurry.

The final arrow was, for some reason, delayed. It was just about to strike his back from behind. With no time to dodge, Wang Yu drew on his sorcery, forming a barrier at the cost of half his pool of void energy. The arrow fell harmlessly to the ground.

He wasted no time as he sprinted toward his next target, the next closest mercenary.

The mercenary, aided by the dim light, saw Wang Yu charge toward him. He raised his blade and aimed it in his direction.

As he neared his target, Wang Yu lowered his center of gravity, then pushed off hard as he slid along the ground, taking advantage of the reduced friction of the muddy grass to slide under four arrows that whizzed above his head and past the mercenary in his path.

Considering Wang Yu's blistering speed, the mercenary, who lacked the physique of a knight-in-training, wasn't able to react in time.

Wang Yu grabbed one of the fallen axes by the mercenary's side and flung it at him without even looking back. The mercenary hadn't had time to turn around; now, he would never get the chance to.

Without sparing a glance at the fallen body, Wang Yu leapt up, surged forward, and accelerated even more quickly.

With a single kick, he shattered the lamp that was now unguarded. Rain poured down, extinguishing the flames as the pitch-black darkness drowned the mercenaries once more.

"This can't be!" One mercenary, overwhelmed by despair, raised his sword high and charged desperately in the direction Wang Yu had last been in. His frenzied assault was unexpectedly fast and forceful—right as he skewered himself on Wang Yu's sword. Wang Yu barely had to exert any effort at all.

The brave but idiotic mercenary had practically thrown his chest onto Wang Yu's waiting sword, like a man greeting an old friend after years apart.

Wang Yu abandoned the sword lodged in the chest of his supposed "friend," then deftly claimed the longsword falling from the dead man's hand.

He kicked the corpse sideways and blocked an incoming arrow. With his new sword, he deflected two further arrows—then continued charging forward.

One of the mercenaries, unable to keep up with Wang Yu's blinding speed, lost sight of him. Panicked, he looked frantically around, only to suddenly find Wang Yu before him.

His reflexes took over as he raised the blade for a strike, only to find his field of vision suddenly lowering as his head rolled to the ground. Wang Yu had already leapt past him and decapitated him in one swift motion.

There were but two mercenaries remaining. He charged straight forward and cut down the incoming arrows in his way.

Like a truck, his body barreled into a mercenary and sent him flying like a sack while his sword stabbed into the man's abdomen.

He pulled the sword out of the corpse as an arrow shot toward his head from the back.

He tilted his head slightly. The sharp arrowhead grazed by his ear with a thin line of blood, then faded into the darkness.

Wang Yu casually tossed his sword into the darkness. After a piercing scream and the sound of a body hitting the ground, silence reigned once more. Only the relentless downpour could be heard in the darkness.

Wang Yu took a few breaths and began to sprint once again. He retrieved his trusted sword from one of the fallen mercenaries and sheathed it, then ran from the hellish scene: the corpses of dozens of mercenaries had transformed the manor grounds into a horrifying pit of bodies and blood.

Wang Yu had no intention of resting. His ripples carried every detail of his surroundings into his mind.

Finally, a figure appeared in sight, a massive body completely clad in thick, heavy armor. Rain ran down his helmet in rivulets, leaving a thin slit through which he eyed his opponent, not flinching despite the falling rain. The figure stood like a fortress, unwavering and impenetrable.

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Wang Yu knew that this would be his true opponent tonight, the Iron Fortress Oka.

Unencumbered by the darkness, as if he had sensed something, Oka turned in Wang Yu's direction.

Wang Yu smiled. This was a knight, a true knight. The madness of this stormy night was far from over.

His sword drawn, he charged forward fearlessly.