Rob spotted an opening. The archer he’d been eyeing had a full-healing build, her arrows trailing green smoke that healed every teammate they passed through. She had her back turned, focused on firing long-range skills to patch up Prejudice’s knights.

  He tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger, ready to spring through the ranks and unleash a flurry of attacks. Every downed healer in the enemy ranks added pressure to Prejudice. He took off. As he approached, something caught his attention—an enemy rogue lingering in the periphery of his vision, watching him. The rogue’s sharp gaze made it clear—he’d seen through Rob’s intentions.

  The enemy rogue didn’t move, but his eyes tracked Rob with predatory precision. It was a silent standoff. Rob shifted his weight, considering his options. One misstep and the rogue would pounce, but if he lingered too long, he’d lose his chance to strike the healer. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. He hated how these games of shadow and steel always felt like playing chess with a knife to his throat.

  Rob licked his lips, hesitating. Should he go for it anyway? He considered messaging one of IronIre’s assassins for help breaking through, but before he could act, the enemy rogue flicked his wrist, sending poisoned needles flying in his direction.

  Rob dodged, but the rogue was coming his way to make sure he stayed away from the archer. He clicked his tongue in frustration.

  The battle between Prejudice and IronIre had devolved into a grueling stalemate. Both sides had taken heavy losses, but neither could claim the upper hand. Prejudice’s pheromoners and rangers bolstered their frontline with healing bursts and supportive grenades, keeping their forces alive against IronIre’s relentless assault.

  Rob’s fingers twitched on the hilt of his dagger. Every second wasted was another chance for the archer to heal more of Prejudice’s knights. But rushing in carelessly wasn’t an option either. One wrong move, and he’d be the one lying in the dirt.

  He’d tried slipping through to the enemy healers multiple times, but they were well-protected. Ryder had stationed Prejudice’s rogues on defensive duty, creating a frustrating wall to guard the healers and tie up IronIre’s own rogue troops in endless skirmishes.

  His eyes flicked toward the Slayer. As always, the man dominated the battlefield, as if he were the sun and everything else revolved around him. Ryder had assigned four of Prejudice’s tanks just to keep him occupied. Two tanks engaged him at a time, rotating out just before the Slayer could finish them off.

  Even so, their foreheads gleamed with sweat, and several had already swapped out their battered armor and shields. The Slayer was carving through their health bars faster than Prejudice’s healers could restore them. Rob could feel it—a breaking point was near. The Slayer was about to tear through.

  Rob noticed the way Ryder’s knights shifted in their saddles, their horses stamping the ground with restless energy. They could feel the shift too, and they weren’t about to let things go the Slayer’s way.

  Ryder’s cavalry took off, sending tremors throughout the field. They gained momentum, heading toward IronIre’s backline. For a moment, Rob felt a flicker of unease. If the backline broke, there’d be no regrouping, no second chances.

  The ground shook beneath the pounding hooves. His throat tightened as the lances lowered, gleaming like the teeth of a predator.

  “Slayer, they’re going to kill our rangers and pheromoners! If we lose our healers, we’re done!” Wilson, one of IronIre’s captains, shouted over the chaos. “Fall back! Fall back!”

  For a moment, the Slayer actually paused. His weapon hung still as he surveyed the battlefield, his sharp eyes scanning the fray. Then, without hesitation, a command lit up the party chat.

  “Don’t go after the riders. All in! Charge!”

  Xana, IronIre’s best grenadier and one of the few bold enough to question him, messaged back. “But Slayer! What about us? Our healers—”

  “JUST DO AS I SAY!”

  IronIre surged forward in unison, abandoning their backline to Ryder’s cavalry. A wave of fighters crashed into Prejudice’s backline, their sudden aggression throwing the enemy into disarray.

  Rob saw his chance in the chaos. The enemy rogues faltered, their coordination unraveling under the pressure. High-value targets were left exposed. He slipped through the confusion and reached the archer he’d been stalking earlier.

  Pommel Strike!

  His dagger struck true, stunning her for one second. It was all the time he needed.

  Bleeding Puncture!

  -5

  -5

  Triple Slash!

  -45

  -5

  -31

  -5

  -45

  -5

  Backstab!

  -164

  The archer crumpled. Her equipment was focused entirely on healing bonuses, leaving her defense paper-thin. Rob pocketed the armor piece she dropped, his eyes already scanning for his next target. One by one, he eliminated distracted rangers and pheromoners, dismantling Prejudice’s support network.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  IronIre’s frontliners pushed forward with determination, scattering Prejudice’s rangers and grenadiers. The battlefield descended into chaos as Prejudice’s knights retaliated, doing the same to IronIre. Within moments, both guilds’ backlines were in tatters, leaving only the frontliners to clash in a unabating melee.

  The tables had turned. Ryder hadn’t expected IronIre to abandon their backline entirely, and his army, so reliant on its support network, was suddenly vulnerable. His shouts echoed across the battlefield as he tried to regroup, but it was every man for himself now.

  Rob watched the scene unfold, his pulse quickening. For the first time, Ryder’s forces seemed shaken. IronIre was pushing harder, faster. Victory felt close enough to taste. Rob set his sights on Ryder. The enemy guild leader had to be at least ten levels higher than him—maybe more—but he was clearly flustered. If Rob could take him down, it would earn him serious points with the Slayer.

  Rob ran toward Ryder, carefully avoiding the Slayer, who could easily kill him without even realizing they were allies. The Slayer thrived in chaos, and now, with the battlefield in disarray and no healers to save Prejudice’s forces, he was unstoppable. The four tanks assigned to pin him down had already fallen.

  Ryder seemed to realize the danger. Letting the Slayer run loose would seal his guild’s defeat. Spurring his horse forward, Ryder charged. The warhorse gained momentum as Ryder activated a series of buffs, each one amplifying the power of his charge.

  The Slayer crossed his blades and activated [Parry] at the last possible moment. A deafening clash of metal on metal reverberated across the battlefield as Ryder’s attack was canceled.

  Rob froze, his breath catching in his throat. He kept [Parry] off cooldown? Amid all this chaos? The Slayer’s battle sense and timing left him stunned, as always.

  Ryder, too, was caught off guard. He recovered quickly, using his mount’s speed to his advantage. Darting in and out of range, Ryder dictated the flow of the engagement, his horse carrying him just beyond the Slayer’s reach.

  For a brief moment, a semblance of stalemate settled over the battlefield. Fighters from both guilds clashed, but many spared glances toward their leaders’ duel. Everyone knew the outcome of this fight would likely decide the battle.

  As Rob watched, his instincts flared. From the corner of his eye, he caught movement—a second rider circling wide. It was one of Ryder’s best knights, Basher. The knight banged his lance against his shield, activating a series of self-buff skills while eyeing the Slayer. Then, his horse took off.

  Rob’s heart pounded. He’s going to ambush the Slayer!

  For a moment, he weighed his options. Should he try to save the Slayer? Should he let him die? The points he’d score with the guild if he stopped this sucker punch would earn him real trust from the Slayer. His decision was made.

  He moved like a shadow through the chaos, slipping past distracted fighters. Timing it perfectly, he leaped with all his strength and struck the knight’s helmet.

  Pommel Strike!

  The blow landed cleanly, stunning the rider and throwing him off balance. His charge faltered as the warhorse reared, breaking its momentum and sending the knight tumbling.

  Rob turned just in time to see the Slayer seize his moment. Ryder’s brief distraction was all it took. The Slayer closed the distance in a flash, his weapon arcing through the air. Ryder’s form burst into motes of light, leaving behind a shield clattering to the ground.

  Rob exhaled, relief washing over him as he realized he’d done just enough to keep the duel clean.

  The battlefield fell eerily quiet for a moment. The absence of Ryder’s commanding presence was palpable, a void that even the most disciplined Prejudice knights couldn’t ignore. Without healers or a leader to rally them, their formation fractured.

  IronIre’s berserkers seized the moment, surging forward. Their life-saving skills and damage-scaling abilities gave them the upper hand in a skirmish without healers. Prejudice’s remaining forces, no matter how brave, couldn’t hold out under the relentless assault.

  As the dust settled, Rob exhaled again, adrenaline still coursing through him. The field was theirs. IronIre’s reckless, all-or-nothing tactics had prevailed once again.

  His instincts screamed a warning. He whirled toward the source of his alarm, fearing an enemy, and instead found himself face-to-face with the Slayer. The towering guild leader loomed over him, his presence as overwhelming as ever. Rob felt a rush of conflicting emotions—relief, admiration, and a tinge of dread.

  “Good timing there, Rob,” the Slayer said, stretching out one of his bear-sized hands.

  Rob gulped and took it, shaking firmly. “Don’t mention it, Slayer.”

  The Slayer studied him, his gaze sharp and probing. “Don’t you usually hang out in Thundergate? How are you all the way out here? Oh, wait a minute.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You were chasing Amari and the others, weren’t you?”

  Rob’s heart skipped a beat. Jack’s prophecy of doom had come to pass. Spotting him in Pearlsgate had jogged the Slayer’s memory. Worse, with Prejudice defeated, the Slayer was already hunting for his next challenge. Rob forced a casual smile. “That’s right. I heard the guild message and came running.”

  “Any news on where he is?” The Slayer’s voice hardened, his intensity making it clear this wasn’t small talk.

  “Not yet,” Rob replied quickly, keeping his tone even. “Still looking into some leads.”

  The Slayer tilted his head, an eyebrow rising. “Leads? What leads?”

  Rob’s mind raced. Great. Now what do I say? The thought of the Slayer turning his attention to his cousin churned Rob’s stomach. I have to keep playing along, no matter what it costs.

  Before he realized it, he was already spinning the lie Jack had suggested. “Actually, it has to do with Prejudice.”

  “Say what?” the Slayer asked, his interest piqued.

  “Amari paid Prejudice for protection,” Rob said, forcing his tone to remain steady.

  The Slayer paused, considering the claim. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? How did you find this out?”

  “I was lucky,” Rob replied, his words flowing faster than his thoughts. “They closed a deal near a hobo NPC. I paid for the information through the slum network.”

  The hidden NPCs in the slums weren’t cheap, and using them was always a gamble. Players had to pay 300 gold upfront with no guarantee of valuable information. However, if a target’s interactions occurred within earshot of one of the many beggars scattered throughout the city, the NPCs could reveal good intel.

  All that’s left is to see if he’ll buy it. Will he believe I’d fork over 300 gold just for a lead like that? Rob’s thoughts churned. It depends on whether he thinks I love the guild that much.

  The Slayer’s gaze lingered, sharp enough to carve through Rob’s composure. Then his eyes flicked to the spot where Rob had intercepted Basher. His lips curved into a faint, approving smile. “Those hints aren’t cheap. Well done. Feel free to withdraw the sum from the guild’s vault. You shouldn’t have to cover that yourself.”

  “T-thank you, Slayer.”

  The Slayer turned toward the spot where Ryder had fallen. “So Amari has sided with Prejudice. I thought he despised mercs.” A grin spread across his face, sharp and dangerous. “I guess I really broke him, huh? But if he’s clinging to them….” His expression darkened. “It just means he has more to lose.”

  Turning back to Rob, he added, “Good job stunning Basher. And good job finding out about Amari and the others. Keep at it. I want to know his level and where he’s hunting. Once he hits 30, I’ll go after him,” the Slayer said, pausing thoughtfully. “If I take off all my armor and fight him with my bare hands, we should be even in terms of stats.”

  He started to walk away, and Rob exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. It worked. It worked. I can’t believe it.

  But the Slayer stopped and turned back, his gaze locking onto Rob.

  “Rob?”

  “Yes, Slayer?” Rob’s voice wavered slightly despite himself.

  “Send me a video of him once you find him, will you?”

  “Sure thing!”

  As the Slayer left, Rob’s breath hitched, his stomach knotting. A video. Proof. There was no way to bluff his way out of that. He glanced westward toward Embersgate.

  Alright, cousin. I bought you a couple of days at most. But I can’t keep shielding you forever.

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