The camp lay like a boil beneath the trees.
Half-ringed by crooked stakes and animal bones, the Black Hollow Raider outpost wasn't built for defense it was a feeding ground. dilapidated tents. A bonfire ringed with piss-slicked barrels. Crates of stolen goods. Weapons leaned against stumps. Rotting meat hung from iron hooks.
Alex watched it all from the branches of a dead pine thirty feet up, cloak drawn tight against the bark. He hadn't moved in nearly an hour. His breath was shallow. His heart calm.
Through the mist, his Chaos Dragon Eyes pulsed—briefly activated.
[Scanning...]
Identified:
– 22 Total Hostiles
– 14 Active, 8 Resting
– Threat Range: F to E+
Primary Target: Gorrin the Butcher – Rank D+
Attributes: Strength 14 | Endurance 12 | Intelligence 5
Weapon: Iron war maul
Notes: Heavy strikes. Low speed. High pain tolerance. Uses intimidation and brute force.
Alex narrowed his eyes.
Gorrin sat near the center of camp on a log stripped of bark, sharpening his maul with a wet whetstone, smiling like a dog chewing on bone. His face was broad, half-burned, half-tattooed, eyes small and hungry. Nearby, two of his lackeys roasted something that looked vaguely human on a spit.
Alex's knuckles turned white.
Not yet. Not here.
He wasn't ready for a twenty-man camp. But Gorrin didn't sleep inside the perimeter.
He was too proud for that.
He left the camp to "piss and prowl", as Gerran's memories had shown, every night at the second moon peak. Always with two guards. Always through the north gap in the fence.
It would happen in less than two hours.
Alex climbed down from the tree with the ease of someone weightless.
He moved through the trees like fog on legs. He circled behind the north exit, leaving gifts as he moved.
-A noose of thornvine in one path.
-A shallow trench filled with sharpened stakes camouflaged with mud and leaves.
-A scent trail laced with blood from the scout he'd killed.
Each trap laid with surgical intent. Not to kill, well not immediately.
But to disorient.
[Traps Placed: 3]
Traps Effectiveness Bonus: +10% (based on Intelligence and Executioner Synergy)
At the foot of an ancient birch, he stopped and stared into the gloom.
He whispered, "Come on then, butcher."
------------------------------
Gorrin's routine didn't disappoint.
Right on time, the two guards appeared clanking iron boots and bad attitudes. One carried a crossbow. The other had a twin-hilt blade. Gorrin followed last, yawning, maul slung lazily across his back like a child's toy.
They took the north path, laughing.
Alex tracked them at a distance of exactly twenty-eight paces. He matched their step. Timed his breaths with the wind. Predator's Grasp thrummed beneath his skin, ready to fire.
They passed the first trap.
One of the guards glanced down and cursed, pulling his boot free of a sticky, foul-smelling patch of animal fat Alex had smeared along the trail.
"Gods, what is that stench?"
Gorrin snorted. "Don't tell me you're scared of dirt."
A second later, the thorn noose snapped shut.
The lead guard screamed as it yanked him sideways into a tree, thorns biting through leather and flesh. He struggled. The vines coiled tighter.
"Ambu—!"
Too late.
Alex struck from above.
He dropped from a tree limb, dagger reversed, and landed on top of the second guard. One stab to the throat then into the side of the neck. The man gurgled and fell twitching.
[Kill Confirmed – Blood Memory Boost Active]
[Stamina -10% | Chaos Surge Cooldown: Ready]
Gorrin spun around, eyes wide. The maul was already in his hands.
"Who the fu—"
Alex threw the dead guard's short blade.
It hit Gorrin in the chest and bounced off his armor but it staggered him Enough.
Alex vanished into the mist before Gorrin could retaliate.
The butcher roared.
"I KNOW THAT TRICK! YOU THINK YOU'RE A GHOST?! COME OUT AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL PAIN LOOKS LIKE!"
but Alex didn't answer.
He was already setting the next stage.
The chase had begun.