The heavy, wooden doors of Rayn's home slammed shut, instantly cutting off the suffocating wails of the surviving townspeople.
Inside the heavily fortified living room, the absolute silence was deafening.
Dawinton, still entirely invisible to the outside world, violently collapsed onto the plush sofa. The Phase 5 powerhouse completely broke down. He buried his face in his trembling, calloused hands, his shoulders violently shaking as he wept for Matthew.
Suddenly, Dawinton shot up from the sofa.
He lunged forward, violently grabbing Rayn by the collar of his blood-stained robes.
"Why didn't you just fucking kill me in that ice cave?!" Dawinton screamed, his voice cracking with absolute, unadulterated grief. "If you had just let me die, I would be at peace! I could have met Matthew in heaven! Why the fuck did you save me just to watch my best friend get butchered?!"
Rayn didn't say a single word. His expression was entirely carved from stone.
He slowly, methodically reached up. With terrifying kinetic strength, he forcefully peeled Dawinton's trembling fingers off his collar. He casually pushed the weeping old man back down onto the sofa.
Vespera silently stepped forward. She gently placed her delicate hand directly onto Dawinton's forehead. A soft pulse of her golden Gnosis flared, completely bypassing his defenses.
Dawinton's eyes immediately rolled back. He slumped sideways against the cushions, forcefully put into a deep, dreamless sleep by her ancient magic.
"Why didn't you do anything?" Vespera asked quietly, her golden eyes studying Rayn's emotionless face.
"What didn't I do?" Rayn replied, his voice completely flat. "I already gave the captains the absolute plan. Did I fucking miss something?"
Rayn turned his back to her. He slowly started stepping up the heavy wooden stairs. The loud, rhythmic creaking of the floorboards echoed entirely through the empty house.
Vespera immediately ran up the stairs, violently stepping in front of him to block his path.
"What happened to you, Rayn?" she demanded, her spatial aura slightly leaking in her frustration. "Why have you become so entirely cold? I thought I was supposed to be the absolute monster in this relationship."
Rayn smiled internally, completely analyzing the perimeter of the house with his Conqueror senses. But on the outside, he maintained an absolute, flawless poker face.
"I thought this is exactly what you wanted, Vespera," Rayn said softly.
"No," Vespera replied, shaking her head. "This is not the man I want you to become. I want you to be the absolute Conqueror. Someone who dominates everything and is universally respected. Not... whatever this cold, empty shell is. I don't want this kind of Rayn."
Rayn let out a soft, highly convincing sigh.
"Don't worry, Vespera," Rayn whispered, his voice carrying a perfect layer of vulnerability. "I am actively trying to change my mindset. I am trying to stop being an absolute psychopath. I want to conquer this world, yes... but I want to think more carefully, like a normal person, instead of just slaughtering everyone in my path."
Vespera's rigid posture completely softened. A genuinely warm, beautiful smile graced her flawless face. The vulnerability in his voice made her ancient, demonic heart feel exactly like melted butter.
"I am sorry, Rayn," she whispered. "I am sorry if I hurt you before."
"I didn't mind it," Rayn replied, flashing a gentle smile. "But I need you to do exactly one thing for me right now. Are you willing to do it?"
Vespera's eyes widened with immediate curiosity, looking exactly like a loyal hound waiting for a command. "What is it, Rayn? What do you want me to do?"
Rayn casually leaned against the wooden banister. He spoke clearly, his voice carrying just enough volume to bounce off the glass of the nearby window.
"The absolute truth is, I lied to the team," Rayn said. "That 'Royal Guard friend' I mentioned? He isn't coming to participate in the war tomorrow. The secret weapon is actually Dawinton. you know he is alive, and he is going to help us."
Vespera didn't even flinch. "Yes, Rayn. I already knew that. We are the only two who know he survived. You don't have to worry about a thing. When you told about that friend of yours i immediately understood that friend is a disguise person of Dawinton".
Outside the glass window, hidden entirely within the absolute shadows of the home's eaves, a figure violently held his breath.
It was a Phase 7 bandit spy.
The spy's heart was violently hammering against his ribs. Dawinton is alive?! he thought, absolute shock completely overriding his training. Everyone in the coalition thought the old Town Leader was dead! I have to report this to Commander Vanzant immediately!
But what the pathetic spy completely failed to realize was that both Rayn and Vespera had sensed his disgusting Gnosis signature the absolute second they entered the house.
They were performing a flawlessly executed play.
Rayn flashed a dark, bloodthirsty smile and gave a subtle nod to Vespera.
In an absolute instant, the "Rayn" leaning against the banister completely dissolved into thin, crimson smoke. It was a flawless, high-speed afterimage.
Outside on the roof, the spy slowly turned to retreat into the night.
Tap. Tap.
Someone gently tapped him directly on his right shoulder.
The spy's heart violently stopped. He slowly, terrifiedly tilted his head back, staring into the darkness.
There was absolutely no one there.
He frantically looked back through the glass window. The afterimage of Rayn had entirely faded, leaving only Vespera standing on the stairs.
Before the spy could even attempt to scream, a vice-like grip violently clamped completely around his ankle.
With a terrifying, kinetic yank, the spy was violently dragged off the roof. He crashed entirely through the wooden siding of the house, pulled directly into the dark hallway.
CRACK!
A heavy piece of splintered wood violently smashed directly into the side of the spy's skull. The world instantly went completely black.
When the spy finally, agonizingly regained consciousness, his head was violently throbbing. He slowly forced his swollen eyes open.
He was tightly bound to a heavy wooden chair in the center of the kitchen.
Standing directly in front of him were Rayn and Vespera. They were casually discussing the absolute best methods to physically torture a human body.
Rayn noticed the bandit's eyes fluttering open.
"Vespera! Vespera, look!" Rayn said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "Our little rat is finally awake!"
Rayn casually pulled a chair over and sat backward on it, directly facing the bleeding spy.
"Hello, man," Rayn said, his voice dripping with an incredibly dark, mocking politeness. "My name is Rayn. And this..." He gestured grandly to the terrifying woman beside him. "...is my absolute, beautiful wife, Vespera."
Vespera didn't correct him. She simply crossed her arms, her golden eyes staring a literal hole through the spy's soul.
"Now," Rayn continued, entirely ignoring the bandit's terror. "Tell me, man. Exactly who the fuck are you, and why were you secretly listening to our private conversations?"
The bandit violently spat a glob of blood onto the floor. "You motherfuckers already know exactly who I am! I am part of the Yellow Bandits! You just want me to admit it so you can torture me for the coordinates of our new camp!"
Rayn let out a soft, chilling laugh.
"Man, I already know exactly who you are," Rayn said, slowly standing up. "I was just trying to be polite. But you are quite intelligent to see completely through my pathetic questions."
The bandit sneered, his Phase 7 Gnosis flaring desperately against the ropes. "You really think you can torture me?! I will never fucking betray the my team! I won't say a single word!"
"I completely believe you," Rayn whispered.
Rayn casually walked over to the kitchen tools counter. He completely ignored his massive, heaven-defying weapons. Instead, he picked up a small, mundane paring knife—the kind specifically used to peel soft fruits and chop vegetables.
He walked back to the spy.
Before the bandit could even process the movement, Rayn's hand violently blurred. He gripped the bandit's jaw, prying his mouth open with terrifying brute strength.
With a single, entirely casual flick of the small kitchen knife, Rayn violently sliced the bandit's tongue completely out of his mouth.
The severed muscle hit the wooden floor with a wet, sickening plop.
The bandit violently screamed. It was a horrific, gurgling, wet shriek that completely tore his vocal cords as thick blood aggressively poured from his lips, choking his lungs. He thrashed against the ropes in absolute, blinding agony.
The scream was so incredibly loud that it violently shattered Dawinton's magical sleep.
The old man bolted upright on the sofa. He frantically scrambled through the house, throwing open the kitchen door.
Dawinton froze in absolute horror. He saw Rayn casually holding the bloody paring knife. He saw the severed tongue lying in a puddle of fresh blood on the floor. He saw the bandit violently choking on his own gore.
"Rayn!" Dawinton shouted, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "What the actual fuck are you doing?! Why did you cut his tongue out?!"
Rayn slowly turned his head. A completely unhinged, demonic smile stretched across his face.
He tossed the pathetic kitchen knife aside. The air violently shattered as he summoned his massive, crackling Crimson Conqueror Sword.
"Stop, Rayn!" Dawinton screamed, desperately reaching out.
Rayn didn't even look back. The crimson blade completely vanished into a violent blur.
Several hours later. Evening had completely fallen over the dense, untamed forest situated exactly between the Ashburg and Sterling domains.
The Yellow-Robed Bandit Coalition had established a massive, heavily fortified temporary camp. Thousands of elite Phase-level mercenaries were gathered around roaring bonfires, completely drunk on stolen wine and celebrating the absolute slaughter of Ashburg.
At the center of the camp, sitting in a luxurious, stolen velvet chair, the Supreme Leader of the coalition was loudly laughing. He was enjoying high-grade sake, surrounded by terrified, captive women.
Suddenly, a man wearing huge yellow dress that covers his heavy black armor rushed through the perimeter guards. It was Vanzant, the Leader's personal assistant. He was carrying a massive, dripping canvas bag.
The Leader looked up, wiping sake from his thick beard. "Hey, Vanzant. What the hell is that?"
Vanzant's face was entirely pale. His hands were violently trembling. He didn't speak. He simply turned the heavy canvas bag upside down.
SQUELCH.
The completely dismembered, butchered body parts of Verlin—their elite Phase 7 spy—violently tumbled out onto the dirt. Arms, legs, and a heavily mutilated torso piled up. Finally, Verlin's severed head rolled directly to the Leader's boots. His mouth was hanging open, completely missing its tongue.
The music instantly stopped. The women violently screamed, scrambling backward. Every single bandit around the fire froze in absolute, drunken shock.
Vanzant reached into his armor with a shaking, blood-stained hand. "Sir... someone completely bypassed our outer patrols. They casually left Verlin's butchered body at the perimeter. And... they left this exact note pinned to his chest."
Vanzant handed over a folded piece of thick, white parchment. It was an official voting ballot strictly used for the Ashburg democratic elections.
The Leader aggressively snatched the paper, his Gnosis violently flaring in absolute rage. He unfolded the bloody ballot and read the messy, completely unhinged handwriting.
It read:
Hey man.
I know it is considered bad business to violently butcher your spies. But then again, wasn't it completely wrong for you to butcher my town?
Be careful, man. I am coming for every single one of you.
The absolute death of your entire Bandit Group is marching toward you right now... and it is wearing my fucking face.