The laundry room door creaked open just an inch. Eon peeked a little. To his High Elf senses, the hallway outside was a chaotic mess of colors. The bright, jagged red of anger and greed belonged to the mercenaries. The soft, trembling blue of fear belonged to the servants hiding in the cupboards.
Eon stepped out into the hallway. His boots made no sound on the stone floor. Behind him, Elsa and Carla moved like ghosts, their faces pale under their hoods.
The mansion, which had been a place of quiet industry just hours ago, now sounded like a slaughterhouse. From the floor above, they heard the heavy thud of furniture being thrown and the shattering of glass. But closer, from the direction of the kitchen, they heard something worse, a girl's high-pitched scream, followed by a man's bark of laughter.
Eon's hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger. The air around him grew so cold that Carla's breath began to mist in the air.
"Eon," Elsa whispered, her hand trembling as she reached for the wand at her waist. "The kitchen. It sounds like..."
"I know," Eon said. His voice was a flat, dead thing. "Stay behind me. If anyone looks at you, kill them. Don't wait for my order."
They moved down the narrow servant's passage. The walls were decorated with simple paintings and torches, but several of the torches had been knocked down, leaving parts of the hallway in deep, flickering shadows. As they reached the corner leading to the main kitchen, Eon saw the first sign of the "Vultures."
A young elven servant was pinned against the wall by a massive, bearded man in stained leather armor. The man was laughing, his hand wrapped around the girl's throat as he tried to pull a silver ring off her finger. Two other mercenaries were sitting at the large wooden prep table, eating bread and watching with bored expressions.
"Come on, little rabbit," the bearded man grunted. "Give it here, and maybe I won't cut your ears off to sell to the collectors."
The elven girl couldn't even scream; she was gasping for air, her eyes rolling back in her head.
Eon didn't shout. He didn't issue a challenge. He simply moved.
To Elsa and Carla, it looked as if Eon had suddenly turned into a blur of light. He covered the ten meters of the hallway in a single heartbeat.
The bearded mercenary didn't even have time to turn around. Eon's dagger went into the back of the man's neck, cutting through the spine and the windpipe with the ease of a hot knife through butter. The man's laughter died instantly. His body went limp, falling to the floor like a sack of wet grain.
The two mercenaries at the table jumped up, their chairs clattering to the ground.
"What the…!" one started to yell, reaching for a jagged short sword at his hip.
Eon didn't give him the chance. He flicked his left hand.
Matter Manipulation: Level 9. SWAMP
The heavy stone floor beneath the mercenary's feet suddenly turned into liquid mud. The man shrieked as he sank up to his knees. Before he could process what was happening, the mud turned back into solid stone, locking his legs in a grip that crushed his bones.
While the first man screamed in agony, Eon appeared in front of the second. The mercenary swung a clumsy punch, but Eon caught his wrist. There was a sickening snap as Eon twisted the man's arm like a dry twig. Eon drove the dagger into the man's heart, twisted once, and pulled it out.
In less than five seconds, the kitchen was silent again, except for the muffled sobbing of the elven girl on the floor.
From the high rafters of the kitchen, hidden by the thick shadows of the smoke-stained ceiling, Selena watched the entire scene.
Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid the elf would hear it. Beside her, Lyssa was frozen, her hand hovering over her dagger. They were trained scouts of the kingdom, but they had never seen anything like this.
"Did you see that?" Lyssa breathed, her voice so low it was barely a vibration. "He didn't use a circle. He didn't even chant. He just... willed the stone to move."
Selena didn't answer. She was staring at Eon. He was standing over the bodies, his hood still low. He wasn't breathing hard. He wasn't shaking. He looked like a gardener who had just finished weeding a flower bed. He reached down and gently helped the elven girl to her feet, whispering something to her that Selena couldn't catch.
"He's not a normal Elf," Selena whispered to herself, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and obsession. "He's a monster. A beautiful, terrifying monster."
She saw Eon turn his head slightly toward the rafters. For a split second, Selena felt as if his silver eyes were looking directly through her invisibility magic, piercing her soul. She stopped breathing, her body turning to ice.
But then, Eon turned back to Elsa and Carla. "The kitchen is clear. Go through the back pantry. It leads to the forge. If they haven't found the secret entrance yet, the others should be barricaded inside."
"What about you?" Carla asked, her voice shaking as she looked at the bodies on the floor.
"I'm going to clear the main hall," Eon said. He looked at his bloody dagger and wiped it on the sleeve of a dead mercenary. "I want them to know I'm here. I want them to be afraid to look into the shadows."
Eon moved through the mansion like a reaper. Every time he encountered a Vulture mercenary, the result was the same: silent, clinical death. He didn't use flashy spells. He used the environment. A ceiling beam would "accidentally" fall. A rug would turn into a pit of quicksand. A door would lock itself and then crush the person trying to open it.
By the time he reached the corridor leading to the forge, the "Vultures" were no longer laughing. They were shouting to each other in panic, finding their friends dead in rooms that were supposedly empty.
But as Eon approached the heavy iron doors of the forge, he stopped.
The air here didn't smell like the sweat and grease of the mercenaries. It smelled like ozone. It smelled like the dark, bitter magic he had felt in the dungeon.
"So," Eon said to the empty hallway. "You finally decided to stop hiding."
From the shadows near the forge door, two figures stepped out. They were the Shadow Mages Alaric had hired. They didn't look like the clumsy mercenaries Eon had been killing. They moved with a predatory stillness, their black silk masks rippling in a magical wind.
"The High Elf," the taller mage said, his voice a cold rasp. "We have been watching your 'work,' Master Elf. You are efficient. But you are also arrogant."
"I don't have time for a speech," Eon said. He felt his mana rising, the silver light beginning to leak from the edges of his hood. "Where is Liam? Where is Loreth?"
The second mage chuckled, a sound like dry bones rattling in a jar. He stepped aside, pointing toward the forge door. The heavy iron had been blasted open, hanging loosely on one hinge.
Inside the forge, Eon could see the elven smiths. They were huddled together near the cold anvils, surrounded by four men in white robes, White Mages, specialized in binding and suppression magic. Liam was being held by the neck by another shadow mage, a short sword pressed against his throat.
And standing in the center of it all, looking at the broken "Industrial Revolution" with a mocking grin, was a man Eon didn't recognize, a lead mercenary with a scar running across his eyes.
"We knew you would come here," the Shadow Mage said. "You care too much for these 'beasts.' It is a pathetic weakness for a creature of your status."
Eon felt a cold, jagged sensation in his chest. He looked at Liam's terrified face. He looked at the white mages readying their binding spells. He realized that while he was busy clearing the house, they had been setting the stage for his execution.
"Your lords life is at my hands, you know that right? Just a pressed in this ring and your lords will be in so much pain that they might even forget their name." Eon threatened.
"oh , about that. We dont care. You can do it if you like. You see, we are hired mercenary. And the money denares brothers would pay for their rescue is far little compared to these lovely elves. If we sell them at a auction, we will profit at least 10 times more. So you get my point." The stronger-looking mage said.
"Elsa! Carla! Stay back!" before he could finish, Eon roared.
But it was too late. From the shadows behind them, another group of mercenaries emerged, cutting off their retreat.
The Shadow Mage raised his hand, and the shadows on the floor began to stretch and rise, turning into thick, black tendrils formed at his leg.
"You should have stayed hidden, Elf boy," the mage hissed. "Now, we are going to see if your blood is as silver as they say. Heh."
Eon didn't panic. He looked at the shadow tendrils, then at the mages, and finally at Liam.
"You've made a mistake," Eon said, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a power that made the stone walls of the mansion groan. "You thought this was a rescue mission. But for you... this is an execution."