novelraw Chapter 118: A Path That Leads to Death
Chapter 118: A Path That Leads to Death
Chapter 118: A Path That Leads to Death
After returning to his room, Raven summoned Jacob.
Within a minute, Jacob arrived—half-armored, alert, loyal as ever.
“I’ll be gone for a while,” Raven said quietly. “But someone else will come to assist you during the assassination.”
Jacob blinked. “Someone else?”
“You will help him. Do exactly as he says. Even if he tells you to shoot yourself—do it.”
Jacob’s face drained of color.
“M-My Lord?!”
Raven didn’t waver.
“Trust his every word.” He pressed the Starflare Rifle into Jacob’s hands. “And be ready.”
He turned away before Jacob could open his mouth.
The corridor was dim, the air thick with approaching danger. Raven moved toward the entrance—his footsteps silent, his presence fading until nothing remained but stillness.
Jacob stared after him, speechless.
“…He’s getting more mysterious by the day,” he muttered under his breath.
But after a moment, he sighed, adjusted the rifle strap, and headed back into the room.
Preparations weren’t optional.
If his lord said to trust the stranger—
Then Jacob would trust him even at the cost of his life.
…
After making some preparation in the hall, Raven slipped through the corridor like a passing shadow, the faint shimmer of his skill fading as he stepped into his room. He shifted back into his true form—black hair, sharp eyes, the faint closed eyelid on his forehead—then checked the pocket watch.
1:15 A.M.
Time to move.
He stepped out quietly and stopped before Jacob’s door. Before he could knock, the door cracked open. A rifle barrel peeked out first, steady despite the tremor in the fingers holding it.
Raven didn’t flinch.
He simply turned and walked down the dim corridor.
“Follow me.”
The words were flat, almost careless, yet Jacob nodded after a little hesitation. They crossed the silent hall and stopped at the reception area, lit only by the pale glow of the moon pushing through the windows.
“Move the tables and chairs to a corner.”
Jacob blinked at the order, confused—but he obeyed. Wood scraped against stone as he worked, breath steady, trained hands moving faster than nerves.
Raven touched the amulet at his neck.
Light rippled across the metal.
Solis burst forth in a flutter of crystalline wings, circling once before gliding out through the open doorway and into the night.
Raven closed his eyes.
His heartbeat faded.
His senses shifted.
Through Solis’s vision, he soared above the knights’ quarters, sweeping across rooftops, courtyards, and shadows.
Searching.
“Leave one chair over there,” Raven said quietly.
Jacob dragged it into place, breath tightening when he noticed Raven’s expression harden. The hall felt colder. Still.
By the time the last table was stacked in the corner, the pocket watch showed 1:29.
Raven opened his eyes.
“Strengthen yourself,” he said, and added something, causing Jacob to stiffen up. For a heartbeat, he didn’t understand.
Then he remembered his lord’s earlier warning.
Jacob swallowed hard and nodded. He loaded the Starflare Rifle, grip tightening as he moved behind Raven. Then he drank all three potions in quick succession—strength, agility, insight—feeling his pulse spike with borrowed power.
“Get ready,” Raven said as he also drank a few potions.
Silence stretched thin as Jacob slowly pointed the rifle at Raven’s head.
Footsteps echoed.
The heavy door of the knights’ quarters creaked open.
Millie stepped inside—clad in black, mask covering half her face, crimson eyes gleaming like molten rubies. She paused at the threshold, her gaze flickering to the empty hall, then to the chair, and finally to Raven standing motionless beneath the faint moonlight.
Her instincts prickled.
“What is this—”
Her words caught.
Raven’s lips curled.
Not a smile.
A warning.
“I knew it,” she whispered, cold dread creeping up her spine. “Something’s wro—”
The world twisted.
Her vision distorted—floor and ceiling spinning, her body yanked forward by an unseen force as spatial displacement ripped her from where she stood.
In the next breath, she wasn’t at the entrance anymore—
She was right in front of Jacob.
Right in front of the rifle.
The rifle’s muzzle flashed.
Bang—
The mithril bullet drilled cleanly into her forehead before she could even widen her eyes.
Her body jerked instinctively.
The bullet tore through the side of her skull, leaving her staggered and unfocused.
Raven did not wait to see if she would fall.
Lightning flashed as his third eye opened, sending a ray of lightning.
Jacob switched his rifle in a blink and shot a bullet at the open skull, causing her head to burst open.
Her headless body danced once—then collapsed with a dull thud.
Raven stood near the entrance, eyes fixed on the corpse.
Then—
His expression stiffened.
Jacob followed his gaze.
A gray-haired man in his fifties stood beside Raven, as if he had always been there.
He wore a dark double-breasted suit, a bowler hat, and held a cane in his left hand. His presence was calm—too calm.
“That was an excellent kill, Jacob.”
The voice was composed.
Familiar.
Jacob’s breath caught.
The gray-haired man’s eyes widened slightly as well, and he turned his gaze toward the center of the hall.
Someone was already sitting there.
A black-haired young man, dressed in ordinary noble attire, sat on the lone chair beneath the moonlight. A monocle rested over his left eye, and a polite smile curved his lips.
He rose smoothly and gave a shallow bow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Solomon.”
Solomon’s gaze sharpened.
‘He wasn’t there a moment ago.’
The young man turned his head slightly, addressing ‘Raven’ standing beside him.
“Good to see you again, Senior.”
Silence swallowed the hall.
Solomon broke it at last.
“Who are you?”
“Thomas,” Raven said flatly, without turning. “I told you to hide.”
A strained smile appeared on the young man’s face.
“I’ll take my leave, then.”
Raven spoke a single word.
“Leave.”
An invisible pressure surged outward—cold, crushing, absolute.
Jacob felt his knees weaken.
Without another word, Thomas Holmes turned and walked toward the left corridor, his figure blurring—then vanishing entirely, as if he had never existed.
The hall fell silent again.
Jacob swallowed hard.
Though confused by his lord’s sudden disappearance, he turned and hurried back toward his room.
Only Solomon and Raven remained.
Solomon wanted to ask questions, but another presence had already appeared outside.
He slowly turned around and saw a middle-aged man with multiple scars, carrying a long sword in his hand.
He halted in his tracks for a moment as he saw Solomon standing in his way, and gripped the hilt.
Though he looked calm, his teeth were gritting as he noticed Millie was lying on the ground, lifeless, within the reception hall.
After a slight pause, he took a step forward and started walking.
“Your wounds are healed? By the way, what are you doing here at this hour, Patriarch?”
“That should be my question, Instructor. What are you doing here at this hour, even carrying a sword?” Solomon said while raising his hand.
A sharp spear made of molten lava suddenly appeared out of thin air and hovered in mid-air.
Jace also stopped his footsteps and unsheathed his sword.
Simultaneously, a layer of greenish aura enveloped his sword, glowing.
“Master Level Aura,” Solomon muttered gravely and released the fire lance spell.
Like a javelin, it tore through the air and appeared before Jace in the blink of an eye.
But unlike before, Raven managed to see Jace showing discomfort and moving at a pace his eyes could track.
Still, he used his sword to neatly cut the fire lance spell, sending it away by deflecting.
“I can cast only a few spells with my current condition, Your Highness. Anything more than that, I might end up crippled for life. Do you have a plan?” Solomon asked, while a shield of fire appeared all of a sudden and covered him.
Raven didn’t answer Solomon immediately.
Instead, his fingers closed around the shaft of his spear.
The Frozen Ender slid into his palm as if it had always been there, the cold seeping into his skin, steadying his thoughts. The faint blue runes along its surface pulsed once—slow, restrained.
Across from him, Instructor Jace lifted his sword.
No flourish.
No wasted motion.
The blade rose vertically, aura tightening around it like a coiled beast about to strike.
At that instant—
Raven’s senses exploded outward.
The world didn’t slow.
It separated.
Sound thinned. Light sharpened. Every breath, every ripple of aura became painfully clear.
Within his Mind Web, one thread suddenly screamed.
Not danger.
Guidance.
On the stone floor to his left, a series of thin golden footprints appeared—faint, almost unreal. They didn’t glow brightly. They didn’t demand attention.
They simply were.
A path.
Raven’s pupils contracted.
Pathfinder…?
There was no time to think.
He moved.
Just one step.
The moment his foot left the ground, the air behind him split.
An invisible blade descended.
The floor cracked open with a deafening roar, stone cleaving cleanly apart as if sliced by a god’s hand. Even the wall behind him split vertically, the cut extending to the ceiling.
Raven felt cold sweat trickle down his spine.
If he had been a breath slower—
“Oh?” Jace muttered, genuine surprise flickering across his scarred face. “You dodged that?”
He moved.
The distance between them collapsed.
Raven didn’t look back.
The golden footprints ahead of him multiplied, forming a faint, continuous trail. He followed them instinctively, spear angled low, breath steady but sharp.
Behind him—
Boom.
Jace’s foot slammed into the ground.
The world shook.
Raven felt it immediately.
The pressure and the speed.
Jace wasn’t chasing him.
He was arriving.
By Raven’s fifth step, the air screamed.
He saw it—
Jace’s sword slicing through space itself, the edge blurring into a flash of silver aimed straight for his neck.
Too fast.
Raven didn’t hesitate.
His left hand twisted.
The ring on his finger flared, and the space folded.
For a fraction of a second, the world bent inward, light warping as if swallowed by a mirror.
Dimensional Fold.
Raven vanished—
—and reappeared several steps away.
The sword cut through nothing but empty air.
The aftershock still tore across his back, shredding his cloak.
Raven stumbled, boots scraping against stone.
Then he froze.
More golden footprints appeared.
Right in front of him.
Clearer than before.
“What…?” Raven breathed.
He ran.
Shock flickered through Jace’s eyes.
He lunged again.
But this time—
Something was wrong.
His stride felt… off.
Not slow.
But heavy.
A sharp pain stabbed behind his eyes, brief but unmistakable.
…What?
Jace’s brow furrowed for the first time.
His body felt unfamiliar—like a gear had slipped out of place.
But he didn’t stop.
He never stopped.
In the next instant, he was already behind Raven.
The sword descended, aura roaring as it aimed for Raven’s spine.
Too close.
Raven reacted purely on instinct.
A crystalline layer of ice erupted around him, surging outward in a dome, cold mist flooding the hall.
The sword struck.
The ice held—
—for less than a heartbeat.
Cracks spiderwebbed instantly. The dome melted and shattered at the same time, the blade tearing straight through it without resistance.
Then—
Pain.
Absolute, overwhelming pain.
Raven felt the world split.
His vision fractured as his body was cleaved cleanly in two, the cut so precise he didn’t even feel it at first.
The ceiling spun.
The floor rushed up.
Sound vanished.
As darkness swallowed him, a single thought drifted through his fading consciousness.
‘So this is the wall.’
The world went black.