Chapter 357: The Midnight War Begins

Oswald felt the cold bite of Jonathan’s blade at his back. Panic knotted his stomach.

“Don’t make a sound, or you die,” Jonathan said.

Oswald swallowed. He knew how powerful Jonathan had become; the man could kill him without effort. Jonathan had been missing for months, an elusive figure even during Oswald’s time in Bastion. Only Kruger and Bartholomew had been able to summon him when needed. After their deaths, Jonathan simply vanished.

“P-please… don’t kill me,” Oswald begged, his voice small.

The blade pressed and rotated, digging a little deeper. “You told them about me, Oswald. You were a snitch.”

“I only said what everyone already knew. I didn’t know much about you, anyway,” Oswald stammered. He knew only that Jonathan had worked with them, hunting criminals with Kruger, and that his mercenary class and builder profession were common knowledge.

“You spent years helping Bartholomew,” Jonathan said, his breath close to Oswald’s ear. “You were there the times they sent soldiers to the Haven to humiliate Angelica, humiliate me.”

Oswald felt the words freeze him. “I never ordered anyone to beat or hurt anyone. But you have to understand, if we acted with authority, criminals would fear invading the Safe Zone, and it would also make people think twice before betraying us. It was all for the sake of order, I swear. Horrible crimes didn’t happen because we were strict. And I always sent barrels of water whenever your things were destroyed.”

The blade tightened. “P-please… I don’t want to d-die.”

Silence stretched between them, long and heavy. Then Jonathan spoke, slow. “Take out the healing potions you’ve been keeping. Put them on the table. Slowly.”

Understanding hit Oswald like ice.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked. If Oswald were killed, his storage item would vanish with him. The only way to recover its contents was to have him empty it while alive.

“Kill you?” Jonathan laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Please, Oswald. Killing you now would be too easy. You’ll be useful to them in the war. I want everyone to reach the castle. I like living, too, the more help I have, the better.”

“We all want the same thing, get back home,” Oswald said.

“Empty the storage item, now,” Jonathan ordered.

There was nothing else to do. Oswald drew a breath and complied. Each potion took a second to retrieve and place on the table, and each second felt like an hour. He braced for the end, but it never came. From the corner of his eye, he watched Jonathan stack the potions, deliberate and calm.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Oswald asked, trembling.

“Soon, an attendant will come to fetch you,” Jonathan said, stepping closer. “If I kill you here, it draws attention. Even if I wanted to finish you a second after the war starts, I prefer you alive, Oswald, like I said. It’s better to see you go through that horror with the rest of us.”

His sword scraped once, a cold whisper across Oswald’s back. “Now give me your crossbow.”

“My crossbow?” Oswald put a shaking hand on his storage item.

“No, your system item. Your crossbow.” Jonathan extended his hand. “Touch my hand and transfer it to my system inventory. Do it quickly.”

Hands trembling, Oswald obeyed. He opened his system interface and dragged the icon aside.

[Do you wish to transfer your item ‘Common Crossbow’? Y/N]

Oswald clicked “Yes.”

[An item has been removed from your inventory.]

Jonathan was silent for a few seconds. “Now the enchanted quiver.”

“But… then I’ll have nothing left to reload my other crossbow during the battle. I’ll be left to die out there,” Oswald pleaded.

“You decide, Oswald. Die now, or take your chances in the chaos,” Jonathan replied.

Oswald didn’t hesitate this time. He transferred the item.

[An item has been removed from your inventory.]

He closed his eyes, bracing for the end—but it never came.

“Good luck, Oswald,” Jonathan murmured. “I’ll be around. And if you ever talk about me again… you know what happens.”

Then he was gone, leaving Oswald alone in the silence of the tent, his pulse still hammering in his ears.

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