Chapter 59: Phantom Assassin

The soldiers were already watching them with suspicion. Luke spotted one stepping forward, grip tightening on his spear.

“Open the bag, boy. Now.”

Allison didn’t even flinch. Her hand moved with practiced ease, and her blade flashed into view. “Then try your luck.”

A bitter taste crept up Luke’s throat.

Damn it, Allison. This is only making it worse.

He raised a hand, trying to steady the tension before it snapped.

“We’re not part of any faction,” he said, voice calm, controlled. “We just got here. We didn’t steal anything. But we’ve got personal stuff in our packs.”

He scanned the crowd. It didn’t matter. The soldiers didn’t care. More were gathering, closing in, spears pointed. Pressure thickened with every passing second.

“Last chance,” one of them barked. “The bag. Or we use force.”

A chill ran down Luke’s spine. They were out of options. He opened his mouth to try again—

VOOM.

The air cracked.

“You’re dead.”

The voice came from nowhere. Cold. Precise.

Luke froze.

A blur of movement snapped into existence between him and Allison. A figure, clad in black, a skull-shaped mask covering their face. Then—gone.

A heartbeat later, the figure was behind him. Luke felt the cold press of a blade against his spine.

Teleportation.

Instinct twisted his body around, but the presence vanished before he could react. He turned just in time to catch the figure now perched on top of a barrel, lazily spinning a dagger between gloved fingers.

The air shifted. Soldiers stepped back, spears lowering slightly, every man instantly on edge.

A Phantom Assassin!

Luke recognized it immediately. His deduction might have been wrong, but based on what he’d learned when he chose his new class, the assassin in front of him most likely had the phantom powers mutation.

The assassin chuckled, low and sharp. “Heh… hahahah…” The dagger twirled in smooth circles. “They’re newbies. Doubt they pulled something that stupid.” His tone was amused, but beneath it, the edge was surgical.

His head tilted, eyes fixed on the soldiers. “But the locals… the ones who feel ‘oppressed’… they might’ve listened to the sweet little whispers of the Renegades.”

The playfulness vanished. His voice dropped. Precise. Cold. “And those… are the ones with something to gain.”

The dagger disappeared.

He turned as if to leave, but paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Luke and Allison. “Still…” His tone shifted again, lighter now. “I want to see your bag.”

VOOM.

Air warped. A blink—and the assassin was standing right in front of Allison. His hand shot out, ripping the bag straight from her grip.

“Bastard,” Allison snapped, raising her sword, but before the blade could touch him, he vanished.

A rush of air brushed her face. He reappeared several meters away, spinning the bag around his finger like it was a toy.

Another chuckle. “Heh… You didn’t even hesitate.” His gaze lingered on Allison, sharp with interest. “I like that. You’ve got guts.” A small nod. “Maybe there’s a brain in there too… and you’ll realize joining us is the smarter move.”

Luke’s fingers hovered near his kukris, ready. But then more soldiers appeared—dozens now. Spears leveled. Mages whispering incantations under their breath.

Shit. Not the time to fight.

“Give me back my bag!” Allison snapped, fire in her voice.

The assassin ignored her. His fingers were already at the flap, pulling it open.

Time slowed. Luke felt his stomach drop.

He’s going to see it. The canned food. The potions. Everything.

The assassin paused. His hand dipped inside… then stopped.

A beat of silence.

“What… the hell is this?”

Luke barely breathed. His hands clenched.

Then the assassin yanked something out—and doubled over laughing. “HAHAHAHA!” He shook his head, shoulders shaking. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

In his hand—a piece of fabric. White. Thin. Laced.

Underwear.

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“Bro… you’re a freak! You’ve got a bunch of women’s clothes in here—” His hand went deeper.

Another burst of laughter. “Oh my god… even panties! This is gold!”

Luke’s eyes went wide. His thoughts scrambled.

No way. She didn’t… She took the clothes from the village chest?!

The assassin turned slowly toward Allison. Her face was red. Not from fear. From pure, seething embarrassment.

“Alright, alright…” The assassin laughed, tossing the bag back onto the ground. “Those two boys are innocent. Weird as hell… but innocent.”

He tilted his skull mask slightly toward the camp. The playfulness vanished from his voice.

“Now listen up.” His tone shifted—sharper, colder, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “If any of you are working with the Renegades… or had anything to do with the missing chest…”

The air tightened, heavy like a storm about to break.

“I’ll visit you myself.”

Silence. Not a breath. Not a whisper.

“And you won’t like how that ends.”

The soldiers immediately started pulling back, murmuring, shifting their weapons away. A long, collective breath rippled through the camp as tension finally cracked and released.

“It’s alright now, everyone!” Paul called out from somewhere near the back, scrambling to restore order, his voice strained but trying to sound reassuring. “Back to your duties!”

Luke exhaled slowly, watching the soldiers scatter, pretending none of this had happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Allison kneeling, grabbing the bag in silence. Her face was stiff, eyes narrowed.

“Not… a word,” she muttered, almost hissing.

Luke raised a brow. “I wasn’t going to say anything sarcastic.”

A sigh left him before he could stop it.

I almost died… because of panties.

Then another thought crept in.

Wait… there weren’t any bras in there. Is she… the type that doesn’t like to wear—

Her gaze snapped toward him, sharp as a blade. He felt it like a dagger pressed to his ribs.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, voice low, suspicious. “Your face looks… weird.”