Chapter 98: Demonic Assassin vs Phantom Assassin

Everything happened too fast. By the time Luke registered what was happening, Angelica was already on the ground, a dagger pressed to her throat. Kruger’s skull mask glinted in the firelight: cold, inhuman, unreadable.

“Give me the name of the traitor, or she dies!” the Phantom Assassin roared.

Jonathan was the first to react. He stepped forward, sword in hand, eyes locked on Kruger. Behind him, members of the Haven unsheathed their weapons: swords, spears, bows. A makeshift army, but one ready to fight. Bastion’s soldiers mirrored them, blades drawn. Both factions now stood one step from turning the camp into a battlefield.

“You think I’m scared of you bastards? It’ll take a hell of a lot more to hurt me,” Kruger spat with contempt.

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Angelica shouted, voice firm despite the blade at her neck.

Jonathan kept moving, energy pulsing through his sword.

Kruger turned toward him, laughing. “What’s your play, big guy? Think you can reach me before I slice her throat?”

“Jonathan, what are you doing?! Put that sword away!” Angelica barked.

“I’m not backing down,” he said, unshaken.

“You’re just making things worse!”

The tension cracked like lightning in the air. One wrong move, and the entire place would erupt into bloodshed.

“Give me the damn traitor, or I kill her right now!” Kruger snarled, scanning the crowd with burning eyes.

“She means everything to me. I won’t let you touch her.” Jonathan’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Even Angelica was stunned. Her silence spoke volumes. Kruger paused, visibly taken aback.

“There’s no traitor here! Are you insane?” Angelica snapped, seizing the moment. “Why the hell would we side with the Renegades when we’ve allied with Bartholomew? For what? A few crates of food? Water? Shelter? We’ve got plenty. Or didn’t you notice the giant dinosaur corpse right next to you?”

Still on the ground, she didn’t flinch for a second.

Kruger slowly pulled back the blade.

“There’s truth in your eyes,” he muttered. He sheathed the dagger in one swift motion.

“Lower the sword, Jonathan,” Angelica ordered.

“No. This bastard’s a liar. He could pull that blade out again any second,” Jonathan replied, his sword still humming with power.

Kruger ignored him.

“We’re pissed,” he said, pacing now, voice tight. “Something’s been happening these last few months. Our Reward Event chests… are being stolen.”

Murmurs spread through the camp.

“At first, it was slow. One chest here, another there. Then two a month. Then two a week. But lately…”

He stopped, taking a deep breath, eyes sweeping over the crowd.

“Now they’re emptying out all our chests.”

Silence fell. Only the crackling fire dared to speak.

“They show up at dawn, and by morning, someone would come collect what was inside. The chests stayed out, exposed all night. Because, obviously… who’d be dumb enough to mess with King Bartholomew’s property?”

The laugh Kruger let out was sharp. Bitter.

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to poke the king and expect to walk away.”

He kept walking. Each step heavier than the last.

“Now we need to organize night watches,” Kruger barked, pacing like a caged beast. “And even with guards, our teams are being attacked. By a goddamn thief. A bastard bold enough to challenge our authority.”

He stopped in front of the central bonfire. The flames danced in his skull-shaped mask, casting twisted shadows over his face.

“We own the Safe Zone. This is our territory. No one steals from us and walks away unscathed.”

His eyes turned back to Angelica, cold and merciless.

“The thief will pay with their life.”

“And why suspect us?” Angelica retorted, her voice steady. “We haven’t done anything.”

Kruger let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Why? Because you’re inside our fucking Safe Zone.”

He began pacing again, eyes glowing behind the mask.

“We have records on everyone living near Bastion. Even those who don’t pay tribute. We know their names, levels, faces. We’ve got sketches of their damn mugs. And you know what? None of them step out after dark. They follow our rules.”

He stopped in front of Angelica, raising an accusing finger.

“But you people? You do whatever the hell you want. You hunt. Wander in groups. Return late. You act like you own the damn world. No reports. No accountability. Worst part? You’re all mixed in here, and we’ve got no idea who’s who.”

He took a step closer, voice deep and rough.

“How the hell are my men supposed to tell a Renegade from one of your people running through the night?”

“That’s not enough!” Angelica shot back. “Your problems are yours. We live here as neutrals.”

Kruger laughed again, dry and cruel. “You have a point. As much as I’d love to come in here and clean up this shithole, good ol’ King Bartholomew held me back. Merciful, isn’t he?”

He pulled out a dagger, pointing it at the ground, fury building in his voice.

“But during that goddamn invasion… we were sabotaged.”

His tone dropped, simmering.

“The wooden walls we built at the edge of Bastion’s border were destroyed. Fireballs rained down in the middle of the chaos. And guess what? They knew everything. Our guard posts. Our towers. It wasn’t random. It was planned. It was a trap.”

He flipped the dagger in his hand, the blade catching the light.

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“I caught one of them. One of those bastards trying to run.”

The entire Haven fell silent. All eyes were on Kruger now.

“I made him talk. Asked how they knew so much. How they hit our blind spots. How they mapped our routines. You know what he told me?”

Kruger leaned in, standing toe-to-toe with Angelica.

“He said it was a joint operation. With someone from the Haven.”

The air turned electric. Archers shifted silently. Blades trembled in clenched fists. Jonathan’s jaw tightened.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Kruger whispered.

And then he vanished.

He reappeared behind Angelica in a blur of black. The dagger was once again at her throat.

“The situation is simple,” he said, voice low and ice-cold. “I’m out of goddamn patience. One minute. Give me the traitor. Or I take her head and leave it to rot in the sun.”

Jonathan didn’t wait. Fury lit his eyes as he lunged forward, blade raised.

“I told you this bastard was a liar!”

But when his sword sliced through the air, Kruger was gone again.

Jonathan rolled, taking a hit from behind. He scrambled to his feet, spinning with his blade—only to find emptiness.

The Haven’s archers fanned out, bows drawn in every direction. Breaths were held. Tension reached its breaking point.

Kruger reemerged from the shadows, eyes glowing like embers.

“IF YOU DON’T DROP YOUR WEAPONS, SHE DIES!” he roared, his voice cleaving the night like a blade.

But no one lowered their weapons.