Chapter 135 – Small Escape.

The mercenary leader barely had a second to react before the two halves of the gauntlet pulsed ominously. Both shone with a mix of white and dark, two energies combining before a crimson spark of energy exploded forth. The leader of the Black Hounds had barely enough time to shield himself before the shockwave sent him skidding backward, his boots scraping against the splintered wooden floor.

At the same time, the other mercenaries who had not been caught in the initial explosions were now scrambling, some pulling weapons and others simply trying to escape. The once rowdy hideout had turned into a blast zone filled with fire and chaos. The roof was starting to collapse, and everyone was clamoring to get out.

A deafening sound accompanied the burst of black and white flames. The dry wooden beams almost instantly ignited. The hideout, already old and in poor condition, did not withstand the sudden, violent attack. Flames licked at the walls, consuming everything in their path. The once lively atmosphere of drunken laughter and rowdy chatter had been replaced with the desperate cries of men scrambling to escape the inferno.

Smoke erupted through the air, choking those who were too slow or too disoriented to move immediately. Some mercenaries coughed violently, their lungs filled with soot, while others stumbled through the darkness, colliding with furniture and their fallen comrades. The mercenaries closest to the explosion had fared the worst. Several had been caught in the initial blast, their bodies thrown across the room like ragdolls. A few lay motionless, their fates sealed in an instant. Others writhed on the ground, clutching at burns or injuries sustained from the shrapnel of broken wood and metal.

One man, his face blackened with soot and blood dripping from a gash in his forehead, pushed himself up on shaking arms. He staggered forward, his legs still weak from the strange black smoke that spread through the base before the explosions. He was almost there, he could see the exit but right before he was out, something collided with his head, bringing him down to the ground and covering him in flames.

“Ahh… I’m on fire… put it out!”

“H-help me!…”

“My… my eyes, I can’t see…”

The Black Hound leader had managed to shield himself from the worst of the explosion, but even he was momentarily shaken. His cape, now scorched at the edges, fluttered as he steadied himself. He scanned the burning wreckage as his people screamed. Many of them suffered burns, some were even blinded by the flames or collapsing building parts. He had seen through the deception at the last second, but the damage was already done. His hideout was collapsing, his men were scattering, and whoever had orchestrated this attack had vanished into the smoke.

“Stop with your whining and get yourself together, there could be more.”

He shouted, his voice booming through the area and forcing everyone to look his way. The leader of the Black Hounds strode through the carnage with a steely gaze, scanning for any sign of another potential enemy. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his saber, its edge still glowing faintly from the heat of his previous strike. Around him, his men were panicked, their discipline shattered. He could hear their cries—some for help, some for vengeance, others too incoherent to understand.

A particularly large mercenary staggered out from the burning wreckage, his armor charred, a deep gash bleeding down the side of his face.

“Boss! What the hell just happened?!”

The leader did not reply. Instead, he thought back to the man he had pierced with his blade. The blood was still fresh, and he was certain his saber had found the heart. Yet, somehow, the man had still moved in a strange, unnatural fashion. The air around him had felt different, and he was not sure what to make of it.

“Quench the flames, you idiots!”

He shouted again, making the mercenaries scramble off the ground to fetch water. In his mind, there was more to this incident than met the eye. He was sure the man he had killed was connected to it, but until he examined the remains, he would not know for certain. The strange gauntlets that had exploded were another piece of the mystery, and he would not rest until he found whoever was responsible for this attack. If there were more perpetrators, they would all suffer…

******

“Haha, that’s what you get for destroying my lair!”

Rusty pushed some trash aside as he darted through another back alley. He could hear shouting and see the glow of flames, but he ignored both. The mercenary leader was far more dangerous than he had expected. If he had known such a person existed, he might have never gone through with this plan, even when Gleam urged him to.

“…”

He glanced back while sprinting through the shadowy path as fast as his small legs would carry him. His form was nothing like his original body as it was much smaller. It was something he had originally designed to be used alongside his friend Gleam. All those times he had relied on her to help him climb and squeeze into tight spaces as a helmet had made him wonder if he could modify his body to be smaller.

With this miniaturized frame, barely half a meter tall, he could slip through holes and hide when needed while still making full use of his skills. If necessary, he could even wield a knife-sized weapon to defend himself. It was far better than being just a helmet. He had even crafted a small lance for himself, meant for the times he would ride on Gleam’s back. But for now, he had to rely on his own two small legs to scurry back to his lair.

“Gleam must be worried about me, I need to get back…”

He continued his escape, doing his best to avoid any pesky humanoids. While this place did not have much in the way of guards, the flames had drawn everyone’s attention, causing people to rush toward the scene. He needed to stick to the shadows, sometimes even melting into them to stay hidden. There was no way to tell if Gleam was safe, but he had registered her life signal leaving the scene the moment his first gauntlet exploded.

“Close…”

It took him around fifteen minutes to make his way back, carefully avoiding the gazes of people still out at night. When he arrived at his lair, his life detection skill informed him that exactly five living beings were around his decrepit estate.

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However, there was a problem. He was still in his small form and had no idea how the children would react if they realized he was a monster. It was better if they did not associate him with the man he had possessed earlier or at least not understand how he had done it. There were many strange abilities in this world, so as long as he did not explain, they would likely assume he was some kind of spellcaster.

With that in mind, he moved toward one of the holes that had not yet been mended. After some squeezing, he slipped inside his lair. Only then did he shift back to his full form. His helmet was the first to expand, followed by the rest of his body as he activated his loadout.

The tiny form, smaller than a goblin, morphed into the adventurer armor he used to blend in. The expansion of his body generated noise, and the people here quickly took notice. However, at this point there was no reason to hide so he just stepped out to show that it was him.

“It’s the mister!”

One of the twins pointed in his direction, and the other children turned to look at him. It was strange. The way they looked at him now was different from before. Instead of fear, there was something else in their eyes, something that looked like relief. Gleam was there as well. She quickly skittered to his side and climbed onto his shoulder.