Chapter 232 – Death Comes From Above.

Some thugs were playing cards in the middle of the room over a stack of silver and copper coins piled high between them. The table was nothing more than a thick wooden crate flipped upside down, its surface scarred with knife marks and burn stains. Around it sat six men, all armed and loud. The gambling den reeked of ale, sweat, and damp wood. Laughter burst out as one of the men slammed his cards down.

“Ha! Full house. Pay up, you fuckers.”

“Like hell! I know what you’ve been up to!”

Another snarled.

“You’ve been using marked cards all night.”

“Nonsense. You’re just a sore loser who doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Is that right? Then give me those cards, because this one looks strange.”

The man flipped one of the cards and pointed to the subtle pattern on the back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He denied the claim, but the accuser did not let up. The other four men began to grow suspicious as well.

“Now that you point it out… it does look slightly off.”

They all examined their cards. The backs were meant to carry identical patterns, but in one place the lines were slightly shorter, or a tiny dot appeared where none should have been. It was a subtle technique used to mark a deck for gambling.

“This bastard was using marked cards!”

“What do you mean? Those are just imperfections in the deck. If you want to blame someone, blame the boss. I got this deck straight from the Hound himself.”

The man grinned, a golden tooth flashing in the orange lantern light of the den. Behind him sat a broad figure in half plate armor, his face marked by old gashes and set in a deep frown. His face wasn’t fully human, animalistic and resembling a wolf to some degree.

“If it was the boss, then…”

The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one raised their voice again. Even if they had caught the man cheating, there was nothing they could do except refuse to play or find another deck of cards.

The tension in the room thickened, a volatile mix of greed and fear held in check only by the presence of the scarred man in the corner. He did not care about the cheating. He only cared about the cut he would receive at the end of the hour.

“Shut up and deal.”

The leader growled like a wolf, but the next card never hit the table.

*CRACK. BOOM.*

At first, no one reacted. The roof of the abandoned slum house was in terrible condition; rats and rain often slipped through. Then the wood split apart. With a thunderous crash, the ceiling caved in. Rusty dropped straight through the broken beams like a falling boulder. He slammed into the center of the crate, shocking the men gathered around it.

The wooden crate disintegrated into splinters, and the mountain of silver and copper coins launched into the air like shrapnel. Coins flew in every direction, striking the men in the face along with chunks of wood, but there was more than that. Long, clawed arms swung out, severing the jugular veins of two unprepared thugs. Their blood sprayed across the room as the attack began.

Rusty crouched in a crater of shattered wood, his longer-than-normal limbs spread apart as he launched himself like a cat at another gambler. His weight felt light as a feather as he took off, but the moment he collided with the man, it became crushing, as if he weighed a ton.

The man screamed in agony as he was pinned beneath the sudden force, and clawed hands pierced his torso. More people rushed in from the sides, only to witness the horror of three of their companions dying within seconds. The wolf-looking mercenary leapt to his feet and pointed at Rusty as he shouted.

“Get that monster! What are you fools doing!”

One thug lunged for his axe, but Rusty was faster. His strike sent the weapon and the hand that held it spinning across the gambling den before they hit the floor. The man’s screams were ignored as he fell back, clutching the bloody stump. The mercenaries finally regained their senses and began circling Rusty from all sides.

“Kill that thing!”

Spears, axes, swords, and even arrows flew toward him, yet he did not retreat or attempt to dodge. Instead, his body shifted, growing bulkier, taller, and far more resistant than before. The weapons struck, but his durability easily surpassed the crude steel and the weakest enchantments etched into them.

“What is this thing? How did it get so big?”

One of the men shouted. He barely finished speaking before a massive mace slammed into his head. The blow crushed his upper torso, and his body collapsed instantly. On the other hand, a massive shield struck against two grown men, sending them flying up against a wall that promptly collapsed.

“Useless!”

The sub-leader shouted as he launched himself forward, a bludgeon gripped tightly in his hands. He struck Rusty in the back, forcing him to stumble slightly and turn around.

“I’ll keep this thing busy. Use blunt weapons, you stupid bastards!”

‘No wonder he is a sub-boss. He identified one of my weaknesses rather quickly.’

Rusty was nothing more than living armor. Though he appeared large and heavy, his body was hollow inside. Swords and spears could not truly harm him, but magic and blunt attacks made his frame vibrate and sent damaging tremors into the hidden core within. However, there was one thing the mercenaries did not realize. He was not alone.

“Argh!”

“W-what?”

“There are more of them?”

A spear pierced one of the mercenaries from behind, and another suit of armor emerged. It was pitch black, similar to Rusty’s body, with Aburdon inside.

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“Hah, lowly humans! You always die so quickly!”

He cackled maniacally as he swung the spear in wide arcs, aiming for critical points and gaps in their armor.

“What are you waiting for, hero? Have fun with me. Let us see who can kill more of these lowly peasants!”

Alexander, inhabiting his own suit of armor, joined the fray. He intercepted an attack with his shield and stabbed a man in the shoulder before kicking him away. It was the perfect chance to finish him. He raised his blade, but his hand trembled. He could not bring himself to kill another human.

“Ahh!”

The man scrambled to his feet and charged, only to be pierced through by the spear of the demon lord.

“Pathetic. You feel empathy for these criminals? Are you thinking about their families or something equally pathetic, hero?”