Chapter 48: The Spicy Little Fox

At that moment, a sudden flash of blue light shot out, striking the burly man squarely in the chest.

A spellcaster? Venego’s thoughts flickered as he reached into the pouch at his waist and closed his fingers around a small sack.

“You fools, you actually need me to step in.” The doors to another stone hut at the center of the camp creaked open, and a middle-aged woman with a dark expression emerged, staff in hand, walking forward at a measured pace.

Venego narrowed his eyes, studying both the spellcaster and the enemy leader.

In just a few moments, his Eye of Insight had gleaned some key information.

The enemy leader was a pure warrior—possessing an unyielding spirit, impressive constitution, and battle skills honed over more than twenty years. Such an opponent was truly formidable, for he had no obvious weaknesses to exploit.

His weapon was known as the Arc Fan—a bizarre hybrid of short axe, round shield, and returning blade. In unskilled hands, it was nothing but an ungainly lump of scrap metal, but in the grasp of a trained fighter, it became a fearsome weapon for both offense and defense.

However, Venego had never been fond of versatility.

Attack should be attack, defense should be defense; anything less than giving your all simply offered opportunities to your opponent. Unless your enemy was weak—but if that were the case, why would you need to hedge your bets?

So, even if this leader’s strength exceeded Sophie’s by a slight margin, it was clear he did not have the upper hand.

Venego smiled faintly and turned his attention to the spellcaster.

She specialized in water magic, as evidenced by the way a single ice arrow had dispatched the powerful burly man. That man had relied on a heavy warhammer and physical training; his mighty blows could shatter most defenses, and his toughened body could withstand both spells and blades. For the spellcaster to fell such a foe in one strike spoke volumes of her power.

Quick to act, devastating in effect—even without other talents, she was a daunting adversary.

Venego pondered, striding toward his opponents at a measured pace.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t move swiftly—he simply didn’t wish to reveal his trump cards too soon. After all, in his current form, he hardly looked like someone agile. He hoped his enemy would misjudge his speed.

Sophie brought her sword down in a mighty arc, and the enemy leader raised his Arc Fan, using the axe blade to block her strike. Though he succeeded, he was secretly alarmed: this girl before him, who even appeared somewhat frail, possessed strength on par with his own!

And given the difference in weapon length, the momentum of a greatsword’s swing was clearly more forceful than that of the Arc Fan. The blow’s sheer power gave even this confident brute pause.

Still, Venego had already discerned that this man was just as resolute in spirit; though he wavered for a moment, he quickly recovered, let out a shout, pushed aside Sophie’s displaced sword, and drove his knee upward.

Sophie, silent as ever, responded in kind—her knee shot up to meet his, the two kneecaps colliding with a sharp crack.

The sound momentarily distracted the spellcaster. Venego wasted no time; he surged forward, jets at his feet blasting at maximum power, pouncing like a tiger.

As he lunged, Venego’s hands spread wide, reaching to seize his target. At the same time, the powder he’d prepared in his palm was flung forward.

The spellcaster began coughing violently, unable to utter a single incantation. She wore a magical charm for protection, but while it could deflect arrows and blades, it was useless against the simplest of holds—or ordinary chili powder.

Yes, chili powder. Lacking magic and not particularly fast, the spellcaster’s shield hadn’t considered it a threat and had done little to deflect it. With her ragged breaths, she inhaled the powder—while her magic gear, designed to block toxins, was powerless against such a mundane irritant.

Venego’s grip seized the middle-aged spellcaster’s shoulder. He felt a force trying to push him away, but in Abel Mode, Venego’s arms and hands were immensely powerful. Once he had a hold, even an elephant would struggle to break free.

This was no exaggeration; though an elephant was stronger overall, once caught at a weak point, even it would find escape nearly impossible.

Especially when the opponent was a mage.

“Let go!” the woman shrieked, a surge of icy blue energy flaring around her. But before her magic could take effect, Venego twisted his body with force, slamming her heavily into the ground.

“There, I’ve let go,” Venego quipped, spreading his hands in mock innocence.

Suddenly, he whirled around, jets at his feet propelling him past Sophie and the enemy leader. His large hand clamped down on another foe, tripping him and forcing him to his knees.

“Don’t go causing trouble now, kid,” Venego grinned, showing a flash of white teeth.

The enemy he’d taken down struggled, a compact hand crossbow slipping from his sleeve. Venego scooped it up, cocked it easily, and fired off a volley at the surrounding enemies.

Six bolts, with an automatic reloading mechanism, each carrying a touch of freezing damage—a decent performance for such a small weapon. Venego tucked the crossbow into his belt, flexing his fingers.

The enemies were as skilled as elite soldiers, but that was the extent of it. With Cang Kong’s support, Venego’s movements were agile, making up for Abel Mode’s clumsy feet. The speed and strength of Abel’s attacks were fully unleashed in Venego’s hands; he could spot the slightest opening, striking or grappling to bring his opponents down swiftly.

Once an opponent was floored, Venego’s habit was to roll over them, twisting their necks with practiced ease… With this technique, few ordinary humans stood a chance of survival.

As Venego finished off his foes, Sophie dealt with hers as well.

Azure Severance!

“Crimson Bat of War!” the enemy leader roared, his strange weapon slashing upward at an odd angle. Truly, his skills were both offensive and defensive—a nightmare for most adversaries, and such men left few openings.

But Sophie’s swordsmanship was pure offense; her overwhelming attacks battered through the enemy leader’s balanced guard.

Her greatsword crashed against the Arc Fan, sparks flying with a resounding clang. For the first time, a glimmer of excitement shone on Sophie’s otherwise impassive face as she gripped her dueling blade and yanked it free.

Steel screeched against steel, a piercing metallic note. The enemy leader was momentarily stunned, but Sophie was undeterred. She swung her blade in a broad horizontal arc.

A greatsword’s inertia was immense; once Sophie found her rhythm and fully unleashed it, there was no stopping its destructive force—not for an opponent like this.

Crimson Severance!

Their killing blows were similar, both evoking the image of blood-red fury. Yet, the enemy leader’s onslaught always carried hints of defense, whereas Sophie’s was a relentless, all-out assault.

There was no clear superiority between the two styles, but in this moment, Sophie’s greatsword was far deadlier than her opponent’s exotic weapon.

Her blade slashed down, sparks bursting forth. With a thunderous clang, Sophie knocked the Arc Fan flying. In a flash, her greatsword shot forward as swiftly as a rapier.

The enemy leader… was slain.

With both the enemy leader and the sole spellcaster eliminated, the rest was simple. Not to mention the occasional bursts of Frenzy and Mass Fear spells lobbed by little Honey from afar, even Venego’s instinctive wrestling and Sophie’s greatsword were terrifying enough for the remaining assassins, their morale shattered.

In barely ten minutes, apart from two who surrendered, there was not a single survivor left in the camp.

“Who sent you?” Venego seized one of the captives by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

“The Church of the Bleating Lamb,” the man answered without hesitation.

So quick to answer? Venego was suspicious, pressing on, “Which district? The mastermind—name and identity?”

“We’re from the Butgrey Bay District, acting under orders from Archbishop Grace. As for why Lord Grace sent us… I don’t know.”

Venego released his transformation, pondering for a moment before deciding not to waste time on these men. Interrogation could be left to Sir Tamp and Lady Frith—their subordinates were sure to have experts for the task.

“Let’s head back,” Sophie said.

Venego nodded, glancing toward Honey. Just as he activated the jets at his feet to take off, he caught a glint of light in the distance.

There—behind Honey?

Alarmed, Venego channeled Cang Kong at full power, shooting toward Honey like a meteor.

But it seemed he was already too late. From the undergrowth, a black shadow silently sprang forth, a short sword shimmering with blue light stabbing at Honey’s back.

The flash Venego had seen was a metal object on the assassin’s belt—clearly, this wasn’t a professional killer, but a man desperate enough to risk everything after seeing the mission fail.

He wielded a pair of shortswords, following the path of the agile fighter. Yet even among the strongest of humans, few could match a cat’s agility.

The great cat—Cait Sith Sharpclaw.

Cait Sith’s fur had turned a deep jet black. Its ears twitched as it suddenly turned, emerald eyes locking onto the incoming shortsword fighter.

Soul Metamorphosis—Jaguar Hunter, descends.