105 Kill

"“I've heard that necromancers can communicate with the dead. Could you please let me see my father? I miss him so much!”

At these words, the steward of the Silver Coin Merchant Guild felt his scalp nearly explode.

Still, he remained composed, showing no sign of panic as he turned and angrily rebuked Flor.

"Do not make such a feeble request—it is a desecration of the dead!"

The moment those words left the steward's mouth, Karen, who had been wearing an expression of utter indifference, suddenly turned cold.

As the lord of the undead territory, Karen's moods had a certain influence over his domain. The instant his face hardened, every undead creature surrounding him exuded a terrifying killing intent. Though none among Karen's undead were of the fourth rank, the combined killing aura radiating from dozens of third-rank undead and hundreds of second-rank undead still pressed down on the steward with immense pressure.

"Honored necromancer, I meant no offense, I only—"

Realizing he had misspoken, the steward scrambled to explain, but Karen did not even grant him the chance. He would not so much as acknowledge the steward's presence, instead fixing his gaze directly on Flor.

"Do you have any keepsake of your father's? Anything will do."

"Yes, I do! I do!"

Flor, with his acting at full display, delivered another spectacular performance. With a face brimming with joy, he produced an ancient silver coin from within his clothes and offered it to Karen with eager anticipation.

"No need—you keep it. When I cast the spell shortly, hold that coin tightly. It will serve as the medium through which you may see your father. Remember: your time together will last only three minutes."

With that said, Karen began to weave his magic.

Seeing this, the steward's expression changed drastically, and he could no longer hold his composure.

"Don't you dare desecrate the Guild Master!"

He lunged forward, slapping the silver coin out of Flor's hand, and even delivered a backhanded blow across Flor's face.

---

As the sound of the slap rang out, the scene fell utterly silent.

Karen's face was dark as water, while the members of the Silver Coin Merchant Guild wore far more complex expressions—those who knew the truth breathed a sigh of relief, those with vague suspicions fell into contemplation, and those entirely in the dark stared in complete bewilderment.

But regardless, something was beginning to brew in that moment.

The steward, however, reacted swiftly. He gave no time for anything to ferment, grabbing Flor's hand and preparing to leave.

But just as he pulled Flor along, a voice—one that felt both intimately familiar and yet utterly foreign—spoke up.

"You know something? I've already seen him. I saw him the last time, before I returned."

"In fact, I didn't just see him. I also saw your true face."

"Shut up! Don't—"

The steward shouted for silence while instinctively turning his head toward Flor. But in the same instant he turned, a crossbow bolt flew straight at him. With less than half a meter between them, there was no chance for the steward to dodge. The bolt pierced clean through his body, and simultaneously, a dull yellow light shimmered around Flor, separating him from the steward.

At the same moment, the two third-rank guards at Flor's side struck without warning, kicking the crossbow-stricken steward away.

It all happened so fast—within the blink of an eye—that the steward was taken down almost completely off guard.

Not even the Silver Coin Merchant Guild guards stationed near Flor could react in time, and the steward himself only realized what had happened after he was already on the ground, roaring in fury and disbelief: "Flor?! What are you doing? Don't let that necromancer deceive you—"

Flor's lips curled into a mocking, cold smile—a stark contrast to the innocent demeanor he had shown moments before. "You still intend to struggle even now? I already discovered the whole truth when I came last time. Whether it's you murdering my father, or your scheme to swallow up the Silver Coin Merchant Guild—I know all of it.

To be honest, I always regarded you as a father. I loved and respected you that deeply. Even when I suspected you might have killed my father, I never planned to take revenge. But you dared to lay a hand on me.

Since that's the case, the only thing left is to send you to your death!"

With that, Flor directly ordered his guards: "Go! He's already wounded—kill him!"

But to Flor's surprise, at that very moment, aside from the few guards beside him, no one made a move against the steward. The sight made Flor's expression shift.

---

"What are you all standing around for?! He's the murderer of my father! All of you, go up and kill him!" Flor growled, his face darkening.

By now, the hundred-odd guards were clearly wavering. Quite a few stepped forward, but a great many others hesitated, watching and waiting.

They were waiting to see how the confrontation between Flor and the steward would play out, because many of them had noticed a crucial detail just moments ago!

"There's no need to keep shouting. These people won't attack me—and they don't dare to."

The steward, who had just been knocked down, rose to his feet. As he spoke, he reached up and pulled the crossbow bolt from his chest. The bolt had indeed wounded him, but nowhere near fatally.

"Surprised? I'm wearing armor beneath my clothes. It absorbed the impact of that bolt."

The steward tore open his garments as he spoke, revealing the silver armor beneath—now sporting a hole where the bolt had struck. At the same time, a mocking smile spread across his lips. "Flor, you've truly surprised me. If not for this armor, I might have met my end here today.

But unfortunately for you, your ambush failed to kill me. Which means you're finished!"

With that, the steward stomped his foot, and the little man—barely a meter thirty tall—erupted with a blaze of powerful fighting aura.

Once his strength surged forth, the steward wasted no words and lunged straight at Flor, intent on cutting him down. But no sooner had he launched himself than his expression twisted in sudden agony as searing pain spread from the site of the arrow wound.

Before the steward could even react, a Slow and a Blind landed on him in quick succession. Panicking, he tried to move, only to find himself frozen in place. Then Galen came charging in with a lunging strike, sending the blinded steward flying.

Before the steward could even steady himself, over a hundred second-rank goblin skeleton mages, who had been lying in wait, unleashed Bone Claws in unison.

A dense forest of bone claws trapped him like a cage of bone, and that single wave nearly cost the steward his life. He barely managed to fight his way through and leap free—only to be met by the simultaneous volley of hundreds of skeleton archers.

Already battered, exhausted, and covered in wounds, the steward was cut down on the spot.

*Ding! You have successfully slain the Goblin [Fourth Rank, Normal], gaining 2000 personal energy and 1000 territory energy!*