Bran groaned as he slowly sat down on his couch, his wrinkled hands massaging his back as he did so. He cursed the aching joints that came with old age and looked forward to the end of winter. The cold always worsened his aches and pains.

He picked up the kettle on the table and poured himself a hot cup of jasmine tea, his go-to ritual when the weather outside was too cold and he was forced to stay inside his house. Today was one such day, and despite the approaching spring, Bran still found the weather too cold for his aching joints.

To think that my daily worries would be reduced to pains and aches, Bran thought in amusement as he sipped his steaming tea. He couldn't have imagined that his life would be this mundane after the excitement of his younger years, but he didn't complain. He preferred worrying about arthritis more than having to participate in bloody politics to remain the top dog of a city. Not having to worry about one's life was nice like that.

As if to mock his inner musings, a series of heavy knocks resounded from his front door. From the strength and intensity of the knocks, Bran already knew who it was and sighed. There was only one reason that person would come to his house this early in the morning when he should be working his forges at this time.

“Come in, Mr. Bersk,” Bran called out.

The door opened and the village smith entered the Chief's living room. Instead of wearing his blacksmithing attire, the large man was decked out in his full plate armor. Every inch of his body aside from his eyes was covered in steel forged by his own hands. With Bersk's large size, his armor must've weighed the same as a full-grown man, but when he took off his helmet to reveal his face, he showed no signs of struggling.

“We believe they're going to make their move today,” Bersk said with his deep voice.

“Did our little traitor finally expose herself?” Bran asked as he sipped on his tea.

“Yeah,” Bersk said. “Luth spotted Kath saying something to the head of the construction workers early this morning before the sun rose. Luth wasn't able to get close enough to hear them, but from what he observed, Kath passed by the man and uttered only a single word before she walked away.”

“And you're sure this isn't anything unusual that happened in the past?” Bran asked. “It's possible that Kath just said hello to the man.”

“You already know that's not possible,” Bersk grunted. “Kath doesn't know the man and they have never spoken to each other since the day the workers arrived. At least not until today.”

“Forgive me my doubts, Bersk. You know how I am,” Bran said nonchalantly. “It's my job to be careful with these things.”

“You mean being paranoid?”

“Very funny,” Bran said. “Would you like to have a cup of tea before we leave?”

“There's no time, Chief. The damn workers might be attacking right now while you're sipping your tea.”

“I don't hear any screams,” Bran grumbled but still put down his unfinished cup on the table and stood up. He winced as his joints creaked. “I'm not supposed to be moving around too much at my age, you know?”

“On the contrary, exercise is good for old foggies like you, Boss,” Bersk said as he handed Bran his thick winter robes and opened the door for him. “And eliminating our enemies should be a good exercise for you.”

“I'm not your Boss anymore, Tommy. We're supposed to be nothing more than a Chief and his village smith.”

“Right, right. Then I guess you should call me Mr. Bersk to keep the theme going.”

Bran grumbled about disrespectful young'uns nowadays as he and Bersk made their way down the long stone staircase that led to the village center. It was early in the morning and the villagers should be up and about to prepare for the day's work, but as Bersk and Bran arrived at the village center, the place was empty.

“Good job warning everybody,” Bran said.

“Couldn't risk having the villagers caught in the crossfire,” Bersk said. “We already bagged Kath so she couldn't warn the workers. We put her in Luth's tannery to enjoy the exquisite scents.”

“Excellent work,” Bran praised. “Now let's watch Gerda work. I missed seeing her in action.”

All the workers slept in tents in the open space near the gate of the village, the area that Bran designated for their use. The open area meant it was easy to keep watch of the workers' actions from nearby sentry boxes disguised as nondescript sheds. It was one of these sheds that Bran and Bersk secretly entered to watch the workers.

“Are all of them accounted for?” Bran asked as he peeked through the small slit. The sun was already peeking over the trees and the day had officially begun. The workers were up and were waiting in line to get their bread and bowls of porridge from a large food tent. A heavyset woman was handing out the food, smacking greedy hands that reached for more bread with her ladle.

“Some tried to sneak away earlier through paths not watched by the hunters,” Bersk said. “Kath must've told them which paths were being watched or else they wouldn't have known the paths themselves.”

“Luckily for us, I'm competent at my job,” a grumpy voice said from behind the two men without warning.

Bersk jumped a bit and almost drew the large warhammer strapped on his waist before recognizing the voice. The large man glared. “I told you not to sneak up on me.”

“I'm glad you could join us, Luth,” Bran said calmly as he kept his eyes on the workers' camp. “I assume you bring a message?”

The Head Tanner of Wildpost stood behind the two men with an annoyed frown. Instead of his usual dirty apron and overalls, the old tanner was dressed in subdued black. His very presence seemed nonexistent as he stood there, and even the powerful stench of the tannery was gone.

“You don't have to worry about any of the stragglers. I informed Dalton of their locations and he got them all before they could reach their destination,” Luth said.

“Where were they going?” Bran asked.

“They must've thought you had a party going at your house that they didn't get invited to,” Luth said. “Each of them used different paths, but they were all going straight for your home.”

“That damn bitch even sought to kill you,” Bersk said angrily.

Bran waved his hand absently as if it wasn't such a big matter. “Of course she would. Kath knows she'll have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of her life if she doesn't kill me.”

“With how things are going, the traitorous bitch would be slumbering for good,” Luth grunted before giving Bran's back a stinkeye. “We're supposed to be retired, so why the fuck are we dealing with a bunch of gangbangers from the city?”

“They're after Mr. Marion,” Bran said.

“That masked weirdo?” Luth asked incredulously.

“I'm sure you already know that Mr. Marion specializes in creating clothes made out of monster materials, yes?” Bran asked.

“Of course I know, he's a possible competition with my tannery business,” Luth said with annoyance. “But I don't pay much attention to him anymore after I found out he sells his goods in Halros. As long as he ain't trespassing on my territory here, I'm leaving him alone.”

“Well, it just so happens that Mr. Marion is capable of mass-producing his products at a baffling speed. He churns out at least a hundred of them every week and he caught the attention of the Hoods.”

“That idiot,” Luth muttered. “If the syndicate wants him, then let's just give 'im to them and be done with this. No reason to let the village get caught up with his mess.”

Bran turned around and stared at Luth, his eyes devoid of emotion. Luth took a hesitant step back and cleared his throat. “A-Ahem, I was just kidding, of course. Don't mind my words, Boss.”

Bran remained silent as he turned around and watched the worker camp again.

By now, every worker in the camp had been given their food. The men ate their food heartily and thanked the woman who handed out the food, but they constantly shared knowing glances with their companions. They were waiting for a signal, Bran knew. Unfortunately for them, they were unaware that their plan had already failed the moment they ate their breakfast.

With her job done, the heavyset woman that distributed the food walked away from the food tent, not even bothering to clean up the utensils and cooking pots. She passed by the line of sight of the sentry box where Bran was hidden and she looked straight at him. The woman gave a large grin and winked.

“Gerda's done with her task,” Bran announced. “Luth, tell Ned and Selise to get their teams in position.”

“Sure can do, Boss,” Luth replied before leaving the sentry box.

“Are you sure Selise should be in on this?” Bersk asked with concern written all over his face for his daughter.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Bersk, but your daughter is a hunter. Her responsibility is to protect the village.”

“I agree with that, but I'm sure she won't see it that way,” Bersk said grimly.

“Then would you prefer I assign her to the teams responsible for interrogating our captives?” Bran asked with a raised brow.

Bersk sighed and shook his head as he turned his focus back to the camp of workers ahead where things took a sudden turn.

It began with a small commotion in a corner of the workers' camp. A man collapsed and those nearby were trying to check on him. Some were suggesting it was simple fatigue that caused the man to pass out, only to be proven wrong moments later when more workers started collapsing to the ground.

The panic began to spread among the workers when they realized that those who collapsed had ceased breathing. Realization dawned on the group and they threw their soups and bread on the ground, but all knew it was futile.

It only took half a minute for the number of conscious workers to drop in half, and those who were still standing shouted in fury as they drew hidden daggers from their hips before charging into the village, their expressions set in grim determination.

Dark anger gripped Bran's heart as he watched the workers attempt to find any villager they could kill before they succumbed to the poison. They were trespassers on his territory and sought to harm him and his own, so he had no ounce of sympathy for them when the next phase of the plan started.

The thwipping sounds of released bowstrings echoed through the area before arrows shot down the remaining workers with deadly accuracy. Men fell in droves as hunters hidden among the buildings picked them off with brutal efficiency. The lucky ones were those that were targeted by the best of the hunters: they died from single shots to their heads or hearts. The unlucky ones ended up looking like porcupines with arrows for quills and were still alive to let the poison claim them.

With the workers already having one foot in the grave from the poison, it only took three coordinated volleys from the hunters to bring the last ones down. Then came the final phase of the plan.

The hunters emerged from their hiding places and started walking among the bodies. With their knives in their hands, they stabbed each body in the neck once to make sure they were truly dead. Some of the bodies on the ground turned out to still be alive and struggled weakly to escape, their mouths foaming from the poison, but it was impossible to escape the hunters' mercy. Just like how they took down their own prey, the hunters killed the last surviving workers with one strike to the neck to end their suffering.

Bran watched silently until the last worker was finally killed, his gaze never straying. The scene was brutal and would make any sane man grimace. Instead, Bran felt his heart race in excitement as he reminisced about times long gone, back when he still commanded power not unlike a king.

Those days were long gone. Not because Bran was ousted from his seat of power, but because he willingly left. He had turned his back on that life a long time ago and he didn't regret it. But sometimes, on days when he had to worry about the village's finances or its safety against monster attacks, Bran couldn't help but miss the old days when he had enough gold to buy a city and ranks of guards who would guard him against any threat.

Bran's musings were interrupted when he saw one of the hunters throwing up on the ground. Selise was on her hands and knees as she vomited her breakfast while Terence, Bersk's apprentice, held her hair behind her head to keep it clean.

“Go to your daughter, Mr. Bersk,” Bran said.

Without another word, Bersk left the sentry box, his armor clinking and rattling as he headed for his daughter.

“What have you brought to my village, Mr. Marion?” Bran muttered as he watched the hunters carry the corpses away for burning. He resolved to slap the back of the masked gentleman's head when he came back for bringing such trouble to his doorstep.

But despite the attempted attack on his village, Bran found the situation exciting instead of threatening. The past decades had been peaceful, and although Bran grew to like the quiet life, a part of him still missed the excitement of his former life. Minus the regrets he had along the way, of course.

I shouldn't seek that kind of life again, Bran muttered to himself as he tried to shake the delusions off his mind. He already promised his people that he would leave the criminal life for good, and some of them even followed him in his own self-imposed exile. Belka, his second-in-command who represented his authority in his criminal organization. Bersk, the man responsible for the supply of arms. Luth, his spy and infiltrator. Gerda, his poisoner. Kath, his alchemist who eventually ended up betraying him. And many others who volunteered to help him establish Wildpost. Going back on his word was not Bran's way of doing things

But if the old life was the one that sought him instead and threatened the safety of his people, then Bran wouldn't hesitate to face it head-on.

“Now, time to see what Kath has to say for herself,” Bran muttered as he started the trip to Luth's tannery where the traitor's torture should already be starting.

●●●

Our mission is done, Master, Taloress reported to me just as our group arrived at the South Gate.

Good job. Did everything go as planned? I asked.

We missed one, Master. We're trying to track him down.

No, forget about him, it's just one gang boss. I'll take care of him when we return to Halros, I said. For now, we need to leave and let the situation in the city calm down. Meet us at the edge of the Wild Woods outside the city.

Yes, Master.

I felt conflicted after hearing Taloress' report. The plan to kill every gang boss in Fang's faction was devised by my other self to pave the way for gathering power for myself. Normally, I would have shunned such an idea and aborted it the moment I returned to my normal self. If the situation was still the same as the time before I left for Halros, I wouldn't have continued the plan.

But the situation was different now. Killing a bunch of criminals would have gathered a lot of attention, but it was something I could weather by laying low for a short while. Revealing myself as a rogue Ascendant to this kingdom's Ascendant, on the other hand, was a mistake whose consequences wouldn't be so simple to handle by simply laying low. Not when the entire continent was going to do its best to find me.

A stray whisper came from a small corner of my mind. That I should have killed Esta to cover my tracks.

I shook my head at the stupid idea. Esta may have moved against me, but she wasn't my enemy. At least as far as I'm concerned. I had no idea if she was just trying to get my guard down, but I liked to think that her concern for my well-being was genuine.

Besides, killing her wouldn't have accomplished much. If Esta died in Halros, nobody would believe that the gangs did it. I've seen what they were capable of and they were too weak to take down an Ascendant by themselves. Which would lead to the only other conclusion left: she was killed by another Ascendant. That would still send the entire continent on my ass and would even motivate them harder because of an Ascendant's death. Killing Esta would be like shooting myself in the foot.

That was why I spared her. I trusted her to keep her word that she would give me two days to run, and if she didn't, then that would justify my decision to get out of the city as soon as possible. I even decided to leave my wagon full of goods back in the Golden Mare Inn in my rush. I just hoped the staff would continue feeding Clip and Clop while I was away.

“We're close to the exit,” I said to my companions as we approached the South Gate. My fabric sense told me that the only people around were the guards manning the gate and walls as well as a few slum people on the other side of the wall.

At the sight of our group, the guards at the gate shouted for us to halt. The rebellion had resulted in heightened security, which meant that instead of the usual two guards in light armor guarding the gate, we were facing an entire platoon of twenty guards clad in heavy armor. They were arranged in a shield wall that faced us while two more guards atop the wall aimed their bows at us.

“Shit, the way's blocked,” Kazimir cursed. “The gate can only be opened through a lever at the top of the wall. We won't be able to go through here. Let's find another exit.”

“Don't worry, just keep moving,” I told him. When the line of guards entered my range, I quickly cast a weaker Force Blast that sent their ranks into disarray. The spell was weak enough to avoid breaking bones, but it was enough to incapacitate.

The two guards atop the wall loosed their arrows, only for their projectiles to get intercepted as Kazimir stepped up beside me and swatted the arrows aside.

“Shit, they have a mage and an augmenter!” one of the guards cursed.

“Don't worry, they shouldn't be able to reach us up here,” the other said hesitantly.

I could reach them if I wanted to, of course, but I didn't bother. All I needed was to turn the lever at the top of the wall, and I already had someone in position to do it.

Do it, Squeaky, I said to my little puppet, who easily sneaked behind the two guards. The lever towered over my small puppet, but her body contained more power than it appeared and she easily turned the lever with the help of her tail.

With a grinding creak of turning wheels, the gates opened. By the time the guards turned the lever again, we were already on the other side, and before they could hunt for the little rat that turned the lever, Squeaky was already on my shoulder squeaking her triumph.

“Good work,” I said as I patted Squeaky's head. My companions looked at me weirdly as I pet Squeaky, but I ignored their stares. I took stock of the people around us with my fabric sense and detected a few people hiding inside the dilapidated shacks, but nobody seems suspicious. “Let's go. I don't think the guards would give chase when there's a rebellion happening, but I don't want to risk it.”

“How about your, uh, companion?” Samantia asked as we walked briskly through the streets of the slums. “Are we going to leave her behind?”

“Don't worry,” I assured her. “Taloress will be meeting us at the—”

The shack to our right suddenly exploded into splinters as a large boulder suddenly launched through its walls like a cannonball and flew towards us. The trajectory of the boulder was off and would narrowly miss me, but my relief was short-lived when I realized it wasn't aiming for me.

A powerful surge of desperation went through my entire body as I rushed to pull Belka's stretcher floating behind us out of the way, but I was too late. With a sickening crunch, the boulder impacted Belka and continued its momentum, finally landing a fair distance away and trapping her underneath.

Kazimir and Samantia shouted in alarm and approached the shack where the boulder originated from to find the attacker, but I ignored them as I ran to Belka.

The next few moments seemed to go in slow motion as I rushed to push the boulder off Belka. I remembered a lot of blood as the boulder finally rolled to the side, revealing the mangled body of my friend. The scant few moments that I had to move Belka's stretcher out of the way before the boulder hit her managed to save most of her body. Instead of crushing her entirely, the boulder only managed to hit the right side of Belka's torso, but what the boulder did hit crushed it into paste entirely.

I rushed to stem the bleeding by retrieving the blanket that served as Belka's stretcher and pressed it tightly on her gaping torso, but I might as well have tried to stopper a broken dam with a cork. There was so much blood and Belka wasn't breathing.

“Belka! Belka, speak to me!” somebody screamed while sobbing. It was annoying until I realized it was me. I held the blankets in place with my Authority and I started doing chest compressions to keep her alive.

“Stop it, Brogen,” Kazimir said weakly after he and Samantia returned without finding any signs of the attacker. “There's no coming back from this. The boulder probably crushed some of her organs.”

“Shut up,” I spat. I cast a diagnosis spell and a pulse of Life mana quested inside Belka's body to assess the damage. When the pulse returned to me, I shouted a curse. Her right lung was completely crushed and half her liver was shredded.

“Brogen,” Kazimir repeated. “Please. Just let it go. We have to go before—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I said with as much venom as I could. “Get in my place. Keep pushing on her chest and make sure her blood is flowing. Now.”

Kazimir rushed to obey and started doing the chest compressions in my place. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to save Belka,” I said before pumping as much mana as I can into Mr. Marion's body. He mentally groaned in pain and pleasure as my mana flooded every fiber of his being. Some of the threads that made him up snapped from the strain, but the rest of his body gained ridiculous levels of strength.

When he couldn't take any more mana, I began the chase to hunt down the bastard who launched the boulder. I managed to detect him with my fabric sense moments before he punched the boulder to send it flying at Belka. He began running away the moment he punched the boulder, not even sparing a moment to see if he hit his target. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be able to run from me.

I formed spider legs on Mr. Marion's back and used them to navigate the tight spaces of the slums. The mana that suffused Mr. Marion's body made him move like a blur as we rushed through the shantytown, but my desperation made him move faster. Belka's life was on a countdown and I had to finish this quickly.

It only took me ten more seconds before I successfully intercepted the old bastard. The look on his face when Mr. Marion burst through the shanty wall like the very boulder he sent towards us earlier was priceless, but I didn't get to cherish it too much.

I could tell by the amount of mana in his body that he was an augmenter, but he was extremely weakened. When Mr. Marion held him by the neck, he only managed to rip my puppet's cuff slightly before I snapped his neck.

I rushed back to where Belka was and I could feel my face paling when I saw the amount of blood she lost. The floor was red with blood even as Samantia kept casting spells that I assumed were attempting to stop the blood flow.

“Brogen, she's losing too much blood!” Kazimir shouted as I returned. “Pushing her chest will do jack-shit if she just bleeds on the ground!”

“Just keep on doing it,” I snarled as I dumped the bastard's body beside Belka's.

“Kairon?!” Kazimir exclaimed.

I ignored all other noises around me as I hoped desperately in my heart that the old bastard I caught had the same blood type as Belka.

I cast a small modified Force Drill without the spin and spikes, leaving only a cone with a hole at the sharp tip, essentially turning it into a funnel. I poked the funnel into her jugular vein at an angle and slit the old bastard's neck over the funnel.

As Mr. Marion held the old bastard's neck over the funnel, I exited his body and went over to Kairon's torso. I cast a small Force Blade above my finger to use as a scalpel and started cutting him open. Kairon's blood spilled in rivulets and I cursed at my mistake. That blood could have gone to Belka instead.

I hurried and cut away at Kairon's body to retrieve his lung and liver before moving to Belka's side. This was the riskiest part of my already-risky attempt at saving Belka and I was suffused with intense fear. I had no knowledge of how to transplant organs, and what I intended to do was simply place the organs inside Belka's body and hope that a Heal spell would be enough to correctly connect the organs to her system. And even if the organs were successfully transplanted, there was still a chance of organ rejection. But if I don't do anything, Belka is certain to die.

With a deep breath, I removed the blankets that covered Belka's wounds. I cast Preservation to sterilize the area before removing the remnants of her crushed organs. More blood spurted when I did that, and I hurried to place Kairon's organs in place. I could only thank the fact that her ribs were destroyed by the boulder as well so that I didn't have to cut through those as well.

Once I made sure that the organs were in the correct orientation, I cast a Heal spell focused only on her organs to avoid depleting Belka's already-dwindling vitality.

There were no outward signs of whether the barbarity I had done was effective, but I still continued patching up Belka. The sheer amount of lost flesh and muscle on Belka's right side couldn't be regenerated with a simple Heal spell, so I cast Preservation on the blankets and stuffed them into the gaping holes. It was crude, but at least it stemmed the bleeding.

Seeing Belka's current state replaced my worry with dark simmering fury once again. The high possibility of her death wormed into my mind like a parasite. Even if she died, I couldn't allow her to look like this.

My mana was already on the verge of running out, but I forced myself to push on. With a pounding head, I contoured the blankets that covered Belka's wounds and shaped the outside to look like her original body. I reformed her right breast and shoulder while I filled in the missing gaps in her ribs with bone-shaped cloth made rigid with my Authority. With the excess fabric, I returned to Belka the right arm that Kairon took from her, albeit one that was made of cloth.

By the time I finished everything, I was already falling on the floor as I fell unconscious.