Bell approached the Apollo manor, his form shrouded in a dark cloak and his face obscured by a clown mask.
The banquet had likely concluded by now.
He slipped inside by vaulting over the manor walls, vanishing right under the noses of the patrolling guards. His steps were silent as he sneaked deeper into the estate, anyone unlucky enough to cross his path was promptly knocked unconscious.
As he turned a corner, he collided with an adventurer. Bell lunged instantly in response, clamping a hand over the man's mouth and slamming him against the wall.
Before the adventurer could even register the threat, Bell raised his elbow and drove it down onto his temple like a hammer.
The adventurer's body went limp, sliding down the wall to the floor. Bell stepped over him without breaking stride.
Moments later, two adventurers charged him from the front.
Bell walked toward them without haste. They threw simultaneous punches, their fists flying side-by-side toward him. He raised his hands and caught the strikes mid-air. With a sharp twist of his wrists, he entangled their arms and yanked hard.
The adventurers barely had time to comprehend the counter before their bodies were jerked violently together, their heads colliding with a sickening crack.
Both men collapsed, shock frozen on their unconscious faces.
Bell continued on his way, though he suddenly jerked his head to the left. A thrown sword whistled past, slicing through the air where his skull had been a moment prior.
He looked ahead. Three adventurers were converging at the corridor intersection. Two charged toward him...one dropping low to sweep his legs, the other aiming a high kick at his chest. But the most dangerous of the trio was the third, who hung back.
That adventurer unsheathed a second blade and hurled it straight at Bell's face.
The sword reached him before the kicks.
Bell's head slid back just as the blade skimmed past his cheek. As the weapon passed, his hand snapped up, snatching the hilt to kill its momentum.
He was armed now.
The two melee attackers arrived simultaneously.
In a single fluid motion, Bell spun the sword in his grip and drove it down. It pierced the leg of the low-kicking adventurer, pinning both his limb and the blade deep into the tiled floor.
The kick aimed at his chest, however, continued unimpeded. Bell raised his free hand, redirecting the strike to land on his shoulder instead. The impact forced him backward, his grip on the sword yanking it free from the impaled adventurer's leg.
Stumbling back, Bell gained a clear view of the third adventurer, who was rushing in from behind the other two, hoping to exploit the chaos.
Bell hurled the sword. It curved through the air, slicing deep into the collar of the adventurer who had kicked him... two inches above the clevis. The blade did not stop there; it continued its lethal trajectory, piercing straight into the thigh of the sneaky third attacker.
.
One adventurer clutched his stabbed leg, screaming, while the other pressed a hand against his collar, desperate to stem the gush of blood.
Bell approached the writhing pair with a leisurely stride. He grabbed their heads and slammed them against the corridor walls, the impact silencing their cries and knocking them out instantly.
He stepped to the third adventurer, the one with the sword still buried in his thigh. The man looked up at the clown mask in sheer terror. A moment later, Bell's leg swung out, clubbing him into unconsciousness.
He continued forward, turning left into an open hall.
Two Level 2 adventurers stood guard before a pair of massive doors. Judging by the emblem engraved upon them, this was likely God Apollo's personal quarters.
They roared at the sight of the intruder and charged. One wielded a heavy hammer, the other a spear.
Bell advanced to meet them. The spearman reached him first, thrusting his weapon toward Bell's stomach. At the last possible moment, however, the trajectory changed, the shaft dipping cruelly toward Bell's groin.
!
Playing dirty!?
Bell leaped like a crane, vaulting effortlessly over the spearman. He landed down between them a moment later.
I'll show you what it means to play dirty.
The hammer-wielder swung for Bell's face from the front. Simultaneously, the spearman spun around behind him, thrusting for his head.
A hammer from the front. A spear from behind.
The spear tip reached him first. Bell's neck slid sideways, letting the weapon and the hand gripping it pass harmlessly over his shoulder. In the same motion, Bell caught the spearman's wrist and executed a brutal arm throw, flinging the man forward—directly into the path of the oncoming hammer.
The spearman's buttocks took the full brunt of the blow.
Crunch
"AAAAAGH!" The spearman howled, sounding as if his posterior had been flattened...which it likely had.
Bell used the momentum of the collision to arch his spine, backflipping away from the fray. He landed smoothly, leaving the spearman sprawled on the floor ahead, his crushed ass facing the ceiling.
The hammer-wielder's brain took two seconds to process what he had done. Then, with a roar, he swung his hammer wildly at Bell, who was now standing casually beside the groaning spearman.
Bell took a step back out of the weapon's range, his leg flashing out to nudge the hammer's trajectory just slightly.
The hammer head slammed into the tiled floor—or it would have, if the spearman's crushed buttocks hadn't been in the way.
Crunch
"AAAAHHHH!" The spearman jolted once again, flailing like a dying fish. The second strike had ensured his behind was now effectively a pancake.
The hammer-wielder saw red, swinging his weapon with abandon. Bell dodged each blow with impeccable grace, maneuvering around the flailing body of the spearman. As the brute swung again, Bell sidestepped imperceptibly.
The hammer came down once again.
Crunch
Hammer and ass met for a third time. A squeal resembling a dying pig echoed through the hall.
"S-Spare... spare m-me..." The spearman mumbled, tears streaming down his face.
The hammer-wielder froze. He looked at the weeping man, then at the impassive clown mask, and finally at his own hammer. The weight of his actions crashed down on him.
With a look of despair, he raised the hammer and brought the handle down on his own temple, collapsing instantly.
...
..
.
This was called... being played to death.
Rip those two adventures.
They will never be the same after today.
.
...This was the start... of what would later become the most infamous and feared faction under Evilus across all of Orario.
The Hall Of Souls.
...
..
.
***
[300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter]
[8 chapters ahead on P@tr3on = [email protected]/Not_Aaryan]
...
[Author's Thoughts]
Damn! So ruthless! So terrifying! So... fucking scary.
(Laughs his ass off in the background.)
...