Two days after that shocking rooftop incident, I was finally able to sit leaning against the headboard of the medical ward bed. Even though my entire body was still tightly wrapped in bandages and my chest throbbed every time I drew a breath, my mind had regained its sharpness.
Midnight arrived. A loud scraping sound at the window broke the silence.
Creak... The ward window was pried open from the outside. Ragnar sneaked in with his giant body nearly getting stuck in the window frame. He landed with a soft thud, carrying a woven basket full of red apples.
"Kael!" greeted Ragnar with his wide grin, biting into an apple with an ear-piercing crunch. "I sneaked into the instructors' private kitchen. Their apples are far sweeter than standard cadet rations. Do you want one?"
Before I had a chance to answer, the ward door hinges squeaked very softly.
Virelith sneaked in. The girl hugged a thick magic notebook to her chest, her round glasses reflecting the moonlight. Her steps were incredibly quiet, a stark contrast to Ragnar's arrival which resembled a circus bear.
Virelith's steps halted as she saw the disheveled giant figure near my window. Ragnar stopped chewing his apple. The two stared at each other.
"Wow," Ragnar broke the silence, looking Virelith up and down with a condescending expression. "Kael, please do not tell me you just hired the academy librarian to read you a bedtime story."
Virelith narrowed her eyes behind her spectacle lenses. Without the slightest fear, she returned the street thug's stare.
"And you must be the escaped ancient primate Kael told me about," replied Virelith sharply, her tone incredibly flat yet piercing. "Now I understand why Kael told me to prepare earth magic. Apparently to bury your body odor which could make a dragon faint."
Ragnar choked on his apple. His eyes bulged. "What did you say, Bookworm?! These muscles and sweat of mine are pure street diamonds! For your information, I held back that dragon's jaws all by myself!"
"Oh really? With what? With your breath?" Virelith retorted cynically, crossing her arms over her chest. "You are lucky you were not chewed up because that dragon would surely be poisoned looking at your face."
I sighed, yet I could not hold back a thin smile from appearing at the corner of my lips. This was exactly what I was looking for. A solid team was always born from friction. The explosive Ragnar and the rigid, pragmatic Virelith would cover each other's flaws perfectly.
"Enough," I said, my hoarse yet authoritative voice instantly cutting off their argument. Both of them immediately fell silent and looked at me.
"Let us make this official," I looked at them alternately. "Ragnar, meet Virelith Ashryn. She is the Support and Tactical Engineer of our squad. And Virelith, this is Ragnar Holt. Our Vanguard and shield on the front lines. The two of you are the foundation of the Deck Hound Squad."
Virelith merely snorted, while Ragnar clicked his tongue in annoyance but nodded slowly, acknowledging the girl into the circle.
"Listen closely," I leaned forward, looking at them seriously. "You see my condition right now. My body is destroyed. I will not be able to lift a sword without exploding my own heart for some time."
Ragnar frowned. "So we hide?"
"No. We cut their throats from the inside," I corrected coldly. "The only way to kill a giant when your body is paralyzed is to sever its veins one by one. Our target is the Nightbane Faction. And I divide it into three pillars, namely Financial, Political Allies, and Reputation. Since I am paralyzed, I need the two of you to be my hands and feet."
Virelith adjusted her glasses. "Which pillar do we destroy first?"
"Financial," I answered without hesitation. I turned to Ragnar. "That Emerald Wyrm Eye... you sold it to Silas the Snake in the lower district black market, right?"
Ragnar nodded. "Yes. That cunning skinny guy gave me a high price after I slammed his desk. What is wrong with him?"
"Silas is not just a broker," I explained. "He is Orvelis Nightbane's money laundering dog. All dirty money from extortion and the black market is deposited by Silas into the Nightbane Faction's pockets for their operational costs. Including the cost of hiring the Assassin who tried to kill me the other day."
Ragnar's eyes blazed savagely. "So we rob his safe tonight? I can snap his neck in three seconds!"
"Patience, Bear," I reprimanded firmly. "Attacking without intelligence is the fastest way to die a foolish death. We gather information first."
I began to distribute tasks. "Ragnar, tomorrow night return to the black market. Have some drinks there. Show off your remaining money, cause a little commotion, and spread rumors. Most importantly, observe the elite guard shift schedule in Silas's VIP room. Do not attack anyone."
"Hah! A task very suitable for me," Ragnar grinned widely.
"And Virelith," I looked at the Engineer. "I want you to go to the academy library. Find the blueprints for the ancient sewer channels left over from the first era. Find an underground path leading right beneath the lower district black market building. Map the route, and make sure there are no active magical alarms there."
Virelith nodded quickly, noting my instructions in her pragmatic brain. "Blueprints and underground mapping. Understood."
"Good," I leaned my back again with a sigh of relief. "Do it cleanly. Once our intelligence is complete, only then will we make Orvelis Nightbane cry blood."
While the Deck Hounds' small meeting took place in the dim ward, in a luxurious room at the other end of the academy, the air felt so suffocating it made it difficult for anyone to breathe.
Orvelis Nightbane's private room was decorated with Persian rugs, crystal chandeliers, and furniture made of rare mahogany wood. However, all that luxury could not mask the dense murderous aura radiating from the Duke's heir.
In the corner of the room, Elara Sam stood stiffly. She wore a very beautiful silk dress, her blonde hair styled neatly, and her face polished perfectly. She looked stunning, like an expensive porcelain doll. However, her hand holding the porcelain teapot trembled faintly as she poured tea into Orvelis's cup.
Whoosh.
A man dressed entirely in black, Orvelis's personal shadow servant, emerged from the darkness in the corner of the room. He knelt on one knee.
"Report, Young Master," the servant's voice was flat. "The Assassin from the Black Tower is confirmed dead. Cadet Kael Draven is still alive and is currently being treated under the strict supervision of Head Instructor Alric. Academy security has been raised to maximum level."
Clink!
The porcelain teapot in Elara's hand collided with the rim of the cup. Hot tea spilled slightly onto the table. The girl's hands trembled violently. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Kael? Kael Draven... is still alive?
Elara's heart beat madly inside her chest. Her mind buzzed loudly. The Basic Class youth who used to always cry, who used to beg for mercy when trampled on, who always made his body a shield to protect Elara from noble insults.
That youth had just survived a Wyrm and now killed an elite assassin from the Black Tower?!
Elara felt her breath catch. She realized one terrifying fact that shattered her logic. The youth she betrayed had now metamorphosed into a monster that could even give a Duke's heir trouble.
Orvelis did not shout upon hearing that report. Yet his silence was far more terrifying than a dragon's roar.
Orvelis's purple eyes sharpened. The mana around him boiled. Slowly, the gravity magic that was the pride of his bloodline leaked into the air. The sturdy mahogany desk before him creaked loudly, bending inward, before finally shattering into wooden splinters due to crushing gravitational pressure.
Elara gasped and stepped back, covering her mouth with both hands, holding back a scream of terror stifled in her throat.
"Ten thousand gold coins," whispered Orvelis with an incredibly cold voice, his eyes staring at the table splinters in front of him. "Ten thousand pure coins wasted just to kill a single insect whose magic hasn't even bloomed yet."
Seeing Orvelis's psychopathic face radiating absolute cruelty, a very bitter sense of regret hit Elara's conscience like a sledgehammer.
Back then, she abandoned Kael to seek protection, status, and wealth within the Nightbane faction. She thought Kael would only hold her back and drag her into the abyss. But now, staring into Orvelis's eyes which could easily crush her bones if he was in a bad mood, Elara realized she had made the most fatal mistake of her life.
Elara did not find security. She only traded her freedom for a golden cage. She was now trapped with a tyrant who would not hesitate to kill her if she made one small mistake.
And ironically, the only person in this world willing to die to protect her... she had discarded.
Kael... forgive me... Elara cried inwardly. However, she was too cowardly and too afraid to voice her heart. She could only look down trembling, hugging her own arms which felt cold.
Orvelis turned his head, staring at the spilled tea on the remains of the shattered table, then looked at Elara with a gaze that made the girl's blood freeze.
"Clean up the tea, Elara," ordered Orvelis coldly, without the slightest tone of affection.
"Y-yes, Master," Elara's voice squeaked obediently. She hurried forward, knelt in her expensive dress, and cleaned the spilled tea with trembling hands using her silk handkerchief.
Orvelis looked back at his shadow servant. "The Black Tower will not dare send its dogs into the academy again as long as that fool Alric tightens security. And the Student Senate will surely sniff out our movements if we force a silent assassination."
The Duke's Heir narrowed his eyes; a cunning and cruel idea began to form in his brain.
"If we cannot kill him in the shadows, we will execute him under the scorching sun," said Orvelis, a thin smirk appearing on his cold handsome face.
"Next month is the Midterm Expedition Exam," continued Orvelis, his voice laden with absolute command. "Buy the supervising instructors in the Basic Class. Whatever the price. Arrange for Kael Draven's group to be allocated into an artificial death zone during the exam. Ensure there is no way out."
The shadow servant bowed respectfully. "I will execute it, Young Master. We will create a curriculum that executes him."
While that deadly conspiracy was pledged in the noble tower, in the quiet medical ward, I was staring at a small chessboard placed on the nightstand next to my bed.
My bandage-wrapped fingers moved slowly, advancing one black pawn forward one square, penetrating enemy territory. I smiled thinly in the darkness. The cooling-off period was over. My enemy must be planning something big, and the Deck Hound Squad was ready to welcome that nightmare with open arms.