Chapter 121:
The rooftop was flat, tarred against the rain, and Aris lay on it with his back to the low parapet, his arm pressed against his side. The bleeding had slowed but not stopped. His coat was soaked through, the fabric sticky and cold against his skin.
He had killed the owner.
It had not been a choice, not really. The man had led him to the edge of the estate, pointed toward the lights of the manor, and then tried to run. Aris had caught him in three strides. The sword had done the rest.
He would have told someone, Aris thought. Raised the alarm before I could reach her.
He pressed his palm against the gash on his forearm.
[Mana Spell: Healing]
The mana flowed from his core, thin and weak compared to what Lucas could command, but enough. The wound pulled together—not cleanly, not completely, but the bleeding stopped. Scar tissue formed in rough, puckered lines across his skin.
Good enough.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the protest of his muscles, and turned his attention to the estate below.
It was vast—sprawling across the night-darkened landscape like a sleeping beast. Walls of pale stone, roofs of dark tile, windows glowing with warm light that did nothing to dispel the cold in Aris's chest. His Ore Senses stretched outward, mapping the grounds.
Two kilometers. Maybe three. The main house was at the center, surrounded by gardens and outbuildings and the kind of manicured lawns that spoke of old money and older cruelty. Guards moved along the perimeter—dozens of them, their auras flickering in the darkness. Most were at the Copper or Bronze stage. Semi-cultivators, every one of them.
But one aura burned brighter than the rest.
Silver stage.
Aris felt it at the edge of his senses—dense, coiled, the kind of power that came from decades of training and killing. The lord of the house, or perhaps the captain of his guard. Either way, it did not matter. The man was stronger than Aris.
And he will sense me the moment I kill anyone, Aris thought. The moment my mana spikes.
He waited.
The sun set fully, painting the sky in shades of violet and deep blue. The stars emerged, one by one, cold and distant. The guards changed shifts—Aris tracked their movements, the rhythm of their patrols, the gaps in their coverage.
Then he moved.
[Mana Spell: Mana Suppression]
He wrapped his mana tight around his core, smothering it, letting nothing leak into the world. His presence vanished from the senses of anyone below. He became a shadow among shadows, a ghost moving through the darkness.
He crossed the perimeter wall without a sound. The guards passed within meters of him, their auras brushing against his suppressed mana, finding nothing. He moved through the gardens, past the fountains and the hedges and the statues that watched with blind stone eyes.
The main house rose before him, its windows glowing, its doors guarded. He did not enter through any of them.
He climbed.
Using mana, his legs stuck to the wall as he walked upward until he reached the second floor. A window was cracked open against the summer heat. His Ore Senses reached inside.
She was there.
Her aura was faint—exhausted, afraid—but unmistakable. The same essence that had clung to the portrait the poet had given him.
And someone else was moving toward her.
Aris felt him before he saw him—a man, his aura thick with power and lust. The intention rolled off him in waves, sick and heavy, making Aris's stomach turn.
The noble's son.
The man walked through the corridor outside her room, his footsteps unhurried, confident.
Aris crouched on the windowsill, hidden in the darkness, and waited.
He thought about his options.
He could kill the man. The guards would sense it—the Silver stage lord especially. They would swarm him, and he would die, and the girl would still be trapped.
He could wait. Find another way, another night, another approach. But the man was already at her door.
He could hear her voice now—quiet, frightened, pleading.
No.
Aris sighed.
He moved.
The window opened silently, its hinges oiled, its frame sliding inward without resistance. He stepped into the room, his sword already drawn, trying his best to suppress his mana. His Ore Senses tracked every flicker of movement.
The noble's son stood over the girl. He had her pressed against the bed, one hand on her shoulder. His back was to the window. He had not heard Aris enter. He had not sensed anything at all.
[Mana Spell: Mana Enhancement]
[Mana Spell: Mana Reinforcement]
Mana flooded Aris's muscles.
The sword came down.
The noble's son did not scream. His head left his shoulders in a spray of blood, his body crumpling to the floor, his aura vanishing in an instant.
The girl—Liana, Aris would learn later—stared at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
The Silver stage will have sensed that.
Aris crossed the room in two strides, his bloody hand closing around her arm. "Come."
She did not resist. She could not. He pulled her to her feet, toward the window, toward the darkness outside.
They jumped.
The ground rushed up to meet them. Aris twisted in mid-air, taking the impact on his shoulder, rolling to absorb the force. Liana landed beside him, gasping, her hands scrabbling at the grass.
He pulled her up and carried her, running.
Behind them, the estate erupted.
The Silver stage's aura flared—bright, burning, furious. Aris felt the moment he realized what had happened, felt the rage that flooded through him like fire through dry grass. The man's voice echoed across the grounds, raw with grief and fury.
"My son!"
The manor house shook, causing the walls to crack alongside the windows that shattered. The Silver stage—the lord of the house, Aris realized, the father of the man he had just killed—burst through the front doors, his body wreathed in flame. He was a large man, broad-shouldered, his face twisted with grief and rage. His mana burned at the peak of the Silver stage, dense and terrible even if he was a semi-cultivator. He was much stronger than Aris.
He saw them.
[Fire Spell: Wall of Embers]
A line of flame erupted from the ground before Aris, cutting off his escape. The heat was immense, the fire roaring ten feet high, blocking the path to the outer wall.
Aris stopped. Liana fell to the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
The lord walked toward them, his footsteps heavy on the scorched grass. His eyes—dark, furious—fixed on Aris.
"How dare you," the lord said, his voice low and trembling with rage. "How dare you, elite, attack my home."
Aris said nothing, as his Ore Senses tracked the guards moving into position around them—dozens of them, their auras flickering with fear and anticipation. The perimeter was sealed. There was no escape.
The lord stopped twenty meters away. The flames at his back cast his shadow long and terrible across the grass.