Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 45: Bandits

Chapter 45: Bandits

Torren took the scroll, its weight heavy in his hand. He tucked it into his tunic, his expression guarded but resolute. "This better work, Valcroft," he said, his voice low, a hint of defiance breaking through.

Dorian chuckled, leaning back. "It will. Nightshade fears no one and definitely doesn’t miss. Unlike my men, apparently." His eyes flicked to Evelyne, who remained stone-faced, her runes dimming.

The alcove fell silent, the clink of goblets and the soft tune of the pavilion’s music filling the void. Torren stood up, his movements stiff, and adjusted his tunic. "I’ll be in touch," he said, turning to leave.

Evelyne stepped aside, her gaze following him like a hawk tracking prey. Dorian raised his goblet in a mock toast, his smirk never fading. "A worthwhile pawn" he muttered.

***

Back in Wolfswood, the courtyard rang with Sylvara’s laughter. She loosed another arrow, missing the target entirely, and flopped dramatically onto the grass, her arms spread wide. "I’m terrible!" she wailed, her voice playful.

Sera knelt beside her, her own bow resting on her knee, a rare smile softening her face. "You’re getting better," she said, nudging Sylvara’s shoulder. "Keep practicing."

Kael watched from the fence, his smile lingering. Sylvara’s antics were a spark of light in the shadow of his duties. His hand brushed the Ancient Seal Fragment in his mantle’s pocket. "Where do I start searching from?" he muttered.

Sylvara scrambled up, dusting off her dress. "Kael, you try!" she called, waving her bow. "Bet you can’t hit it either!"

Kael chuckled, stepping forward. "Bet I can," he said, taking the bow. He nocked an arrow, his movements fluid as —Predator’s Instincts— guided his aim. The arrow flew, striking the target’s center, and Sylvara gasped, clapping wildly. "You’re cheating!" she accused, her grin wide.

Sera raised an eyebrow, her voice dry. "He’s just showing off."

Kael handed the bow back, his silver eyes glinting. "Practice, Syl. You’ll get there eventually." He ruffled her hair, his gaze shifting to the forest beyond, where wolves howled faintly.

The courtyard’s warmth suddenly faded as a guard burst through the gate, his armor clinking, and his face pale with urgency. Kael’s hand froze on Sylvara’s hair, his silver eyes snapping to the man.

The guard’s breath came in sharp gasps, his words tumbling out. "Runewood villages... hundreds of bandits are attacking! They probably would also plan on looting the mine quarries!"

Kael’s jaw tightened, the Runewood Mine’s importance flashing through his mind—its Ironstone Crystals and Blackened Steel Ore were vital for House Veyne’s weapons and was also one of the important resources in their tributes to the Duchy and Royal Family.

He stepped forward, his Bloodthread Mantle flaring as he barked orders. "Dispatch fifty wolf riders from the eastern outpost. Now!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the courtyard’s calm.

Sera straightened, her bow already in hand, her eyes fierce. "I’m coming with you," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Kael shook his head, his gaze softening but firm. "Stay with Sylvara. Keep her safe." Sylvara’s wide eyes darted between them, her small hand clutching Sera’s sleeve.

Sera hesitated, her lips parting, but she nodded, stepping back. "Be careful," she said, her voice low, her fingers tightening on her bow.

A guard led a massive wolf forward, its gray fur rippling, and its eyes glowing like runestones. The beast stood two meters tall, its breath steaming in the cool air. Kael mounted it in one fluid motion, the wolf’s muscles shifting beneath him.

Fifty wolf riders assembled in front of the manor, their armor clanking, their wolves snarling softly. Kael raised a hand, his voice steady. "To Runewood. Move!"

The pack surged east, paws and claws pounding the dirt path. Wolfswood’s trees blurred past them as they sped through. Kael leaned low, the wind whipping his mantle, his —Predator’s Instincts— sharpening his senses.

The wolves’ howls echoed, urging them on, their bond with House Veyne fueling their speed. The Runewood villages were two hour’s ride, the mine quarries just beyond.

Two hours later, they reached Runewood. Smoke rose in the distance, a dark smear against the sky, and Kael’s grip tightened on the reins. The villages were a ruin—huts smoldered in flames, their thatched roofs collapsed, flames licking at charred wood.

Bodies lay scattered, villagers and guards alike, their blood soaking the earth. Kael dismounted, his boots crunching on ash, his silver eyes scanning the devastation.

A wounded guard staggered forward, his arm bandaged, his face gray. "They were well coordinated, unlike other bandits," he rasped, pointing east. "Took everything—coin, food, women, and now, they’re headed for the quarries."

Kael’s bloodline stirred, a faint pulse of anger growing within him. He knelt beside the guard, his voice low. "How many were they?"

"Hundreds, no less." the guard coughed, his eyes hollow. "They were armed with Refined Grade weapons... and well organized."

Kael stood, his gaze locking on the smoke trailing toward the quarries. The Runewood Mine’s resources were House Veyne’s lifeline, and bandits this bold certainly weren’t acting alone.

Who could be orchestrating this from the shadows? Valthorne? Valcroft? Torren’s secret allies? Or fellow counties in the Duchy?

He pushed the thought aside, his focus narrowing. "Mount up," he ordered, his voice cold. "We ride for the quarries."

The wolf-riders followed, their beasts snarling, sensing the hunt. Kael led the charge, his wolf’s strides eating the ground, the path winding through dense forest.

The smoke grew less as they gained distance. The faint clash of steel and shouts echoed ahead. His —Night Predator— trait kicked in, sharpening his vision despite the fading light.

He picked out tracks in the dirt—boots, cartwheels, and blood. The bandits were close, their greed driving them to the quarries’ riches.

Kael raised a hand, slowing the riders as the forest thinned. The Runewood Mine’s entrance loomed ahead, its iron gates battered. The entrance guards were slumped against the walls with arrows in their chests.

The quarries’ wealth—crates of Ironstone Crystals and Blackened Steel Ore—lay vulnerable, and the bandits were already inside, their laughter carrying on the wind.

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