Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 85: The Assasin’s Fury

Chapter 85: The Assasin’s Fury

Easter Slope of Mount MarNubes.

"Asael, stay with me!" Lara’s frantic voice drowned Kellan’s panicked mumbling.

The wound on Asael’s chest was superficial. His attacker must have realized he was wearing protective clothing and shifted their target—his stomach. Two stab wounds. Whoever did this had no intention of letting him walk away alive.

But something didn’t add up. Why hadn’t Asael fought back? There were no signs of struggle. No defensive wounds. Unless... unless the attacker was someone he knew.

Lara had been delayed. She had spotted a ginseng patch and decided to dig some out. Aramis stayed with her, watching as she carefully unearthed three palm-sized roots. It took her thirty minutes—thirty minutes that now felt like a cruel mistake.

When she and Aramis finally caught up with Asael and his team, she found him lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, while Kellan desperately tried to stop the bleeding.

"What happened?" Lara demanded as she took over. "Where are Bener and the others?"

Only four soldiers remained, tense and watchful.

"Bener and the others pursued the ones who attacked Asael," one of them answered.

Lara’s hands moved fast as she applied the hemostatic powder to the two wounds on Asael before she covered them with a clean cloth.

But an unease settled deep in her gut.

Something was wrong.

Bener. Berlin. The four soldiers with them. She had a sinking feeling they were in danger.

Lara turned to Kellan. "Stay here. Keep pressing like this. Apply more pressure to stop the bleeding. I’ll be back soon."

Lara assessed Asael, and her heart tightened. General Odin’s eldest son was in grave condition.

Her eldest brother.

She crouched beside Asael, whispered something into his ear, then stood and sprinted in the direction Kellan had pointed. Aramis followed her like a shadow.

As they ran, Aramis caught a fleeting glimpse of Kane. He froze. That look in his eyes. Fury, cold, and lethal. Aramis recognized that shift in his bearing—the aura of an assassin.

Then Kane was gone, running so fast Aramis had trouble keeping up.

He saw Kane stop.

Ahead, under the gnarled branches of an old oak tree, a battle raged.

Bener and five soldiers were locked in combat against a group of twelve men. At first, they were at a disadvantage, but the tide turned, and soon the enemy was subdued.

Aramis’ sharp gaze landed on the emblem sewn onto the soldiers’ sleeves. His eyes widened. "They’re Zurans!"

Lara stiffened. "Zuran soldiers? What are they doing in MarNubes?"

This wasn’t right. It was a trap—first, the rebels, then the Estalis soldiers in the Meander Pass, and then the Zurans.

Alaric had warned them, but the Northem generals ignored the warning.

Those idiots! Lara cursed.

Relief flickered in her chest as she saw Bener’s team taking control of the fight. The tension in her shoulders eased. The dark aura around her began to dissipate.

Then—

"Shit." Lara cursed.

Aramis followed her gaze back to the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, the situation had changed.

Bener was at swordpoint. His team, disarmed, were forced to their knees.

"What happened?" Aramis asked, his voice sharp. He had looked away for just a few seconds—how had the tables turned so fast?

Lara’s expression darkened. "They were tricked. The enemy had a hostage. Someone important enough to force Bener into surrendering."

A bulky man, clearly the leader, sneered as he pushed Bener to the ground.

Mocking laughter echoed across the slopes of MarNubes.

"Who would have thought that the two sons of the mighty general would fall into my hands today?" The bulky man chuckled. "I should thank your cousin for leading you to me."

Without warning, the sword swung, and the soldier beside Bener fell; his head rolled and stopped in front of another enemy soldier who kicked it like a football.

Lara’s hands tightened on the arrows placed in the side pocket of her backpack while the other reached out for the bow tucked neatly at the back of her pack.

Then, the bulky man with the sword in his right hand still dripping with blood raised his foot, aiming to stomp Bener’s head into the dirt—

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

Three arrows buried themselves into his thigh, knee, and foot with a sickening sound.

The force was so strong that the arrow pierced through his flesh, missing his femur, and passed through the other side.

He howled. His leg buckled, and blood streamed down as the arrows pierced straight through. He whipped his head around, fury blazing in his eyes—only to see Lara and Aramis charging toward them.

"Kill them!" he roared.

Bener, Berlin, and the three other soldiers took advantage of the distraction, dived for their discarded weapons, and fought with them.

Suddenly, there was chaos.

Amidst the fighting, Lara sought one man. The one who kicked the severed head of the fallen soldier, Denzel, like it was a ball.

She moved like lightning. A flash of steel. A single, precise strike.

"Ahhh! My leg, my leg." The soldier’s scream tore through the battlefield as he collapsed. He stared, horror-stricken, at the stump where his leg had been. Blood poured onto the dirt.

He clawed at his shirt, trying to stop the bleeding.

A dark shadow fell over him. When he looked up, he shuddered, and an indescribable fear engulfed him that yellow liquid dyed his crotch.

Against the shifting hues of the sky, where crimson blend into orange and yellow, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

The angel of death.

His breath hitched. He scrambled back, using his hands to drag himself away. The man stepped closer.

Terror consumed him. He thought his soul was about to be reaped.

He screamed again when he saw him raise his sword, only to realize that a man, a Zuran soldier, had fallen behind him.

A voice, cold and sharp as steel, rang in his ears.

"Don’t worry. I won’t take your worthless life."

He flinched.

"I want you to remember—every time you look at your missing leg—the abominable thing you did to a fallen soldier."

"Denzel, that is his name."

Then, a severed, bloody limb flew into his arms, kicked by what he perceived as the angel of death.

His leg.

His world spun. Darkness closed in.

He lost consciousness.