The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 107. Floor 7 (2)

Chapter 107: 107. Floor 7 (2)

The sixteen remaining mercenaries stood in the bloody corridor, breathing fast, eyes wide as they stared at the four dead bodies at their feet. The kills were fast and brutal—too perfect, even for guys powered by the cult’s red pills. Their weapons gripped in their hands.

A huge mercenary, bigger and tougher than the rest, turned to them, his voice a loud growl. "Don’t be scared! We can take him! He’s hiding in this maze. Four blocks, four groups. Split up, check every cell. Yell if you find him. This is for our freedom!"

The mercenaries shouted back, "Freedom!" lifting their weapons high, their fear buried under the hope of escape. In moments, they split into four groups, each heading into a block of the seventh floor’s dark, twisty halls, their steps echoing off the wet stone.

In Block 3, four mercenaries moved carefully, checking the empty cells. One, a thin guy with a scarred face, whispered, "Should we really call the others if we find him?"

Another, holding a mace, grinned nastily. "Why? The boss said freedom’s for whoever brings his head, not all of us."

A third laughed quietly. "Yeah, first one to kill him gets it all. No sharing."

They stopped at a corner, the scarred guy pointing. "Split up. We’ll cover more ground." They nodded, breaking into pairs. Two went left, moving slow, peeking into each cell.

The scarred guy went ahead, looking into a dark, dirty cell, its rusty bars covered in grime. Nothing there. He started to walk away, but a weird feeling made him stop. He turned back, squinting into the shadows, the darkness moving slightly.

Suddenly, Leo emerged from the dark, fast and deadly. He kicked the rusty cell door hard, the weak bars snapping like sticks. The door slammed onto the mercenary, pinning him to the ground with a loud crash. The man gasped, clawing at the metal, his spear fell aside.

Leo stomped the door, trapping him, and pulled a longsword from his item box. "You got a job to do," he smirked, thrusting the blade through a gap in the bars, right into the man’s open mouth. The sword cut through flesh and bone, blood spraying as the mercenary twitched and dead.

The second mercenary yelled and ran towards him, swinging his sword down. Leo dodged, the blade sparking on the stone. As the man swung up, Leo grabbed his wrist, twisting hard. But no reaction.

Leo’s smirk grew. He yanked the longsword from the dead man’s body and swung, chopping off the mercenary’s sword arm. The arm fell, still moving in Leo’s hand, as the man threw a wild punch with his other fist. Leo slashed the sword through his neck, the head dropping with a wet thud, blood spilling.

"Here!" a shout came. Leo turned to see two more mercenaries run around the corner, stopping dead at the bloody scene.

Leo’s smirk widened, running the severed hand through his bloody red hair, the strands sticking to it’s fingers. He held out the hand, waving it mockingly. "Come on."

The mercenaries gritted their teeth and charged, weapons up. A shadow tendril shot from the ground, grabbing one’s leg and yanking him down, his bone snapping. The second looked back, hesitating, and Nimbus leapt from the shadows, claws ripping into his back. The man screamed, falling under the panther’s weight.

Two wraiths appeared, their purple eyes glowing. One held the fallen mercenary down, the other clawing through his spine, pulling it out in a burst of blood. Nimbus finished the second, his jaws breaking the man’s neck.

More footsteps pounded closer, other mercenaries drawn by the noise. Leo muttered, "No break, huh?" He dropped the severed hand, kicking up a fallen spear with his foot and grabbed it.

He channeled wind mana into it as he gripped the spear.

As three more mercenaries rounded the corner, Leo threw the spear, fast as lightning. It flew through the air, stabbing two men through the chest and pinning them to the wall, their bodies slumping, blood dripping.

High above, a spider clung to the ceiling, its red eyes connected the fight to Draven’s vision. As the spear hit, Draven flinched, then twisted into a wild smirk, his laugh sharp and crazy.

"Damn, this Ruler’s a nutcase, like you said, Sylo. He’s crazier than me!" Sylo and Warden stared, spooked by Draven admitting someone matched his madness. His amber eyes glinted, almost feverish. "Every kill he makes, my blood’s buzzing. I want to tear him apart myself."

Sylo’s voice was careful as she spoke. "Then shall we start the next step. He’ll kill all our subjects if we let him keep going."

Draven shook his head, his smirk growing. "No, no. We need to finish the experiment before Ash’s deadline in a few days." He turned, voice almost happy. "He’ll lose it when we show him the Ruler’s body as our best result."

A loud crash cut him off as the iron door flew open. A masked cult soldier stumbled in, breathing hard. Sylo’s anger flared, her knife flashing as she stepped forward. "How dare you barge in without permission?"

The soldier’s voice shook. "Emergency, ma’am!"

Draven’s eyes narrowed, voice cold. "Explain."

The soldier swallowed hard. "Someone’s trying to break into the prison!"

Warden laughed. "Probably some idiot lost in the woods. Kill them or use them for experiments if they’re worth it."

The soldier shook his head, trembling. "It’s one woman, attacking the front gate. She’s cutting through our soldiers like nothing, it’s like she knows what’s inside!"

Draven, Sylo, and Warden froze, eyes wide. Sylo hissed, "Who knows about this place?"

Draven’s hand touched his chin, mind racing. "Is she here for the Ruler?"

Warden frowned. "How could she find this place, even for him?" he stepped up, voice strong. "I’ll take care of it, sir. I’ll bring that intruder to you in chains." He marched out, the door slamming shut.

On the seventh floor, the mercenary leader, the last of his group, moved through the bloody hallway, his big body tense. Dead bodies were everywhere—his men, killed with scary skill.

He stopped at a cell, his breath catching as he saw a headless body hanging upside down, blood dripping slowly. A chill ran through him. Then, a quiet gulping sound broke the silence.

He turned, axe shaking in his grip. Leo stood at the hall’s end, finishing a system-grade health potion, his torn, blood-soaked coat barely holding together.

[Stamina Level Replenished: 57/59]

Leo wiped his mouth with a ripped sleeve, his red eyes locking onto the mercenary. A smirk curved his lips, voice low and mocking. "Ready to start?"