The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 111. Intruder alert

Chapter 111: 111. Intruder alert

On the first floor, the fancy hallway was a bloody mess, dead bodies ruining the shiny marble. Warden stood, his shirt tore, showing muscles hard as steel. His left hand held Erin Dranemount by the head, lifting her bloody, limp body. His right arm, briefly a huge axe-like blade, turned back to a hand, veins glowing with unknown mana.

He glared at the scared cult soldiers around him, their faces pale. "You weak fools, scared of this girl?" he roared. With a crunch, he crushed Erin’s skull, blood and bone splattering the wall, tossed her aside like trash, turning to the soldiers, eyes blazing. "Why do I get stuck with useless idiots while other wardens get top fighters?"

A soft, creepy voice broke the quiet. "Wow, you’re strong." The soldiers flinched, looking behind Warden.

He turned around to body, but another Erin crouched beside it, her violet eyes glinting with craziness. Her silver hair gleamed as she studied the broken body, then looked up, a manic smile on her face. "But I won’t stop until I get Leo back," she whispered as she stood.

Warden’s right arm turned into a huge, axe-like blade, while his left hand clenched. His eyes burned with anger as he growled, "Clone? You mock me with cheap moves?"

"Tricks? Oh, I’ve got plenty, big guy. Want to try them?"

Warden’s growl deepened, raising his axe-arm. "You’ll be great for the tests," he snarled, stepping forward, the marble floor cracking under him. But halfway, his body froze, eyes wide in shock. His breath stopped, his huge frame shaking like something grabbed him.

Erin’s smirk grew wild, her voice mocking. "What’s wrong? Too scared to come closer?"

A faint red line glowed around Warden’s thick neck, so thin it was hard to see. With a soft, wet sound, his head slid off, hitting the floor with a thud. His body collapsed, blood pouring out, flooding the marble. The cult soldiers around him, screamed, "Warden!" their voices breaking as they stumbled back, weapons shaking.

Erin hadn’t moved, her daggers still down. But a single, bloody thread stretched across the hallway where Warden had stepped, its sharp edge dripping with his blood. She threw her head back, laughing loud and crazy, the sound echoing off the bloody walls. "You fell for my oldest trick, big guy!" she shouted, crouching by Warden’s headless body, her smile unhinged. "I set this trap while you were smashing my clone. Pathetic."

The soldiers froze, seeing the corridor was covered in threads, hundreds, like a spider’s web, shining with danger in the dim light. Erin’s laugh stopped, her face turning cold. "Time’s up," she hissed, pulling a main thread.

The web snapped, becoming a storm of invisible blades. Threads cut through the soldiers like knives, slicing flesh, bone, and armor to pieces. Arms fell, bodies split, heads rolled, screams stopping as blood sprayed everywhere, coating the walls and ceiling. The slaughter lasted seconds, leaving a pile of chopped-up bodies, blood flowing like rivers on the marble. A few red drops stuck to Erin’s cheek; she wiped them off.

With a flick of her wrist, the threads turned to mana sparks and vanished. Erin stepped forward, her boots splashing in blood, her daggers vanishes as she headed for the staircase to the second floor.

"Bloody silence," she muttered.

In the observation room, Draven’s fist smashed the table, cracking the wood as he yelled, "What the hell is going on?" His amber eyes burned, a jolt of fear hitting him as he felt Warden’s death—a quick, brutal kill that shook him. "Warden was one of our best," he muttered, voice low and angry. "How did someone take him out?"

Sylo stood behind him, her calm breaking, her violet eyes dark with worry. "Should we call the main base?" she asked, voice steady but pressing.

Draven cut her off, shouting, "And let Ash have my head? No way!" His voice turned bitter. "I should’ve killed that damn Ruler when we had him." He hit the table again, wood splitting, his knuckles bloody.

Calming down, Draven’s voice went cold, in charge. "Start the evacuation. Clear the experiment floor—every vial, every paper. Leave nothing. If she’s got backup, we’re done."

Sylo nodded, grabbing a glowing mana device from the desk. Her voice boomed through the prison’s system, clear and scary: "Emergency! Intruder in the prison. Evacuate now. Experiment floor, grab all important stuff. Guards, protect the place at all costs."

Draven headed for the door, fists tight, but Sylo stepped in front of him, hand on his chest. "Draven, you don’t need to fight. Only you can start the teleport array. Lead the evacuation."

His eyes flared, stubborn. "Those two are wrecking my prison. I want to kill the Ruler myself."

Sylo’s voice sharpened. "He’s not your match, Draven. I’ll deal with them. I’ll bring you their bodies—the Ruler and that woman."

Draven paused, jaw clenched, unsure. Sylo moved closer, grabbing his shirt, pulling him into a fierce kiss. She stepped back, eyes locked on his. "We need you for this. Please. Go."

"Be careful," he said quietly. Sylo nodded, walking out. Draven watched her go, his face hardening, then turned to start the evacuation.

On the sixth floor, Leo walks toward the staircase, the number "6" scratched into the wall. The prison’s announcement about an intruder and evacuation echoed, but his foggy mind barely noticed. His body hurt with every step, ribs sore from the bald leader’s explosion, blood loss making him dizzy.

"This freak cult loves their damn explosions," he muttered.

He reached the fifth floor’s door, pushing it open with a groan. The sight stopped him. Unlike the dark, cell-filled floors below, this looked like a clean hospital—white tiled walls, flickering mana lights, the air smelling of blood and medicine. The hallway was quiet, empty. Leo stepped in, his boots loud, peeking into rooms. Each was almost empty—bloody tables, scattered vials, shiny tools, but no people.

Then, a faint sound broke the quiet—a little girl’s voice, scared and pleading. "Please... no, let me go!"

Leo’s heart jumped, his crimson eyes locking on the sound. "Vivien?" he whispered, adrenaline pushing past his pain. He ran towards the source. The cries got louder, guiding him to a locked door.

Inside, Lysa was tied to a bloody table, leather straps tied her wrists and ankles. Two masked cult soldiers stood over her, undoing the straps with cold focus.

One muttered, "Do we really need to take her?"

The other nodded, voice icy. "Her mana’s strong. She’ll make more serum. We need her."

Footsteps pounded outside, and the soldiers turned. With a loud crash, Leo kicked the door open, hinges breaking as it slammed against the wall. He stood in the doorway, the Blood Dragger shining. His red eyes glared at the soldiers.

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