Kaladin Shadowheart’s POV.

“It was their mistake thinking I was alone this entire time. And it was an even graver mistake thinking they could kill me and get away with it. They are all going to die tonight,” I told Sylros.

Sylros blinked a few times but nodded to himself as he mumbled, “I see…of course you aren’t alone. Did you foresee that something like this would happen?”

Well, I didn’t. This was just a backup to the backup of plans that Queen Maxwell had set up.

“Mostly,” I said with a shrug.

Sylros shook his head in disbelief. I was surprised to see him moving through the alleyways in the middle of the night. Lin and her people had already caught wind of suspicious movements from Sandervile nobles, and we kept up with appearances, fully prepared to kill some assassins tonight.

However, Sylros was not part of those calculations. At first, when I caught him lurking about, I thought he was going to be used as a sacrifice or maybe even a martyr. After all, Tris and Adria are still too important to be killed off or used in such a blatant and considered manner. And considering our current environment, a head butler skulking around in the dark slums at night was only slightly more believable than two noble ladies.

After I realized he was alone with no assassins watching over him, I thought that maybe he was a contingency. Whoever was orchestrating all of this was probably aware that I was close to Sylros, maybe close enough that I would let my guard down around him and allow him to kill me. Personally, I never knew how strong Sylros was, or if he was even capable of fighting, so I thought it prudent to keep him at arm's distance away.

However, now that I’ve spoken to him and heard what he had to say…I’m confident that he came alone and that he genuinely meant to warn me of the impending danger. Even though he has a hidden blade under his cloak, he is posturing to use it defensively if at all.

But the question was why? Wasn’t Sylros loyal to Mayor Sandervile and, therefore, loyal to Sandervile? My death would be to their benefit. There is no doubt about that. So why was he going against the movement of Sandervile’s nobles, and even coming to warn me could be seen as admittance to the crime…

He even seemed slightly hurt when I mentioned that I viewed him in a similar light to Muriel…how odd. Well, I don’t have time to think about it right now.

Sylros’s head snapped toward the sound of blades clashing in the distance. It seemed one of us was engaged in combat and was having a hard time, and the ones behind me…well, they didn’t get very far.

“Kaladin—you must leave now. I—”

I let out a deep sigh and interrupted him. “Sylros, I basically told you not to worry. The two people here with me aren’t weak enough to lose to some assassins. If anything, I’m going to have to request that you keep that hood tight and hide your face as much as possible. Actually, don’t even talk anymore if you can help it, as I imagine you would like to return to Sandervile, not in a body bag killed by the people you serve.”

Sylros pulled his hood down meekly. “Yes, that would be ideal…thank you.”

On time, I felt the spell core behind me, and the shadows on the wall warped and wobbled. The murky darkness turned into my father, whose black cloak and ornate spear were covered in splatters of blood.

“That didn’t take you very long,” I mentioned.

Dad shrugged and flicked the blood off his Mythril spear. “They never saw me coming, and I caught most of them mid-air. I kept one alive but cut his hands and feet off. I shoved some Blood Root into his wounds, but he’ll probably bleed out if he doesn’t see a healer soon.”

“That’s good but probably unnecessary, right? Considering the leader of these guys is coming this way?” I said.

“That is true…is there any reason to let them get this close in the first place? Same thing with this guy?” Dad questioned as he looked down at Sylros.

Sylros shrank back slightly under my father’s intense gaze and cold words, but I nodded and said, “Yes, this is a good man right here. Thank you for not killing him immediately, Dad. And for keeping these guys alive…well, it’s best to hear what they yap about first, or so the queen said. But would you mind taking Sylros here somewhere safe and out of sight for me?”

“I can do that, but if things look bad for even a moment, I’m going to wipe them out,” Dad said coolly as he grabbed Sylros by the scruff of his neck and brought him to eye level with ease.

“And Sylros, huh? I heard you were the butler for Sandervile while my son was a slave, right? Maybe I should talk to you for a bit…”

“Go easy on him,” I chuckled.

Dad smirked as he poured mana into his legs, and with a single leap, he had already jumped onto the roof of a second-story building. Within a matter of seconds, I couldn’t hear his footsteps or sense his presence anymore.

Now, then, let’s see who I have the privilege of speaking to next.

It took them about a minute or two for them to reach me, but a group of about ten men made their way toward me. The three at the front stood out in stark contrast to those in the back. The men standing behind were all wearing face coverings, wearing a dull grayish-black color, and wielding weapons from knives to curved swords.

Those men were all dark-skinned and Human, which meant they were either from or descendants of people from The Dunes. If our intel was correct, they were assassins from a small and close-knit group called the Cursed Sands that prided themselves on being poison magic users. Apparently, they had been giving Lin and her people some trouble over the years, so them finally crawling out of their holes to be executed was just a bonus tonight.

No, it was the three in front of the assassins that stood out the most. At least the assassins came dressed for the occasion. Outside of the shabby cloaks and hoods meant to “hide” their identities, the three young men were very clearly nobles. The clothes underneath practically sparkled in the face of the grime and filth of the slums. Their skin was fair, their hair well maintained, and they were even proud enough, or in this case, dumb enough, to wear bright orange…

But they seem… familiar…the one in the middle I fought first in the tournament, but the two to his sides…what were their names again?

“Isn’t it a bit too late for such a renowned person as yourself to be walking around in a destitute part of town?” the front one mocked.

“That’s right, that’s right. Wouldn’t people think poorly of the Dragonslayer going into the slums? Moving about during the night in secret?” the right one said.

“Especially if he was doing things he shouldn’t…who knew he had a penchant for cheap whores?” the left one said with a chuckle.

Is this an attempt to mock me…or are they trying to rile me up? I honestly feel nothing for their words. Is it because I know they are going to die?

I tilted my head to the side. “Do I know any of you from somewhere to be caring about what I do in my free time?” I asked casually.

“That’s right! You do know us!” the front who I fought previously announced proudly.

Ah…his name…I really don’t remember it. Not because I forgot, but I just never bothered to put it to memory because it wasn’t important enough.

“So…you are who again?” I asked.

The front guy balled his fists and tossed his hood off in anger. “Nathaniel Issack! Of House Issack!”

“Ah…okay then. What about you two? Who are you?” I asked again.

“Sobirvu of House Pien!” the right one announced.

“Gabriel of House Oda!” said the left one.

Oh, yes…these two…ah, it’s been some years, hasn’t it? They were lackeys of Dillian Stav, that’s right. That’s also why I don’t care to remember them.

“Good to know. So Nathaniel, Sobirvu, and Gabriel…any reason you have armed men poised to strike me down with you tonight?” I questioned.

“We will have our revenge! Did you truly think Sandervile would let you walk away after killing one of our own?! You must be a fool!” Gabriel barked.

“That’s right!” Sobirvu echoed.

So, revenge for Dillian, huh? At least it makes some sense. But I’m sure there is more to it. Sandervile wouldn’t let them come here if it was just for revenge, but it’s all the same to me in the end.

“Look at you quake! You aren’t even attempting to flee because you know it’s useless! We even brought our best to deal with your singular bodyguard! Not even a retired War God is a match for the leader of the Cursed Sands!” Nathaniel announced proudly.

I guess that explains why the professor is having a hard time and hasn’t made it back. He must be fighting someone with decent skills, then.

“If you grovel before us in your final moments, I’ll make sure your death is swift and painless,” Nathaniel said with a large grin spreading across his face.

In truth, his hubris wasn’t completely unfounded. The three nobles of Sandervile were whelps compared to me, but the seven assassins were nothing to scoff at. Two of them had souls that were at least as strong as mine, and the rest were somewhere between Ruby and Amethyst adventurers.

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If I were to have been surprised by this group of assassins alone…I might have actually perished. Well, that’s why I’m not alone. I guess I’ll make some noise, kill a few of them in the process, and have Dad help mop up the rest.

“He’s preparing to fight!” one of the assassins shouted.

My spear materialized from thin air as I readied a spell core. The seven assassins had spread out and were already closing in on me. But our attention was briefly grabbed by something else.

I heard it first. The sound of something crashing through something followed by stone cracking and wood splintering. There was a loud whoosh, and I looked up into the air just in time to see a blur move past. There was a sickening crunch followed by an immediate splat as something hit the center of the alley and exploded into globs of red.

I—a person’s body isn’t supposed to do that. Did a man just hit the ground so hard that he exploded? And that laugh…no way…

There was another loud series of crashing and a thunderous boom as something crushed the ground into an impact crater. Well, it wasn’t something but rather someone.

“Haha! Finally, I’ve arrived, Kaladin! Why do you insist on not inviting me to these things?! I had to wring one of my ministers out, you know!” King Maxwell bellowed as the smoke cleared around him.

Sorry, mister unknown minister, I feel bad even though I don’t know you. And honestly…what’s the point of even keeping the king in the dark about anything? He’ll just show up anyway, and it’s not like anyone can stop him.

In the king’s hand was…another hand that was clearly not his. He used it to point at the group of assassins who were slowly stepping away from him.

“Friends of yours? No, wait, they look like this one! Should they be dealt with? What about those three little ducks in the back?” King Maxwell shouted as he tossed the bodyless hand with a small splat to the side.

“It’s in our best interest to kill them all at this point…” I said with a sigh.

King Maxwell burst forward with tremendous speed while shouting, “Finally! My blood has been PUMPING all night! Now show me blade-wielding assassins what you are made of!”

The first assassin was still stepping back when the king’s fist reached him. He managed to bring his sword up to block, but I watched as King Maxwell simply punched through it. Metal shards flew off and into the assassin’s face, followed by a giant first that literally reduced his head to empty space and red mist.

To the assassins’ credit, they maneuvered well. Two of them surrounded the king on either side, their blades dripping with a sickly purple substance, while two more climbed the side of the buildings to get a height advantage. Not wanting to be a bystander, I sent some Stone Bullets as the climbers, and they managed to deflect one or two each, but with the cracks of gunshots, the two men fell to the cold floor, limp and unresponsive.

I watched as Bishop stepped into one of the assassins with a front kick, sending him flying away. The second one sliced at King Maxwell, but there was a loud clink as the sword bounced off a section of purple crystal that grew on his forearm. The assassin’s eyes went wide, and he attempted to bring out a hidden blade covered in poison, but King Maxwell just grabbed him by the arm.

I could hear the bones in the man’s arm get crushed to dust just from his grip strength alone. The assassin who was flung away threw a hail of poison daggers at the king, so I silenced him with a Stone Bullet to the forehead. King Maxwell brought up his newfound meat shield to block the daggers, only to toss him away and into a wall with another splat.

At least he didn’t completely destroy that body…not that it matters either way.

“Well, this was far less fun than I anticipated. Only a single exchange and there are only two left…” King Maxwell said with a sigh as he walked over to the last two assassins that had retreated.

King Maxwell looked off to the side and grinned. “Now that sounds like more fun! Garrison, my friend! Bring the fight to me!”

The sounds of swords exchanging in the distance stopped and were quickly replaced by the sound of people sprinting at full speed. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them running across the rooftops, exchanging more blows with each other until they finally came in sight.

Professor Garrison went airborne as a large figure batted him down with a black mace. The professor blocked it with his sword, but the force sent him into the ground, landing right next to King Maxwell.

“Look at you, Kelly! You actually ran here! Were you having such a hard time after all? Hahaha!” King Maxwell chuckled as he looked down at the rising Professor Garrison.

“Shut it! You can’t be making fun of me when I’m over here fighting for my life! He’s a muscle-bound freak, just like you! And he’s got all those hidden knives I can’t let touch me, damn it!” Professor Garrison snarled.

King Maxwell let out another hearty laugh as he grabbed Professor Garrison by the pauldrons and hoisted him up completely. “Well, I suppose I can handle this for you! You finish off the little runts over there, and I’ll handle this kitty that was giving you a good beating!”

Professor Garrison sighed and readied his sword, and grumbled, “Sure thing…just don’t die.”

“Naturally!” the king shouted as he walked forward.

The newcomer who was fighting the professor was wearing the same dark gray garb as the others, but he was an entirely different beast. His thick muscles bulged out from his clothes, as did the dirty brown fur. The True Beastmen stood almost as tall as King Maxwell and emanated a fierce bloodlust as he readied his mace and sword.

But he seems just shy of being a War God in terms of his soul. His physical strength and mana enhancement might have been highly attuned to each other, pushing him over the edge in power.

“Fighting the king was not part of the plan,” the True Beastmen growled at the Sandervile nobles behind him.

“Do you think it’s natural to assume a king would be here?!” Nathaniel shouted frantically as he and the other two cowered away.

The True Beastmen just grunted and let his yellow cat eyes stare over the top of his shield. “You two, alert the others to leave immediately.”

The two assassins that were left didn’t even acknowledge their orders and immediately sprinted off into the dark alleys. Professor Garrison sprinted after one but left the other as he knew my father would handle it. There was simply no way those two were going to survive, so there was no point in worrying about it.

“Shall we!” King Maxwell said, delighted as he spread his arms out wide.

The Beastmen grunted, and the king took that as a start. King Maxwell rushed toward him, and there was a series of small tinks as daggers helplessly hit the ground after coming into contact with the purple crystals on the king’s body.

King Maxwell punched straight into the shield that the assassin brought up, and to my surprise, the assassin managed to take the blow successfully and block King Maxwell’s attack. The Beastmen sent heavy swings of his black mace that blurred the air as he tried to hit the king, but King Maxwell deftly sidestepped them and sent a knee that was once again blocked by the shield.

There was a faint sound that was nearly inaudible as King Maxwell batted the shield away with a crystalized hand. At the center of a shield was a small needle-like piece of metal that was covered in more poison. The Beastmen snarled at his failed attempt and went for more heavy swings of his mace.

Instead of dodging, King Maxwell stepped into one of the swings and took the blow directly to a crystalized forearm. A few of the layers broke apart, smashed to dust with pure strength, but that was all. The Beastmen was on the downswing and opened to a direct blow that the king capitalized on.

A punch was aimed directly at the Beastmen’s side when another sound alerted the king to a hidden blade, this time on the side of the shield. A larger crystal wall appeared, separating the king’s exposed front leg from the blade. The Beastmen followed through with another downward swing, fully intent on crushing King Maxwell.

However, with frightening agility for such a large man, King Maxwell dropped the floor and, while on his hands, extended his legs straight up into the path of the mace, kicking it up into the air. It was mind-boggling to see the king move in such a way and apply such force to a mere upward kick while balancing on his hands.

Like a gymnast, the king pushed himself back up to his feet with a wide grin. “Now, this is way more fun!”

In the corner of my eye, I caught the three Sandervile stooges trying to escape but covered their existence with an earthen wall. I wanted to send a spell over just to kill them, but I was afraid that if I did something to interrupt this high-speed fight, I would endanger the king unnecessarily. It was just better to observe and corral the others while counting this as a rare opportunity to see Bishop fight with the intent to kill.

Also…getting in the way of his fun might not end well for me…how is it that a king is casually fighting an assassin and declaring that he is having a good time?

King Maxwell gut-punched the assassin and sent him sprawling backward. He coughed up a glob of blood, and I could hear the Beastmen wheezing in pain—probably from a broken rib or ten.

The Beastman made a desperate charge forward and, at the same time, lobbed what looked to be a handful of tiny sacks at the king. The king, forced into an awkward position, had to block the oncoming charge and the tiny sacks, but for him, it was nothing.

A shield of crystal grew from the ground and intercepted the sacks, which exploded into a sickly gray powder. King Maxwell backpedaled as the Beastmen burst forward and through the crystal, already posed for a giant horizontal swing.

However, King Maxwell did not immediately fret as he once again formed more crystals to block the mace strike. But the Beastmen did something odd. Even though his strike was blocked, he followed through not with another swing but a fast-moving lunge inward.

The Beastmen bared his fangs, breaking through the mask that covered his cat-like face. The sharp fangs bared down straight into the king’s shoulder, but there was only the sound of loud crunching. And it wasn’t the crunching of bone or flesh but of rock.

King Maxwell simply grabbed the fiercely struggling Beastmen by the back of his neck and tossed him away with ease. The unfortunate Beastmen staggered up on his feet, his teeth shattered and dripping purplish poison mixed with red blood. It seemed he had attempted a last-ditch effort only to fail miserably.

I watched as King Maxwell reared back, placing all his weight on his back leg. A purple disk made of crystal magic began to form in his hands as the king spun around on the balls of his feet and launched himself forward.

“You’ve earned some respect! Now, dodge this!” King Maxwell bellowed.

The king’s mere step onto the ground crushed the floor beneath him, followed by a boom. The disk was a blur, flying through the air like a buzzsaw shot from a cannon. The Beastmen assassin brought his shield up to block it, but…that was just it; he tried to block it.

There was a scream, accompanied by the sound of flesh being rendered along with another set of screams, followed by a thunderous crash and the collapse of a building. It was a good thing we had sent the citizens in the area to another location discreetly because that would have been a family dead. The king’s thrown disk has gone through the Beastmen, through the Sandervile nobles hiding behind him down the alley, and into and probably through the first building.

“Oops… I thought he would have definitely blocked that…” King Maxwell said with a shrug.

What a monster…that was all just a game to him. If Professor Garrison is a War God, and so is the king…just how many levels apart are they? Ten? Twenty? How the hell do I quantify that difference?

And Grandpa…if King Maxwell is the strongest War God…just how powerful is the weakest Exarch?

“You are cleaning all of this up, by the way…” I mumbled.

King Maxwell flicked around with a shocked look. “What?! No, I’m not! I came in to save the day!”

“You know my father was with me, right?” I questioned.

“Alanis?! He was here too!? Ah…I would have liked to fight alongside him again…what a shame…” the king said with slumped shoulders.

“…I’ll be heading back to the arena to see Cerila and Sylvia…handle things, will you?” I said as I walked away.

“Wait! Kaladin, you don’t seem pleased with my performance! I can continue if you would like!” King Maxwell shouted at my back.

That would be a problem as there are no targets for you to pulverize anymore…