Blood dripped from the head of Skullbreaker's massive hammer, slow and heavy, each drop hitting the stone floor with a wet *ploc*. The iron spikes glistened crimson under the torchlight.
Dren stood at the long table, completely unfazed. He lifted his tankard of ale, took a long, casual gulp, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The remaining knights tightened their grips on their swords until their knuckles turned white.
"Who the hell are these guys?" the commander demanded, his voice low.
Dren drained the rest of the ale in one swallow, then set the tankard down with a soft clink.
"Run," he said quietly.
"Run?" The commander stared at him, incredulous.
Behind them, the surviving knights looked toward the back of the hall where their fallen brothers lay crumpled and broken — skulls caved in, bodies twisted at unnatural angles. Fear rippled through the room like a cold wind.
"Run, you say?" The commander's voice rose, steady and defiant. "My knights… would you truly run? And carry your brothers' deaths and screams in your minds and still turn your backs? Think before you step away."
A few knights hesitated, then slipped out through the rear door. The rest stayed, swords raised, jaws set.
"This is not your fight," Dren told the commander.
"It is now," the commander replied, stepping forward.
Dren exhaled through his nose. "Your funeral." He let the empty tankard fall from his fingers. It shattered on the stone.
He turned toward the green-cloaked assassin standing in the broken doorway.
"Long time no see… my son."
The room went dead silent.
"Son?" the commander echoed, stunned.
The assassin's lips curled into a cold smile. "You still have a target on your back. This time, I'll gladly be the one to kill you." He drew a sleek, curved katana that caught the torchlight like black glass.
At the same moment, the silver-haired Bone Collector stepped in from the opposite side of the hall, spinning a long staff topped with a wicked curved blade. She moved with eerie grace, the staff whistling softly through the air.
Both bounty hunters attacked at once.
The assassin came low and fast, his katana slicing in a horizontal arc aimed at Dren's midsection. Dren parried with his sword, steel screaming against steel. At the same instant, the Bone Collector spun her staff in a wide overhead strike, forcing the commander to leap backward. The bladed end carved a deep gouge into the table behind him.
They fought in perfect sync — the assassin's precise, deadly katana cuts complemented by the Bone Collector's sweeping, crushing staff strikes. The commander lunged at the assassin, only for the Bone Collector to whip her staff around and slam the blunt end into his ribs, knocking him off balance. Dren tried to close the distance on the assassin, but the silver-haired woman spun low, sweeping his legs. He rolled aside just as the assassin's katana stabbed down, missing his throat by inches and sparking against the stone floor.
Dren countered with a brutal upward slash. The assassin blocked with the katana, then twisted and drove an elbow into Dren's jaw. The Bone Collector followed up instantly, thrusting the bladed tip of her staff straight at Dren's chest. Dren twisted at the last second — the blade sliced across his shoulder instead, drawing a hot line of blood.
The commander roared and charged the Bone Collector, sword swinging in heavy arcs. She danced backward, staff spinning like a silver whirlwind, deflecting every blow before cracking the butt of the weapon across his temple. He staggered. The assassin saw the opening and darted in, katana flashing toward the commander's exposed neck.
Dren saw it coming.
He abandoned his own defense and lunged to intercept — but Skullbreaker was already moving.
The giant's hammer came down in a brutal vertical smash, aimed straight at Dren's back as he tried to reach the commander.
Dren twisted at the last second. The hammer caught him across the shoulder instead of the spine. The impact was like being hit by a falling tree. Pain exploded through his body. He was lifted clean off his feet and hurled across the hall like a rag doll, crashing through tables and chairs before slamming into the far wall.
The Bone Collector twirled her staff with a lazy flick, the curved blade humming through the air.
"Too easy," the assassin sighed, lips curling. "And he was supposed to be better than us?"
The assassin sheathed his katana with a soft click.
"Don't take him so lightly," the Bone Collector said, already leaving the scattered tavern.
She went first to where Dren had been sent flying.
Dren lay half-buried in the rubble, eyes closed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. For a moment, he looked finished.
*How is he still standing?* she thought.
She smirked and said out loud, "You really live up to your name, Dren the Drought."
Then his lips moved.
"I've always hated that name," he said, his voice low and calm.
The Bone Collector's eyes widened.
Dren pushed himself up slowly, rubble cascading off his shoulders. Blood dripped from the gash on his shoulder and from his split lip, but his expression never changed. A cold, dangerous smile slowly spread across his face.
"It holds me back… from who I truly am." His smile widened, eyes darkening. "A coward."
Outside the shattered hall, Skullbreaker and the assassin arrived at the corner where Dren had been sent flying.
They stopped.
The Bone Collector's headless body lay crumpled against the wall, staff still clutched in her limp hand. Her silver-haired head had rolled a few feet away, eyes wide in frozen shock. Fresh blood pooled across the stone.
Dren stood over the corpse, breathing steady, his own sword now dripping.
He looked up at them, expression ice cold. He rolled his shoulder once — testing the joint where Skullbreaker's hammer had connected. Then—
"Who's next?" he asked quietly. "I'm feeling passionate today."
Chapter ends