Once inside his lord house, Arthur moved with practiced ease, heading straight for the wardrobe nestled in the far corner of the room. It creaked open to reveal not regal robes or ornate armor, but a carefully prepared ensemble tailored for concealment and maneuverability.
He reached for the outfit—dark as the midnight sky, its shadow-dyed fabric seeming to drink in the lamplight around it. Each piece was enchanted, woven with spells designed to suppress magical signatures and silence movement. The material hugged the body without restricting it, built for swift action in enemy territory.
He slid on the reinforced underlayer first, a flexible yet durable weave lined with mana-threaded padding over vital areas. Next came the lightweight chestplate, made from refined midnight steel—impervious to standard detection spells. A leather harness crossed his torso, the straps housing a set of concealed throwing knives—balanced for precision and speed. His boots were lined with silence runes, each step quieter than a whisper. A dark hood and mask, both enchanted to veil identity and aura, completed the ensemble.
He checked his side blades—thin, curved daggers with obsidian hilts—before strapping them to his thighs.
Fully equipped, Arthur gave one final glance in the mirror—not as a lord, but as a shadow.
Then he stepped outside.
The cool night air greeted him, and under the pale light of the twin moons, Seraphina was already waiting near the steps of the Lord's House. She, too, had traded her princess attire for a more practical set of travel leathers and a dark cloak lined with silver threading. Her hair was tied back, and a quiet resolve burned in her violet eyes.
Arthur gave her a single approving nod.
Without a word, the two descended the stone steps together and moved swiftly through the moonlit courtyard, where two familiar figures were already waiting—Diana and Kaelira Nightveil, commanders of the assassin forces. The two women blended almost seamlessly into the night, cloaked in layers of enchanted black and deep indigo. Only the gleam of their eyes and the faint glimmer of polished weapons marked their presence.
Arrayed behind them, standing in perfect silence, were 5,000 elite assassin soldiers—each of them Gold Rank, handpicked for this mission. The sight was both awe-inspiring and chilling. Every one of them stood with deadly discipline, cloaked and masked, equipped with twin daggers, throwing needles, and short swords forged for swift, silent kills.
Though the Shadow Unit and Ghost Walker Unit combined boasted a staggering 67,500 assassin-type soldiers, Arthur had deliberately chosen only a fraction for this operation. This mission demanded stealth, not force.
Bringing tens of thousands would have risked alerting the enemy, especially when both the kobolds city and Dark City's forces were involved in a long-standing conflict near the treasure vault.
As Arthur approached, Diana stepped forward and bowed slightly, one hand over her chest.
"All units are prepared to depart, my lord," she said, her voice like silk over steel.
Kaelira mirrored the gesture. "Our scouts have already mapped out the south route. We will remain undetected unless provoked."
Arthur glanced at the horizon. The southern skies were cloaked in thick clouds, the stars dimmed, and the night air heavy with moisture. It was the perfect time to move—visibility was low, and sound would carry poorly.
"Then we march," Arthur said, his voice calm but edged with resolve.
And like whispers carried by the wind, the force moved—swift and silent.
In a matter of seconds, their silhouettes vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only faint traces in the dew-slicked grass. Moving faster than an ordinary eye could track, their speed was inhuman, their footsteps ghostly. The wind barely stirred in their wake.
Their agility was flawless, honed through years of training and augmented by mana. They leapt from rock to root, gliding over uneven terrain without disturbing so much as a single loose stone. Not a word was spoken. Only the rustle of their cloaks and the rhythmic beat of determined breath marked their passage through the dense night.
Arthur was also able to keep up with them because of his lord's status and he was almost already gold rank, he was not able to advance is because he hasn't awakened his domain yet.
Arthur led the formation, flanked by Seraphina, Diana, and Kaelira. The soldiers—5,000 Gold Rank assassins—flowed behind them in a tight, ordered formation, each squad spaced perfectly, constantly scanning the surroundings as they moved.
After several minutes of uninterrupted movement through a quiet stretch of hills, Arthur glanced toward Diana.
"Diana," he asked, not slowing his pace, "how long will it take to reach the vault at this pace?"
She answered without hesitation, her tone precise and focused. "At our current speed, we will reach the vault in just under five hours, my lord. We're covering nearly 150 kilometers per hour without strain. We'll arrive before dawn."
Then she glanced at him again, her voice softening with a note of curiosity. "My lord… if we travel an additional three hundred kilometers beyond the vault, we'll be within direct visual range of the outer defenses of Dark City."
She paused briefly, gauging his reaction. "Do you wish to scout the city once our mission is complete? Even from afar, it may offer valuable insight."
Arthur didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed ahead, thoughtful. Seraphina's gaze followed his, while Kaelira gave a small nod of approval, clearly interested in the possibility.
They continued pressing forward.
The further they went, the more the terrain changed. Shadows shifted across the pathless land as they passed through clusters of thornwood trees and into a stretch of cracked, rocky terrain. Magic tingled in the air—wild, natural mana radiating from the land itself.
Soon, Arthur raised his hand, signaling a short pause as he observed their surroundings more closely.
Even in the dim light, his sharp eyes caught sight of multiple energy signatures in the distance. They were faint but distinct—mana flickers marking the presence of nearby landmarks and monsters. Some areas glowed like beacons on the horizon, while others pulsed with barely contained hostility.
"Look," Seraphina whispered, pointing. "Resource points… and monster territories."
Sure enough, spread across the hills, valleys, and winding canyons ahead were a variety of strategic locations. Arthur's gaze moved from one to the next with analytical precision.
They passed a Mini Gathering Area nestled beneath a rocky overhang, swarming with low-tier goblinoids and forest creatures. A short distance later, they glimpsed a Small Gathering Area, guarded by elemental beasts and shadow trolls—likely a place with rare elemental cores.
They didn't stop, but as they crossed a ridgeline, Arthur caught sight of more.
An Average Gathering Zone, thick with beast tracks and tainted mana. A Medium Area, defended by a horde of silver-tier monsters… and finally, to the far east, just before the distant outline of the vault's general direction—a Large Monster Gathering Area, densely packed and clearly dangerous even from this distance.
"I've seen these on the map," Arthur thought, narrowing his eyes, "but seeing them now… it's different." he treats these monsters gathering area as a feast, which will make him even more stronger.
The terrain had depth. The opportunity was real.
"These resource points will need to be claimed," he continued silently. "And those monster gathering zones… they'll have to be purged. They will be sleeping stone for my territory's future and strength."
His fist clenched slightly as they passed another hilltop, the faint growls and movement of creatures audible in the distance.
But he remained focused.
For now, the treasure vault was their objective.
The march continued—silent, swift, and lethal—like a storm of shadows threading through the darkness. They traveled beneath the canopy of a sleeping world, shadows among shadows, carried on wings of discipline and purpose.
But what was expected to take five hours only took three.
Their elite speed and efficiency shaved time from the journey, and now they stood on a stony ridge overlooking the valley below—coated in darkness and tension.
Arthur raised a hand, signaling everyone to halt.
Below them, the terrain was scarred—evidence of both conflict and excavation. The ancient willow tree that once marked the sacred burial of the vault was gone. Completely uprooted. Its massive trunk had been dragged to the side like a discarded relic, and its roots lay exposed and torn from the earth.
Seraphina stepped forward beside Arthur. Her cloak billowed slightly in the night wind, her face still hidden behind her veil-like mask. But even that couldn't conceal the storm in her eyes. Cold. Distant. Burning with a quiet, simmering fury.
Arthur followed her gaze downward.
What once was a peaceful, sacred ground was now a contested zone. Rough fortifications had been erected—a makeshift stronghold of sharpened wood, stone barricades, and repurposed monster bones. At least a hundred goblins and kobolds were stationed around the perimeter, their movements precise and guarded, with patrols alternating shifts and runners reporting to clustered tents.
Floodlight crystals illuminated the area in a pale, eerie glow.
At the heart of it all, dug deep into the earth, sat a massive silver vault. Its surface shimmered faintly with protective runes and defensive enchantments. Roughly five hundred cubic meters in volume, it was clear this vault hadn't been created by ordinary craftsmen. It was a relic of a bygone age—unbreakable, immovable, unyielding.
"They made a small fort," Arthur muttered, eyes narrowing. "And a truce, by the looks of it. They know the vault can't be opened without the key… and until one of them finds it, neither side is willing to let the other near it alone."
"They're locked in a stalemate," Kaelira whispered from behind him, surveying the terrain.
Diana nodded. "Each side is just waiting for the other to make a move—or for someone to bring them the key."
Arthur's gaze lingered on the vault, then shifted to Seraphina.
Though her veil remained, he could feel the shift in her aura. Tense. Icy. Her fists had clenched at her sides. Her eyes burned with quiet rage—more than just anger, it was personal.
"How dare they…" she whispered, voice low, but sharp as steel. "How dare they covet the legacy of my kingdom… our last treasure. The blood of my ancestors guards that vault. And these… creatures, these vermin dare trample upon it as if it were theirs to claim."
Her voice trembled with fury, barely restrained.
Arthur stepped closer, lowering his tone. "Seraphina."
She didn't respond, still staring daggers at the enemy below.
Gently, Arthur placed a hand on her back—firm, steady, reassuring. The cold wind tousled their cloaks as he leaned slightly closer, voice soft but resolute.
"Don't lose your composure," he said. "They haven't taken what lies within—and they never will."
His thumb moved gently against her back in a small circular motion—comforting. Grounding. She didn't flinch from the touch. Instead, her fists slowly loosened.
Arthur's gaze hardened as he returned to surveying the fortified camp. "We'll retrieve your kingdom's legacy. Every last coin. Every relic. Every secret. Not one of them will ever touch it."
Seraphina's voice was a whisper now, but it carried an edge. "I will see them punished."
Arthur gave a short nod. "And they will be. But not here. Not now. First, we reclaim what is yours… quietly. Without setting off a war."
Diana and Kaelira remained silent, watching the scene with respect. Around them, the assassins remained perfectly still—alert, disciplined, waiting for the command.
Below, the vault gleamed under the crystal lights like a silver heart buried in stone, pulsing with secrets, surrounded by enemies who dared to hope.
But none of them knew the key had arrived.
And none of them would ever see the inside of that vault.
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