All Barn Er Aftur Rödd Til í Móðurarm.

CG Chapter 105: All Barn Er Aftur Rödd Til í Móðurarm.

Seeing Hidden disappearing into the large crowd, Ragnar's wrath grew further. He couldn't bear the thought of letting the enemy who had insulted him over and over again while desecrating everything he held sacred escape unpunished.

His eyes turned bloodshot, and the only thought on his mind was to hold Hidden's mangled corpse in his hand, tearing it apart piece by piece.

Ragnar rushed toward the fleeing crowd with unstoppable momentum, roaring, "Do you think this is some inn where you can come and go as you please? Today will mark your memorial. I just hope that there's someone out there who cares enough for you; because I'll send them to the afterlife to accompany you on your long journey."

Without hesitation, he plunged into the crowd like a bloodthirsty beast. Instead of waiting for them to disperse, he carved a path with nothing but his hands and body.

The unlucky souls caught in his path were crushed under his weight, their bodies mangled beyond recognition. Those fortunate enough to survive were left with fatal injuries, their cries of fear drowned out by the chaos.

The crowd couldn't believe the sight they were watching. The king who they once worshiped and revered was now blinded by rage, uncaring for their lives.

"Your Majesty, please…"

A maid trembling in fear tried to plead for mercy, but she was crushed all the same under Ragnar's rage.

Having lost all hope, the people fled in a desperate attempt to escape. They didn't want to become the next crushed corpse. However, in their panic, they began to trample over one another before Ragnar even neared them.

Meanwhile, Hidden remained nowhere to be seen, as he moved through the chaos.

Clank.

Multiple hidden weapons flew at Ragnar from all directions. Some aimed for his vital points, while others served as decoys to distract him. But the attacks only caused Ragnar's rage to grow stronger.

"Is that all you've got? I'd rather die here and take everyone with me than let you fucking bastard escape." He roared.

Hidden heard the threat but paid no mind to it. He continued moving, while his thoughts raced.

'This isn't going to work. We need to take him down now, or we'll die once we lose our cover.'

"Shit, shit, shit, I guess I would have to risk it."

Resolving himself, Hidden shifted his movements. Instead of fleeing with the crowd toward the exit, he began to slow down toward Ragnar.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of the panicked crowd faded into silence as Hidden entered a deep state of focus.

Assassins referred to this legendary state as the Void, for it was the only word that could truly describe it. A state that could be sought, but only attained by a rare stroke of fortune.

In this state, Hidden saw Ragnar as a collection of grey lines. Among them, one red line stood out, the line that marked the death point.

Swoosh.

From nowhere, Hidden struck, his dagger aimed directly at the red line. Every ounce of his strength was focused on moving alongside it.

But just as the dagger was about to connect with the line, Ragnar's massive arm lashed out like a thunderbolt. This strike sent Hidden flying through the air like a broken kite, his body crashing into the fleeing crowd.

With a triumphant grin, Ragnar laughed, "Got you."

Hidden clutched his chest, feeling the bone-crushing force of Ragnar's strike. His ribs had caved in, and the pain was excruciating. He knew that without immediate treatment, he wouldn't survive.

Knowing that he was in no condition to continue fighting, despair began to set in.

He was so close, so close to finally taking down Ragnar. Yet, despite everything they had thrown at him, Ragnar refused to die.

Looking toward the other assassins, Hidden's hopelessness only grew deeper. His voice cracked as he murmured to himself, "This can't be happening…"

Never in his life had he felt such a deep, suffocating sense of despair. The only thing that came close was the time he believed he would die before getting the chance to see the son of 'Al' Nubua.

Witnessing Hidden's shattered state, Ragnar couldn't help but savor the moment. Seeing the man who had dared to play with him reduced to such a pathetic sight was a pleasure that many would be willing to pay anything for.

Without knowing it, the raven mark engraved across his back began to fade. After all, even for a grand knight, sustaining the berserk-like form for this long was already remarkable

Suddenly!

A dagger inscribed with strange runes plunged toward Ragnar's side.

The attacker was fast, too fast in fact.

Ragnar's danger sense, dulled by exhaustion, barely registered the strike. He felt like a training dummy, stabbed at will by every would-be assassin.

Luckily, the dagger pierced only a few inches before stopping against his thick muscles.

With his massive right hand, Ragnar struck, punching the assassin in the chest. Due to the sheer force of the blow, and the assassin's grip on the dagger with all his strength, the strike didn't simply send him flying like Hidden. Instead, it created a wide hole in his body.

But that wasn't before the assassin whispered, "Thorns unwoven."

Ragnar smirked, wanting to laugh at the assassin's last words, but then…

In an instant, the dagger had dissolved into dust, transforming into root-like tendrils that burrowed into his body. They spread rapidly, wreaking havoc within him.

"All barn er aftur rödd til í móðurarm," the assassin said softly.

She struggled to remove her mask, trying to take one final breath.

She was the same assassin who had spoken to Hidden earlier, but more importantly, she was the sixth member of the Thorn Sisterhood, sent to assist Hidden and Folek.

Even as blood poured from her lips, she smiled.

Cough.

She coughed violently, her body barely holding together. But she refused to fall until she saw Ragnar completely dead.

Her voice trembled as she looked at Ragnar's body, now a twisted miss that resembled nothing human, stripped of his tyranny and pride. "This unfilial daughter… has fulfilled her duty. Forgive me, Mother…"

And with those final words, her world went black. Unaware of the legend she left behind as the killer of the king.

From Ragnar's twisted body, a raven's triumphant cries echoed as it took flight, vanishing as it flew toward an unknown place.