Chapter 10: Facing the Regional lord's henchmen 2

Jerusha's fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she steadied her breath. Fear coursed through her veins, but it was swiftly replaced by fury and resolve. She refused to go down without a fight.

"I am not done yet," she muttered, her voice low but resolute. Her crimson eyes burned with defiance as she straightened her posture, channeling what little strength she had left. Being a princess meant more than a title—it meant survival, cunning, and a willingness to use every trick in the book.

If they wanted her dead, they would have to earn it.

Dulip Cave rushed to face up against one of the level 6 assailants, being a level 6 himself, it was an evenly matched pairing.

Dulip Cave kept one eye on Jerusha even as he fought fiercely against the level 6 assailant.

The enemy smirked, his hammer glowing faintly with energy as he swung it. "You'll die distracted, watching over someone who's already doomed. You can't fight at full strength like this."

Dulip raised his sword to parry the attack, but the force behind the hammer nearly sent him staggering. His knees buckled for a moment, but with a determined roar, he stabilized himself. Pivoting swiftly, his sword found its mark, slicing through the enemy's ankle. The man screamed in agony, but the sound was cut short as Dulip decapitated him in one smooth motion.

Two enemies remained. Before Dulip could catch his breath, a sharp, blinding pain erupted from his shoulder. He looked down in horror to see his left arm severed cleanly, blood pouring from the wound like a crimson river.

Dulip let out a guttural scream, clutching at his shoulder. Meanwhile, the level 7 enemy had decapitated three of the four remaining women protecting Jerusha, leaving only one standing.

Despite the unbearable pain, rage filled Dulip's eyes as he focused on the remaining level 6 attacker. The man sneered, believing he had the upper hand. Dulip, however, gritted his teeth and flung a small bead from his pocket. The bead expanded midair, creating a vortex that swallowed the man whole. The bead was a one-time-use treasure, capable of instantly annihilating a level 8 ocean-opening realm expert.

Now, only the level 7 man remained. He swung his sickle in a deadly arc, his weapon flashing through the air with terrifying precision. The last remaining protector fell, her head severed cleanly from her body.

Jerusha stood her ground, defiance burning in her gaze. She glared at the level 7 man as though her fury alone could destroy him. Yet, to him, her expression was no more threatening than a whisper in the wind.

The man twirled his sickle, preparing a final, decisive strike aimed at Jerusha's throat. As the weapon hurtled toward her at breakneck speed, Dulip threw himself into its path, his body taking the full force of the attack. The sickle pierced through his chest, his blood spraying across the ground.

Jerusha barely spared him a glance. Her expression was cold, as though Dulip's sacrifice was merely his duty. Without hesitation, she retrieved a level 9 destructive talisman from her robes and activated it.

The talisman exploded in a burst of brilliant light, engulfing the level 7 man in a deadly inferno. When the smoke cleared, nothing was left of him but misty blood and scattered remains.

Breathing heavily, Jerusha stood alone amidst the carnage. Her chest heaved, her legs shaking from exhaustion, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. She was alive. That was all that mattered.

Without wasting another second, she turned and sprinted into the forest. She had no time to mourn her fallen companions. Revenge was now her only goal. She would find Jaden and return stronger, ready to exact vengeance.

Thirty minutes later, the level 10 leader arrived on the scene, accompanied by a level 9 and another level 6 subordinate. The sight of their comrades' remains left them scowling.

The leader pulled out a communication talisman. A voice came through on the other end. "Has it been handled?"

"Yes, Prince Aloysius. Everyone is dead… except Princess Jerusha. She escaped."

"It's unfortunate but acceptable. Ensure my involvement remains hidden and report to the regional lord. Once this phase is complete, I'll send your reward."

"Understood, my prince," the leader replied.

The talisman disintegrated in his hand, and the three men dispersed into the shadows, moving with blinding speed to cover their tracks.

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The princess ran as fast as her legs could carry her, ignoring the searing pain in her thighs and the burning in her lungs. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, but she didn't dare stop. She could sense the men hunting her, their presence like a shadow looming closer with every passing moment. Rest was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Eventually, she reached the border of Region 22. Her heart sank as her eyes took in the scene ahead—guards stationed at the checkpoint, their expressions sharp and vigilant. They scrutinized every person entering or leaving, comparing their faces to a sketch clutched tightly in their hands.

It was a sketch of her.

Jerusha's pulse quickened. She needed to escape tonight, before word of her presence spread further. If she were caught here, there would be no second chances.

Her eyes darted around, searching desperately for a way out. That was when she noticed a man pulling a cart covered in dark leather. The way the cart moved, light and effortless, suggested it was empty—either the man was on his way to pick up supplies, or he had already delivered his load.

An idea sparked in her mind. Steeling herself, she waited in the shadows, crouched low and perfectly still. As the cart approached her hiding spot, she moved swiftly, slipping into the back like a shadow melting into darkness. Her movements were precise, fluid, like an eel sliding through a fisherman's grasp. Once inside, she held her breath and prayed that the guards wouldn't inspect the cart.

The cart trundled forward, its wheels creaking softly against the dirt road. As it neared the checkpoint, Jerusha's heartbeat thundered in her ears.

"Stop the cart!" the lead guard commanded, stepping forward.

The man pulling the cart halted immediately, his posture stiff with unease.

"What load are you carrying back there?" the guard asked, his tone suspicious.

The cart driver adjusted his grip on the handle, his voice steady but nervous. "I'm heading to collect a delivery for the regional lord's manor."

There was a tense silence as the guard studied the man. Then, holding up the sketch of Princess Jerusha, he asked, "Have you seen this woman?"

The driver glanced at the sketch briefly before shaking his head vehemently. "No, my kind sirs. If I do, I'll be sure to inform you right away."

The guard squinted at the driver for a moment longer, then grunted. "Alright, move along."

With a wave of his hand, the guards allowed the cart to pass.

Hidden beneath the dark leather cover, Princess Jerusha let out a silent sigh of relief. Her heart pounded as the cart rolled beyond the checkpoint, leaving the border—and her pursuers—behind. She clenched her fists, silently vowing to never forget the humiliation she had suffered this night. One day, she would return stronger, and those who dared to hunt her would pay dearly.

For now, she allowed herself a moment of quiet triumph. Against all odds, she had escaped.