Chapter 13: To Rouge Town

Henry Guhn had not been born into power, nor had he inherited his rank through noble bloodlines. He was a man who earned his place through sheer will and battle-hardened experience.

Born in the capital city of Yore, Henry had grown up in the lower districts—a place where survival meant learning how to fight early. He enlisted in the Royal Guard at age 17, not out of patriotism, but out of necessity.

At 21, he fought in the Bandit Siege of Yore, where a force of 2,000 raiders attempted to breach the city walls. With only 300 Royal Guards at the time, they were outnumbered seven to one. But Henry stood firm.

When his captain fell, he took command, rallying the remaining guards and holding the gates for three days. By the time reinforcements arrived, only 50 Royal Guards remained standing—and Henry was one of them.

His bravery was recognized by King Fredrik Dimas, who granted him a promotion directly to captain. From that day, Henry became one of the most respected Royal Guard leaders, stationed at Guards' Point to oversee security in Woodsaw.

But now, everything he had built was gone.

The night was cold and merciless as Henry, Kaiser, Elric, Espada, and the five surviving Royal Guards trudged through the wilderness, moving toward Rouge Town.

Their armor was dented, their weapons dulled, and their bodies exhausted from the failed defense of Guards' Point.

The revolutionaries had completely overrun the fortress. The only thing left for them was survival.

"We move quickly," Henry instructed, his voice firm but low. "Rouge Town is dangerous, but it's the only place we can regroup."

The others nodded, but Espada kept her hand near her weapon.

"Rouge Town isn't just dangerous," she muttered. "It's a death trap if you don't know how to play the game."

An Ambush in the Dark – The First Losses

Halfway through their journey, the silence of the night was broken by the twang of a bowstring.

An arrow struck the throat of one of the Royal Guards. He collapsed instantly, dead before he hit the ground.

"Ambush!" Elric roared, raising his flail.

From the trees, six revolutionaries rushed forward, their weapons glinting in the moonlight.

Henry reacted instantly, raising his shield and blocking a spear thrust, before slamming his gauntlet into an attacker's face.

Kaiser darted into the shadows, appearing behind one of the rebels and slicing his hamstring, dropping him to the ground.

Espada moved like a ghost, weaving between enemies, her scimitar slashing throats in quick, silent motions.

Elric swung his flail with a roar, smashing a revolutionary's chest in a single brutal hit.

But despite their efforts, two more Royal Guards fell.

One was impaled through the back, the other cut down before he could raise his sword.

The remaining guard—wounded and gasping—fell to his knees.

The last soldier, filled with panic, threw his sword down and fled into the darkness.

Henry gritted his teeth. He wanted to chase the coward—but there was no time.

He grabbed the wounded guard and pulled him forward. "We keep moving!"

Arrival at Rouge Town – The Assassins Strike

By the time they reached Rouge Town, the sky was beginning to lighten.

Rouge Town was unlike any other city in Mezolith. It was not governed by kings, nor ruled by law—it was a city where mercenaries, thieves, and killers thrived.

As they entered the outskirts, the group exhaled in relief—only for it to be ripped away in an instant.

Two figures emerged from the shadows, moving faster than human eyes could follow.

SHNK!

A dagger slit the throat of the wounded Royal Guard.

The last standing Royal Guard turned, sword raised—but a second assassin buried a blade into his heart.

Both men collapsed without a sound.

Kaiser and Elric immediately reached for their weapons, but Henry raised a hand.

"Wait."

From the darkness, a man stepped forward.

Hensley Poschner.

Hensley Poschner – The Leader of The Crow

Hensley Poschner was an enigma.

His long black coat swayed as he moved, and his piercing silver eyes studied the four survivors with an amused glint.

Despite his relaxed stance, an unmistakable aura of danger radiated from him.

Hensley was the leader of The Crow, an elite group of assassins that operated from Rouge Town's underworld.

His Quas Blood status was unknown. There were rumors that he possessed not one, but two Hand of God abilities—though no one had ever confirmed which ones.

His weapon proficiency was unmatched—daggers, shurikens, throwing needles—he could wield them all with terrifying precision.

His most infamous ability was Eye of the Crow—a technique that allowed him to predict an opponent's next move by reading muscle twitches and combat stance.

And in the world of assassins, that made him nearly untouchable.

AWL Rank: A Bronze.

Taken to The Nest – The Crow's Base

"You've brought trouble to my doorstep," Hensley remarked, his voice smooth but edged with danger.

"We need supplies," Henry replied, standing his ground. "We'll pay."

Hensley's smirk widened. "You think we're a marketplace, Captain?"

The assassins surrounding them tensed, weapons ready.

Kaiser could feel the cold sweat dripping down his back.

Finally, Hensley sighed. "You're lucky I'm bored."

Hensley's Offer – A Fight for Survival

"I'll make you a deal," Hensley said, stepping closer.

"You want supplies? Fine. But one of you fights in my arena first."

Henry didn't hesitate. "I'll do it."

Hensley chuckled, his eyes glinting. "Brave. Stupid—but brave."

He turned, gesturing toward the entrance to The Nest's underground arena.

"Your opponent will be Gurka the Fast."

The Arena – Special Fight: Henry Guhn vs. Gurka the Fast

The underground arena was a pit of bloodstained stone and steel bars.

Hensley stood above it, watching from a private balcony as Gurka the Fast entered.

Gurka was a massive brute, his muscles bulging, but his movements eerily fast for a man of his size.

He wore clawed gauntlets, sharpened like a bear's talons.

Gurka cracked his neck, smirking. "Let's see if you last more than a minute, Captain."

Henry exhaled, raising his gauntlet. "Come and find out."

Hensley leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

"Let the fight begin."

Part 2 – The Arena Duel

The Arena Roars to Life – A Pit of Blood and Death

The underground arena of The Nest was unlike anything Kaiser, Elric, or Espada had seen before. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and death, and the crowd of assassins, mercenaries, and criminals gathered above the pit, leaning against rusted railings, eager for another bloodbath.

Cheers and jeers filled the air, bets were placed on who would win—and most of them favored Gurka the Fast.

Hensley Poschner, lounging in his private balcony, sipped from a glass of crimson wine, watching with lazy amusement.

"You should feel honored, Captain," Hensley mused from above, voice carrying over the bloodstained pit. "Gurka has killed over fifty challengers. You? You're just another corpse waiting to happen."

Henry Guhn, standing tall despite his injured ribs and exhaustion from the previous battle, rolled his shoulders and raised his massive shield.

Across from him, Gurka the Fast cracked his knuckles, his hulking, muscular body tensed like a coiled spring. His metallic Bear Claws gleamed under the torchlight, wickedly sharp, designed to tear through flesh and armor alike.

Espada, Kaiser, and Elric watched anxiously from the sidelines.

"If Henry loses, we're dead," Espada muttered.

Elric folded his arms. "If Henry loses, he's dead first."

Gurka's Fighting Style – Unpredictable and Deadly

The bell rang. The fight began.

Before anyone could blink, Gurka vanished.

Or at least, it felt like he did.

The brute's speed was unnatural for his size, and in less than a second, he was already inches away from Henry, slashing in a rapid flurry.

CLANG!

Henry barely raised his shield in time. Sparks flew as Gurka's claws scraped against the reinforced steel.

Henry tried to counter with his gauntlet, but Gurka had already sidestepped, moving so fast it seemed impossible.

Slash!

A razor-sharp cut opened on Henry's upper arm, blood trickling down.

The Crow assassins cheered, roaring in approval.

Gurka grinned. "Too slow, Captain."

Henry's Strategy – Holding the Line

Henry didn't respond.

He simply raised his shield again, his stance unshaken.

Unlike Gurka, Henry wasn't trying to be fast—he was a fortress.

He didn't react recklessly, didn't waste energy chasing an opponent faster than him. Instead, he let Gurka wear himself out.

Strike. Dodge. Strike. Dodge.

Each time Gurka moved, Henry took a step back, adjusting his stance.

Kaiser, watching from above, narrowed his eyes. "He's waiting."

Espada nodded. "Henry knows he can't outmatch Gurka's speed. He's looking for a pattern."

A Brutal Turn – Henry Takes a Hit

But Gurka wasn't a fool.

He feinted a left strike, forcing Henry to raise his shield—then twisted at the last second, his claws tearing into Henry's exposed ribs.

SHNK!

Henry staggered, a deep wound spilling blood down his side.

The Crow assassins erupted into cheers.

Gurka stepped back, wiping Henry's blood off his claws. "You're strong, old man. But strength means nothing if you can't hit your enemy."

Hensley chuckled from above. "Pity. I was almost impressed."

Henry's Comeback – Turning the Fight Around

Henry wiped blood from his mouth but didn't fall.

Instead, he grinned.

"Got you."

Before Gurka could react, Henry lunged forward with shocking speed, his shield ramming into Gurka's chest.

BOOM!

The impact sent Gurka flying back, crashing into the stone floor.

For the first time in his career, Gurka had been knocked down.

The crowd fell into stunned silence.

Henry didn't waste a second. He threw his shield forward, forcing Gurka to roll away to avoid being crushed.

Then, Henry closed the distance.

With a massive swing, his gauntlet slammed into Gurka's face, shattering his nose.

Blood splattered across the sand.

The assassins gasped—many had never seen Gurka injured before.

The Final Clash – Power vs. Speed

Gurka growled, pushing himself back to his feet.

His face was bloodied, his stance unsteady, but he wasn't done yet.

With a feral roar, he charged, launching a flurry of lightning-fast slashes.

Henry stood his ground.

He tanked each hit with his shield, absorbing the force while pushing forward, step by step.

Slash. Shield. Slash. Shield.

Then—

Henry caught Gurka's wrist.

Before Gurka could react, Henry brought his gauntlet down onto Gurka's leg, crushing his knee.

CRACK!

Gurka fell to one knee, gasping in pain.

Henry loomed over him, eyes burning with cold fury.

The End – Henry's Victory

Gurka spat blood onto the sand.

But he didn't beg for mercy.

He gritted his teeth, fists clenched—but his body wouldn't move anymore.

Henry clenched his gauntlet one last time.

With a final punch, he sent Gurka crashing unconscious into the dirt.

Silence.

Then—

The arena erupted into chaos. Some cheered in disbelief, others cursed their lost bets.

From above, Hensley Poschner laughed.

"Well, well… You actually won."

Hensley's Decision – A Warrior Worth Respecting

Hensley stood, clapping slowly.

"I must admit, Captain… you're more entertaining than I thought."

Henry grunted, rolling his shoulders. "Now, about our deal."

Hensley smirked. "Relax. I'm a man of my word. You'll get your supplies."

Espada exhaled, muttering, "About time."

A New Proposition – A Dangerous Offer

Hensley stepped down from his balcony, approaching the group.

"You've proven yourselves warriors… but I wonder, what can I offer to you for a task?"

Espada's eyes narrowed immediately.

She knew The Crow well—nothing they offered came without a price.

"We're not looking for work," she said.

Hensley raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And here I thought you were people in need of resources. Of allies. Of information."

His eyes drifted to Henry, then to Kaiser.

"Tell me, what is it that you seek?"

Henry's Focus – A Mysterious Prisoner

Henry ignored him.

His attention was locked elsewhere—on something inside a caged holding area within the arena.

Inside, a man sat, bare-chested, covered in intricate Viking sigil tattoos across his face and back.

No footwear. Only trousers.

Despite the chaos of the arena, he was completely still. Watching. Waiting.

Henry pointed. "That man in the cage."

Hensley followed his gaze, then grinned.

"Interesting choice."