Chapter 6: The Shadow Hunt

The forest was alive with death.

One of the enemy archers, pressing his back against a thick tree, nocked another arrow. His first shot had missed, but that didn't matter—his orders were clear.

Suppressive fire.

As long as their relentless barrage of arrows kept the targets pinned inside the cave, the real killers would handle the rest.

The plan was working perfectly—the enemy hadn't broken through.

He took a breath, adjusting his stance, carefully peeking from behind cover to line up his next shot.

Then—pain.

A sharp, searing agony pierced his forehead. His vision blurred, and he stumbled, realizing too late that an arrow had buried itself deep into his skull.

"How… unlucky…"

That was his final thought before his consciousness faded into the abyss.

Hutson loosed another arrow.

His gaze shifted to the next tree, where another enemy had just made the mistake of revealing himself.

Swish!

The arrow struck true before the man could even react—a silent death in the shadows.

"Charge!"

Sir Emil wasted no time marveling at Hutson's marksmanship—this was their chance.

His knight's physique allowed him to see in the dark, though not as clearly as Hutson. But it was enough.

Using the forest's thick trees as cover, he weaved through the oncoming arrows, closing the distance in mere moments.

With a single mighty slash, Emil severed a man's head from his shoulders.

Hutson and the others followed closely, advancing cautiously.

Every time an enemy archer revealed himself, an arrow from Hutson's bow met them first.

He never missed.

Then—warning.

Hutson's vision flashed red, and AI chip issued an urgent command.

"Dodge right!"

Without hesitation, Hutson rolled to the side.

A massive greatsword cleaved through the air, splitting the ground where he had stood just moments ago.

"Tch."

The attacker, a towering brute, clicked his tongue in mild surprise.

"Didn't expect you to dodge that."

Hutson's heart pounded—if he had been even a fraction of a second slower, that sword would have split him in half.

But while he survived, others were not as fortunate.

The three enemy knights had struck—and two castle guards lay dead.

Nearby, Hagen, the burly veteran with the thick beard, clutched his throat, blood pouring between his fingers.

A thin, dagger-wielding man had slit his throat with terrifying precision, leaving him to collapse silently into the dirt.

Another knight—a woman, slender but lethal—had impaled a guard through the throat, her rapier gleaming in the dim firelight.

Hutson's stomach twisted.

She turned her gaze directly onto him.

"AI chip, analyze enemy."

[Analysis Complete.]

Strength: 2.1Agility: 2.3Constitution: 1.9Mental Power: 1.2Unknown energy detected.

Hutson gritted his teeth, sheathing his longbow and drawing his sword.

She was too fast to outrun.

Fleeing would only expose his back.

There was only one option—fight.

Just as he prepared to engage, a firm hand clamped onto his shoulder.

Emil had returned.

"Get out of here. They're after me."

"Emil, I thought you were a coward who had run like a rat."

The greatsword-wielding knight sneered, his expression twisted with scorn.

Emil's face remained stone-cold.

"It's been a while, Marco."

The brute, Marco, clenched his jaw, rage flashing in his eyes.

"You always looked down on everyone! Like you were above us all! Well, not anymore. I'm a knight now too! And tonight, I'll finally crush you beneath my boot—"

Hutson barely heard the rest.

The remaining archers had turned their attention toward him and the surviving guards.

While the knights battled Emil, the two squads of archers had been ordered to eliminate the rest of them.

They blocked the path forward, unleashing waves of arrows to pin them down.

Hutson quickly unslung his bow, turning to Jimmy and the remaining men.

"I'll take them out. You adapt as needed."

"AI chip—plot the optimal route. Eliminate all enemy archers."

"Route calculated."

A bird's-eye view map flashed into his vision, marking enemy positions and movement paths.

With perfect clarity, he could see where each enemy was hiding, and more importantly—where they would move next.

Hutson vanished into the blackness, slipping between the trees like a ghost.

The arrows came—but they never struck him.

Each time he moved, he was already one step ahead.

Every shot was predicted. Every attack dodged.

His bow whispered in the night, and one by one, the enemy fell.

At first, they didn't even notice.

By the time half their numbers had collapsed, a ripple of fear spread through them.

"Where the hell are these shots coming from?!"

"There's a knight-level archer among them! We're being slaughtered!"

A panicked survivor bolted toward Marco's duel, gasping.

"Marco, help! There's—there's a knight-rank archer among them!"

Marco's brow furrowed, his scowl deepening.

"Knight-level archer? That wasn't in the intel."

He turned to a nearby companion—a man named Shaun.

"Shaun. Kill him."

A new threat entered the battlefield.

Shaun, a shadow moving through the night, stepped forward.

Unlike the archers before him, this man moved with precision—his every action silent, calculated, deadly.

His gaze locked onto Hutson's last position.

"So you're the one causing trouble."

His lips curled into a thin, chilling smile.

"Let's see how long you last."

Hutson had spent the night stalking his prey.

Now—he was the one being hunted.

Shaun—the dagger-wielding assassin—melted into the darkness, his presence vanishing like a whisper in the night.

This was the way of an assassin.

A shadow among shadows.

A ghost unseen, unheard, and unstoppable.

And every archer knew one thing—assassins were their worst nightmare.

"Knight-rank approaching!"

The moment Shaun entered the perimeter, AI chip sounded an alert.

A red marker appeared on Hutson's minimap, indicating the assassin's exact position.

Hutson turned his gaze toward the spot—it looked completely empty.

Had it not been for AI chip's warning, Shaun could have slipped right behind him without a trace.

He feigned focus on the distant battle, appearing to line up another shot.

Then, in an instant—he pivoted.

His arrow veered away from the battlefield, instead loosed straight toward the approaching assassin.

Shaun reacted instantly.

His muscles coiled, his pupils shrank, his body twisting unnaturally to avoid the arrow.

But not completely.

The projectile grazed his right arm, slicing through flesh, leaving behind a shallow wound.

Nothing fatal.

Nothing that would slow him down.

Shaun barely spared the wound a thought—his confidence only grew.

"Not a knight-rank archer. Just precise aim."

He had calculated the arrow's speed, deducing that his opponent was merely accurate, not overwhelmingly powerful.

A fatal mistake.

Hutson saw the shot miss and immediately vanished into the deeper forest.

"Running?"

A smirk crept onto Shaun's face.

Assassins thrived on prey that fled.

Because there was nothing more exhilarating than hunting something that thought it could escape.