Chapter 7: I’m Breaking the Limits

The night was dark, the wind sharp like a hunter's blade. Beneath the dense canopy of the forest, Hutson moved like a shadow, his every step swift and sure. 

Behind him, Shaun pursued relentlessly, his breathing measured but laced with irritation.

He was faster than Hutson—there was no doubt about that. But in the tangled depths of the forest, speed alone was not enough. The gnarled roots and towering trees obstructed his path, slowing him down at every turn.

"Damn it! How the hell does this kid know the terrain so well?!" Shaun cursed under his breath.

Hutson's movements were seamless, as if he had walked these woods a thousand times before. Every rock, every twisted branch—he navigated them with an uncanny precision. To an outsider, it would seem as though he had been raised by the forest itself.

But what truly gnawed at Shaun's patience was the way Hutson fought while fleeing. Without breaking stride, he would spin and loose an arrow with impossible accuracy.

Every single shot came at the perfect moment—just as Shaun prepared to surge forward in an explosive burst of speed. Each time, a cold arrow forced him to twist his body mid-sprint to evade it, throwing off his momentum. In the blink of an eye, Hutson would widen the gap once more.

It was maddening.

"There's no way this is a coincidence!" Shaun gritted his teeth, fury boiling beneath his composed exterior.

After several more failed pursuits, frustration finally tipped over into rage.

"Enough of this! Die, you little rat!"

Suddenly, a voice—not human, but cold and precise—whispered into Hutson's mind.

"Warning: Enemy's body exhibits an unknown energy surge. Strength increased by 0.7. Agility increased by 1.1. Constitution increased by 0.5."

A sharp whistle sliced through the air.

Hutson's spine tensed. He had never heard a human move with such a sound before.

"Dodge! Roll left!"

The directive was instant. And without hesitation, he obeyed.

The next second, Shaun's dagger slashed through empty space—the very spot where Hutson had just been.

"Impossible!" Shaun's eyes narrowed. That had been a killing strike. A sure hit. And yet, Hutson had evaded it without even looking.

Without missing a beat, Hutson surged forward once more, pushing his speed to the very limit.

But Shaun… was no longer bound by limits.

A sudden, unnatural force coursed through his veins, amplifying his body beyond human constraints. His movements became blindingly fast, his every step closing the distance between them.

"Drop low! Forward roll!"

Again, the voice rang out in Hutson's mind.

And again, he complied.

Executing the evasive maneuver at such high velocity should have been impossible for an ordinary warrior. But Hutson was not ordinary. His rigorous training in the Breath of the Earth technique had sharpened his control over his own body to an almost supernatural degree.

Shaun's dagger cut the air just inches above Hutson's head. A single strand of his dark hair fluttered down, severed by the near miss.

"There's something wrong with this kid!" Shaun's frustration turned to disbelief. How was he dodging every single attack?

No, this wasn't skill alone.

This was foresight.

"Move behind the tree to the right. Draw your sword—block from behind!"

Without hesitation, Hutson darted behind the tree and raised his blade.

CLANG!

A dagger pierced straight through the trunk, slamming into his sword with enough force to make his wrist go numb.

Shaun's eyes widened.

"How…? How does he know exactly what I'm about to do?"

It was theoretically possible to predict an opponent's moves—trained assassins could read subtle shifts in muscle tension, the telltale signs of an incoming strike.

But Hutson wasn't looking.

He had never once turned to glance at his pursuer.

"Block from the front!"

A split second later, Shaun lunged.

His dagger aimed straight for Hutson's face, the killing blow swift and certain.

But once again, Hutson was already moving.

With inhuman calm, he lifted his sword. Steel met steel, locking the dagger in place with absolute precision.

Shaun's frustration finally erupted. "You little—!"

Then—a flicker of something wrong.

His breath staggered. His pulse stammered. A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him.

Hutson exhaled slowly. "It's finally working."

A realization dawned on Shaun, cold and merciless.

Poison.

His mind rewound the fight—retracing every moment, every injury.

That arrow.

Only one had struck him.

His gaze flicked to Hutson's quiver. Two types of arrows—standard ones, and another, subtly different.

The poison had been extracted from a humble plant near the castle walls, distilled into a deadly neurotoxin by means only Hutson's mysterious guide, AI chip, could understand.

Even Shaun—an expert assassin and master of poisons—had failed to detect it.

It was odorless. Tasteless.

And its effect?

Lethal.

Shaun's eyes burned with fury as the truth sank in. "If I don't kill him now, I'm finished."

With the last of his strength, he lunged again, his dagger flashing under the moonlight in a final, desperate assault.

But the poison was already at work. His body was sluggish. His strikes predictable.

And Hutson—calm, precise, unstoppable—blocked every single one.

"I have to run."

Shaun's breath came in ragged gasps. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish—his once-flawless control slipping away. If he didn't escape now, he would die at Hutson's hands.

His sharp eyes locked onto Hutson for a brief moment, burning with unwillingness. Then, without hesitation, he vanished into the darkness.

As an assassin, disappearing was second nature. He had countless ways to flee, countless shadows to melt into.

But Hutson didn't flinch. He smiled.

Unhurried, he raised his bow, drawing the string back in one smooth motion. His gaze settled—not on the retreating figure, but on an empty patch of ground just ahead.

Thwip!

The arrow screamed through the air.

A split second later—a strangled cry.

Shaun's form shimmered into existence, his body staggering forward. A single arrow jutted from his back, buried deep between his shoulder blades.

Even at his peak, dodging one of Hutson's arrows required absolute focus. And now? Poisoned, weakened… it was impossible.

Shaun's breathing slowed. The fight had already left him, yet his voice was eerily calm.

"How did you see through me?"

He already knew his fate.

Hutson said nothing. He simply nocked another arrow.

Shaun met his gaze, unflinching. He didn't even try to dodge.

Not because he had given up—but because he couldn't. His legs were numb, his strength drained away.

Still, his voice was steady.

"Why? Why could you always evade my attacks?" His eyes burned with the need to understand. "You're not even a knight."

Hutson exhaled. His grip relaxed.

The bowstring snapped forward.

The arrow flew.

At that exact moment, he answered.

"Because… I'm playing with cheats."

The words, like the arrow, pierced straight through Shaun's skull.

A crimson bloom exploded in the moonlight.

His body crumpled.

His eyes, once sharp and calculating, stared blankly at the sky, confusion still lingering as the last breath left his lips.

"Cheats…?" The foreign word tumbled from his lips in a whisper. What does that mean…?

He would never know.

Even in death, he could not comprehend it.

Hutson didn't lower his guard. Without hesitation, he loosed two more arrows into Shaun's fallen body.

Only when AI chip confirmed his death did Hutson finally approach.

He crouched beside the corpse, rifling through the assassin's belongings.

Nothing.

No gold. Not even a single copper coin.

Hutson frowned. "So damn poor?"

Aside from a decent pair of daggers, there was nothing of value.

He sighed, slinging his bow over his shoulder, his sword resting against his back. For a long moment, he simply stood there, gazing into the depths of the forest.

Thinking.

Then, he turned—heading back in the direction of Emil.

He remembered—Jimmy and the others had escaped under his cover. By now, they should have reached the castle to seek reinforcements.

But…

It would take six days for help to arrive.

That was far too late.

Emil was strong.

 But no matter how skilled he was, fighting two knight-level opponents alone—while unknown archers lurked in the shadows—was suicide.

Hutson moved.

His dark figure blurred against the trees, gliding through the forest like a phantom.

Silent. Swift. Relentless.