chapter 129 sophie death

The battlefield was silent, but its blood-soaked earth whispered of betrayal.

The once-mighty army of Dark Solution was no more.

Hundreds of bodies littered the ground, the remnants of a force that had come here for one reason—to kill Frost Eye.

This was never a battle against K.

This entire army, Sophie's army, had been mobilized to eliminate him.

Frost Eye, the ghost. The nightmare no one could catch.

But instead…

He was the one who caught them.

And he had used K as his shield to do it.

Now, only three remained.

Sophie.

Frost Eye.

And K… who lay dead at their feet.

Frost Eye stood calmly, twirling a bloodstained dagger between his fingers, his cold gray eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sophie, however, was shaking.

Her golden armor, once shining with authority, was drenched in the blood of her own people.

This was supposed to be a trap.

She had gathered 1,000 of her best members. Assassins. Warriors. Spellcasters. Healers.

All to kill one man.

Frost Eye.

But instead, he had done what no one had thought possible.

He had turned her own army against itself.

He had used K.

At the start, K had been a wild dog, a chaotic force ripping through her soldiers—but instead of stopping him, Frost Eye had helped him.

Silent kills. Strategic sabotage. A dagger in the back of every healer trying to keep her forces alive.

While K slaughtered in the open, Frost Eye butchered in the shadows.

And now…

They were all dead.

> Sophie (shaking, voice hollow): "...You planned this."

Frost Eye flicked his wrist, sending droplets of blood splattering onto the ground.

> Frost Eye (smirking): "Planned? Oh, Sophie, darling, you give me too much credit."

> Frost Eye (grinning, eyes cold): "I simply let you do the work for me."

Sophie's rage exploded.

She raised her spear, her body trembling with exhaustion and fury.

> Sophie (screaming): "YOU USED HIM?! YOU USED K TO SLAUGHTER MY PEOPLE?!"

Frost Eye spread his arms mockingly.

> Frost Eye (grinning): "And what a fine job he did."

Sophie snapped.

With a roar, she charged forward, her spear aimed straight for his throat—

Frost Eye moved like a ghost.

He sidestepped effortlessly, and before Sophie could recover, a dagger flashed.

Pain.

A deep, slicing pain in her side.

She stumbled.

Blood dripped from a fresh wound.

Frost Eye clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

> Frost Eye (mocking, tilting his head): "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

> Frost Eye (soft, almost amused): "You really thought you could trap me? Me?"

Sophie's vision blurred with fury and disbelief.

She had spent weeks planning this.

She had gathered 1,000 of the best.

And he killed them all.

She gritted her teeth, standing tall despite the pain.

> Sophie (breathing heavily, voice shaking): "You… should be dead."

Frost Eye chuckled.

> Frost Eye (grinning): "Oh, Sophie…"

His daggers vanished.

For a second, Sophie's muscles tensed—was he giving up?

Then—

Pain.

A flash of silver.

A dagger, buried deep in her stomach.

Sophie's breath hitched.

She staggered.

Her spear slipped from her grip.

Frost Eye leaned in, his lips close to her ear.

> Frost Eye (whispering, amused): "Oh, Sophie, darling… you must die now."

Her heart pounded in terror.

> Frost Eye (mocking, voice soft): "I love your looks, really… but I'm not interested in dogs."

With a vicious twist, he ripped the dagger upward.

A gush of crimson erupted from Sophie's stomach.

She tried to scream— but only blood came out.

Her knees buckled.

Her body collapsed.

She hit the ground with a dull thud.

Her golden armor, her once-proud insignia, was now drenched in her own blood.

Frost Eye crouched beside her, watching as the light in her eyes slowly faded.

> Frost Eye (soft, smirking): "Bye-bye."

Then, without another glance, he stood up, stretched, and walked away.

The battlefield belonged to the dead.

And Frost Eye?

He had already moved on.

The battlefield was a graveyard.

Blood soaked the ground, seeping into the dirt, forming dark pools around twisted bodies. The once-mighty army that had marched to eliminate Frost Eye lay motionless, their weapons abandoned, their armor shattered, their final screams now only echoes in the wind.

And in the center of this carnage stood the sole survivor—Frost Eye.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders, his body aching from hours of battle. His Trickster-exclusive illusion cloak flickered slightly before stabilizing, a reminder of the relentless pursuit he had endured.

Suddenly, a soft chime rang in his ears.

—Ding!—

> [You have survived for 6 hours while being tracked by Search Radar.]

[Reward: 20 Gold Coins.]

A message flashed in front of him, golden letters hovering in the air.

Frost Eye's lips curled into a slow smirk.

> Frost Eye (muttering, amused): "Ah, how generous."

The system's bounty had been a mere inconvenience. They thought tracking him would guarantee his death, but instead, he had turned their hunt against them.

They came to kill him.

Instead, they died because of him.

And now?

He would take everything they left behind.

Frost Eye flicked open his inventory, watching as twenty gold coins shimmered inside his pouch. It wasn't an overwhelming amount, but it was free money—a reward for merely surviving.

Still, his gaze didn't linger on the notification for long. His real prize lay all around him.

The battlefield was filled with weapons, armor, potions—everything a person carried into war. And now, with their bodies cooling on the ground, those valuables were his for the taking.

His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the field, noting which corpses were worth looting first. He never wasted time on cheap steel or low-tier scraps. He had an eye for quality.

He crouched beside a fallen warrior, his hands moving with practiced ease as he searched through the dead man's belongings.

—Ding!—

> [You have obtained: High-Quality Steel Dagger.]

A well-crafted blade. Not as good as his own, but it would sell for a decent price.

He moved to another corpse.

> [You have obtained: Light Enchanted Boots.]

He raised an eyebrow. A rare drop. These could be useful for speed-focused builds.

He glanced down at his own gear. His boots were far superior.

Sell it.

He continued looting, his fingers swift and precise, stripping valuables from the dead like a vulture picking apart a carcass.

A pouch of silver.

A rare enchanted cloak.

A set of reinforced gloves.

> Frost Eye (grinning as he pockets the silver): "Not bad."

Finally, his eyes fell on Sophie's spear.

The once-proud weapon, which had symbolized her authority, now lay worthless in the dirt. He crouched, gripping the hilt, spinning it in his fingers.

> Frost Eye (chuckling): "I'll sell this for a drink later."

He twirled it once before tossing it into his inventory, its significance nothing more than a passing joke to him now.

One by one, he looted the battlefield.

He took what he needed, ignored what he didn't. His movements were fluid, precise—the work of a master thief.

He had survived the impossible.

He had outplayed an entire army.

And now?

Now he would reap everything they left behind.