The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 133:The Ploys In Shadows

In the city of Wangward, a man dressed in rags leaned against a wall, his face hidden beneath a hood. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

The dim light couldn’t fully conceal the serpent tattoo stretching across his face. His right hand clutched a dagger under his cloak, fingers stiff from gripping it for too long. He stayed motionless, eyes locked on the bustling pub across the street, waiting for his targets to appear.

Several figures approached from behind, their footsteps barely making a sound. "My lord, should we go in?" one of them asked in a hushed voice. The man turned and shot him a glare. "Didn’t I tell you to call me boss?" he snapped.

"S-sorry, boss! I’m still getting used to it," the man stammered. Albert Altross sneered. "Get used to it fast unless you want to end up captured with me."

He knew failure wasn’t an option. The Serpent Fang wouldn’t waste time on the weak. They had to prove themselves or be discarded like trash.

Albert had fled the Astros after murdering his mother and joining the infamous Serpent Fang. To hide, he scarred his own face and cut his hair short. Now, he was a deacon in the organization, earning his place through blood. If he wanted to rise further, he had to kill those who opposed them.

His mercenary group was small but deadly. Though new to Wangward, they had already completed five successful assassinations. Albert had even reached C-rank with the God of Serpent’s blessing. He had no morals, no fear,only hunger for power.

Albert’s eyes darkened as his targets finally stepped out of the pub. He made a quick hand gesture, signaling his men to prepare. The targets had ten warriors guarding them, including a C+ rank knight. Albert only had six men, but two of them were C-rank like him. He knew they could still win.

The old knight sensed danger. His sharp eyes scanned the area. "Enemies! Grab your weapons and protect Sir!" he shouted, drawing his sword. The guards quickly surrounded their master, forming a defensive stance.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of bolts flying through the air broke the silence. Three warriors were struck, one dying instantly with a bolt in his skull. The others fell, writhing in agony. The old knight didn’t flinch. "Hold your positions!" he commanded, voice steady.

A shadow moved. The old knight’s instincts screamed at him. He raised his sword just in time. Clang! A javelin aimed at his head deflected off his blade. His grip tightened as he stared into the darkness. "Brace yourselves!" he growled. "They’re coming."

The battle erupted in an instant, chaos spreading through the streets of Wangward like wildfire. The once-bustling pub district now became a battlefield, with steel clashing against steel and arrows whistling through the air.

Albert grinned wickedly as he moved through the shadows, his dagger ready to spill blood.

His target, High Priest Pablo, stood at the center of the formation, protected by the famed Paladin, Sir Hugh.

Hugh’s blade danced through the battlefield, cutting down Albert’s men with terrifying precision. His silver armor gleamed under the lantern light, his powerful strokes sending enemies staggering. "Protect the High Priest at all costs!" he roared, his voice carrying above the screams.

Albert’s men weren’t weak, but they were outclassed. One of his lieutenants, Corvin, a brutal axeman, engaged with one of the knights, Roland.

Their weapons clashed with violent force, sparks flying from every impact. Meanwhile, a swift rogue named Marlo weaved between the warriors, slashing at exposed throats and weak spots, taking down two guards before an arrow struck him in the leg, sending him crashing to the ground.

The city structures bore the brunt of the chaos. A flaming arrow struck a thatched roof, and within moments, fire consumed a nearby building.

Windows shattered as bodies were hurled through them, and wooden stalls splintered under the force of the battle. The scent of blood, fire, and sweat filled the air, choking the streets in a nightmarish haze.

The battle erupted like a storm, sending waves of chaos through the narrow streets of Wangward. The clash of steel rang through the air as Albert’s mercenaries engaged the knights protecting High Priest Pablo. Screams and grunts of pain echoed against the stone walls as blood stained the ground. The once-busy pub street became a battlefield, filled with overturned stalls, broken barrels, and shattered glass.

Sir Hugh, the veteran paladin and guardian of High Priest Pablo, stood at the front, his heavy armor gleaming under the moonlight. His sword moved like a streak of silver, cutting down an attacker with a precise, ruthless strike.

"Hold your ground!" he bellowed, rallying his remaining knights as two of Albert’s men fell to the ground, their lifeless bodies sprawled in a pool of blood.

Albert gritted his teeth, eyes flashing with cold determination. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip.

The Serpent Fang had given him this mission, and failure was not an option. With quick, fluid movements, he ducked into the shadows, his ragged cloak blending with the darkness as he maneuvered closer to his prey.

Meanwhile, one of his most trusted men, Rolf, locked swords with a knight named Sir Cedric.

Rolf’s twin daggers clashed against Cedric’s longsword, sparks flying with each parry. The knight swung fiercely, trying to break Rolf’s defense, but the mercenary was quick, twisting his body and slicing a deep wound into Cedric’s side. The knight stumbled back, grunting in pain, but refused to fall.

Near the center of the fight, Tobias, another of Albert’s lieutenants, unleashed a flurry of arrows, picking off the weaker knights. One arrow found its mark, piercing a young knight’s throat, sending him collapsing onto the cobblestone.

The defenders were losing ground, but Sir Hugh remained a terrifying force, cutting down mercenaries with each swing of his blade.

High Priest Pablo, a rotund man draped in fine white robes embroidered with golden scripture, trembled behind his protectors. His face was drenched in sweat as he clutched a golden scepter, muttering prayers under his breath.

He was just one step away from becoming an bishop, but now death loomed over him like a shadow.