Jasper Cole rode hard for Windcloud City, the bandit leader's horse pounding the road beneath him. Dusk was closing in—never a good time to be out here.
Then he saw it.
A caravan was stalled ahead, Cloudspire Empire banners snapping above the wagons. Skeletons and zombies swarmed the formation like a tide, clawing at wheels and sides. Steel flashed here and there—someone was still fighting—but the line was buckling.
Jasper let out a tired breath.
"Of course," he muttered, and kicked his mount forward.
As he closed the distance, he realized the defenders weren't just soldiers. Mixed among them were men in expensive coats and polished boots, the kind who'd never touched mud unless a servant laid it out first. Noble brats, probably. Which raised one ugly question—
Where were their real guards?
No time to dig into it. The banner was imperial. He wore the uniform. That meant the caravan was his problem.
Jasper plunged straight into the mob, short sword out. He cut through a zombie's neck, stepped past a swinging claw, and drove his blade into another corpse's chest just to knock it off balance. Bodies fell. The press shifted.
On the wagon line, a young woman fought with a jeweled short sword, her movements sharp but strained. She managed to split a zombie's skull cleanly—then the ground shook.
A monster strode out from the rear of the horde.
An Enchanted Ironclad Zombie.
Bronze Tier, Rank 5.
It was enormous—easily five meters tall—armored in thick iron plates etched with dull enchantment-glow. In its hands hung a brutal iron flail, the chain scraping stone as it swung.
The noble youths went pale. Their formation broke without anyone giving the order.
Jasper's willpower reached out as he used Eagle Eye, taking in the battlefield in a single sweep. Everyone was clustering around the girl—shielding her, pulling her back, putting their bodies between her and the undead.
So she was the prize.
And if Jasper saved her… it could matter later.
Three Leatherclad Zombies rushed the girl at once.
Jasper wheeled his horse through the chaos, then launched from the saddle. A Throwing Knife snapped out of his hand and buried itself between one leather-helmet's eyes. Before the corpse even hit the ground, both Wrist Blades clicked free.
Twin Assassination.
Two clean strikes. Two bodies down.
That sudden burst of killing drew the ironclad's attention immediately.
The Enchanted Ironclad Zombie roared—deep, furious, almost human—and charged Jasper, flail whipping up with murderous force.
Jasper didn't meet it head-on. He slipped aside at the last instant, the flail smashing a crater where he'd stood. Then he sprinted forward, using the monster's own bulk like a ramp—running up its leg, onto its waist, climbing the iron plates as if he'd done it a hundred times.
He hit the back of its neck and activated Shadow Assassination.
Speed surged. Power doubled.
Both wrist blades punched into the gaps between armor plates.
Even then, the hide and bone were absurdly tough. Jasper gritted his teeth and forced the blades deeper—only halfway. Without the skill, he doubted he'd have even broken skin.
The ironclad's massive hand swept back toward its neck like a guillotine.
Jasper had no choice. He yanked his blades free and rolled off the monster's spine, hitting the ground hard and coming up running.
He reached inside his gear.
Twenty Mysterium Iron Needles, each carved with a Blast Rune, shot forward in a tight spread.
For a heartbeat, the air became a blooming wall of flame.
The explosions were brilliant—and Jasper's stomach twisted as he watched them. Those needles were supposed to be for staying alive. Not for babysitting a caravan full of rich idiots.
"Hope your gratitude is worth it," he hissed.
The ironclad staggered out of the smoke.
It hadn't died.
But the enchantment-iron armor was shredded in one huge section. Its helmet had blown clean off, revealing a ruined, blood-slick face beneath. It looked at Jasper with something that wasn't mindless hunger.
It looked… furious.
Then it did something worse.
It turned its flail toward the girl.
Jasper's teeth clenched. "Great. Even zombies are getting smart."
He sprinted.
The girl was only Bronze Tier, Rank 2. She stared at the incoming flail like her body had forgotten how to move.
Jasper threw himself in front of her and crossed his arms.
The flail hit him like a collapsing wall.
He flew backward, slammed into the dirt, and skidded. His short sword tore from his grip and clattered away. Through the ringing in his ears, he swore he saw the ironclad's mouth twist into a grin.
Jasper lay there for a second, breathing hard.
This felt familiar.
Not like the village—he wasn't shattered this time. But the memory of being swatted aside by someone stronger flashed through his mind anyway.
He pushed himself up, grabbed his short sword, and brought it to his lips.
"Sorry, brother," he murmured, and kissed the flat of the blade.
Then he closed his eyes.
Willpower gathered at the edge of the steel, and he carved a Blast Rune along the sword's surface. A clean white glow pulsed once.
The girl watched him, stunned. An imperial soldier… using runes? And only Bronze Tier, Rank 3, yet he was standing toe-to-toe with a Rank 5 monster.
She swallowed, eyes bright with a thought she didn't say out loud.
Jasper opened his eyes and activated Shadow Assassination again, burning what little battle qi he had left.
He became a smear of black motion.
The ironclad swung—slow. Too slow.
Jasper vaulted up, drove the short sword into the torn gap in the armor, and buried it straight into the creature's chest—right where its heart would've been, if it still mattered.
Zombies didn't die like men.
So Jasper didn't stay.
He kicked off the ironclad's abdomen, flipped back, and landed more than ten meters away.
A beat later—
Boom.
The Blast Rune detonated from inside the monster's torso.
The Enchanted Ironclad Zombie collapsed in a heap of scorched iron and shattered flesh.
Dead.
A familiar chime rang in Jasper's mind.
Ding. Host has slain Enchanted Ironclad Zombie.New skill acquired: Berserk.Effect: Increases combat power by 60% for 30 minutes.Aftereffect: Combat power reduced by 90% temporarily after duration.Upgradeable.
Jasper blinked. Berserk? That sounds like a berserker skill… not an assassin one.
So monsters could drop skills too.
Good to know.
Before he could think further, the sound of hooves thundered in from the road.
Dozens of guards in refined steel armor surged into the battlefield. Their leader—an old man with a stern face—moved with frightening calm, his presence alone pressing down like weight.
Bronze Tier, Rank 7.
The guards carved through the remaining skeletons and zombies as if sweeping away trash. In moments, the battlefield went quiet.
Then, to Jasper's surprise, they dropped to one knee before the girl.
The old man knelt as well, head lowered. "This servant arrived late. Please punish me as you see fit, young lady."
The girl waved it off, almost cheerful. "Alright, alright. Get up. I'm fine."
Then she pointed toward Jasper.
"Steward Xu, go check on that imperial soldier! He saved me—he almost died fighting a Bronze Tier, Rank 5 Enchanted Ironclad Zombie!" Her eyes glittered. "And he was so strong! Bronze Tier, Rank 3 and he still killed it. Can I take him as my personal guard?"
Steward Xu rose smoothly. "As you wish, young lady. The master said your personal guard is yours to choose."
He walked toward Jasper, gaze sharp but not hostile.
"Imperial soldier," he said, voice polite. "Thank you for saving our young lady. Allow this old servant to check your injuries."
He produced a small bottle of medical pills and offered it to Jasper.