Reyn slowed his pace and stopped on the riverbank, ten paces from Ramzi.
He looked around. This shoal... it was right here half a month ago that he had crawled out of the river. And now he was back, but the roles had completely reversed. What irony of fate.
Ramzi knelt, hands over his head, afraid to move. He had seen the power of the weapon in Reyn's hands with his own eyes. And since Reyn had caught up to him, Iceberg must be dead.
Only a Superhuman can kill another Superhuman. This man opposite him was surely a powerful "Gunslinger"!
In the darkness, Ramzi could only see a dark silhouette. The Gunslinger stood silently, but his presence was unbearably oppressive. The wound on his back ached, fear and pain intertwined. His forehead was covered in cold sweat, the river wind chilled him to the bone, making his whole body tremble.
"What secrets do you know?" Reyn's voice rang out.
Ramzi felt relief, a glimmer of hope for salvation. The Gunslinger's voice seemed painfully familiar. A name flashed in his mind instantly, and he blurted it out unconsciously:
"Reyn?"
He couldn't be mistaken. It was Reyn's voice. Three years of study at the Superhuman Academy, they had been good friends... and then he died by his hand. Ramzi would never forget Reyn—the very one many girls in the academy admired and many boys envied.
One reason Ramzi had introduced Reyn to Iceberg back then and arranged for him to be an assistant at the fencing school was secret envy. He wanted revenge, dragging him into that dirty business.
The dark silhouette in the night seemed more and more familiar. Ramzi was finally convinced—it was Reyn.
"You're Reyn?" he asked again, stunned and disbelieving.
Bang!
The answer to Ramzi was a shot. A flash of fire before his eyes, then sharp pain in his hand. Lowering his gaze, he saw that his right palm was gone. Only a stump of forearm remained, from which blood spurted like a fountain.
"A-a-a!" Ramzi screamed from the unbearable pain.
He clutched the stump with his left hand, trying to stop the blood, but it helped little. With his teeth, he tore a piece of cloth from his clothing, quickly bandaged the wound, easing the suffering a bit.
Reyn no longer shot. He just racked the shotgun's pump, reloading.
Compared to what Ramzi had done to him half a month ago—hours of beatings, then murder and dumping the body in the river—the severed hand was just a small payment, the first installment on the bill.
"Now are you ready to talk?" Reyn asked unhurriedly.
Ramzi, pale as a sheet, looked at Reyn, not daring to ask anymore how he had survived and become a Superhuman. He was nearly in despair, realizing Reyn wouldn't spare him, but he didn't want to die so easily. Thoughts raced feverishly in search of a way to save himself.
In Reyn's eyes, Ramzi's soul shimmered with colors—red, black, gray, blue. Fear, despair, anger, and the strongest—hatred!
"I have little time, and my patience is running out," the shotgun barrel twitched slightly.
"No, don't shoot!" Ramzi hastily raised his remaining left hand. "I'll tell you!"
"Iceberg is a member of the Shadow Blade, a hired assassin. His real name isn't Iceberg, it's Trevor. He's wanted by the Empire. He arrived in Longsand last year under the name Iceberg, apparently to carry out some secret mission."
Reyn frowned slightly. This was unexpected. He had suspected someone was behind Iceberg before, but not the Shadow Blade.
He had heard of this organization—the most infamous assassins' guild in the Empire. It had existed for several hundred years and was responsible for countless high-profile crimes. Every Shadow Blade assassin was a Superhuman, not necessarily a Shadow Warrior—they could be from many classes, hiding among ordinary people.
The Empire and the Triune Church constantly tried to wipe out this guild, but Shadow Blade assassins kept reappearing like weeds impossible to uproot. Rumors said the Shadow Blade was so elusive because it was backed by some dark god. Guild members worshiped this deity, founding an underground church—essentially a cult!
"What secret mission?" Reyn asked.
"I don't know."
Ramzi shook his head. Seeing the shotgun barrel move again, he blurted out in fright:
"Don't shoot, I really don't know! I just accidentally guessed that Iceberg came to Longsand on a mission. He found me at the beginning of the year, promised money for the soul transformation ritual and help getting Demonic Souls in the future. In return, I had to stay at the academy, gather info on what was happening there, and keep an eye on some important figures. Besides me, Iceberg had other spies in the academy. Once I accidentally saw him secretly meeting someone. They talked for a long time. That man was probably also a Shadow Blade assassin, and higher-ranking than Iceberg. I didn't dare get close, heard only a few words... it seems related to Silverstar Academy. That assassin probably infiltrated there."
Hearing this, Reyn felt a chill inside.
There were three Superhuman academies in Longsand, but they differed greatly in prestige and faculty level.
Kleyden Academy, where he and Ramzi had studied, was the largest by student numbers but the weakest. Mostly commoners studied there; anyone who paid could enroll. Chances of becoming a Superhuman were the lowest. But due to the huge student body, Kleyden produced the most Superhumans—over sixty percent of Longsand's total. In fact, Kleyden Academy was an Imperial state institution. Besides Superhuman training, it offered dozens of other specialties: grammar, arts, languages, law, history, architecture, alchemy, mechanics, and so on. Successfully completing a program and passing exams earned a academy diploma.
Next was Styuholl Academy, founded by Longsand's aristocracy and major traders. It focused on elite education, essentially a school for nobility. Annual tuition exceeded a hundred gold shields. It had ten times fewer students than Kleyden, but each came from a wealthy or noble family.
However, Longsand's best academy was Silverstar Academy. Founded by the duchess herself, who personally served as rector. Silverstar Academy accepted only the most talented students. Tuition wasn't just free— all expenses were covered, and students received a monthly stipend equal to three months' wages of an ordinary worker. Such generous terms attracted tens of thousands of applicants yearly, but only a little over a hundred lucky ones got in.
Reyn had tried to enter Silverstar Academy a few years ago too, but like the vast majority, was quickly weeded out.
Duchess Silverstar was one of the Empire's twelve Holy Soul Mages. Naturally, the academy specialized in training mages, often called the Mages' Academy. Silverstar graduates could continue studies in the Tower of Mages or join the duchess's personal guard—the Secret Flame Guard.
In other words, Silverstar Academy was essentially a training camp for the duchess's mages.
If Ramzi's words were true, it meant the Shadow Blade was plotting something against Silverstar Academy, and possibly the duchess herself!
This could be an event that shakes the entire Auriens Empire.
Duchess Silverstar's status was exceptional. Not only one of the twelve Holy Soul Mages, but also a member of the Empire's highest authority—the Kemit High Council.
The Empire was called an empire, but since 1355 New Era—over a thousand years ago—there had been no emperor. Instead, the High Council ruled, electing a "Regent" every ten years—a nominal head managing the Empire.
Though every Holy Soul Mage was a High Council member, Duchess Silverstar had another, more important status—she was the Chosen of the Goddess of Magic!
In an empire ruled by mages worshiping the Goddess of Magic, it was hard to find a more significant figure than Duchess Silverstar.
Reyn shook his head slightly. Such important figures were too far removed from him; it wasn't his business to interfere. As the saying goes, "with a penny in his pocket, worrying about the world's fate."
Even if Duchess Silverstar were killed, what did it matter to him? What did it have to do with him, owning one copper fox?
In a clash between a Holy Soul Mage, rank over twentieth level, and the Shadow Blade serving a dark god in secret, any accidental involvement could crush him to dust.
It was indeed a big secret, but it didn't concern him.
Reyn didn't ask more about the academy. He said indifferently:
"Do you have any last words?"
Ramzi's face twisted in horror; he shook all over.
"Reyn, don't kill me! I beg you!" he cried. "We were always best friends! When you quarreled with your family and had no money for tuition, I got you the assistant job with Iceberg at the fencing school! I really wanted to help! If you hadn't gone to the Church of Justice then, I never would have raised a hand against you! I didn't want to kill you; it was all Iceberg forcing me! Reyn, I'm guilty before you, forgive me! For our many years of friendship, spare my life! I was forced... My mother has been gravely ill for years, father lost everything gambling, racked up huge debts... That's why I got involved with Iceberg, did a lot of bad things, but not of my own will..."
Ramzi sobbed, repented, looked incredibly pitiful. But meanwhile, his remaining left hand subtly scooped a handful of sand from the shoal, and kneeling, he tried to creep closer, hoping to catch Reyn off guard.
Reyn saw all these pathetic tricks perfectly.
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
Bang! The shot thundered over the river. Ramzi's pleas cut off. His head exploded like a watermelon, leaving a headless body.
Another soul flew out and was absorbed by Reyn.
Feeling the surge of energy from the absorbed soul, Reyn gazed at the river's surface. The night breeze caressed his face. He took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. A strange feeling filled his chest.
This feeling was called relief and satisfaction. His soul seemed cleansed, ascended!
He finally understood the phrase: "Revenge is sweet as honey."