Revenge was done. It was as if a heavy burden had lifted from his shoulders. Reyn felt lightness throughout his body and was in an excellent mood.
He glanced at Ramzi's corpse and muttered:
"Last time you took my money. Now it's my turn."
He approached and searched the body but found only a wallet. Nothing else valuable on Ramzi.
Without examining the wallet's contents, Reyn grabbed the corpse to throw it in the river and suddenly noticed how much his strength had increased.
Ramzi was a grown man, weighed plenty, but Reyn dragged him effortlessly. He could even lift the body with one hand, like a light brick.
"My strength has at least doubled or tripled!"
Reyn was pleasantly surprised. Gathering all his might, he hurled Ramzi's corpse into the river. The body flew six or seven meters, splashed heavily, and quickly vanished in the current.
Having dealt with Ramzi, Reyn headed back immediately, checking his condition along the way.
"Damn!"
Opening his phone interface, Reyn was stunned.
[Energy charge: 100%]
"The charge is fully restored! No wonder I'm so strong."
During the fight, he hadn't monitored the charge level, just glanced after killing Iceberg. Then it had jumped over 50% instantly. After that, he absorbed three more souls, including the Iron Guard's. Unnoticed, he reached 100%!
Reyn had long suspected that the stronger the absorbed soul, the more energy he got. Now it was confirmed. The first absorbed soul of a fallen ordinary human gave eight charge bars. Today, out of four absorbed souls, two belonged to Superhumans. Especially Iceberg—a second-level Shadow Warrior. His soul's power was worth at least five ordinary people. Add the Iron Guard and two others—it was just enough to fully charge the battery.
"That soul ascension feeling... it wasn't an illusion. My soul really strengthened, leveled up."
Reyn had realized long ago that the energy charge was closely tied not only to his physical state but also reflected his soul's power. The higher the charge, the stronger the soul.
Now at maximum charge, Reyn's physical abilities had risen too. He wasn't a Superhuman yet, but far surpassed ordinary people. Like after years of grueling training, he felt an inexhaustible surge of strength, as if he'd never tire.
Moreover, several new icons had activated on his phone, but there was no time to check them now.
Reyn quickly returned to the ambush site. Iceberg's corpse still lay there. The badly wounded horse was alive, whinnying plaintively now and then. It had two broken legs; it would never run again. The coachman had long cooled. He died first, and perhaps due to distance, Reyn hadn't absorbed his soul.
Reyn checked the carriage, searched it, but found nothing valuable. Iceberg's body had only a wallet too.
He picked up Iceberg's longsword, went to the horse, and ended its suffering with one blade strike to the skull.
A soul detached from the horse's carcass and was absorbed by Reyn, but no changes occurred.
"Seems when the charge is full, absorbing new souls is useless."
Reyn sheathed the sword, slung it over his back, took the shotgun in hand, and headed to the estate.
The manor was quiet. Reyn hid in the bushes outside and patiently waited fifteen minutes. No one else came out. Clearly, no one remained inside.
But he stayed vigilant. Shotgun ready, he hugged the wall and cautiously advanced deeper into the grounds, exploring step by step.
The estate was small. Reyn quickly checked the main buildings and, finding no one, relaxed a bit.
The manor's interior was more modest than expected. Many areas were neglected. Third-floor rooms were empty, finishes cheap, sanitation awful. The kitchen stank. This place didn't look like a rich man's country retreat at all.
Only one room on the second floor was relatively clean—probably Iceberg's bedroom.
Reyn turned it upside down and finally found a leather suitcase under the desk. It was heavy, as if stuffed to the brim.
The small square suitcase wasn't locked; just unclip two clasps.
Reyn stepped back and flipped the clasps open with the sword tip, lifting the lid.
"Hiss..."
He sharply inhaled, not believing his eyes. The suitcase was stuffed full of money!
These were 100 copper yuan bills, neatly stacked in bundles and tied. They filled the suitcase tight. By eye, thirty or forty bundles, a hundred bills each. That is, ten thousand copper yuan per bundle. The total in the suitcase exceeded three hundred thousand!
"Damn, what a haul!"
Reyn was overjoyed. The last half month, he'd lived off meager old savings, constantly racking his brain for money. That's why he'd emptied Ramzi and Iceberg's wallets. He couldn't have imagined stumbling on such unexpected wealth.
"Must be money Iceberg got from selling stolen goods. And this is just a fraction. The bulk he probably hides at his city home."
Reyn didn't let the money go to his head. He needed to ensure it was clean.
He dumped all the money out, checked every bundle, confirmed nothing hidden inside, then packed them into a found sack, deciding not to use the suitcase.
"Exactly three hundred sixty thousand. Equals 360 gold shields. Serious sum."
Reyn joyfully shouldered the money sack and prepared to leave.
Descending the stairs, his gaze fell on a small door in the corner under the stairs. He stopped.
Such doors usually led to a basement for wine or food storage. During the first estate check, he had missed this door.
Now he saw a faint light strip leaking from under it. Very dim. Without the Soul Eye, he might not have noticed.
"Someone behind the door?"
Reyn startled. He dropped the money sack, aimed the shotgun at the door, and slowly backed up to the best position.
He waited quite a while, but it was quiet behind the door. Only the faint light still seeped through the crack, no sounds.
"No one? Or something else?"
Reyn decided to check.
He cautiously approached the door, touched it—not locked. Pushed. It opened. Behind was a staircase leading down. A dim kerosene lamp burned on the wall. The wick nearly burned out, flame flickering.
Reyn scanned the passage carefully, found no traps, and quietly descended.
At the bottom, the stairs turned. After the turn, Reyn froze, stunned by the sight.
Before him was a dimly lit basement. Stone walls. Rectangular room. In the center stood a rhomboid altar about half a meter high.
A body lay on the altar. It was gutted, all organs removed and arranged around the edges. Arms and legs severed and piled nearby in a gruesome composition. The head remained in place, but the scalp was removed, flesh from the face sliced clean, exposing the bare skull still attached to the torso.
An open book lay on the corpse's chest.
Besides this body, the basement was littered with skulls. Piles of white bones in the corners.
The floor was black with congealed blood. An icy draft wandered the basement, and soul-chilling moans echoed now and then. Hard to imagine how many people died here, sacrificed.
"Dark god's altar!"
Reyn had never seen anything like it. His hair stood on end.
Blood on the altar hadn't dried yet. He finally understood what Iceberg and Ramzi had been doing in the estate before he arrived—a ritual sacrifice to the dark god.
"The rumors were true. Shadow Blade assassins really worship a dark god," Reyn muttered. But he didn't know which one. This god seemed a taboo topic in the Empire. Ordinary folk knew nothing; Reyn had never heard mentions before.
"Of course, true."
The sudden voice behind made Reyn jump. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow approaching from behind. Without thinking, he spun and fired.
Bang!
The shot's roar echoed through the narrow passage.
In clouds of white smoke, dozens of steel balls covered half the passage, including the speaker's figure.
By then, Reyn had made him out. It was Roger, the legendary demon hunter from the "Basilisk" tavern. Roger clearly showed no hostility, but Reyn had already fired; too late to stop.
A golden light flashed before Roger, forming a spherical shield. Steel balls hit it, rippling the surface, and bounced off harmlessly.
Through the golden shield, Roger's left hand was visible in a strange sign. He uncurled his fingers, and the shield vanished.
"So that's the gun you crafted in Zoltan's workshop?" Roger eyed the shotgun in Reyn's hands. Curiosity flickered in his cat-like eyes. "Not bad power," he said approvingly. "And most valuable—ordinary humans can use it."
"Master Roger, how did you get here? You scared me," Reyn subtly lowered the barrel, not wanting to discuss the shotgun. He hadn't decided yet whether to spread firearms. Unknown how mass-produced weapons usable by normals and threatening to Superhumans would affect the world. Plus, he knew nothing of Roger's character or past. Caution wouldn't hurt.
He borrowed "Master" from other tavern patrons. It referred not to Roger's demon hunter strength, but his card-playing mastery. He competed in the Empire's highest All Souls Cards tournament and earned the "Master" title.
"I was following you," Roger replied calmly.
Those words made Reyn's heart sink.