Chapter 495: Iron Saints
"Wait."
The voice was soft, too soft to echo, yet it slithered into the ears of every assassin like a serpent’s whisper, paralyzing them mid-step. From behind a thicket, she emerged; Blood, draped in her crimson gown that shimmered faintly under the moonlight like silk soaked in rubies.
Her eyes, like frozen wine, scanned the glowing camp ahead with a faint smile, one that never touched her eyes.
"Wait until it’s almost dawn," she murmured, her tone cold and controlled. "They’ll be much weaker then."
Crossing her arms, she tilted her head ever so slightly, a delicate scowl curving her lips as if the sight before her displeased her on a primal level.
After a long, silent wait, the morning dew clung to every blade of grass and dulled the sharpness of the eyes. A pale mist curled along the earth, softening outlines and swallowing the camp’s distant edges.
Standing near a brazier, a lone paladin exhaled, his breath blooming into a small cloud of white that mingled with the rising dew. The heat of the brazier warmed his gloved hands, but it couldn’t ease the gnawing unease in his gut.
He scanned the clearing from left to right. Same shadows. Same shapes. Still, the world felt different now, like it was holding its breath.
A faint crunch pierced his ears. The paladin spun around sharply, grip tightening around the spear’s shaft.
Through the drifting fog emerged a figure, tall, broad, walking with the practiced ease of someone unafraid. Moses, the chief paladin, strode toward him, his helmet tucked under one arm, face calm and unreadable.
"Chief." The paladin bowed his head slightly.
Moses gave a curt nod, not breaking stride. "Keep your eyes sharp," he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.