The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 39: Chapter 39: To Break His Anchor

Read chapter 39 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 39: To Break His Anchor Crouching low on the roof, Kael crept toward the second thug. On the street beneath, bulky men pushed the line of dark shields toward the doors of the tannery under a deluge of arrows. At the center, Silma still smirked. Split arrows piled around her unstained broad shirt. She didn't turn toward the roofs. Instead, her light brown eyes never left the building as if all she wanted was to spring in and dismember Old Fen and Joss Renn. Anyone beyond these two didn't enter her eyes, not even her own men. At least, that's what Kael felt. He didn't care whether he was right or not. All that mattered was her inattention, the clangor of metal against metal, and the roars of fighting men that deafened his approach. Each step toward the thug made his heart drum faster. The man drew and released his bowstring without pausing. His arms didn't tremble, and he towered two heads taller than Kael. He glanced back, not in hesitation, but to confirm his safety. Tonio hunched three steps behind. Beneath the dark frame of relic 78, his red eyes narrowed, and he clenched a fist that told him he could do it. He would. His hand closed around the hilt of the knife tucked under his shirt. With a swift pull, he leapt at the back of the thug. The sound of his stomp, barely audible before the tumult of whistling arrows swallowed it, somehow alerted the thug. Instantly, the man turned, his mouth snapping open in warning. And his bow blurred in a downward arc. Clenching his jaw, Kael jabbed his knife. The tip dug into the thug's throat before a sound came out. The bow still inched over his left shoulder. I'll hit him first! He pushed the blade further. Flesh snapped until the sensation faded when the tip punched through the back of the man's neck. Blood gushed down his distorted mouth, smearing Kael's hand a warm scarlet. Still, he glared like a beast about to take its adversary with it to the grave. The bow slammed Kael's left shoulder. The impact pressed him down from his leap. His bones groaned. They should have shattered. They persisted. He grunted, keeping the scream tearing at his throat in. But pain struck, sharp and immediate as the thug pushed with both hands, letting out wet, enraged gurgles. Kael tried to resist, to stand up, but his knee buckled. HOW IS HE SO STRONG WITH A KNIFE IN HIS THROAT? GET UP! GET UP OR DIE! His eyes widened at the blood dripping from the wound—dripping, not pouring. The knife in his throat! His good arm blurred up, his trembling fingers wrapping around the knife. A sharp pull, and he freed the wound of the obstruction, letting it weep all the blood it wanted. The thug covered his neck with one hand. He tried to speak; he only made the hole in his throat convulse, spewing his life out faster. You won't kill me, bastard! The pressure pinning Kael down halved, and he exploded upward. The bow flew up, and the thug with it. He crashed on his back, still holding his bow. Still glaring at the huffing teenager as if he couldn't understand how that skinny brat had killed him. A last wheezed breath, and his fingers stilled around his bow. The light in his eyes dimmed. Kael squeezed his knife, breath coming out in ragged gasps, his hand trembling. Blood spread to his feet with its metallic tang. Only after it was extinguished and the familiar sensation of wrongness clawed at his anchor did he spit on the corpse. Anyone working for Garrick deserved death. No remorse. Not more than when he killed Tovin and Ash. But no satisfaction either... If the thug had noticed him before, if he hadn't thought about the knife plugging the wound... In his constricted pupils, the thug's corpse shifted into his own. A week of training made me faster? Don't make me laugh. Idiot. Fool! They're stronger. More experienced. And you thought they wouldn't fight to their last breath? You're weak. You hear me, weak! A soft pat on his back yanked him out of his thought. He lifted his bloody knife, then lowered it when he turne