Frost coated the pine needles of the Willow Mountains, but it wasn't a natural winter. It was the seeping aura of Shyla, the Adept Ice Mage of the Apocalyptic Guild. She walked with the imperious grace of her elven heritage, silver eyes scanning the tree line for filth.

Behind her, the heavy crunch of boots announced Ryan. The tank carried a tower shield that looked heavy enough to crush a bear, yet he moved with a steady, rhythmic gait.

"Ambush," Dora whispered from the rear. Her Intelligence attribute made her sensory perception sharp, picking up heartbeats before eyes could see bodies.

Arrows flew from the brush.

Ryan didn't flinch. A golden glow flared around his left arm as he activated his Adept skill.

Shield.

Metal rang against mana. The crude iron projectiles shattered harmlessly against the translucent barrier that expanded from his buckler, covering the team in a dome of light.

"Clear them," Shyla ordered, her voice devoid of warmth.

Josh stepped out from behind the tank's massive frame. He held a bow made of darkwood, but he carried no quiver. With a flex of his Agility, he pulled the empty string.

Endless Arrows.

Mana condensed instantly into jagged blue projectiles. He released. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Three bandits fell from the trees, throats pierced before they could nock a second volley. They hit the ground with wet thuds, their blood steaming in the frigid air.

"Sloppy," Kaira, the Sword Maiden, commented. She didn't wait for orders.

She blurred forward, her Strength and agility attributes allowing her to close the distance in a single leap. Her blade was a flash of silver in the morning light. It cleaved through leather armor and bone alike, severing the head of a bandit who had tried to charge Ryan.

They moved like a machine. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. This was the difference between common rabble and the elite of the Apocalyptic Guild.

There was a saying in the world: 'When the lunatics of the Guild come to hunt, the apex predators in the wild become as docile as a domesticated dog.'

By noon, the Willow mountains almost shrouded in blood mist.

They had reached the main hideout, a fortified cave system reinforced with stolen military scraps and rough-hewn logs.

"They are dug in deep," Ryan grunted, eyeing the barricades blocking the cave mouth. Archers were visible behind the wooden slats, their bows drawn.

Shyla stepped forward. Patience was not a virtue she possessed when dealing with rapists and murderers.

"Cover your ears," she advised calmly.

Mana surged around her.

The ambient temperature plummeted until the sap in the nearby trees cracked with loud pops.

The moisture in the air darkened, swirling into angry, heavy clouds directly above the barricade.

Ice Rain. It was one of her Adept skills. The skill which gave her the nickname, Rain of Ice.

Gravity took hold. Shards of ice, sharp as daggers and dense as iron, hammered down.

Wood splintered. Screams echoed. The barrage shredded the first line of defense, turning the bandit guards into pincushions of frozen death.

The barricade collapsed under the sheer weight of the skill, revealing the dark maw of the cave.

"Move," she commanded.

Inside, the air was thick with panic. The bandits were in disarray.

They had expected a military patrol, perhaps a few conscripts they could ambush or bribe. They did not expect a Guild kill-squad.

Resistance was futile.

Kaira and Ryan breached the main hall like a hammer and anvil.

Josh picked off anyone foolish enough to run, his magical arrows illuminating the dark corners of the cave.

In the center of the chaos, a man draped in heavy furs tried to scramble through a back tunnel.

He was large, scarred, and weeping.

"Going somewhere?" Shyla asked.

She flicked her wrist. Frozen Snow. It was her second Adept skill. She was one of the few people in the world with more than one Adept skill.

The moisture in the air around the man's legs solidified instantly.

He crashed face-first into the dirt, his lower half encased in a block of unnatural ice that bonded him to the floor.

Ryan dragged him to the center of the room by his greasy hair. This was the Bandit King.

"Please!" the King blubbered, snot freezing on his face. "I surrender! I have gold! I have artifacts! Take it all!"

Shyla looked down at him as if he were a cockroach stuck to her boot. "I don't want your trash. I want to know why you slaughtered Redfern Village."

Confusion replaced the terror on the King's face. "Slaughter? What slaughter?"

"Don't play dumb." Shyla's mana flared. The ice on his legs tightened, crushing bone with a sickening crunch.

"AHHH! I swear! I swear on the Abyss!" The King screamed, thrashing against Ryan's grip.

"I didn't order a massacre! I sent a scout team! Just a few men to check military movements! That's all!"

"And then?"

"They never came back!" he shrieked, tears streaming down his face. "We waited all night! Then the survivor came... only one..."

Shyla narrowed her eyes. She signaled Ryan to loosen his grip slightly. "A survivor?"

"He was mad," the King babbled, desperate to stop the pain.

"He said a demon was in the village. A demon in human skin. He said the others were dead before they could even draw their blades. Heads exploding! Shadows moving! He said it wasn't soldiers... it was a monster!"

Silence descended on the cave. The Guild members exchanged heavy glances.

"The Military Commander took credit for killing your men," Josh noted, his bow still drawn, an arrow nocked out of habit.

"Lies!" The King spat blood. "My men are dead, that Commander didn't do it. It was the demon! The one in the village!"

Dora stepped forward, her staff glowing faintly with a healing light she didn't intend to use.

"He isn't lying, Shyla. His fear is genuine. And the mana residue I felt earlier near the village... it was too clean for a military skirmish. It was concentrated."

Shyla processed this. The Military Commander was a fool, clearly trying to claim glory to escape his post.

It was typical of the corrupt bureaucracy of the Wastelands. But if the soldiers didn't kill the bandits, who did?

A demon in human skin?

"There is no demon," Shyla said coldly. "Only a hidden expert. It matters not, since that person didn't want merits."

She looked at the weeping Bandit King. He had served his purpose.

With a thought, the ice crept up his torso. It covered his chest, his neck, and finally his screaming mouth. He froze in an eternal mask of terror.

Shatter.

The statue crumbled into red dust and ice chips.

"Clean the mountain," Shyla ordered, turning her back on the remains. "Leave nothing alive."

By evening, the Willow Mountains were silent again. This time, it was the silence of a graveyard.

The Guild team had swept the peaks, leaving nothing alive that carried a weapon.

They descended as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the snow in hues of violet and blood orange.

The wind howled through the empty bandit camps behind them.

Below them, Redfern Village sat nestled in the valley. Smoke rose lazily from chimneys. It looked idyllic.

"Do we report to the Commander?" Ryan asked, wiping bandit blood from the rim of his shield.

"No," Shyla replied. Her gaze was fixed on the village layout. "He knows nothing. We go to the source."

"The village is small," Josh observed. "Forty-five families. If there is a hidden powerhouse there, they are hiding well."

"We will find them," Shyla stated.

"But why?" Dora asked with a frown. "Since you said he didn't want merits, why should we search for him? There is a possibility of him being merely an Apprentice."

"I'm just curious, that's all," Shyla said as she began the march down the slope, bypassing the military encampment entirely. Her target was the village square, and the houses beyond it.

She had one thing hidden from her team members. It was the fact that the killer of the bandits had used a Rare quality skill, yet as the surroundings suggested, their cultivation rank hadn't even reached Apprentice.

Comprehending a Rare skill from the start was almost unheard of. Everyone capable of this would be a Lord-tier Awakener, whom the three academies directly selected.

Even she herself took a decade to upgrade her Ordinary skill to Rare. That distinction made her capable of fighting even a Master if they had no Rare skills.

That was the power difference between a Rare skill and an Ordinary one. If there was such a person who directly comprehended a Rare skill, and if such a person had to join the Guild…

Shyla clenched her fists.

Perhaps that Rift under the Endless Sea might be cleared in ten years.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.